Angel took three other polythene evidence bags from the table behind him and passed them over to the young detective. ‘There are three items taken from the gang we are holding in the cells,’ he said. ‘In one bag is a silver ring representing a skull, in another, a part-pack of cigarettes and a lighter and in the third, a cigarette end with the brand clearly visible through the polythene. Take those to Mrs Sellars at 24 Ceresford Road. Ask the duty sergeant in the Control Room for some transport there and back. Tell him I have sent you and that it’s urgent and important. Give Mrs Sellars my compliments and ask her if that is the skull ring she saw being worn by the man who knocked on her door on Monday last, 3 November. Then ask her if the cigarettes and lighter are hers and were the same ones in her handbag when it was stolen from her kitchen. And lastly, ask her if she could say that that cigarette butt could have been from a cigarette from the pack stolen from her. All right? Any questions?’
‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to take a formal statement from her?’
‘It would save time, yes, but let me know what her answers are on my mobile as soon as you can.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘There’s something else,’ Angel said. ‘You must interview her without her husband being present. He doesn’t approve of her smoking. If you ask about the cigarettes and the lighter in front of him, you’ll make it very difficult for her. Understand?’
Ahmed smiled. ‘Right, sir,’ he said. Then he picked up the three evidence bags and went out.
Angel then reached out for the phone, scrolled down to ‘Mortuary’ and clicked on it. It was answered by Dr Mac. Angel told him that he was sending Crisp with the overcoat and button and asked him to treat the query with the utmost urgency. He asked him to report on the matter as soon as possible and certainly before Angel’s meeting that afternoon with Twelvetrees at the CPS. Mac said he would do the best he could.
There was a knock at the door.
Angel finished the call to Dr Mac, then called out, ‘Come in.’
DC Scrivens came in followed closely behind by DS Carter. She was carrying several A4 sheets of paper.
Angel looked at both of them and then back at Scrivens and said, ‘Is it a quickie, Ted?’
‘Yes, sir,’ he said, looking deferentially at DS Carter.
She held out a hand, indicating that he should proceed before her.
Scrivens said, ‘Well, sir, just to say that the solicitors of each of the four men say they will be round to see their clients before lunch.’
Angel sighed. ‘Ah. Great stuff, Ted. Thank you.’
Scrivens nodded and went out.
Angel looked up at Carter and said, ‘Now, Flora, what is it?’
She waved the papers she was holding. ‘There’s an email from Records, sir,’ she said, sliding the sheets in front of him. ‘It’s the report on the two guns I asked them for.’
Angel picked it up eagerly. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘Sit down, Flora.’
He glanced at the brief accompanying letter then read the reports.
They said:
87 Beretta Cheetah 22LR/Wood Grip871FS SP677767765
Made in Italy by Fabrica d’Armi P Beretta. Distributed by Beretta USA Corp.
August 1982. Stolen in transit to retail gun shop in Smithville, Arkansas, USA.
14 April 2000. Found in raid on lock-up garage in London SW19 rented to Alan Patrick Elphinstone tried and acquitted of Hatton Garden jewel robbery in June 2000. Gun could not be directly attributed to him.
28 August 2000. Delivered to RASC Cardiff for secure storage.
2 February 2001. Stolen from RASC Cardiff with other weapons.
Present location unknown.
Smith & Wesson 38 Special CTG. Number 712530998
June 1941, one of an order for 180 from Smith & Wesson, Springfield, Massachusetts for US Marines, Com. Sit. 414. Lost in service in Hawaii USA between December 1950 and February 1951.
8 January 2000. Found in the possession of Leroy Nathan Carmichael by Glasgow Police, UK. Carmichael sentenced in Edinburgh to life imprisonment for murder of Elizabeth Naomi Carmichael and Anne Louise Carmichael.
1 September 2000. Delivered to RASC Cardiff for secure storage.
2 February 2001. Stolen from RASC Cardiff with other weapons.
Present location unknown.
When Angel had finished reading the reports, he eagerly looked through the pile of papers on his desk. The pile was thick. There was a lot to go through but he knew exactly what he was looking for: it was another email with the history of the Walther handgun that Records had supplied a few days earlier. He found it and pulled it out. He quickly reread it. Then he smiled, looked up at Flora and said, ‘All three guns were stolen from the army security store in Cardiff on 2 February 2001. As the Smith & Wesson and the Beretta were found in the possession of the Fachinno brothers, it is not surprising to find the third gun, the Walther, also in their hands, is it?’
‘No, sir. It is not,’ she said.
‘Therefore if Dr Mac can forensically show that the button found in Ian Fairclough’s hand irrefutably came from Antonio Fachinno’s overcoat, with all the other witnesses’ evidence and CCTV verification, and ballistic evidence that the Beretta taken from Antonio was the gun used to kill Ian Fairclough, we have a strong enough case to convince a jury that he murdered Fairclough to protect his identity while he was in the process of taking back the suitcase, which contained the proceeds from the raid on the Slater Security van.’
Flora frowned. ‘How had Ian Fairclough come by Antonio Fachinno’s suitcase, sir?’ she said.
‘His brother let it out. In my bedroom – you were under the bed. Antonio and Ian Fairclough had identical suitcases – brown and cream, very unusual – and they were both travelling on the same train to London. They must have been switched by accident at the ticket office or on the platform or on the train or in the buffet car. But let me continue … I don’t want to lose my train of thought.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘Well, now, the gun – the Walther – that was found on the lawn at the home of Joan Minter was indeed the weapon used to murder her. We now know that for a fact. Also we know that Roberto was there. He was the caterer. He had motive, means and opportunity, and now we have shown that he had actual access to the Walther. Therefore, I am certain that a jury would convict him of that murder.’
Angel stopped. Looked at Flora and said, ‘Have I forgotten anything?’
‘Don’t think so, sir.’
‘Good. Well, then, leave me to it. I must get it written down for Twelvetrees while it is clear in my head.’
It was four o’clock when Angel came out of Twelvetrees’ office. His face glowed. It shone as if it had been buffed up by a French polisher. He didn’t walk, he glided his way along the pavement to the police station two buildings away. He sprang up the front steps, two at a time, then through the front door and the security door and made his way along the corridor towards his office.
DS Carter had been on the lookout for him. She had an urgent message to deliver. They met at the office door.
‘Yes, Flora,’ he said. ‘Come in. What is it?’
She was smiling and holding several A4 sheets of paper. ‘Got an email from Records, sir,’ she said. ‘A response to the photographs and prints I emailed there on Saturday. They have no knowledge of the Fachinno brothers. Their prints are not on record anywhere. But they know a lot about the other two: proper little heathens. List of offences – some on their own, some with each other. And they both have a list of offences for stealing expensive cars.’
‘Have they been through our hands?’
‘No, sir. But they’re well known to Huddersfield CID.’
Angel nodded. ‘That’s great, Flora. Leave it all there,’ he said, pointing to the corner of his desk. I’ll read it when I’ve got a minute.’
She put the papers down and said, ‘How did you get on with the CPS, sir?’
He leaned back in the chai
r, and formed a steeple with his hands. ‘Everything is fine. We’ve got a prima facie case for both murders and the armed robbery provided that that button can definitely be proved to have come from Antonio Fachinno’s coat, and that Ballistics confirm that the shells actually came from the two guns used to commit the murders.’
‘That’s good, sir,’ she said.
‘Now then, Flora, I’ve got another job for you,’ he said. ‘Now that we have photographs of the Fachinno brothers, I want you to include them in our rogues’ gallery and take the laptop out to Mrs Pickles’ shop on the High Street in Tunistone. She sold Antonio Fachinno the three pickaxes used in the robbery of the security van. I want her to pick him out. If she does – and I expect she will – take a statement from her. All right?’
‘Right, sir,’ she said. She went out and closed the door.
Angel rubbed his chin, then smiled. He liked it when the plan all came together.
The phone rang out.
It was Ahmed.
‘Yes, Ahmed. What have you got?’ Angel said.
‘Mrs Sellars said that the lighter and cigarettes are hers, sir, that the cigarette end was almost certainly from the pack from her handbag because Adelaide cigarettes are not on sale over here, and that the silver ring certainly looks like the ring worn by the villain at her front door.’
Angel beamed. ‘Right, lad, that’s what I needed to hear. Now get it down on a witness’s statement form.’
‘Righto, sir.’
‘Good. When you get back, bring it into my office. I’ve another job for you.’
‘Right, sir.’
He ended the call and then looked at his notes. He didn’t want to overlook anything. He still wanted to hear from Ballistics that the guns and shell cases matched; also he needed to know that that button came off Antonio Fachinno’s coat.
Angel rubbed his chin and looked at the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock. It had been a great day.
On his way out of the station, Angel was thinking that it would be the last evening he would be dining alone. The following day, Mary would be home. It couldn’t come soon enough. He felt a warm glow in his chest. He was meeting her at 5.35 p.m. at Bromersley Station. He began to think about what needed to be done to return everything to (what Mary would consider was) normal. He decided to defrost something from the freezer and make sure the house was tidy, warm and welcoming. He would get her some flowers, and he would wash up the few pots he had used, clean the sink, vacuum the carpets and maybe dust around. He thought that would about do it. He hoped that she wouldn’t notice anything different about the mattress and the duvet. He hadn’t yet thought of an explanation that would be acceptable to her for the fact that he had renewed most of the bedding.
After a couple of drinks in the bar at The Feathers and a steak and a half-bottle of house red in the restaurant, he called at the petrol station for some flowers, returned home and did the necessary chores. He phoned Mary in Edinburgh and confirmed the arrangements for meeting her the following day. Then he went to bed, and slept the sleep of the good.
It was 8.28 a.m. when he arrived back at his office the following morning, Tuesday, 11 November.
From his notes, he began to write out a preliminary list of charges against each of the four men who were to be presented in the magistrates’ court later that morning. The list needed to be delivered urgently to the solicitor of the CPS, so when he had completed it, he summoned Ahmed and sent him round to their offices with it.
At 10.45 a.m., the Black Maria was backed up to the rear door of the station and the four men, each handcuffed to a PC, were led into the back of the vehicle for the very short ride two doors away to the court.
Angel walked round to the court. The preliminary hearing was expected to be at 11 a.m. prompt, but it was a few minutes late. As expected, the senior magistrate decreed that it was too serious a case to be heard there, and it would therefore be transferred to the Crown Court. Bail was requested but refused and the defendants were remanded to prison while the CPS and the defence teams prepared their cases.
At 12 noon, Angel returned to his office and was taking off his coat and hat when the phone rang out.
He quickly picked it up and sat down. It was Flora Carter.
‘I’m outside Mr and Mrs Pickles’ shop, sir, in Tunistone. Mrs Pickles looked through our rogues’ gallery and immediately picked out Antonio Fachinno as the man who bought three pickaxes from her a week last Monday.’
Angel smiled. ‘Great stuff, Flora. That will help to bottle them up for the security-van robbery.’
He ended the call and replaced the phone.
He glanced up at the clock. His eyes narrowed. He was anxious to hear from Mac. He hoped and prayed that the doctor would confirm that the button found in Ian Fairclough’s hand was indeed originally from Antonio Fachinno’s overcoat. He thought that Mac had had plenty of time to make the comparison. He was still reflecting about that when there was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ he called.
It was Ahmed. He was carrying a sheet of A4 paper. He handed it to Angel.
‘Email from Ballistics, sir,’ he said. ‘The firing-pin marks on the spent shell cases perfectly match in both instances the examples fired in the laboratory.’
Angel sighed. ‘Good. Great stuff,’ he said, hardly giving the email a glance.
It was at that point the phone rang again.
Angel snatched it up.
His face brightened. ‘Oh, it’s you, Mac,’ he said. ‘I thought you had forgotten. I’ve been waiting for you to phone.’
‘Well, I am here phoning you now,’ the doctor said. ‘I’ve had some analytical processes to go through. It all takes time. I wanted to be incontrovertibly certain that both the button and the cotton thread found in the victim’s hand had come from Antonio Fachinno’s overcoat.’
‘And had they?’ Angel said.
‘Aye, they had.’
Angel closed his eyes. He said nothing for a second or two. Then he said, ‘Thank you very much, Mac.’
SEVENTEEN
THERE WAS A cool wind blowing and the sky was dark when the 5.35 p.m. connecting train from Doncaster pulled into the station.
Angel was on the platform checking each carriage door as it passed him, looking for Mary’s smiling face. At last he saw her. His heart warmed. He smiled and rushed towards her. She hadn’t seen him. She was looking round. He followed the train and arrived at the carriage door at the same time the train stopped. She saw him then and both their smiles grew wider. He lifted her off the train, squeezed her, gave her a kiss, then leaned back into the doorway of the train to pick up her suitcase.
‘Oh, darling,’ Angel said. ‘It’s good to see you. Did you have a good trip?’
Mary tucked her arm into his and they walked along the platform. ‘Very good, sweetheart. Have you been all right?’
He smiled and said, ‘No. The house has been like a morgue. How is Miriam?’
‘She’s fine. The op did her good, I think. The doctor and the nurses pampered her and I think being on her own with the kids for so long, the time away from them has done her the world of good.’
He nodded. ‘Are the kids all right?’
‘I think they enjoyed the separation – although it was short – and they wanted it to last longer, but they weren’t a bit of trouble.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘The car is parked in the little car park just up this rise.’
‘Everything all right at work?’ she said. ‘The super keeping his distance?’
‘Everything’s fine. Just arrested the murderers of Joan Minter and Ian Fairclough.’
‘Been busy, then?’
‘Haven’t had you bothering me,’ he said with a smile.
‘I’ll have to go away again … for longer, a month or two … and much farther away.’
‘You dare!’ he said.
Mary laughed.
They reached the BMW.
Ten minutes later, they were
home. Once inside they kissed again. Then Angel helped her prepare a meal. She looked into the freezer and found it almost as full as she had left it. She wasn’t pleased.
‘You’ve been eating out, haven’t you,’ she said.
‘Only one night, I think,’ he said. Then he said, ‘Everything needed thawing out.’
‘There was some salad. It was all prepared. You haven’t touched it. Loads of tinned things you could have had. They didn’t need thawing out.’
He looked down and ran three fingers across his forehead. ‘I’ve been all right,’ he said. ‘By the way, where did you hide the frying pan?’
‘I didn’t hide it. It’s kept with all the other pans,’ she said, bending down in front of the oven. ‘In this drawer.’
She pulled out a drawer that was below the actual oven, and sure enough, it was bursting with pans of all sizes.
‘I didn’t know it was a drawer. You never told me.’
She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. ‘Besides, what did you want a frying pan for? You know I don’t give you fry-ups. Anyway, Michael, you should have planned ahead. And taken the food out of the freezer a day or two before you wanted it.’
‘I know. I know. I got that out, didn’t I?’ he said, pointing at the joint cooking in the oven.
‘You did, darling, and it’s great to be home,’ she said.
He beamed.
They had their meal and she talked a lot about Miriam and the two children, about Edinburgh and how cold it had been up there.
Angel watched the late news on television while Mary cleared away and prepared breakfast, and they went to bed.
Mary didn’t say anything about the mattress, the duvet or the duvet cover. Angel could hardly believe that she hadn’t noticed. They cuddled up close together and he felt very guilty about the deceit of not telling her about the intruders and the gunshots but it would have made her extremely nervous.
‘Isn’t this bed wonderful?’ she said. ‘I’m afraid the bed I had at Miriam’s was like rocks, but this is so comfortable. Do you know, Michael, I never appreciated just how really luxurious this bed feels. Aren’t we lucky?’
Angel and the Actress Page 17
