Her Moons Denouement (Fallen Angels Book 2)

by Max Hardy

  ‘Harry, keep an eye on the exits to the Monument. I saw Jess up there. I don’t think she has come out yet.’

  ‘Stop exactly where you are Saul!’ screams a voice I recognise. I look towards it, to DCI Cruickshank running in through the gates of the gardens, DC Tait directly behind her.

  ‘Harry, keep an eye on those entrances, you know what Jess looks like. Follow her. Don’t make out that you know me at all.’ I whisper as I pass by him, looking directly ahead toward the approaching women.

  ‘For the second time in two days Saul, I find you right in the midst of this investigation.’ Cruickshank sneers in my direction as she reaches me. ‘You might fool me once Saul, but never bloody twice. Either you are in this up to your neck, or you know a hell of a lot more than you are letting on. Arrest him Tait. Playtime is over.’

  Chapter 27

  ‘You have four things to hit him with Tait and not a single one of them implicates Bentley directly. But he knows something. The ‘Fallen Angels’ are trying to tell us something and he has to have some answers. Don’t go easy on him. It’s the same for you Purves. Saul is popping up in this investigation far too many times for my liking. Probe him hard on the things we discussed.’ instructed Cruickshank as she settled into a hard backed wooden seat at the Interview Control Room desk.

  ‘Yes Ma’am.’ both women sounded off in tandem as they left the room, Tait last, closing the door behind her.

  Cruickshank looked into the two rooms directly in front of her, Saul in the one to the right, Bentley the left. She noted Saul’s calm, patient demeanour, which was at odds to Bentley’s. He was agitatedly pacing up and down the room, biting his finger nails and worrying his sweaty brow with a shaking hand.

  Tait entered the room with Bentley, carrying his chipped Celtic mug full of steaming coffee.

  ‘Could you please sit down Bentley, I have some more questions to go through with you. More evidence has come to light in the past few hours.’

  Cruickshank watched the body language between the two of them, noting Bentley’s placation at Tait’s stern tone.

  ‘Before you ask any of the new questions, just see if he has anything else to add to the earlier interview. I doubt it, but you never know, a few hours stewing in the cells might have loosened his mind. He certainly looks agitated.’ Cruikshank said into a thin microphone sitting on the bench in front of her. She saw an imperceptible nod as Tait sat down opposite Bentley and arranged a folder in front of herself.

  ‘Having had time to reflect on the questions I asked you earlier Bentley, specifically, do you know anything about the disappearance of the missing girls and do you know the whereabouts of your sister, have you anything else to add?’

  ‘Nothing to add on both questions. I have no information regarding the missing girls and I have no idea where my sister is. I am beginning to worry about where she is and I am getting a bit aggrieved at the lack of evidence you are presenting to link me personally to any of this.’

  ‘Okay. We appreciate your co-operation and patience and I am sure you appreciate that we need to thoroughly investigate the evidence we have. Can you recall the list I showed you earlier, with the other women who had gone missing?’

  Bentley huffed in frustration. ‘Yes, I remember the list.’

  ‘At one o’clock this afternoon, the ‘Fallen Angels’ revealed another mass murderer. One of the alleged victims was a woman called Martha Grainger.’ Tait took a copy of the list she had presented to Bentley earlier out of her folder and placed it down in front of him, pink highlighter through three names on the paper. ‘She is on the list. Went missing in nineteen ninety eight. He husband was charged with her murder due the overwhelming forensic and eye witness evidence. Several clumps of matted hair ripped from her skull were found in their bedroom as well as a large quantity of blood. Neighbours heard screaming and shouting coming from the house and immediately called the police, as there was a known history of the husband being violent towards her. Police arrived within forty minutes to find the husband almost delirious, the blood and hair and no body. He maintains his innocence even to this day. He admits to hitting her in the past but said he was sleeping at the time witnesses heard the alleged argument. He said he woke up to find the blood and the hair on the bed and his wife missing. The courts didn’t agree. You were the arresting officer. Do you have any idea why this third woman would have been highlighted by the ‘Fallen Angels’?’

  ‘I have no idea other than the same one I keep repeating. Someone is trying to set me and my family up. I believe that someone is Rebecca Angus. I believe she is doing it because I was involved in her arrest and conviction. I believe she is Madame Evangeline and is at the centre of what is happening with these ‘Fallen Angels’.’ Bentley answered, his manner still aggravated, but his words considered.

  Cruikshank’s attention was drawn to the other room, where DI Purves introduced herself to Saul, then sat down opposite him, opening a file she had with her on the table and delving straight into the questioning.

  ‘Could you tell me how you happened to be at Princess Gardens today at the exact time another ‘Fallen Angels’ revelation was taking place?’ Purves asked, in a monotone yet assured voice.

  ‘I was having a coffee in Jenners and I saw the breaking news on Sky about the ‘Fallen Angels’ video. It was about twelve fifty five. The image of the beheaded woman and her body position reminded me of a picture I had seen years ago of the Tibetan Buddhist Goddess Chinnamunda. Madame Evangeline also used words like peace, love and mantra. All key words in Buddhism. I couldn’t find any large Buddhist temples in Edinburgh but I had seen a group of Hare Krishna dancing down past Jenners about five minutes earlier. A Buddhist show in the middle of Edinburgh. If the ‘Fallen Angels’ were going to make a statement, it was going to be there. I had a flyer in my pocket advertising their show in the Gardens at one o’clock so I went to see if my suspicions were correct. They were.’

  Cruickshank whistled through gritted teeth and she sat back in her seat, nodding in admiration. ‘Why the hell can’t my Detectives see that kind of pattern?’ she mumbled to herself, looking back to Tait and Bentley.

  ‘But it’s not just the fact that the name was on the list. It is also the plastic bag that was found at the house where Chodak the Monk inflicted atrocities on innocent women. A plastic bag with your father’s DNA inside of it. That is now your dog’s, your sister’s and your father’s DNA associated with these missing women. I don’t think you are being setup. I think someone is telling us that you know something about this. They may even be telling us that you are involved. That you have abused your position to concoct convictions and draw people away from what is really happening with these women. I think someone is telling us that your family have been involved in their disappearance.’

  Tait stared at Bentley with a firm and commanding glare, the power of her words and the intensity of her voice echoing in the force of her eyes. Bentley tried to hold the gaze but couldn’t, instead looking down to his fidgeting stumpy fingers, his eyes distant, scared and lost. He took a gulp of coffee.

  ‘Go for it Tait, he is struggling, put the boot in right now and he will crumble.’ Cruickshank whispered into the microphone, leaning forward in her seat once more.

  ‘That’s not all though Bentley. We have been looking for a connection between the women on the list. We started looking for a religious connection. After all, that’s what the ‘Fallen Angels’ are exposing. We couldn’t find any. But we did find a different connection between them. All of these women were physically abused by their partners, we know that. We now also know that at one time or another every one of them attended support groups to help them with the consequences of domestic violence. We have been in touch with every one of those support groups. And do you know what we found out?’

  The door behind Cruickshank opened and Laurent entered the Control room excitedly. ‘Sorry for interrupting Ma’am, but we have the results back from the DNA we found at Bentley’s house
. You need to see them.’ he said, striding to where she was sitting and placing an open file in front of her. Cruikshank looked down at the page, her eyes widening in surprise.

  ‘And you are 100% sure about this. No fucking cross contamination?’

  ‘100% Ma’am. Le Fenwick double checked every sample.’

  Cruikshank leant over the microphone again. ‘Tait, finish your current question, don’t let him answer then come and see me straight away. We’ve got some fresh evidence. Thanks Laurent.’ she finished as the Frenchman left.

  ‘We found out that your Father provided pastoral support to all of these groups and that your sister would often attend to assist him. I have to step out for a few minutes, but in that time I would like you to think about one thing. A name on a list, a piece of DNA in a bag not directly related to those victims is circumstantial. Two people having direct contact with every victim shortly before they went missing is not. That is more than coincidence. That is a pattern. A pattern directly linking your family to those missing women.’ she said firmly, then stood up, holding eye contact with Bentley’s panicked stare all the way to the door.

  Cruickshank watched Bentley lean over the table and sink his head into his hands, his bitten fingernails scratching the skin on his forehead until it broke, spots of blood mingling with the beads of sweat.

  ‘He’s breaking.’ she whispered before turning back to look into the other interview room, where Purves was taking some images out of the folder in front of her.

  ‘This is a picture taken by a CCTV camera at a set of traffic lights just before the Portobello junction on the A1 in Edinburgh at 12:30 am on the 1st January 2012. It is of a limousine. Could you tell me who is looking out of the side window?’

  Saul smiled, recognising the image, his manner still calm and open. ‘It’s Rebecca Angus. I’m sure you have another picture in your file from a different angle, showing the driver of the limousine and yes, the driver does look remarkably like me. These pictures came to light in my last case so I have seen them before.’

  Purves looked at him agape, but still went through the motions of placing the second photograph in front of him. ‘Yes, I do have another picture. Could you explain why you appear to be in a car with Rebecca Angus, the woman who was convicted of murdering her son that morning? The woman who was then committed to a mental institute for Dissociative Identity Disorder. The other identity she has being that of a woman called Madame Evangeline?’

  ‘Look DI Purves, I can see your interview strategy. Place the pertinent pieces of evidence in front of me that loosely link me to Madame Evangeline and the ‘Fallen Angels’ and try and get me to think you know more than you do. Try to wrong foot me and get me to admit something more than you know. I get what you are trying to do and why you are trying to do it. The truth is I probably did know more than you a few days ago, but I have shared all of that information. I came here to give you that information. I called out the link on the Imam revelation. I tried to stop the woman today from killing herself. By all means waste your time trying to find out how I am connected to this. You might do me a favour and help me find out too. But just realise, all the time you are doing that, the real Madame Evangeline and whoever these ‘Fallen Angels’ are will still be running rings around you.’

  Cruickshank slammed her palms into the desk in front of her and shouted in frustration, ‘Shit, busted.’ She leant over and spoke into the microphone. ‘Purves, just get out of there, he has seen us coming all day. We don’t have a thing and he knows it but take him down to the cells and let him stew for half an hour until I’m finished here.’

  Tait entered the room and approached Cruikshank who handed her the piece of paper Laurent dropped off. ‘Right, next question is the same. Hammer it home that we know there is another woman out there that fits this pattern. Then finish on this. Just tell him it straight and then ask ‘Did he know?’ If that doesn’t break him, nothing will. What a messed up bloody family.’

  Tait looked at the evidence, her expression initially shocked, then thoughtful. ‘It still doesn’t implicate Bentley. It still doesn’t directly implicate his sister or father.’

  ‘No, but something is not right and this adds even more grist to that mill. It’s what we have and we use it.’

  Tait nodded and left the room, appearing a few seconds later back in the interview room. Bentley raised his head from his hands as she sat down, his face streaked with tears, running pink with the blood flowing from the scratches in his forehead. He was breathing heavily and he took one of his hands and rubbed his chest hard.

  ‘Well.’ asked Tait, sternly. ‘Do you have anything to say to the previous question?’

  ‘It is his self-imposed punishment, and his redemption. He knows that hitting mother was wrong. That is why he turned to religion. To help him come to terms with what he had done. To help him find a way to help others. He goes to those places and tells them about what he did. He tells them about the things to look out for in an abusive partner. He tries to explain what drives a man to do it and what he thinks women can do to gain the strength to challenge them. He may be old fashioned in his beliefs and he may still have his faults, but he goes there to help women who suffer from domestic abuse. You might find that he has talked to twenty odd women who have gone missing, but if you ask further, you might also find that he has talked to hundreds of other woman who haven’t gone missing and whose lives have changed for the better because of the insights he was able to share.’ Bentley said quietly, breathing heavily, his manner conciliatory even if his words were challenging Tait’s aspersions.

  ‘The man sounds like a saint. So giving.’ Tait answered sarcastically. ‘Do you think he is currently helping Coleen Naismith in the same way? She was last seen running screaming from the house that she shares with her boyfriend by neighbours. That was two days ago. Today someone reported finding blood and a severed toe in Leuchold Woods. Forensics have confirmed that they are Coleen Naismith’s. Three weeks ago she attended a victim support session where your father was giving a talk. Today both your sister and your father have mysteriously gone AWOL. Your family know something about her disappearance. You know something about her disappearance. What are you hiding? What are you afraid of? Is it your father? Are you afraid he may banish you to the cupboard under the stairs if you tell?’

  Bentley’s body stiffened, a shot of anger coursing through it, visible in eyes that went from dull to glistening, lips that went from pliant to snarling, fists that went from shaking to taught as he spoke. ‘I have never heard of Coleen Naismith. As for my father, he is not a Saint, but neither is he a monster and what we do, how we live behind our front door is nobody’s business but ours.’

  ‘Is that right. Nobody’s business but yours. Do you even know what is going on behind your front door?’ Tait responded with measured aggression. ‘We found signs of sexual activity in your father’s bed. Recent sexual activity.’

  The slight bit of fight that had coursed through Bentley’s body left him again and he slumped back into his seat, his face anguished.

  ‘DNA is conclusive. The sexual act was between your father and your sister. Did you know that was happening behind your front door?’

  Chapter 28

  On the face of it three very distinct and different murderers. Yes, all religious leaders with a warped sense of their own beliefs but when you come down to it, when you come down to the animal in us all, are they really different, or is this really just about sex. Is that what the ‘Fallen Angels’ are trying to show?

  I shuffle pictures on my hotel wall, bringing images of the three religious leaders closer together and pin a list of the women each has murdered beneath them. That’s another anomaly in all three cases. Heather Scott and Sunni Bhalla have not been called out on the videos the Fallen Angels have released so far. I know that there was one more picture shown in the Chodak case as well. Who are they? Are the Angels trying to tell the police something and if so, what? Are they a bigger part of what the
Angels are going to reveal? By my reckoning, there is only one reveal left to go. Patterns. It will be religious, it will be in Edinburgh, there will be an anomaly, and a ‘Fallen Angel’ will commit suicide. What else? Well, Madame Evangeline, Eve, Jessica will make a video of it. She will ask people to question the fear in their faith.

  There is a sound of a soft footfall on the carpet behind me and the waft of a subtle encompassing scent, Coco Chanel. I don’t turn, but feel Rebecca come up alongside me and mirror my gaze at the evidence wall.

  ‘You can use the door you know. I did give you a key.’ I say.

  ‘What, and have the plain clothes police officer who is following you know you are aiding and abetting a fugitive?’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’

  ‘He’s not hard to miss. If he’s not lounging around the reception area looking like a desperate punter trying to score some crack, he’s watching from McDonalds over the road stuffing his face with burgers. So best I keep using the window. What are you contemplating now?’

  Rebecca is constantly surprising me. ‘Right at this moment I’m contemplating how the hell you have become so savvy so quickly to surveillance techniques.’

  ‘You call it surveillance techniques, I call it people watching. It’s something I have always done, but I got a lot better at it when I met Madame Evangeline. We would meet up in the night and watch people, sometimes following them back to their homes. Sometimes watching through cracks in curtains as they got naked and fucked their husbands, wives, lovers: or all three. Invariably, we would play with each other while we watched. She taught me a lot about reading body language and facial expressions. Don’t change the subject, what are you contemplating?’