Fallen Angel

‘I’m pleased DI Darin chose you instead of me,’ Jax said in amazement. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start. I thought a yoke was something only found inside an egg?’

‘It’s the thingamabob that sits over the shoulders and falls to the front. At least I know that!’ Gaby said, silently congratulating herself on dragging up that little piece of information from her school sewing lessons. She also congratulated herself on her choice of Marie for the job. She’d known instinctively that, with her fashion sense, she’d be the ideal person to move this forward but that wasn’t the main driver behind her decision. Marie needed something in her life, something to sink herself into that wasn’t related to her marriage. However, it looked like she’d need a lot more than luck on her side to remove the nightdress from where it was currently lurking – on the very top of the dead-end pile.

‘So, there’s nothing to investigate apart from what Jason and the rest of the CSIs might find under their microscope? That’s disappointing.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. The buttons interest me. I’m not sure how much you know about buttons but some are quite unique. The mother-of-pearl ones used are of a particularly high quality. These days many are made of resin but, in this case, I think that they’re the real McCoy. Having said that, to high-end shirt makers, they’re two a penny so probably not that unusual. Jason might be lucky and find some DNA for us. It’s also possible that the killer removed his gloves to fasten them being as they’re small and quite fiddly.’ She leant back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. ‘I’m not done yet though. There’s a button company that might be able to help. With your permission I’d like to get a few high-resolution photos from the CSIs and email them over?’

‘By all means. Thank you, Marie. Right then, Jax and I have spent most of the day with Colin in the archives. We’re not here to criticise DI Tipping’s investigation but certain things have come to the forefront that need looking into.’ Picking up a red marker, she proceeded to write the name Leo Hazeldine in capital letters. ‘As you can see, Angelica’s boyfriend is top of the list just as he was all those years ago.’ She recapped the pen, placing it on the desk before raising her head and scanning the room, her gaze resting on each of them in turn. ‘The picture I’m getting of Angelica is that she was a diligent straight-A student who had to work for everything she got. Her father was unemployed. Her mother, a childminder, managed to hold the family together by the skin of her teeth. There wasn’t the time or the money for much fun in Angelica’s life. That was all meant to come later until some bastard got there first. She had a summer job behind the bar at the Penrhyn Yacht Club and that’s where she met Leo.’ She walked to the nearest chair and took a seat, waving a hand for Jax to take over.

‘Leo Hazeldine, aged nineteen at the time.’ Jax stood and turned to survey the rest of the team. ‘He was interviewed on numerous occasions by DI Tipping and on each one managed to convince everyone that he was the distraught boyfriend. They’d been dating six months, ever since she’d turned eighteen and got the job behind the bar.’ He dropped back into his chair before saying, ‘He acted the way one would expect even down to being adamant that they hadn’t had intercourse, but honest enough to admit that they’d come close a couple of times.’

‘And the bulletproof alibi?’ Owen interrupted. ‘Exactly how bulletproof is it?’

‘Pretty much K-K-Kevlar,’ he stuttered. ‘He’d travelled early that morning to a residential placement on a farm in Blaenau Ffestiniog. Although he’d passed his test, he didn’t have a car so instead he took the train. The people he was with all supported his statement that he’d gone to bed at midnight and was up at the crack of dawn in the milking shed.’

‘Mmm. And how far is Blaenau from here? A little less than an hour so not out of the realms of possibility,’ Owen added, answering his own question, his mouth twisting.

‘But not without transport and he didn’t have any. And, before you ask, the train doesn’t run overnight now – it certainly didn’t then. I-I-I have already checked.’

‘Thank you, Jax. Good work,’ Gaby said, firing Owen a quick glare that said cool it in all the languages possible. She was protective of all her officers but particularly Jax. She’d spent the last few months nurturing him so that putting voice to his thoughts wasn’t the nail-biting experience it had been when she’d first met him. It would only take a few more interruptions like that for his stutter to return. ‘So, in effect, unless we can find an accomplice that ferried him to and from Llandudno, he can’t be in the frame.’ She transferred her attention back to the whiteboard and the photo of a narrow-faced young man with pale blonde hair and an intense expression. He was good-looking in a Hollywood leading-man sort of way, not her type but she could imagine what other women might see in him. Angelica, with her fresh innocent beauty, complemented if anything by the starched white of her nightdress, seemed the type to be taken in by his dreamboat looks … although it wasn’t her nightdress, was it?

‘I still have some problems with how she managed to get from a first-floor window to halfway up the Great Orme without even a scratch or a bruise. Willing suspension of belief isn’t something, as a crime officer, I can sign up to so we have to try and find an alternative scenario that fits.’ Raising her head, she was met by a sea of blank faces. ‘Okay we’ll leave that part for now but if anyone has any bright ideas, they know which door to come knocking on.’ She flicked her eyes towards Malachy. ‘Last but not least, Mal. You were tasked with locating Hazeldine. How did you get on?’

‘I didn’t, ma’am,’ he said, tightening the knot of his tie, his long fingers lingering on the smooth silk fabric before dropping to rest on his solid thighs. ‘I assumed that as a vet he’d be relatively easy to trace. They all belong to professional bodies and what have you but in Hazeldine’s case it’s all a bit of a disaster. He went to university as planned but, after failing his first year, he dropped out. Picking up the odd job here and there, he wasn’t exactly on the breadline but not far off. I followed him via his social security contributions across to Australia but, at some point he went completely off radar – I’m not sure what happened. No job. No passport records. A complete blank. We don’t know who his father is, that part of the birth certificate was left blank, but I’ve managed to locate his mother. She’s living in Wrexham. As an only child, there’s not really anyone else to talk to now. I’m going to have to do a bit more digging before I come up with anything conclusive. The Penrhyn Yacht Club might be somewhere to start as it’s where he met Angelica. There might be a steward or something that remembers them both.’

‘Okay, good plan. Remember we only have a finite time on this so let’s target the easy wins. The nightdress. The boyfriend. I don’t really want to harass Angelica’s family yet.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that,’ Owen interrupted.

‘Too late? I don’t get you.’

Owen stood, his hands in his pockets, in a stance that she recognised. For all his laidback demeanour and jokey ways, Owen was a deeply complex individual. There’d been that time a few months ago at the start of their last investigation when she’d thought he was going to give up the police force altogether. Now she knew about his background, she wasn’t a bit surprised. She’d have been more surprised if he’d come out of his childhood unscathed by the events of twenty-five years ago. Twelve was a difficult age at the best of times and she suspected, by the way he’d talked about Angelica that his feelings were still mixed up. She’d been such a beautiful girl that quite a few hearts would have fluttered in her presence. Gaby watched him square his shoulders and launch into what felt like a pre-prepared speech.

‘I need to say that it’s no coincidence that we’re now investigating this murder. I asked the DI if it was something that we could focus on.’ He coughed into his hand, his voice so low Gaby had to lean forward to catch his words. ‘My wife, Kate, and Angelica were sisters. Her abduction and subsequent death have coloured most of our lives – it’s time to draw a line under all that. Last night Kate decided that her mother had to know about us reopening the investigation.’ He spread his hands. ‘There was nothing I could do to stop her but actually I think that it was the right thing. If she’d heard from anyone else, like the media for instance – and we all know how news seems to leak out of this place like a dripping tap – anyway it’s done. We went round and spoke to her mother about what it might mean with regards to press interest and to reinforce that opening the case was no guarantee of success.’

Gaby was pleased that Malachy, Jax and Marie remained silent. It was probably more due to having no idea of what to say but, whatever the reason, she welcomed their restraint. There weren’t enough words in the world to comfort the suddenly stern-looking Welshman. While she wouldn’t go so far as to admit that coppers were blasé about crime, it was something that rarely touched them personally. It wasn’t their partner, parents, children, their loved ones affected. Most days they could still brush off the trials and tribulations of the job as soon as their front door closed behind them and, by the time their dinner was in the oven, their mind had closed to all but the minutiae of life.

‘No problem, Owen, and, as you say, probably wise under the circumstances. Did Mrs Brock have anything to say that we should know about?’

He ran his finger under his collar, unbuttoning the top button as if the neck was suddenly too tight. ‘Not a great deal. We didn’t talk about the investigation as such but …’

‘But?’ she prompted, aware of his sudden discomfort.

‘She did say that Hazeldine had visited her sometime after. She couldn’t remember when exactly.’

‘And?’

‘And she didn’t think that he could be guilty.’

‘And that would be because …?’ she said, her voice now tinged with frustration.

‘That would be because she was pretty sure he was gay, ma’am.’

The silence extended a beat. ‘Unless I’m missing something, and please tell me if I am,’ Gaby said, staring around the room, ‘Hazeldine’s sexual orientation has no relation to whether he’s guilty or not.’

Chapter 10

Gaby

Friday 17 July, 8 p.m. The Imperial Hotel, Llandudno

‘Would you like to dance?’

Gaby glanced up at Dr Rusty Mulholland, an automatic ‘no’ forming on her lips. She’d spent the last hour being twirled and sometimes dragged around the room. An hour didn’t seem that long in the scheme of things, but she’d only returned to work a couple of weeks ago after an extended period of sick leave. An hour was more than enough for her still recovering body. Twisting her head, she could see Amy and Tim wrapped around each other on the dancefloor. Amy, her best friend and someone she felt very close to throttling. She’d forced Gaby to truss herself up like a chicken in the frock from hell and as for her shoes … While the four-inch courts matched her navy sparkly dress to perfection, they were the worst form of torture known to man. Long gone were the days when she could slip on a pair of her favourite heels and dance until dawn. The only good thing about it was that she wouldn’t have to put up with the pain for much longer. She’d already pre-warned Amy and Tim that she was planning on sloping off early and, with the way the dancefloor was filling up, no one was going to miss her …

Her thoughts froze, her focus shifting from Amy and back to Rusty and the red-haired boy standing behind him. His son. She’d heard rumours that his ex-wife had dumped him with full custody but the station overflowed with grapevine gossip, most of which was from dubious sources. She’d ignored it all in a half-hearted attempt to deflect her team’s unwarranted interest in her love life but the one thing she couldn’t ignore was the woe-begotten expression etched onto the boy’s face. He wanted to be here just as much as she did and, by the looks of things, his dad was determined to drag out the evening right to the end.

Hiding her annoyance, she slipped her feet back into her shoes, and stood, her attention flickering between man and boy. She wasn’t in the mood for social niceties but there was something about the downturn of the boy’s lips and the droop of his head that struck a chord. She remembered, like it was yesterday, how it had felt growing up in Liverpool to parents that spoke English in a funny accent. Being different was a red flag to the bullies and some sixth sense told her that this child’s life was full of such flags, her eyes once again drawn to his hair.

‘Hello there,’ she said, ignoring Rusty’s question as if he’d never voiced it. ‘I’m Gaby, one of your dad’s colleagues.’

‘This is Conor,’ Rusty interrupted, guiding the boy forward.

She crouched, hoping and praying that the seams of her dress were up to it. ‘Well, Conor, what do you think of parties then? At your age I’d have been bored to tears.’

‘It’s okay,’ he said, dropping his gaze.

‘Only okay?’

‘Well, a bit boring if I’m honest but …’

‘No buts. I can imagine there’s a computer game with your name on it. What is it these days, Minecraft? Fortnite?’

‘Rocket League.’

‘Rocket League,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘That’s a new one on me but, I’m sure it’s much more exciting than being stuck with a pile of adults. So, how long do you think your dad will make you stay, do you reckon?’ she continued, struggling to ignore the sudden glare sent in her direction.

‘Oh, not long, Gabriella. I promised him we’d leave straight after the last duty dance so, the sooner you agree the better,’ Rusty answered, holding out his hand, his lips a thin line. ‘Five minutes, Conor,’ he added, tilting his head in the direction of her recently vacated chair.

Gaby found herself being led onto the dancefloor and manoeuvred into his arms before she could even start working on a suitably cutting response. She didn’t want to dance with Rusty and, obviously he felt the same way if his comment about duty dances was anything to go by. She ground her teeth at the way he’d managed to outsmart her. It was almost as difficult to bear as the feel of his arms around her back and the warmth of his breath against her ear. She didn’t want this with him or indeed with any man, she told herself, despite the slight hitch in her breathing and a feeling akin to liquid silver hijacking her veins. After the disastrous experience she’d had with Leigh Clark back in Cardiff, she couldn’t afford to drop her guard; one slip and Rusty would crawl through the narrow space between her ribs and set up basecamp.

She stiffened her spine in an act of self-preservation. It had taken her months and a transfer to a different part of Wales to recover from the damage Leigh had wrought. She couldn’t allow herself to go through all that again no matter what her body was telling her.

Lifting her head, she stared up at him, aware of the way he towered over her. ‘Look, Rusty, there’s nowhere in either of our contracts that says we have to be anything other than professional and duty dances went out with the last century.’

‘When did I say that this was a duty?’

She opened her mouth only to close it with a snap. ‘Just now when you …’

He shook his head. ‘I was talking about Sherlock’s wife. Dancing with you is a pleasure.’

‘Oh please!’ She tried to pull away but he only strengthened his hold, his muscles bunching under her fingertips. ‘Everyone’s staring.’

‘No, they’re not and even if they are, so what? It’s not as if we’re doing anything we shouldn’t. It’s only a dance, Gabriella, and I wouldn’t have been forced to take such a drastic step if you hadn’t been avoiding me.’

‘Avoiding you? What do you mean avoiding you? There’s been no reason to be in touch. Our patch has been the quietest I’ve ever known. No unexplained deaths. Nothing that needs your particular skillset. We’ve even had time to delve into some of the old cold cases that never get a look-in. Thank you, by the way, for meeting up with Owen. He found your comments very useful. As soon as you have any—’

‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ he interrupted. ‘There’s a time to talk about work and this isn’t it. So, when are you going to relent and agree to go out for a drink?’

‘Out for a drink?’ she repeated, unable to break away from the intensity of his stare. She must have missed something – huge swathes of conversation – because, as far as she was concerned, he hadn’t even broached the subject of a date apart from that one time … She squeezed her lids together, forcing her mind not to explore the recent past. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t realise that on some level he wanted to progress their relationship from professional into something more meaningful just as she was determined not to let him. She slammed the door on any thoughts of a happy ever after. Her brain for some reason was determined to ignore all the preliminaries of the dating ritual, instead jumping straight in at a couple of kids and maybe an animal or two, even as she tried not to relish in the feel of his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. He was clever, this Dr Rusty Mulholland, but she was far from stupid …

An hour later found them sitting around a table in McDonald’s.

‘When I invited you out for a drink, I was thinking of a little country pub,’ Rusty said, handing out bags of chips and cups of Coke, his gaze roaming over her navy chiffon dress. ‘You do realise that we’re the only ones here not wearing jeans, don’t you?’

‘Well, it did seem like an ideal opportunity and Conor’s happy, aren’t you?’ she replied, trying to hide a laugh at the way his son was tucking into his burger. ‘Didn’t he eat before coming out then?’

‘He ate everything on his plate and half of mine. A growth spurt, or so he tells me.’ Rusty ruffled his son’s hair, much to his annoyance. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything?’ he added, gesturing to the chips in front of him.

‘No, I’m good. I can’t breathe as it is, any more food and I’m likely to have an indecency order slapped on me which, apart from scaring the children, wouldn’t do anything for my CV,’ she said on a laugh.

‘If it’s any consolation I think you look great, well worth the effort. I especially like your hair; I’ve never seen it any way other than tied back off your face.’

She resisted the temptation to put her hand to the carefully blow-dried style that Amy had insisted on helping her with, suddenly at a loss. If Rusty Mulholland stayed like this, she wouldn’t be able to come up with one solitary reason for not accepting if he asked her out again. But she knew deep down that he wouldn’t. As soon as they were back on a case, he’d return to the rudest, most arrogant man she’d ever had the misfortune to meet and the very last man she’d ever agree to date. She damped down a sigh, silently bemoaning that he couldn’t be more like Owen. Despite everything going on in their lives, Owen and Kate had one of the strongest marriages and, with the birth of their daughter imminent, he’d hurried away after only one dance, his arm firmly around his wife. That’s what she wanted from a relationship and if she couldn’t have it then she’d go without.

‘Thank you, not the most practical of hairstyles when out on a case …’ she started, only to stop at the sound of her mobile. It took a few seconds of searching in her evening bag before finding it. One glance and she pushed away from the table, hurrying to the door, the phone held to her ear.

‘Darin speaking.’

Chapter 11

Gaby

Friday 17 July, 9 p.m. McDonald’s

Heading back inside, Gaby was surprised to find Rusty looking incongruous with her beaded bag clutched in his hand, encouraging Conor to hurry up.

‘There’s no need for you to rush. I can always grab a taxi.’ She took her bag, dropped her phone inside and snapped it closed.

‘Not dressed like that you can’t. I’ll drop you off home to get changed and then … I take it there’s a case?’ he said, immediately taking charge of the situation. He picked up the tray and deposited the empty cartons in the bin. ‘I didn’t think you’d be on call?’

‘I’m not, but with half the station at Amy’s do I told them to contact me if anything unusual turned up,’ she said, walking to the door. ‘After all, I’m the one who’s had the last six weeks off.’

‘Off sick following a serious injury, or had you forgotten?’

Reaching the car, she tilted her head, throwing a speaking glance at his son.

‘Oh, don’t mind Conor, he can’t hear a thing with his earphones in,’ he said, opening the door for her and waiting while she swivelled her legs in before slamming it shut and walking around to the driver’s side.

‘Okay then. Actually it’s not a bad idea you coming along. There’s a good possibility you’ll be needed unless you’ve managed to get someone to cover your shift?’

‘Ha, as if. They never manage to cover my shifts, Gabriella, unless I’m on holiday and even then they still sometimes contact me. What about Owen? Surely he could have stepped in?’

‘Owen had to prop up the MIT team in my absence and is therefore well overdue the long weekend he’s currently on. He’s off until Tuesday and I don’t expect to see him one second before then.’ She fastened her seatbelt and, turning in her seat, decided to take him at his word about Conor. ‘There’s been a gas explosion. One fatality. Probably routine but who knows at this stage.’

Ardwyn House must have once been a glorious property. Situated at the foot of the Little Orme, almost opposite the Craigside Inn in what was viewed to be one of the most sought-after areas in Llandudno, it was glorious no longer. Its windows were blown. Its once butter-cream exterior coated in ash. Its roof and one wall partially collapsed. A glimmer of rose-patterned wallpaper was partly visible in the stream of light cast by industrial floodlights.

Rusty slid his car to a halt on a yellow line behind the second fire engine, turned off the ignition and twisted in his seat. ‘You okay to stay in the car, Conor? We won’t be long.’

They walked to the CSI van in silence, which changed as soon as they reached the back door – open to reveal neatly stacked clear plastic boxes full of equipment.

‘Let’s get one thing clear, Gabriella. You’re not going inside. It’s far too dangerous.’ Rusty grabbed her arm, his look fierce.

She stepped back, pulling out of his grasp. While she’d been happy for him to take the lead in McDonald’s and more than thankful that he’d offered to drop her home so that she could get changed out of her fancy clothes, enough was enough. It had taken her a long while to earn the respect of her team and being prepared to go into any situation without any obvious qualms was all part of that. The fact that the blackened building filled her with a dread that stretched from her hastily bundled-up hair right down to the tips of her Reeboks was not the point.

‘The structural engineer has declared it safe and, as this is my gig—’

‘—and, as I keep having to remind you, you’re only just back to work after what was a pretty horrendous injury. You might as well save your breath because there is no way I or any of the team, and that includes Craig, over there,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the fire scene investigator, ‘will let you set foot anywhere near. And anyway, what good will it do, hmm? I have to go in to see where the body is and then, believe me, I’m out of there too.’

Gaby shifted her gaze to the partially demolished house. She knew he was right but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. It was attitudes like his that could easily have them whispering about how she was losing her touch.

‘If you’re doing this because of some sense of misplaced chivalry because I’m a woman …?’