Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1) (15 page)

‘Shit.’  Saul cursed, banging his fingernails off his trembling lips. ‘I’m sorry Jess, I didn’t know we were coming here to question you.  It’s going to get complicated and it is going to get messy.  Sorry.  Let’s take a seat.  Saxon, could you come over too.  DI Saxon, this is Jessica Seymour.’ he said as they all sat down on the sofa, Saxon shaking Jessica’s hand as they did.

‘Right.  In summary, last night we found a dead body at a property owned by Axiom, your company.  We are treating the circumstances as suspicious.  One of the lines of enquiry we are pursuing relates to a black limousine seen heading towards the property on the night of his murder.  That limousine is also registered to your company.  We are also looking for a woman who was in the Edinburgh area on the night of his murder and subsequent to his murder.’  Saul said, looking Jessica directly in the eyes with a concerned expression and pausing for a second, glancing at Saxon momentarily also.

‘This is where is gets a bit complex.  I know that you have a passing resemblance to the woman that we are looking for.  I know that you were in Edinburgh around about the time the murdered took place.’ he added pausing again as surprise surfaced on both Jessica’s and Saxon’s face simultaneously.

‘I know that you were there, because I was with you.  It was New Year’s Eve, 2012 and we were there for a half marathon.  At this point though, it doesn’t matter that there is a reasonable explanation for you, or I being there.  The fact that you own this company, own the car and were in the same vicinity as the victim means that you will need to help us with our enquiries.  I can’t question you about it because I was with you.  Do you understand?’ he asked, eyes darting between them pensively.

‘I understand the information you are giving me, but…’ Jessica started, still startled. ‘But it sounds incredible!’ she added, nonplussed for a second, staring wide eyed between the two officers.  She regained her composure remarkably quickly, sitting up straight, pushing her shoulders back and straightening out her dress over her knees.

‘But, if you need to question me, that’s not a problem.  Just let me know what you need me to do.’ she asked, calmly and politely.

‘I need you to go with DI Saxon, up to Featherstone Hall.  The team will then interview you with regard to this matter.  Unfortunately I can’t be involved in the investigation now.’ he was sat beside her, and gently placed a hand on her knee.  ‘I need you to tell them the truth about that day.  I need you to tell them the truth about us.  Everything about us.’

‘Sorry Sir.’ interjected Saxon.  ‘I’m not quite sure why you can’t be involved in this now.’

‘No need to be sorry Saxon.  I know Mrs Seymour well.  Very well.  We have been having an affair for a very long time.  I can’t be involved in the investigation because by association, I am implicated in the events leading up to the victim’s death.  At this point in time, I am also a suspect.’

11:40 am

‘How many!’  Strange asked, incredulously.  He was leaning down, arms pressed against the surface of the desk in the MIU, taking in what DI Munro has just told him.

‘They have counted more than two thousand at the minute.  There are tanks lining the walls of the warehouse with thousands more live ones inside.  Apparently the stench from those two thousand dead snake carcasses was a bit unpleasant.  One or two of the guys vomited.  It was the stench that someone complained about.  One of the local PC’s went to investigate, called it in and it flashed up on our ‘Has anyone seen a shitload of snakes’ radar.’  Munro finished, wryly.

‘Are SOCO there yet?  Have we got any Detectives on the way?’  Strange asked.

‘The location is secured, SOCO have started to process the scene.  DI Cummings is on the way.  It’s in a row of other leased warehouses down in the old dockyards in Wallsend.  The PC who arrived first questioned the other warehouse owners.  The unit had been empty for a long time and no one can recall any recent activity from it.  One very important thing that’s come to light.  While the units are all leased, the owner of the warehouse complex is a company called Pison Properties.  The same Pison Properties that owns Featherstone Hall.’  Munro finished, smugly leaning back in his seat, the front legs of it off the ground.

‘Interesting.’  Strange answered, a glint in his eye as he turned and marked up the white board under his notes on ‘Snakes’ with the owner and location of the warehouse.  

‘Keep an eye on that and feedback anything of note from either SOCO or the investigating officer immediately.  Phyllis, keep checking with those suppliers.  They had to get those snakes from somewhere.  Anything else on Missing Persons?’  Strange asked Munro, turning back from the whiteboard.

‘Three people have turned up and been reunited with their worried families.  No leads relevant to this case coming from the other investigations at the moment.’  Munro said, rocking back and forth on the seat.

The conference phone on the desk started to ring.  Strange checked the number then answered it.

‘John, how are things going at Pison?’  Strange asked.

‘Saxon is bringing Jessica Seymour, the owner of the company, in for questioning.  They are on their way up to you now.’  Saul said, his voice distorted, the call fading in and out.

‘Why are you bringing her in for questioning?  What have you found out?’ asked Strange inquisitively, leaning closer to the conference phone.  Munro stopped rocking on his chair and leaned in closer too.

‘Sir, do you recall the conversation we had about Personal and Professional.  Well, this has just got very personal.  I know Jessica.  She owns the company.  She owns the limousine.  She looks a little like the photo fit of Madame Evangeline that we have.  She was in Edinburgh on the day in question.  She is most definitely a suspect, and because she is a suspect, so am I.’ Saul said, his voice breaking up.

‘Are you driving John, the connection isn’t great.  Explain to me what you mean by that.  Why are you a suspect?’  Strange asked, perplexed, standing upright and putting his hands into his trouser pockets.  Munro raised his hands in a quizzical gesture too.

‘Yes, I’m driving.  I don’t have time to explain at the moment Sir, Saxon will bring you fully up to speed when they arrive.  I have to go and check some..in. .ut…..’  A loud beep came from the phone as the call cut out.

‘Curious.’  Strange mused, poking the redial button on the phone.  It rang dead, out of signal range.  He turned back to the whiteboard and wrote the name ‘Jessica Seymour’ under the heading ‘Axiom/Pison’.

‘Well, let’s wait to see what comes of that.  It sounds as though we may have a suspect at last.’  Strange said to the room in general, his tone slightly dubious.

‘OK, Steven, is there any update on your connection machinations?’  Strange asked, abruptly changing the subject, walking up behind Reynolds and placing hands on his shoulders. 

‘The IT Guys at the Department Of Health Offices are still c…checking the c…connection at their end.  They have found that as well as it talking out of their network to this location, it also has active c…connections going into their internal network.  They are trying to figure out what those c…connections are doing.  In the meantime I’ve been trying to decrypt the encrypted c…connections.  I have managed to do three of them.  It’s the same type of traffic, all heartbeat messages.  All c…coming from some type of government or public sector organisations.  I am getting in touch with the relevant IT Teams as soon as I know who the organisations are.  Whoever this person is, they sure know how to hack c…computers.’  Reynolds said.

‘What about the larger connections, the ones you think are carrying the video streams, any joy with them?’ asked Strange.

Reynolds shook his head.  ‘Not yet Sir, they are going to be harder.  They are using a stronger level of encryption.  It could be a few hours before I manage to get anywhere with them.’

‘Okay, keep up the good work.’  Strange said positively, patting Reynolds shoulders as he did.

‘Georgie, are you there!’  Strange said loudly, looking up towards the screen showing the autopsy room. 

Darrie could be seen on the screen, deep in active concentration, working on the cadaver which was just below the camera angle, out of view of Strange as he watched.

Darrie raised his head, then a blood stained gloved hand with which he mopped his sweating brow.  With the other hand, he lifted Michael’s brain into view.

‘I’ve just removed his brain Jerry.  I have to say, the initial autopsy was a Pigs Ear.  I know the chap who carried it out.  Met him at a convention a few years back.  Think I might even have buggered him a couple of times while we were there.  I’ll be buggering his career now.  I would guess due to the damage of the chest cavity and with having a confession from the killer, he didn’t put much effort into other possible injuries.  He certainly didn’t do a full autopsy on the head.  Mind you, that may be me being a little disingenuous.  From the outside, there really isn’t any physical sign of injury to the scalp.  There is a very slight graze with some light bruising.  No real external bleeding to speak of and it’s all hidden under his hair.’

‘So there is something there then?’ asked Strange.

‘Oh yes, most definitely yes.’  Darrie answered, angling the bottom rear of the brain to the camera.  ‘Do you see that red swelling, about a centimetre across, there?’ he said, pointing at a slight mound sticking out from the Occipital Lobe.  ‘That is internal haemorrhaging.  This is what happened.  Young Michael here has had a light bang on the head.  A bone has splintered off on the inside of his skull and pierced an artery in his brain.  That has caused the haemorrhage.  He would have died within thirty seconds of the blow.  Young Michael didn’t die from having his heart ripped out.  All of that was done post mortem.  He died due to a blow on the head.  From what Harris found at the Hall, my professional opinion would be that he knocked it on the fireplace.  How, I can’t tell you, but he didn’t die at Rebecca Angus’s flat.  He died in Featherstone Hall.’

12:15 pm

‘It’s me again Sarah, please call me back when you get this message, I need to talk to you urgently.’  Saul huffed into his phone as the call went to voicemail.  He was striding towards the Reception of the Fielding Institute from the car park.  He thrust the phone back into the inside tuxedo pocket with such force, the lining ripped.

‘Great.’ he mumbled under his breath as he entered the Reception and approached the desk, the same young lady as earlier behind it. 

‘Good afternoon Detective Inspector Saul, are you here to see Dr Ennis again?’ she asked, smiling politely at him.

‘Is he in his office?’  Saul asked tersely.

‘Yes, would you like…’ she started, but Saul was already walking away, down the corridor towards Dr Ennis’s office.

‘Sir, Sir, could you wait until I ring through.’ she called ineffectually, Saul ignoring her.  She stabbed a button on the phone, the call answered quickly.  ‘Dr Ennis, DI Saul is coming to your office now, he doesn’t seem to be at all happy.’ she relayed, looking anxiously down the corridor as she spoke.

Saul barged his way into the office, pushing the door open hard, where it swung fully on its hinges and banged off the wall with a loud thud.  Dr Ennis stood up as Saul thundered across the room, blood rushing up his neck and into his cheeks as fast as he stood, his own expression starting to fume with anger. Dr Ennis moved quickly to the side of his desk, right into the oncoming path of Saul, where he stood defiantly, arms slightly raised in a defensive position in front of him.  Saul’s hateful glare didn’t leave Dr Ennis’s fiery eyes for one second as he covered the last few feet over the office and stopped directly in front of him, their faces mere centimetres apart.  Their gaze was locked, for a moment both of them just standing there, features twitching with the pent up anger bubbling inside.  Saul’s fists were balled tight, ready to punch, knuckles red raw with the pressure he was applying.  Dr Ennis’s hands were one above the other, trembling in anticipation of action. 

Saul’s lip started to twitch as he took in the furious glare of Dr Ennis.  He started to shake his head slightly, releasing the pressure in his fists a little, taking a step back.  ‘It would give me great
personal
pleasure, great
personal
pleasure to beat you to a pulp.’  Saul whispered, the words full of vitriol.

A derogatory sneer curled its way onto Dr Ennis’s countenance as he also took a step backwards, the immediate tension of the encounter dropping slightly.  ‘The feeling is mutual, believe me.  If that’s what you have come here for, then by all means have a go, as they say.’     

Just then, two Security Guards jogged into the room, short handled batons out tight against their forearms, ready for action.  Dr Ennis raised a hand as he saw them approach Saul, who was turning ready to engage them.  ‘It’s alright gentleman, DI Saul is just here to ask me a few questions, there’s nothing for you to worry about.  Thank you for coming so promptly.’

‘Are you sure Sir?’ one of them asked as they both slowed to a stop beside Saul. 

‘DI Saul, you are here
just
to ask me a few questions, I presume?’  Dr Ennis said, the question heavy with intent.

Saul looked from Dr Ennis to the guards, then back to Dr Ennis.  ‘At the moment, I am here to ask a few questions.  At the moment.’ he finished curtly, sitting down in the seat in front of Dr Ennis’s desk, crossing the legs of his tattered trousers and relaxing right back into it, still staring at his host.

‘I am sure gentleman.  You can leave us now.’  Dr Ennis said, motioning them out with a flick of the hand.  He straightened his jacket, then sat down in his own seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, steepling his hands in front of him.

‘I see there is an anger inside you after all Saul.  You aren’t the stoic automaton everyone makes you out to be.’ he stated, snidely.

Saul shrugged his shoulders, the earlier anger dissipated through his frame, his demeanour now relaxed and calm once again. ‘Whereas you are the aggressive, sadistic bastard I always knew you were.’  Saul replied, his tone challenging.

Dr Ennis visibly smarted at the words, sitting upright and clasping his hands together tightly, the ruddy hue of anger flushing up his neck once more.

‘But I haven’t come here to goad you.’  Saul added quickly, smiling at the reaction, seeing Dr Ennis just about to burst.  ‘I have a few more questions for you following our meeting earlier.’

Saul looked past Dr Ennis, to the picture hanging on the wall behind him.  ‘You mentioned that the Cezanne was left to the Institute.  Could you tell me who left it?’  Saul asked.

‘Back to the picture again.  I know that you are an artist Saul, but I don’t know why on earth that thing interests you.  What does it have to do with Rebecca Angus?’  Dr Ennis asked brusquely.

‘That’s what we are trying to ascertain.  We are reviewing every lead and every piece of evidence again.  It looks as though the initial investigation wasn’t as thorough as it should have been and there are glaring holes in the evidence.  For example, we have already found out that Madame Evangeline’s residence, which Rebecca states herself, Michael and Madame Evangeline visited on the night of his death does, in fact, exist.  I believe you concluded that her recollection of that location was part of her DID.’  Saul paused as he finished the sentence, observing Dr Ennis’s expression.

Dr Ennis was still simmering, clasping his hands tightly in front of him.  He raised an eyebrow and said.  ‘That is correct.  Based upon the evidence that was presented at the time, yes, that was the conclusion.’ he answered, evidently squirming in his seat, but keeping his frustration in check.

‘We have also found the limousine that Rebecca states took them there.  Again, I believe you concluded that her recollection of that vehicle was part of her DID.’  Saul added, still watching Dr Ennis intently.

‘Again, that is correct, based on the evidence that was presented at the time.  Neither of those things fundamentally changes the diagnosis of Rebecca’s condition.  If anything it just clarifies the disjointed state of her mind and that reality and fantasy to her were inextricably entwined.’  Dr Ennis answered firmly, the main arteries in his neck throbbing with tension.

Saul shrugged, leaning forward in his seat.  ‘Possibly.  However, we have also just taken a woman in for questioning.  A woman who owns the property Rebecca and Michael Angus visited on the night of his death.  A woman who owns the limousine they travelled to that location in.  A woman who we know was in Edinburgh at the same time they were.  A woman:’ Saul paused for a second, watching every single twitch, tickle and tick on Dr Ennis’s face as he delivered the statements, before finishing. ‘Who looks remarkably like the description of Madame Evangeline.’

Dr Ennis banged his hands on the table suddenly, the simmering frustration inside spilling over as he shouted. ‘Once again, Detective Inspector Saul, based on the evidence we had at the time, it is my professional opinion -it
still
is my professional opinion- that Rebecca Angus suffers from DID.  If you have any specific questions you would like to ask me, then please, ask them.  However, if all you want to do is laud your Pyrrhic victory over me, then I would ask that you leave immediately.’ he finished, nostrils flaring and eyes bulging with anger.

‘What I would like to know Dr Ennis, is who left you the Cezanne.  It is important to this case.’  Saul asked calmly, relaxing back into the seat again.

‘It was bequeathed to the Institute by one of our patrons on his death, along with a large cash donation.  As I mentioned previously, we do have all the relevant paperwork.’ said Dr Ennis, still visibly frustrated.

‘I am sure that you do.  What I want to know is, who was that patron?’  Saul reiterated.

‘It is no secret Saul.  It was Henry Seymour.  He was one of the original founders of the institute and its main financial benefactor at the time.’

Saul tensed in the seat where he sat when he heard the name, gripping its arms firmly.  ‘And was there any particular reason why Henry Seymour was such a prominent benefactor of the institute?’ 

‘I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly comment.’  Dr Ennis answered, his demeanour changing as he noted the tension in Saul’s voice.

‘Dr Ennis, Henry Seymour is dead.  Any professional confidentiality that may have been in place whilst he was alive has lapsed.  I could get a warrant to make you divulge that information, but I would like to think that you would be co-operative with our investigations.’  Saul stated, his tone curt.

Dr Ennis ruminated on the request for a few moments and then spoke.  ‘Do you recall the gentleman I mentioned earlier, who painted the picture in the reception area?’ 

‘Yes, the psychopath.’

‘He was an ancestor of Henry Seymour.  It was his great, great grandfather.  The Seymour family over the course of the last few generations have been beset with a much higher than normal level of mental illness.  There are some reasons for this.  Interbreeding being the most pronounced.  Henry wanted to understand if there was anything else in the genetic and mental makeup of his family’s bloodline that could be causing the aberration.  He paid us to research the family ‘Curse’, as they called it.’  Dr Ennis relaxed back into his chair as he spoke, some of the rouge draining from his complexion as he calmed down.

‘What did the research involve?’ Saul asked.

‘For those family members that were deceased, it involved going through any case notes that were available from their touch points with the medical establishment.  There were many.  Ninety percent of the Seymour family had been in touch with mental health professionals from the records we have.  It also involved providing care and counselling for living relatives and proactively researching the families conditions.  With Henry’s death, the last of the known Seymour bloodline ended.  Unfortunately we never came to any conclusive outcome before his death.  It was a shame given the amount he had invested in the research.’

‘What living relatives were you involved with?’

‘He had a brother, a recluse, who lived in Northumberland.  He was bipolar.  It was very rare he wasn’t in a state of deep depression.  He passed away about two and a half years ago.  He had a sister who lived in Italy.  She was autistic and dyslexic.  We only met a couple of times during the early inception of the Institute.  She died about eight years ago.’

‘No other relatives.’

‘None that I was aware of.  Henry spent a large amount of time of the family’s genealogy and couldn’t find any other living relatives.’

‘Given the relationship you had with Henry Seymour, I would surmise that you also knew his wife.’  Saul imperceptibly tensed as he asked the question, leaning forward just a fraction in his seat.

‘Jessica.  Yes, I know Jessica.’ 

‘And what type of relationship did you have with her?’

‘Platonic on a personal level.  We would often meet at fundraisers or dinners that she attended with Henry.’

‘What about on a professional level.’  Saul was leaning further forward now, scanning every movement of Dr Ennis’s face.

‘That is where I have to stop answering your questions as she is still alive.  I cannot possibly divulge any information regarding my patients.’  Dr Ennis answered, slightly smugly.

‘So she is your patient.’  Saul pushed.

‘Yes, she is.’