Authors: Rhys Bowen
Evan Blessed (26 page)
“That's true.”
They drove on in silence. Evan played through the scenes in his mind. Paul had seemed distraught and yet certain things didn't make sense. He had claimed he was much fitter than she was and she couldn't keep up with him. And yet he had puffed and panted when Evan took him back up the mountain. Evan shut his eyes, picturing
the scene again for himself. Even if Paul had come down the Pyg Track quicker than Shannon, the mountain was bare for most of the way. He'd only have had to look back and he'd have seen her. What if they hadn't been on the mountain at all?
the scene again for himself. Even if Paul had come down the Pyg Track quicker than Shannon, the mountain was bare for most of the way. He'd only have had to look back and he'd have seen her. What if they hadn't been on the mountain at all?
“What's on your mind, Evans?” Watkins asked. “How do you see this?”
Evan took a deep breath. “You know what I'm thinking, sir? I'm wondering if they ever went up Snowdon. Paul Upwood was out of breath by the time we'd gone over the first crest when I took him up with me, and yet he claimed they had words because she couldn't keep up with him. So how about this: what if she told him she was planning to leave him? We know he worshipped the ground she trod on, according to her parents. We know how possessive he was. What if he wasn't prepared to let her go? What if he killed her and has hidden the body somewhere elseâsomewhere far away from Snowdon?”
“That would be looking for a needle in a haystack, wouldn't it?”
“I'm not so sure,” Evan said. “They didn't have a car with them, so they could only go where the Sherpa bus and their own two feet would take them. We know they were staying at the youth hostel and both were seen at breakfast that morning. The bus driver doesn't remember them on his route, so they must have walked. The question is, in which direction?”
“We did put up some posters and nobody came forward to say that they'd seen her that day,” Watkins reminded him.
“Of course. He would have deliberately chosen a less traveled route, probably one with some trees, and not too steep either, the way he panted.”
“We'll take a look at the map when we get back, but in the meantime I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Fancy a fry-up at the transport café?”
“I never say no to a good fry-up,” Evan said. “Especially since I'm about to embark on a life of healthy eating with Bronwen.”
“Your last meal, like the condemned prisoner's, then.” Watkins chuckled.
“Sorry, but I find it hard to smile about last meals at the moment. I hope to God we find Shannon Parkinson's body if he did kill her. I don't want another man getting away with murder.”
“We'll find her. As you said, he wasn't much of a walker. And he can't have had time to bury her properly. We'll have the dogs out again and she'll turn up, sooner or later.”
They pulled into a transport café called the Traveller's Rest and walked away from the counter with plates piled high with eggs, beans, chips, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, and fried bread.
“Enough cholesterol to kill an ox,” Watkins commented as he dipped the fried bread into the egg yolk, “but it looks wonderful.”
Evan was just putting the first forkful to his lips when he stopped. Yolk dripped down onto the rim of his plate.
“Hang on a minute,” he said. “I was just remembering that first time that Paul Upwood showed up at my cottage. He wasn't at all out of breath. You know the climb up to the cottage, don't you? It's steep enough to make even Charlie Hopkins pant a little. So that must mean that Upwood hadn't come up the hill at all. He'd come down from above. You know there's a path that follows the stream up between the Glydrs and Mynedd Perfedd. I think he could have managed it without too much difficulty.”
“Any woods up there?”
Evan paused to think. “Not many trees, but plenty of rocks, oh, and there's that little reservoir on the other side.”
“Right,” Watkins said. “As soon as we've finished this, I'll have men up there. And I suppose I'd better call out the divers again.” He sighed. “We better find a body. HQ is going to nail me for going over budget this month.”
Evan looked up from his meal. How often they made light of tragedy in their profession. Finding bodies was just part of the job. But now he'd had his own personal brush with tragedy, he found he couldn't smile at Watkins's quip. Finding the body meant a lifetime of grief for a family. He'd never forget that again.
Before the day was out, Shannon Parkinson's body had been found, tangled in a clump of reeds at the edge of the small lake. A warrant was issued for Paul Upwood's arrest. Evan was annoyed that he hadn't been allowed to join in the search to look for Shannon, but by the end of the day he had to admit that his shoulder would not have appreciated the hike. In fact, the stress and exhaustion of the last two days suddenly caught up with him, so that he was fast asleep in a chair in the duty room when Watkins came to find him with the news.
“Well done, chaps.” D.C.I. Hughes poked his head around the door. “I just heard the news. It's always satisfying to write case closed on something, isn't it?”
“Not so satisfying for her parents,” Watkins said gravely. “Her mum was so hopeful when we left her. I don't envy the local Bobby who has to break that news to her.”
“I hope Bron's parents realize how lucky they are,” Evan said. “I certainly do.”
“You've been through an ordeal this week, Evans,” Hughes said, with uncharacteristic kindness. “Why don't you take a few days sick leave. Give you a chance to prepare for the wedding.”
Evan's brain raced quickly though seating plans, flower arrangements,
his mother's sausage rolls, Mrs. Williams versus the caterer ⦠“I don't think I'm actually that sick, sir,” he said. Watkins chuckled.
his mother's sausage rolls, Mrs. Williams versus the caterer ⦠“I don't think I'm actually that sick, sir,” he said. Watkins chuckled.
The wedding morning dawned bright and clear. Evan's mother appeared at an indecently early hour, clucking and shaking her head. “You know what they say about fine before seven, rain by eleven, don't you? I hope you've got a nice big umbrella so that Miss Price doesn't ruin her headdress.”
“Don't be such a pessimist, Mam,” Evan said. “And I must say I'm glad you'll finally have to call Bronwen by her first name after today. Or are you going to call her Mrs. Evans?”
“Don't be silly,” Evan's mother pushed past him. “I'll welcome her into the family. It's only Christian charity, isn't it? Of course, if you were both real Christians, you'd be getting married in the chapel here in the village, not traipsing down to some high-faluting Church of Wales. They'll probably be swinging incense and praying to statues and all those heathen kinds of things.”
Evan laughed. “It's a simple wedding ceremony, and we've asked the minister at Capel Bethel to come and say a blessing, too. Now are you satisfied?”
Mrs. Evans searched for a long moment for something else to complain about, then shook her head. “At least you've got plenty of sausage rolls so that the guests don't go hungry,” she said as her parting shot. Then she paused in the doorway and came back. “Your da would have been proud of you,” she said quietly. “I just wish he was here to see this day.”
“I wish so too, Mam.”
“Right,” she said, with a deep sigh. “Can't stand around here chatting. There's work to be done. All those pastries to get down from Mrs. Williams's house to the tent. See you in church then, eh, son?”
“See you in church, Mam.”
Evan glanced at his reflection in the speckled glass mirror as he left the cottage. An unfamiliar figure in a dark suit, silk tie, and neatly
combed hair stared back at him. “Oh well, then, no sense in hanging around,” he said to the reflection. “Better get it over with.”
combed hair stared back at him. “Oh well, then, no sense in hanging around,” he said to the reflection. “Better get it over with.”
He arrived at the church to find Mrs. Price fussing around. “Oh, thank goodness you're here, Evan. And where's your best man? He's not here yet, either.”
“He'll be here,” Evan said, glancing at his watch.
“He won't have been called out in an emergency, will he?” Bronwen's mother asked anxiously.
“I'm sure he'll make it,” Evan said and wished she'd go away.
Guests arrived and were seated. Mrs. Williams and Evan's mother were seen carrying trays of food over to the large tent. Caterers scurried to and fro. The inhabitants of Llanfair, all good chapelgoers, glanced at each other with apprehension as they entered the church, expecting to be struck on the spot by the wrath of God.
“It will all be very Papist, I'm sure,” he heard Mrs. Powell-Jones say loudly to her husband, the minister. Evan grinned to himself. At least they'd come. He wished Bronwen was here beside him at this minute. It all felt very strange and unreal. Why had they let themselves get caught up in all this?
At the last minute a police car screeched to a halt and Inspector Watkins jumped out, straightening his tie as he hurried toward the porch where Evan was waiting.
“Sorry about that, boyo,” he said. “I hope I didn't give you a fright.”
“I knew you'd get here,” Evan said. “Something came up, did it?”
“It did. I got a call that a man's body had been located by the Parks Service in a wild area on Cader Idris. Single gunshot wound. A suicide note was on the ground beside him.”
“Paul Upwood?” Evan asked.
Watkins shook his head. “Rhodri Llewelyn,” he said. “Your instincts weren't wrong, after all. Apparently he had been quietly embezzling from the bank for years. He thought we were onto him and he couldn't face the consequences.”
“I must say it did cross my mind that Shorecross had done away with him too,” Evan said. “So he took his own life.”
“He wanted to save his mother from any embarrassment, so the note said.”
“Right.” Evan paused in the doorway. “Well, that's that, then. We'd better get inside before Bronwen's mum gets hysterical.”
“Got her knickers in a twist, has she?” Watkins put a hand on Evan's shoulder. “This is it then, boy. Last moments of freedom. Good luck.”
“I'm not going to the gallows, you know,” Evan answered with a grin. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.”
But he fought back the sick feeling in his stomach as he walked down the aisle to take his place. It wasn't just wedding nerves, either. The news about Rhodri Llewelyn had startled him. His actions had caused another man to take his life. The man had committed a petty crime, to be sure. He deserved to be caught, but were a few pounds here and there worth a life? It was tough being a policeman. Sometimes they got it right and sometimes they didn't. Simple as that.
He looked up as the organ broke into the opening prelude and the two bridesmaids came down the aisle. Then Bronwen's sister as matron of honor and her son, dressed in a minute kilt, as pageboy. Then he saw her, silhouetted against the fierce sunlight, and the organ changed to “Here Comes the Bride.” She started to walk forward and Evan felt a lump in his throat. He had never seen anything so lovely in his life.
“You got through it without fainting,” Bronwen teased as they emerged from the church after the ceremony. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud and a wind had sprung up, streaming her veil out behind her.
“Over this way, everybody,” Mrs. Price called. “The weather doesn't look too promising. Let's get all the major group photos before it starts to rain and then we can do the individual shots and the more intimate couple portraits inside the church if we have to.”
She started herding people to the church porch like an efficient sheepdog.
At that moment Evan's mother appeared. “They've hidden my
sausage rolls,” she said angrily. “Thought they weren't good enough, I expect. Well, I'm just going to find them again and put them out in a place of honor, too. And if they've thrown them away, heaven help them! Who hired those caterers, that's what I'd like to know. They must be foreigners, English people no doubt.”
sausage rolls,” she said angrily. “Thought they weren't good enough, I expect. Well, I'm just going to find them again and put them out in a place of honor, too. And if they've thrown them away, heaven help them! Who hired those caterers, that's what I'd like to know. They must be foreigners, English people no doubt.”
“Bronwen, do you want to touch up your makeup before the photos?” Mrs. Price called. “You do still look a little pale. Understandable, of course, but you want to glow in the pictures, don't you?”
Bronwen squeezed Evan's hand again. “You have that rabbit-inthe-headlights look about you. Do you hate this as much as I do?”
Evan nodded.
Bronwen leaned closer. “Look, they've got plenty of food and drink and music. They don't really need us there, do they?”
“What are you saying?” Evan asked.
“I was thinking that maybe we'd let them take the group photos and then somewhere between here and the marquee we could slip away.”
“Bronwen! We couldn't do that,” Evan exclaimed.
“Why not? It's our wedding. We can do what we like.” Bronwen gave him a wicked smile.
“But think of all those people who've come a long way to be here. Think of your mum and dad. They'd be so disappointed.”
“Evan, why are you always such a Boy Scout?” Bronwen demanded.
“Sorry. You know what I'm like and you still married me.” Evan pushed her veil back from her face as the wind snatched it. “Look, we'll go in, have a glass of champagne, cut the cake and then say we've a plane to catch, which is true. Is that all right for you?”
Bronwen slipped her arm through his. “I suppose it will have to be.”
At that moment the rain started. Guests rushed to the shelter of the tent, attempting to cover posh hats with their hands. Evan grabbed Bronwen's hand and they sprinted across the grass. An hour later they were driving south, heading for the airport, Switzerland, and a new life.
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