Find the Lady (11 page)

Tony took out Angel’s wallet, badge and ID card. He passed them to Eddie, who angrily snatched them from him.

Eddie glared at Angel and said, ‘How did you find us, copper?’

‘Fancied rhubarb pie for tea, but there was nobody about, Mr
Glazer
. You know, you’ll never sell rhubarb if you keep the place shut.’

Eddie glared at him as he fingered roughly through his wallet and ID.

The girl Oona was terrified. Her hands were shaking. Her face was redder than a monkey’s backside. She grabbed Eddie by the arm. ‘He knows who you are! What are we going to do?’ she wailed. ‘
What are we going to do
?’

‘Shut up. And get off,’ he said, pushing her away. ‘Detective Inspector Angel,’ he said scornfully, reading from the ID. He threw the wallet, badge and ID angrily into the straw behind them. ‘Well, well, well. You’re the smart-arse inspector looking for the murderer of Harry Harrison, aren’t you?’

Angel looked at him.

Eddie pointed to the man tied up with his head bowed. ‘Well there’s your murderer. Spencer’s his name. I’ve done your job for you.’

Angel looked across at the man tied to the post. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep. He
hoped
he was asleep. Angel had to agree, the man did look a bit like the photograph of Spencer, which Thurrocks, the bank manager had supplied.

‘He and Harrison worked a scam across a rich punter at the Northern Bank called Smith,’ Eddie continued. ‘Harrison got greedy and tried to put one across Spencer. He got wise to it and threatened to cut him up if he didn’t tell him where he’d hidden the money. Harrison refused. Spencer went in a bit too heavy, and Harry died before he told him where he’d hidden it. That’s what
he
said, anyway. Stabbed him five times.’

Angel pursed his lips. He wondered why Eddie Glazer should be volunteering information so freely. Hard nuts like him never gave information away for nothing.

Ox handed Gawber’s wallet, badge and ID to Eddie. He rummaged through the wallet, read the ID and said, ‘Just another rubbish copper. A bleeding sergeant!’

He angrily threw the wallet, badge and ID into the straw.

Angel’s lips tightened back against his teeth. ‘What have you done to him?’ he said, nodding towards Spencer. ‘He doesn’t look well.’

‘He’ll be all right,’ Eddie said. ‘Just getting over a hangover, that’s all,’ he added with a grin.

Angel turned away. Eddie’s breath smelled. Angel thought he should see a dentist urgently for a scale and polish.

‘What’s he doing tied up?’ Angel said.

‘He’s a murderer. I’ve told you.’

Angel pursed his lips.

‘Does anybody else know you’re here, copper?’

The barrel of the Walther was getting ever nearer; Glazer was waving the gun about like a kid with a flag at a coronation. Angel’s mind was wonderfully concentrated. He knew he could be dead in a second.

‘Of course,’ he said evenly. That was the only reply he could have given. Those few words might help save their lives.

Eddie snarled. It wasn’t the reply he wanted to hear.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘You’re just a frigging liar. Say anything to save your skin.’

‘Why did I have a phone in my hand then, Eddie? Did you think I was ordering custard?’ Angel said.

‘Custard?’ Eddie bawled. ‘What yer frigging on about?’

‘To go with the rhubarb,’ Angel said.

Eddie Glazer’s face tightened. He was thinking about what to say.

Ox sighed loudly and growled. ‘Come on. What we going to do with them, Eddie,’ he said gruffly.

‘Yeah. We’re wasting time. We need to get way from here,
now
,’ Tony yelled.

‘I’m for clearing out,’ Ox growled.

‘We gotta get away from here, Eddie,’ Oona wailed and grabbed his arm.

‘Shut up or I’ll belt you one,’ he snarled and pulled away from her. He pulled a face like a man who remembered the taste of prison hootch. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and swivelled angrily round to face them. ‘All right!’ he bawled. ‘All right!’ Then he added quickly: ‘Oona bring the Merc round to the front. Ox and Kenny, tie these coppers up. Make it good. Tony, stay with them. Keep your gun on them. Then come back to the house. We’ll take just the money and the ammo. Leave everything else. Right, now, all of you,
move it
!’

Eddie and Oona ran out of the barn.

Tony stood by the open door pointing his gun straight ahead at Angel and Gawber. Ox snatched some pieces of rope from a few lengths hanging from a big hook screwed onto the barn side, no doubt used to tether animals in the past. He tossed a length over to Kenny and they both began tying the wrists of Angel and Gawber around the wooden support posts. They did it roughly, quickly, silently and efficiently. Then they ran out of the barn towards the house. Tony stuffed the gun in his waist band and dashed over to Angel. He went round the back of the post, looked at the fastening and then checked the tightness. He moved over to the next post and checked Gawber, then Spencer in the same way. He seemed satisfied. He took one quick look round, then dashed out of the barn, unhooked the door and closed it.

There was easily enough light from under the door for Angel to see Gawber tied to a post about ten feet away and Spencer, still with his head dropped, another ten feet further away in a line down the middle of the barn.

‘What now?’ Gawber said.

‘Can you get out of it, Ron?’ Angel said.

They wriggled and struggled briefly, their faces perspiring and getting redder and redder, but their captors had made a secure job.

‘No, sir. What do think will happen now?’

‘If Waldo White hasn’t got lost, the FSU should be here anytime.’

A car door slammed.

‘Is that them?’

‘Too quiet. It’ll be Glazer’s car, the Mercedes.’

‘They’re going to get away, sir.’

Angel knew he was right, and he was not in a position to stop them. It would be quite dreadful allowing that armed mob back on the streets again. But he was thankful that the gang had left them unharmed. It was really not Glazer’s style. Angel had expected to be shot or tortured or knocked about. As it was, he hoped White would find them, let it not be long.

The barn door suddenly opened. It was Eddie Glazer. He had a wild expression on his face, which was also shining with perspiration. He was carrying what looked like a glass bottle. It had a small trail of cloth hanging out of the neck.

‘I’ll teach you coppers not to come looking for me,’ he yelled, his eyes flashing. ‘But you’ll never do it again!’

Angel could now see what he had in his hand.

It was a Molotov cocktail: a bottle of petrol with a soaked wick hanging out of it. Ignited and thrown into the barn amid all the dry straw, it would create a colossal blaze.

Angel’s heart sank.

Glazer plunged his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a lighter and began to light the wick.

Angel swallowed hard. ‘Don’t be a fool, Glazer,’ he yelled. ‘If you kill us, you’ll be on the run for murder
again
! And when you’re caught, you’ll
die
in prison!’

Glazer wasn’t listening.

The cloth wick caught fire.

Angel heard a woman’s voice yell: ‘Come on, Eddie.’

Glazer swung his arm back and then lobbed it beyond Spencer among the big pile of straw at the back of the barn.

The bottle exploded, the petrol spread and the vapour ignited creating a loud explosive whoop. The flames took hold of the petrol soaked straw and were instantly three feet high.

Glazer grinned like a devil and disappeared out of sight.

Angel looked across at Gawber who was as alarmed as he was. He saw Spencer suddenly waken up, observe the wall of flames advancing towards him. His eyes flashed as his body thrashed about the post and he cried out for help.

The ferocity of the blaze made a loud humming noise as the fire turned the straw into glowing white and yellow flames. The flames tracked along the barn floor and then roared upwards. Loose bits of straw danced around the parched barn floor around Angel’s feet, caught in the undercurrent of air sucked in by the colossal heat behind him.

Angel struggled to get free of the rope but it was to no avail. He looked at Spencer who was nearest to the flames and tugged harder at the rope. He felt the surge of fresh air pass by him into the far end of the barn drawn in to replace the oxygen already consumed by the fire.

He fought the ropes that tied his hands. It was useless. His wrists grew sore and tired. His face burned and his eyes smarted as the heat built up.

Gawber looked across at him. He began to cough. The fumes were getting to his chest. Angel wanted to call across and say something encouraging and comforting, but he couldn’t spit the words out.

The roar of the blaze was so close and loud as to cut out all other sound.

Angel thought of Mary. He might never see her on this earth again. He felt angry and exhausted, but there was nothing else he could do. He began to cough. He felt dizzy and his breathing was becoming difficult. His chest hurt. His throat was sore and dry. He closed his eyes. There was no more pain. He felt nothing. He began to hallucinate. He imagined that his hands had come loose from behind his back and that he was being dragged out of the barn by two men, one each side. His own legs began to work and with their support, he stumbled forward. He opened his eyes and he could see a gravel drive and two men in police riot gear, one each side of him. They were holding onto him by his arms. He was alive. He tried to speak. Instead he croaked. He tried to swallow. His throat was burning. He heard voices.

‘His eyes are open, John.’

‘Good. Put him down here. He’ll get some air.’

Two men lowered him gently on to the gravel drive.

Angel closed his eyes. Next time he opened them, he saw the same two men putting Gawber at his side. He saw him blink and heard him cough. He smiled, and then his eyelids slammed shut like a prison cell door.

T
here was a hissing noise. A line of oxygen was blowing gently under his nose. He opened his eyes. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He noticed an identity tag round his wrist and frowned. He looked up. He was on a bed surrounded by green curtains. He licked his lips. His mouth felt like a bag of feathers. He tried to swallow. It wasn’t easy … like swallowing a red hot piece of coke.

A curtain whisked open and a young nurse appeared.

‘Ah. You’re awake. How are you feeling? Got a headache? Got a pain anywhere?’ the nurse said.

‘Has my sergeant, Ron Gawber, been brought here?’ he croaked.

‘He’s in the next cubicle. Have you any pain anywhere?’

‘Is he all right?’

‘Have you any pain anywhere?’ she said again, wheeling up a blood pressure machine.

‘No,’ he croaked irritably. ‘Is he all right?’

‘Yes. You can have a cup of tea after I’ve taken your blood pressure.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘
After
I’ve taken your blood pressure,’ she said wrapping the plastic sleeve round his arm.

Angel took a deep breath and croaked as loudly as he could. ‘Are you there, Ron?’

There was silence.

The nurse said, ‘I think he’s gone back to sleep.’

The plastic sleeve began to inflate.

‘Ron,’ he bellowed. ‘Are you there?’

The nurse pulled a face. ‘You’ll have to keep still,’ she said impatiently.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ a small husky voice replied. ‘I’m all right, sir.’

It was Gawber. Angel’s face brightened.

‘What about Spencer?’ Angel said.

‘Keep still,’ the nurse snapped.

‘Don’t know about him,’ Gawber said.

Angel turned to the nurse. ‘There’s a man called Spencer. Is he in here?’

‘Don’t know anything about him,’ she said.

The machine stopped pumping air, clicked and the sleeve began to deflate. She noted the numbers on the dial and began to unwrap the sleeve.

‘Still a bit high. You’ll have to rest a bit. There’s a policeman outside, wants to see you. He can’t stay above a minute or so. Now, do you want a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please.’

She wheeled the machine out through the curtain.

Angel whisked back the blanket that was covering him. He was pleased to find that he was fully dressed in all but his shoes. His tie had been loosened and his collar button undone. He leaned over the side of the bed, looking for his shoes when he saw White’s head sticking through the curtains.

‘Ah, Waldo,’ Angel said brightly.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. Course I am. Did you catch them?’

‘No. Could only have been seconds behind though.’

Angel sighed and pulled a face.

White continued: ‘We searched the house. It was obvious they’d left in a hurry. There was a half-eaten meal on the table. The front door wasn’t even closed. I called the ambulance and the fire brigade.’

‘What about Spencer? The other man in the barn.’

‘Don’t know. He was in a bad way. Been taken to the burns unit. Was he one of the gang?’

Angel shook his head.

‘How did the fire start?’

‘Eddie Glazer. He intended murdering us.’

‘Damn well near managed it. Still, now that you’ve found their hideout and unseated them, they’ll be easier to catch.’

‘They’ll be more desperate, Waldo.’ Angel said grimly.

‘Aye, but they’ll be floundering round trying to find another safe place to hide. Eddie Glazer is wanted for murder. He knows that every copper in the country has seen his picture and is on the look-out for him. Your super should be chuffed with the news.’

Angel wrinkled his nose. Nothing much pleased Superintendent Harker. ‘That gang’s got to be caught!’ he said. ‘They’re armed to the teeth, desperate and very, very gung-ho. They could do a lot of damage.’

The nurse appeared with a beaker of tea. She placed it on the locker top, looked up at White and said, ‘You’ll have to go now. He’s got to get some rest.’

Angel caught White’s eye, then he looked at the young woman and said, ‘I need my shoes, nurse. Where are they?’

‘You don’t need those yet. Lie back and drink your tea.’

‘I want to go to the lavatory,’ he said tetchily.

‘Stay there. I’ll bring you a commode,’ she said and rushed off.

Angel’s jaw dropped.

However, by the time the nurse had arrived back wheeling an uncomfortable looking tubular metal chair, Angel and Gawber had found their shoes in their respective lockers, and were going down in the hospital lift with DI White.

‘Will you take us back to the rhubarb sheds?’ Angel said. ‘My car is there, and I want to see if the tracking device on Glazer’s car is still sending out a signal.’

‘Sure. I have to go there, anyway. I need to check on my men. I left them there securing the property.’

‘And can I borrow your mobile?’

White handed it to him. He phoned Ahmed and asked him to inform Don Taylor of SOCO that he wanted him to go over the farmhouse where Glazer had been hiding out. He told Ahmed that Taylor was to check in particular for any clothing or effects there that were bloodstained; essentially, he was looking for blood samples that belonged to the late Harry Harrison. Also to see what fingerprints he could collect that would identify Ox and Kenny, if they were on record.

He returned the mobile to White gratefully.

A few minutes later, White dropped Angel and Gawber off at the gate to the rhubarb sheds where he cordially took his leave of them. They gave him hearty thanks and waved him off as he turned round and drove away.

Angel was anxious to return to the scanner to find out the whereabouts of Glazer’s Mercedes. He dashed over to his car and unlocked it; Gawber sat beside him, picked up the scanner and switched it on. It showed that the battery of the miniature transmitter was very much alive and sending out a strong signal.

‘Looks all right,’ Gawber said.

Angel nodded approvingly.

Gawber checked the co-ordinates and then frowned. He said: ‘The car hasn’t moved, sir. I don’t think it has moved since we tracked it here.’

Angel pursed his lips. ‘They can’t
still
be here?’ he said. ‘The Merc must be in one of these sheds then?’ His face changed as he considered the possibilities. ‘That means they’re in another car?’

Gawber blinked.

‘We’ve got to find that Merc,’ Angel said. ‘Come on!’

He dashed out of the car, slammed the door and began to climb over the fence onto the earth trodden track around the sheds. Gawber joined him.

‘Doesn’t look as if many cars or trucks come in and out of here. We’ve only got to find recent tyre tracks. That’ll not be too difficult. How many sheds are there? Maybe twenty. We’ve just got to find recent tracks of a car leading out of a pair of doors, that’s all.’

True enough. It didn’t take them five minutes. The double doors of one of the sheds were locked with a sturdy padlock. The hasps were bolted through thin, old timber. A few kicks and some pulling away of splintering wood permitted them easy access. They dragged open the doors and saw that the shed was empty, but there were tyre tracks in trodden down earth.

‘There must be another shed they used as a garage,’ Gawber said.

Angel rubbed his chin.

Then he saw something shine on the ground near the door. He bent down and picked it up; it was the tracking device. It must have dropped off the Mercedes. Sometimes this happened if the original fitting to the bodywork had not been made between two clean pieces of metal. This had clearly occurred here.

Angel sighed. All that work, time and endurance counted for nothing. The muscles of his jaw tightened. There would be no further signal from the Mercedes. The Glazer gang were free and could now be committing murder and mayhem totally unrestrained. They had to be found and imprisoned quickly. He raced back to the car, unlocked the door, grabbed the mike of the RT and spoke directly to the operations room at Bromersley station. He gave the duty officer a description of Glazer’s Mercedes and index number and told him to circulate all 43 forces with an urgent request for any sighting of it to be made direct back to him on his mobile phone. He added the important warning that Glazer’s gang was in possession of the vehicle, that they were armed and extremely dangerous.

‘What?’ he roared. ‘So you have no idea where they are?’

‘I am afraid not, sir,’ Angel said.

He knew he was going to have to take some stick from Harker.

The superintendent wrinkled his nose and sniffed. ‘You know, I much prefer the one about
The Three Bears
,’ he growled.

Angel continued unbowed: ‘I’ve had a notice circulated round all 43 forces, sir. Full description and details. Now that Glazer’s gang haven’t a safe haven to flee to, as they spend their funds, they may have to show their hand.’

‘Aye. Probably open an account with the Northern Bank,’ he said. ‘At two o’clock in the morning,’ he added sarcastically. ‘What about Spencer? What sort of shape is he in? Where is he now?’

‘Pretty bad, sir. But he’s in the burns unit at Bromersley General.’

Harker pulled a face that made his big ginger eyebrows bounce up and then down. ‘Are you going to be able to make the case of murder against him stick?’

‘I don’t know, sir. The motive’s strong enough.’

‘What was he doing in Glazer’s gang?’

‘He wasn’t in the gang, sir. He was their prisoner. They must have wanted something from him.’

‘Oh? Information about the bank?’

‘More likely about the two million.’

‘But Spencer didn’t know where Harrison had hidden it.’

‘No, sir, but
Glazer
didn’t know that.’

Harker rubbed his chin. ‘But how did he know about its existence in the first place?’

‘Could only have been told about it by Harrison or Spencer.’

‘They would have been fools to have told Eddie Glazer.’

‘Harrison would have been too smart to have breathed a word about it. But Spencer was comparatively green. Maybe he was scared. Maybe they scared it out of him. As a matter of fact, Glazer told me that Spencer had confessed to him that he had killed Harrison. Said he’d told him he’d stabbed him five times. Five times. He made a point of saying that.’

Harker blinked. ‘Have you seen Mac’s PM on Harrison? My copy arrived this morning.’

‘Not yet, sir.’

‘Mac does say that there were
five
separate stabbing wounds to the heart and aorta, delivered in quick succession.’

Angel frowned. ‘That would result in a mighty great surge of blood. That suggests that Glazer did it. I can’t imagine that if Spencer put a knife into a man intending to murder him, that he could take it out in the midst of blood pumping out and insert it again and again and then twice more. It takes a certain callous, hardened character to do that. And then having succeeded with the murder, be able to recall accurately how many stabs he had made.’

‘Hmm. Interesting reasoning, Angel. Reasonable, I suppose. But I fear that wouldn’t be enough for the CPS.’

‘No sir. If I can get supporting evidence, sir … blood on his clothing … DNA … and so on, they would. Anyway, I have it in hand. SOCO are going through the farmhouse where Glazer’s gang were holed up, and which they left in such a hurry.’

Harker nodded. ‘Yes. Yes. All right. Give it a go.’

Angel was surprised to get Harker’s easy accord. He usually went against everything he said. Angel thought Harker must be in a good mood and, unusually, enjoying a good patch with his wife, Morvydd, an unusual woman. Angel had met her once at a Police Federation Dinner. He hadn’t enjoyed the experience. She was almost as objectionable as her husband. He recalled that she had pressed close up to him, smelling of pickled onions, spraying half-chewed Ritz biscuits onto his new dicky, while gushingly insisting that he called her Morvydd. It had taken almost the entire evening to shake her off and get back to the protection of his wife, Mary.

‘I’ve made thorough inquiries along all that end of Wells Street, sir,’ Scrivens said brightly.

Angel looked up from his desk, licked his lips and grunted.

‘I showed a copy of the photograph in the newspaper shop, the butcher’s and the post office nearby, and no one saw anybody that looked like her. They all said that they would have remembered if they had seen anybody like
that
. A woman in the butcher’s said the dress looked as if it was from the 1920’s. I hung around the steps of the baths, at the critical times of ten minutes to two and eight minutes past three, the times when the taxi driver had collected her and delivered her back, and I showed the photograph to everybody coming through the turnstile, but nobody had seen her. It’s hopeless, sir.’

‘Right lad. Not to worry. I’m beginning to wonder if she existed at all,’ he said, rubbing his chin. ‘Or was she a cardboard cut out like the Cottingley fairies,’ he added quietly.

‘The Cottingley fairies, sir?’ Scrivens said.

‘Oh?’ Angel looked up. He was surprised that Scrivens had heard him. ‘The Cottingley fairies never existed, lad. They were paper cut-outs of fairies that were photographed by two mischievous young ladies from Cottingley – it’s not far away, near Bradford. But they let the world believe they were the real thing.’

‘Fairies, sir?’ He laughed. ‘Who would believe that?’

Angel’s face was as straight as a copper’s truncheon. ‘The photographs fooled several distinguished people at the time.’ He sniffed, then sighed and said: ‘Just like – I do believe – Lady Blessington, whoever she is, is fooling us right now!’

Scrivens frowned.

‘And it’s getting right up my nose,’ Angel added with his lips tightening. ‘And wasting a lot of police time, when I am up to my neck in it.’

Scrivens scratched his head.

‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to do anything else?’

‘Yes, lad. I want you to go to the burns unit at the hospital, and beg, borrow or steal Simon Spencer’s clothes. Don’t take “no” from the hospital staff. If you have to, point out that this is a murder inquiry. I want everything he was wearing when he was admitted yesterday, including his shoes. Put them carefully in an evidence bag, seal it and take it round to Don Taylor at the SOCO office. Tell him I want him to see if there is any DNA of Harry Harrison anywhere on them. I am particularly looking for traces of his blood. If there is anything, then we’ve potentially got Spencer for murder. All right?’