The Fruit Gum Murders (13 page)

‘As far as we know, sir, his name is Patrick Novak, aged – at a guess – in his late fifties. Apparently he lives at 12, Lilac Avenue, Coalsden, Norwich. He has more than £100 cash on him, a credit card, and a second-class return rail ticket to Norwich. He has a bunch of keys on him, but no car key. Also he doesn't seem to have a mobile phone. He arrived last night about six o'clock, having booked in for one night. He was found by Mrs Vermont, the landlady, at 8.30 this morning. This hotel has no CCTV, neither upstairs nor down, so no joy there; it's a pub with rooms to let, really. There is a door from the back yard, which has space for a dozen or so cars to park. Entrance to the rooms can be made either from the front to the bar, then through a door that says “Residents Only”, or through the back door past the reception office. However, there's nobody on reception after eight o'clock at night until 7.30 a.m. The back door is unlocked until after they've locked up the pub, which would be about eleven o'clock. Hmm … and I think that's about it, sir.'

Angel rubbed his chin. ‘Any signs of any flowers … oriental lilies … pollen on the bed sheets … anything like that?'

‘No, sir,' Taylor said.

Angel frowned. ‘So there are differences,' he muttered, chiefly to himself. Then he turned to DS Carter and said, ‘Have you got that down, Flora?'

‘Yes, sir,' she said. Then, looking at her notes, she said, ‘There are no signs of flowers, therefore there are differences.'

‘Good,' he said. ‘While I think about it, get me Trevor Crisp on the phone.'

Flora nodded, took out her mobile and tapped in a number.

Angel turned back to Taylor. ‘Did Novak bring any luggage with him?'

‘A small, cheap suitcase. There's nothing in it – only a shirt, pyjamas and his washing tackle.'

‘I shall want to see it all and the contents of his pockets, Don, as soon as you can.'

Mac had finished his call. He put the mobile in his pocket and came up to Angel. ‘The meat wagon's on its way,' he said.

Angel nodded. ‘Right, Mac. What have you got?'

The old doctor said, ‘The man was poisoned, Michael, probably a carbon copy of the Norman Robinson murder, and if you want my opinion the murderer will most certainly be a woman. No man would want to put anyone through as much pain as these two men will have suffered. As with Robinson, this man would have been in acute pain, then fallen into a coma and then died. Of course, I will have to confirm this after I have done all my tests.'

‘Excuse me, sir,' Flora said. ‘There's no reply from Trevor Crisp's mobile.'

Angel wasn't pleased. He breathed in and then out noisily. ‘No,' he said, ‘there never is! Will you keep trying?'

‘It keeps sending me to voicemail,' she said.

‘All right. Leave it for now.'

He turned back to Mac. ‘Sorry about that, Mac. Do you know that lad is harder to find than the Lost Chord.'

Mac smiled, then shook his head. ‘You're so impatient, Michael.'

‘You don't know. He is always missing. Now, where was I? Oh yes, have you calculated the time of death?'

‘Aye. It would have been between eight o'clock and midnight last night.'

‘That was the same time you said for Norman Robinson.'

The doctor nodded. ‘Aye, I did.'

‘Right, Mac. Thank you,' Angel said and then he turned to Taylor. ‘Do you know if he ate anything here since he arrived?'

‘Don't know, sir. No signs in here of a takeaway brought in or dirty pots from room service or anything like that,' Taylor said.

Angel nodded. ‘Right. What was the name of the woman who found him?'

‘The manageress, Mrs Vermont. She's downstairs in reception waiting for you.'

‘Right, Don,' he said. ‘Thank you.' He turned to Flora and said, ‘Come on, lass.'

TEN

Angel knocked on the door marked ‘Reception Office'.

‘Come in,' a woman's voice called.

Angel opened the door and walked into the tiny office followed by Flora Carter, who took out her notebook and pen in anticipation.

He saw the woman seated at a desk. She looked at him with a sort of smile. He had seen a more convincing smile on a tiger.

‘Mrs Vermont?' Angel said.

‘I suppose you are the famous Inspector Angel, come to ask me about Mr Novak,' she said. ‘I am very pleased to meet you. Please sit down, both of you.'

She was a big woman of about sixty. She had a plunging neckline, wore too much make-up and too much jewellery. She rattled whenever she moved. The noise came from either the pendants hanging from the silver chains she wore round her neck, or the heavy silver charm bracelet that graced her thick wrist, or both in unison.

Angel said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Vermont. I understand that you found the dead man, Patrick Novak, in room 114?'

‘I did indeed, Inspector.'

‘Tell me, how did you come to find him?'

‘Well, he had asked for a call at 8.15 a.m., so I knocked on his door several times but didn't get any reply. I left it for about five minutes and had another go. There was still no reply. I banged on the door a third time and called out, without result. I was beginning to be worried. Eventually I called out that I was coming in. I got out my pass key, but I needn't have bothered. The door wasn't locked. I opened it, peered into the room. I saw him curled up on the bed. I called out, “Your early call, Mr Novak, it's 8.25 a.m.” He didn't move. I went over to the bed and shook his shoulder. He was cold and as stiff as a board. I knew he was dead. I came straight out of the room and rushed down here and phoned 999.'

‘Apart from the dead man's shoulder and the door handle, you didn't touch anything else in the room?'

‘No, I don't believe I touched the door handle inside, Inspector, because when I went in, I didn't close the door. You have to remember that although I am manageress of the hotel I am a woman,' she said, pulling in her stomach and sticking out her big bosom and waggling her shoulders alternately, ‘and I wouldn't want any of my guests to get the wrong idea.'

Angel glanced at Flora and stifled a smile. ‘Of course, Mrs Vermont. Excuse me, I wasn't thinking.'

She looked at him demurely.

Angel quickly looked away. ‘Did you see him with anybody during the short time he was here?'

‘I'm afraid I didn't see anything of him after I booked him in. Not until I saw his body this morning.'

‘You didn't notice if there were any flowers in his room? I am thinking in particular, of oriental lilies.'

She looked at him with a very blank face. ‘Oriental lilies? No.'

‘Did Mr Novak eat anything here at all?'

She puffed out her bosom and said, ‘I hope you are not suggesting that his death was the result of anything he ate here, Inspector Angel?'

‘No, no, my dear lady. Of course not. We think that we know how he died, but I need to know everything I can about him … particularly the last few hours of his life.'

She lowered the bosom. ‘Oh, I see. No, as a matter of fact, he didn't dine here. The dining-room closes at eight o'clock. I don't know what he did about a meal. I didn't see him leave or return.'

‘Perhaps he intended dining somewhere else later. … Incidentally, there was a fruit gum found on the bedroom floor, Mrs Vermont. Have you any idea how it got there?'

‘A fruit gum? Well, no. It wouldn't have been there when he arrived. Mr Novak must have brought it with him.'

‘Yes. But there weren't any others in his pockets, and there was no empty box or bag anywhere in the room.'

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Inspector, can't explain it, then.'

Angel rubbed his chin. ‘Who cleans the rooms and prepares them for the guests?'

‘I do. I do almost everything to do with this side of the business. My husband runs the bars with a cook and two part-time girls, and I run the accommodation side with occasional help.'

‘Are you certain that the fruit gum was not there before Mr Novak arrived?'

She looked downwards thoughtfully. ‘Positive. If such a thing had been there, I am certain that the vacuum would have picked it up.'

‘And you didn't empty the wastepaper basket, after you found the dead man this morning?'

‘No.'

‘Mrs Vermont, if Mr Novak had been visited by a friend, and wanted to entertain him or her, could he have ordered a bottle of wine, say, and two tumblers to be delivered to his room?'

‘Well yes, he could have, Inspector, but he didn't. But if he had, he would have had to order it from me and I would have phoned through to the bar and asked my husband to send one of the barmaids up to the room with a tray.'

‘But you're not available after eight o'clock.'

‘That's quite correct. Room service finishes at eight o'clock. However, after then, he could have ordered it from the bar and signed for it in person, but that didn't happen either. A chitty would have come through to me from the bar to go onto his bill.'

‘Yes, I see. Thank you. About booking the room … did he write to you or phone you to book the room?'

‘He telephoned, Inspector. I took the call on Tuesday morning, I think it was.'

‘Can you remember anything about the call?'

‘No. I don't think so. Just a straightforward booking for the following night, Wednesday night. I realized when he gave his address as near Norwich that he spoke with that lovely Norfolk drawl.'

Angel blinked. He turned to DS Carter and said, ‘Flora, be sure to make a note of that. The victim, in this case, wasn't a local man. Apparently he came from Norfolk.'

Flora Carter nodded knowingly. ‘Right, sir,' she said.

Angel turned back to Mrs Vermont. ‘And who booked him in on his arrival?' he said.

‘I did. There's only me.'

‘How did he strike you?'

She shook her head and gave a shrug.

Angel blinked. ‘There was nothing at all unusual about him?' he said.

‘No. Not that I recall.'

‘Was he chewing anything, for instance?'

‘No, I don't think so. I never noticed anything special about him, Inspector, except for his accent.'

‘His unmistakable Norfolk drawl,' Angel said, rubbing his chin. ‘Right, Mrs Vermont. That's all for now. Thank you.'

There was a knock on Angel's office door. It was Ahmed.

‘You wanted me, sir?'

‘I've been trying to get DS Crisp, lad. I don't suppose you know where he is?'

Ahmed frowned. ‘He's not in the CID office, sir. I haven't seen him all day.'

Angel's lips tightened back against his teeth. He rubbed his chin rapidly. ‘Drop everything and find him for me. Flora and I have been trying to reach him on his mobile. I sent him off circulating local florists. I don't know where the hell he has disappeared to.'

Angel's mobile rang. ‘Find him for me, Ahmed,' he said as he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

‘Right, sir,' said Ahmed and he went out.

Angel saw from the LCD on his mobile that it was his wife, Mary, calling. He pressed the button and said, ‘Yes, love, what is it?'

‘Oh. Have I caught you at a bad time?' she said.

‘I'm at work, love. Are you all right?'

‘Well, erm, yes. I've had a phone call from Mrs Mackenzie. Now, you know what an awful time charities are having? Well, the Summer Ball in Muick Castle was such a big success that she wants to hold another event as soon as she possibly can. And she's had a word with Lady Muick, and she proposes to make it a fancy dress do. The date she has chosen is a week on Saturday, the 15th. Now, as you know, I'm on the committee so I'll have to help and support her. I just wanted to make sure that you'll be free on that date. I don't want to go without you.'

‘Well yes, love. I suppose I will be. But you know how things are in this job.'

‘Yes … well, I just hope nothing untoward happens on
that
night. I'm giving you lots of notice. Put it in your diary. I'll have to find a fancy dress for you.'

‘All right. I will. I will. I'll put it in straightaway. Saturday, 15th. Fancy Dress Ball at Muick Castle. Don't make that costume for me too ridiculous.'

‘Right, love. Thank you. That's all.'

‘All right, sweetheart. Goodbye.'

Angel replaced the phone. He wondered what Mrs Mackenzie was going to do about security. Perhaps Lady Muick could be persuaded not to wear the necklace.

He looked in the directory for Mrs Mackenzie's number and phoned her. He made the point about security strongly to her.

‘But her ladyship insists on wearing it, Inspector,' Mrs Mackenzie said. ‘She says the people expect her to wear it. She is the only nobility in the town. She couldn't go to a dress occasion such as I am planning looking like a drudge. However, have no fear. Whatever plans we make we will remember all the points you have made. Thank you very much. Goodbye.'

Angel knew when he had been given the bum's rush. But there was nothing further he could do.

He pulled the pile of post towards him and began filtering through the letters as his phone rang. He snatched it up. ‘Angel,' he said.

It was Ahmed.

‘I've found DS Crisp, sir. He's just pulled onto the car park. He'll be with you directly.'

‘Right, lad,' Angel said and he banged down the phone.

He sat back in his chair, breathing heavily, his face muscles tight. He silently rehearsed what he wanted to say to him.

A few seconds passed and there was a knock at the door.

‘Come in,' Angel roared.

It was Crisp. The sergeant came in all bright-eyed and full of enthusiasm. He began to speak as soon as he got through the door.

‘I've found the shop, sir,' he said. ‘It's that scruffy little lock-up greengrocer's on the corner of Station Road and Main Street, a cock-stride from the rail station,' he said as he closed the door. ‘It's underneath that fancy dress hire place, where you can hire costumes from Elvis Presley to King Henry VIII.'