The Fruit Gum Murders (4 page)

She smiled … that enigmatic look … the mystery of a beautiful woman. ‘Inspector Angel,' she said gently.

Angel held out his hand. Her small, cool hand gripped his firmly and shook it heartily.

‘Congratulations, Miss Gregg. I hear it's a great promotion. I will miss you.'

‘Thank you, Inspector. Thank you very much. But I will not be leaving Bromersley for a good while yet. And my new chambers will only be in Leeds, half an hour away.'

They exchanged smiles.

A man behind Juliet Gregg was pulling at her left arm and muttering something out of Angel's earshot.

‘Excuse me,' she said as she was dragged away into the crowd.

Angel continued weaving his way through the chattering throng. Then he saw her. The fat girl called Tina. She was on her own, leaning against a desk that had a white sheet cloth spread out on the top of it, and on that were several plates of sandwiches, meat pies and sausage rolls. There were also serviettes, champagne flutes and paper plates.

Tina was eating a sandwich. She looked at Angel and tried to smile. She chewed rapidly to empty her mouth, and tried smiling again.

‘Hello, Tina,' he said. ‘I'm glad I found you. Are you enjoying yourself?'

‘Yes, thank you, Inspector. These sandwiches are nice. Smoked salmon. Mmm,' she said. ‘Help yourself.'

Angel looked at the spread. There wasn't much choice, but what there was looked inviting.

‘No, thank you,' he said. Then he lifted up the bundle of files and added, ‘I'll tell you what, Tina. I've got these case notes for the O'Riley murder. Will you give them to Mr Twelvetrees when the party's over?'

‘ 'Course I will, Inspector Angel,' she said, transferring a sandwich to her left hand to take the bundle from him. ‘Any message?' she said as she pulled open the big bottom drawer of the desk beneath the food and lowered them in.

‘No. He's expecting them.'

‘You got that rotten so-and-so that murdered Mrs O'Riley?'

‘Yes. It's the son-in-law.'

Her chubby face brightened. ‘You are wonderful … the way you make out a case from nothing, bring the murderer to court and get a guilty verdict …
every
time.'

Angel frowned. He wriggled uncomfortably. He wished people didn't talk about him like that.

‘I read somewhere,' Tina said between bites, ‘where it said that you are like a Canadian Mountie … that you always get your man.'

He winced. One of these days he was going to be given a case that was actually impossible to solve … that would shatter his record and he would look a real fool.

‘Well, Tina, I hope my team will always get the man, but the odds are that one day we won't.'

‘Nah,' she said, and took another bite.

He waved at her and said, ‘I'll have to go. Goodbye.'

He weaved his way back through the chattering CPS workers, solicitors, court ushers and clerks, and returned to the station. He went in through the front door, waved at the PC in the reception office who pressed the button to release the catch on the security door. He pulled it open and made his way down the long corridor to his office.

PC Ahmed Ahaz was standing outside the door holding a scrappy piece of paper. He didn't look happy.

As Angel drew closer, Ahmed sighed and almost smiled. ‘Ah, sir,' he said with relief.

Angel sensed the young man had a problem. ‘What is it, Ahmed?'

‘Oh, sir,' he said, ‘do you know a Mrs Mackenzie?'

Angel looked heavenward. ‘Yes, lad. Why? What's up?'

‘She's rung up, sir. Insisted on speaking to you. Wouldn't leave a message. Said it was very important. And would you ring her back as soon as you come in. I've got her number here.'

He handed the piece of paper to him.

Angel could see she had made a lasting impression on him. ‘Aye, all right, lad.'

‘Will you do it right away?'

Angel smiled. ‘Give me chance to get to my desk.'

Ahmed nodded and dashed off.

Angel wondered what the old martinet wanted.

He went into his office, picked up the phone and tapped out the number. The phone was promptly answered.

‘Ah yes, Inspector Angel,' Mrs Mackenzie said, ‘I have just had a call from Lady Muick this morning. She has received a packet sent by ordinary post that contained the missing necklace in perfect condition. So there is no need for you to take any further action in the matter.'

‘Oh good,' Angel said. ‘Was there any message or address in the package?'

‘No. Nothing like that. It was a local postmark.'

‘Thank you for letting me know, Mrs Mackenzie.'

‘Goodbye,' she said and the line went dead.

Angel slowly replaced the phone. He was pleased that the necklace had shown up. He was even more pleased to get that dragon off his back.

The phone rang. He reached out for it. ‘Angel,' he said.

‘There you are,' the voice said hoarsely. He promptly recognized it. It was his superintendent, Horace Harker. He started coughing into Angel's earpiece. Between short bouts of coughing, he said, ‘A triple nine for you. Man reported dead in a bedroom at the Feathers. Doesn't look very nice. I couldn't get hold of you, then your phone was engaged, so I have notified SOCO and the pathologist's office to get things moving. All right?'

‘Right, sir.'

‘Get to it.'

He cancelled the call and tapped in a number.

Ahmed soon answered. ‘Yes, sir.'

Angel told him about the triple nine and then instructed him to find his two sergeants, Flora Carter and Trevor Crisp, and instruct them to come to the Feathers hotel, ASAP.

Room 201, the Feathers hotel, Bromersley, South Yorkshire,

11.45 a.m., Monday, 3rd June 2013

Detective Inspector Michael Angel opened the hotel room door, and peered inside.

Four Scene of Crime Officers in sterile white paper overalls, caps and rubber boots were busily working away in the bedroom. One was dusting for fingerprints, another was taking photographs, a third was labelling plastic containers containing samples, and the fourth was looking at a clipboard and checking boxes to tick off.

DS Donald Taylor, section head of the SOCO team, heard the door open, looked up from the clipboard and crossed to greet the Inspector. ‘Good morning, sir.'

‘Is it clear in here, Don?' Angel said.

‘Yes, sir.'

Angel came in and closed the door.

‘We've finished the sweep and the vacuum,' Taylor said.

Angel spotted the near-naked body of the half-dressed man on the bed. He was wearing only a white shirt, vest and socks. Most of the buttons down the front of the shirt were undone. The blankets, sheets and pillows were in great disorder, and one pillow was on the floor. His coat, trousers, shoes and underpants were on a chair in a corner of the room.

Angel gestured towards the bed. ‘Dr Mac been yet?'

‘Oh yes, sir. He's examined the body … he's ready to have it moved to the mortuary.'

Angel glanced round the small bedroom and frowned. ‘Where is he?'

‘I'm here, Michael,' the white-haired Glaswegian said as he came in from the en suite bathroom wiping his hands on a white napkin. ‘I'll be with you in a couple of jiffies.'

Angel nodded to his old friend, then turned to Taylor and said, ‘Right. What have you got, Don?'

Taylor turned a page back on the clipboard and said, ‘Well, sir, as far as we have been able to determine, his name is Norman Robinson, aged about 28, lives at Flat 12, Kyle House, Montague Street, Govan, Glasgow. He has a credit card on him but no money. He also has what might be his flat key on him, but no car keys. His mobile phone was found on the floor at the far side of the bed. Reservation was made for him here yesterday for one night. He arrived at about 1800 hrs last night. He was found by the chambermaid at about 9.30 this morning. The hotel has CCTV covering the main entrance and the reception desk, which I have commandeered … and that's about it.'

Angel nodded. He looked down at the body. It had a good head of black, wavy hair. The face was contorted. The eyes were still open. He looked closely at the lips.

‘Mac,' he said. ‘Take a look at the lips.'

Mac came across and peered downward. ‘What about the lips?'

Angel said, ‘Is he wearing lipstick?'

‘It might be a slight burning of the skin by the poison, Michael,' Mac said.

‘No,' Angel said, ‘it's lipstick.'

Taylor came across and took a look. He put a pencil torchlight onto the mouth of the body, looked at it carefully, shook his head and went thoughtfully back to his checklist.

Mac said, ‘Give me a chance to look at it in the mortuary. I might be able to get something on a slide to look at.'

‘It's lipstick,' Angel said.

Taylor said, ‘There's no lipstick or make-up or anything suggesting that in his valise, sir.'

As Angel pulled back from the bed he saw a white chalk mark in the form of a circle on the carpet on the floor just under the bed. It surrounded something small and round. He leaned downwards.

‘What's this?'

Taylor nodded. ‘Don't know. We're hoping for a print from it, sir,' he said.

‘Is it a button?' Angel said.

‘Looks like it.'

‘It hasn't any holes in it. It's a fruit gum, isn't it?'

Taylor blinked. ‘A fruit gum, sir?'

‘Yes, I think so. A red fruit gum.'

‘Is that the poison, sir?'

‘Ask Dr Mac.' He turned to look at the doctor.

Mac said, ‘I won't know that until I have it in the lab. Might explain the apparent appearance of lipstick on the lips, though.'

‘It's lipstick,' Angel said. ‘Any sign of the bag or packet anywhere? In the waste paper, in his pocket?'

‘No, sir.'

Angel rubbed his chin. ‘Means it was brought in by the murderer, then.'

Mac came forward and said, ‘Let me have it. I'll have it analyzed.'

‘Right, Mac,' Angel said. ‘After it's been checked for prints.'

‘Right, sir,' Taylor said.

‘Anything else, Don?'

‘That's it so far, sir.'

Angel rubbed his chin and turned to the doctor. ‘What you got, Mac?'

The old doctor sighed, then said, ‘Well, the man was poisoned, Michael.'

Angel's eyebrows shot up. Poisoning was pretty unusual these days.

‘At first, it looked like strychnine,' Mac said, ‘but it isn't. The inside of the mouth is inflamed, and the condition of the bed linen and his clothes suggest that he was in severe pain before coma took hold. I'll let you know more when I've done some tests.'

‘Right, Mac,' Angel said. ‘Can you give me the time of death?'

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

Angel nodded and rubbed his chin.

Mac said, ‘All right to move him, Michael?'

‘Soon as you like,' Angel said.

Then he turned to Taylor and said, ‘Do you know if he ate or drank anything 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.'

Angel nodded. ‘Right. Where's this chambermaid?'

‘The manager's office. She's waiting to see you, sir, with the manager … he wants a word, sir.'

‘I'll go down to his office,' he said and made for the door.

Angel went down in the lift and made inquiries at the reception desk. He was shown through a side door to an office at the back.

‘I am the duty manager, Inspector: Jack Blacklock. This is Monica Spalding. She's the chambermaid attending the first and second floors. She found the body and reported it to me, and I reported it to the police station.'

Angel said, ‘Thank you. Now then Monica, were you on duty when the man in room 201, Norman Robinson, arrived yesterday?'

‘I expect I was on duty, Inspector, but I didn't see him.'

‘Oh?' Angel turned to Blacklock. ‘Do you know what time he arrived?'

‘He checked in at the desk at six o'clock,' he said.

Angel turned back to the chambermaid. ‘Monica, did you see him or anybody else enter or leave room 201 after 6.00 p.m. last night or anytime this morning?'

‘No. And the only time I saw him was the once, this morning when I found him … erm, like that.'

‘Tell me what happened.'

‘Well, I knocked on the door several times between eight-thirty and nine-thirty, and, of course, there was no reply.'

‘What time did you come on duty?'

‘Six o'clock this morning. As I was saying, I couldn't get any answer, so at about twenty to ten, after I knocked and called out a couple more times, I unlocked the door and went in. I saw him on the bed. I called out to him. He didn't reply, of course. I went further into the room, closer up to him. I thought at first he might be ill. Then, I knew something was wrong. It was his eyes. Those grey-blue eyes were still open, wide open, staring at me. It was awful. It shook me, I can tell you. I came straight back out, and when I got my breath back, I reported it to Mr Blacklock.'

Angel nodded. ‘When you were in the room, Monica, did you touch anything?'

‘No. I didn't touch
anything
. I just wanted to get out of there.'

‘Who cleaned that room the day before?'

‘I did. Why, was there something wrong with it?'

‘Did you vacuum the carpet?'

‘I always vacuum the carpet if the room has been occupied. And it
had
been occupied. All the rooms on my two floors had been occupied.'

‘I'll tell you why I ask, Monica. Something was found on the carpet at the side of the bed. It was only small. Can I be sure that it wasn't there after you had cleaned the room yesterday?'

She frowned. ‘Well, yes, but what was it exactly, Inspector?'