Page 25

25

Tuesday morning

Nothing Charlie could say was going to console Hassan for the loss of his business, or for the fear that this was an attack targeting him and his family. Nonetheless, he said what he could, handed over a card and promised to check in later that day. It must have worked a little, because Charlie saw Hassan take in his dishevelled appearance and the bandage around his leg, showing where his trousers had been cut.

“I know you didn’t do this,” Hassan said. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

Charlie’s phone rang.

Det Sup Kent

“Sir,” Charlie said.

“I’ve told people that you can cope without Freya Ravensbourne, so you’d better. Not that I have a handy DI hanging around waiting for a job. OK, Charlie?”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie said, wondering who had told Kent that Ravensbourne had been injured, and who the ‘people’ were who had been told that Charlie could cope.

“You’ll be reporting directly to me. Start with what the fuck happened this morning, because it’s too damn early for all this.”

Charlie took a deep breath and regretted it. “Call out to a fire at the trading estate just outside Llanfair at four this morning,” he began, and described the collapsing building. “I’ve just learned that the fire brigade has found what they say is a body in a burned-out van behind one of the buildings. I was on my way there now.”

“Called the pathologist?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll tell him to meet you there. Now what about this explosion?”

“Hassan’s new takeaway. Mr Hassan called and said he saw someone in his shop, so Eddy, DI Ravensbourne and I went to investigate. I smelled gas, started to pull the DI away, and it blew up. I was about to arrange scenes of crimes to have a look round the debris, and the gas company are here already.”

“What next?”

“I’ll go and look at this alleged body, interview everyone we can find, and start collecting forensic evidence. I plan to check the alibis for everyone we already have on our radar: the fake fireman, Unwin’s family, Dylan, the Hassans, the people in the estate agent … Patsy. And, sir, I’d like to know how DI Ravensbourne is doing.”

As Charlie spoke, Kent murmured good, good, in his ear, until he got to the end. There was a moment of silence. Charlie held his breath. Then Kent said, “I am told that Freya is awake, very battered and bruised, and thanking you for saving her life. As for the rest, ring me again in an hour.” The call ended.

Charlie sighed as gently as he could, so as not to awaken the pain in his chest.

“The boss is awake, and seems to be OK,” he told Eddy. “Let’s go and see what’s going on with this dead body, and then you can talk to me about Patsy.”

How the fire officers had found the body, Charlie had no idea. The van was so thoroughly burned as to be barely recognisable as a vehicle.

“Absolutely soaked in petrol,” Kev Watchet told them. “It must have been, because for one, it stank of the stuff, and for two, it wouldn’t have gone up quite so comprehensively otherwise. We can tell it’s a camper because of the windows and a few remnants of kitchen, but there isn’t a lot left of any of it.”

The three of them contemplated the remains of the van. The number plates had melted, and there was nothing left of the windscreen. Identification was going to have to wait until they could get the van recovered and look for the chassis number. Which couldn’t happen if there was a dead body inside.

“And the body?” Charlie asked.

“In the back.” Kev nodded towards the back of the van.

Charlie considered going closer for a look and decided not to. “We’ll wait for the pathologist,” he said.

Kev nodded again. “Give me a shout if you need anything,” he said and left Charlie and Eddy with the skeleton of the van.

“Patsy,” Charlie said.

Eddy blushed. “I don’t know what she’s playing at. She kept me up half the night talking about bloody Unwin, then she said she was going to the bathroom. I must have fallen asleep in the chair. I thought I heard the front door close — it creaks — but I dozed a bit before I put it all together. Went to Patsy’s room and she wasn’t there, or anywhere else in the house. I was out looking for her when she turned up at the takeaway. She said she needed a walk.”

Charlie contemplated this in silence. Patsy didn’t seem to care that she was in the frame for her boyfriend’s murder, but try as he might, he couldn’t square what he knew of Patsy with killing someone, or arson, come to that.

“It’s not her,” he said, “but if she carries on, she’s going to convince people she murdered Unwin, and started at least one of the fires.”

Eddy nodded, then yawned, which started Charlie yawning, too. “Coffee,” Charlie said, hoping Eddy would volunteer. In the event, he didn’t have to, because the woman with the tray appeared, as if summoned by rubbing Aladin’s lamp, with another tray of hot drinks.

“Look at the state of you,” she said to Charlie. “Whatever happened?”

Eddy supplied minimal details. “Gas leak at the new takeaway. Went off like a rocket.”

“So, that was the noise. I heard the bang and then more sirens,” she said. “It’s been quite a night.”

Which had to be the understatement of the decade.

The woman bustled off with her tray, promising to return with bacon sandwiches “for you boys, and that nice policeman by the gate.” The nice policeman was presumably Ravensbourne’s driver, and as Charlie and Eddy stood sipping their coffee, they heard him shout:

“You can just clear off, back to whatever hole you crawled out of …”

Eddy sprinted and Charlie hobbled to see what was going on, which was the uniform pushing a man with a camera back towards the gate. Behind the man was a van with multiple antennae, and the logo of a commercial TV station painted on the side. The press had arrived.

Just before eight am, an articulated lorry arrived at the gate. The driver jumped down and began gesticulating for the gate to be opened.

“No can do, mate,” the uniformed officer said. “It’s a crime scene.”

“But I have delivery to make,” said the driver. “Oil, batteries.”

Eddy stepped forward. “If you were thinking of delivering them to the car parts place, it’s gone.” He showed the driver his ID and ushered him to where the destruction could be seen. The driver’s face dropped open in shock.

“I must deliver things,” he said, when he had himself back under control.

“There’s nowhere to deliver them to,” Eddy said. “You’ll have to take them back.”

“He can’t,” said a voice from the other side of the gate. Charlie saw a man wearing a pair of black trousers and a T-shirt with the slogan Mo’s Autoparts: Cheapest and Best . “The wagon is loaded in order. If he doesn’t unload our stuff, he can’t get at the next lot.”

“I hate to tell you,” Eddy said, “But that really isn’t something I can help with. The gate stays closed. This area is a crime scene, and you need to give me your names and addresses.” He produced his tablet to start noting them down. Both the driver and the man in the T-shirt looked worried, as did the four other people in the same T-shirts who arrived over the next few minutes. Eddy took all their names and addresses and ignored all the requests for information.

“If you don’t let us in, we won’t get paid,” a middle-aged woman said.

“I can’t help you with that, either,” Eddy said. “No one gets through the gate.”