Page 8

8

Sunday morning

Unlike the senior Unwins, Dylan didn’t express disbelief at the news of Josh Unwin’s death, just shock and sorrow.

“I was falling in love with him,” Dylan told Charlie. “It was only supposed to be friends with benefits, but he was special, you know … most men don’t talk about feelings, but he did. Communication is essential in a polyamorous relationship … “

Charlie watched Dylan’s face as he talked. Explaining about their relationship was a distraction from the awfulness, Charlie thought. But it couldn’t last.

“Oh, God, how’s Patsy?”

“As you’d expect,” Charlie said. “They’d been together a long time.”

“I must go and see her,” Dylan said, and then he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his shorts and let himself cry. Charlie went over to the kitchen end of the room and poured a glass of water which he put on the table in front of Dylan.

When Dylan’s crying eased, he looked at the glass.

“I think gin would be better, don’t you think?” he asked, but he drank the water anyway.

“I’d like to ask a few questions,” Charlie said.

Dylan nodded. “Go ahead. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I almost want to get called in to work.”

“What do you do?” Charlie asked.

“I’m training to be a paramedic. But when I met Unwin, I was a trolley dolly on a budget airline. He picked me up when I was working, the shameless hussy.”

“That’s quite a career change,” Charlie said.

“It takes some people longer to find their vocation. I was a model for a while, too.”

Charlie had no problem believing it. “You knew about … that Unwin had another partner?”

“Of course. I told you; it was only supposed to be a fling. Now I’ve found what I want to do as a career, I’m making it my priority. There’s a lot of studying. I don’t have time for a relationship, but the connection was real, you know? Not just a quick fuck. We did other stuff too. Clubs, hikes, theatre trips. All sorts of things. Sometimes with Patsy, sometimes just us.”

“You weren’t jealous?” Because Charlie couldn’t imagine not being jealous. Hell, he was jealous of Tom’s relationship with … Not going there.

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t like being tied to one person. Nor did Unwin.”

“It has been suggested that Unwin had relationships with women other than Patsy,” Charlie said. He planned to ask Patsy the same thing, though in truth he wondered how Unwin could have found the time.

Dylan shook his head again. “Don’t think so. Maybe a one-night stand, but he loves Patsy and he says he loves me. I mean, he loved us. I think that was enough, don’t you? I think I want to be on my own now, please.”

Charlie saw the tears threatening again.

“One last question. Can you tell me where you were yesterday and last night?”

The storm broke. “I was here. With Unwin. He took the afternoon off to spend it with me.” Dylan sobbed. “I made him leave after dinner, because I wanted to work on my assignments. I should have made him stay. Sorry, but please, just go.”

Charlie stood up. He left his card on the table. He wanted to ask what time Unwin had left the little house, but there would be no point. Dylan had his arms on the table and his face buried in them, sobbing. He hated to leave Dylan, and vowed to check back later, and not just to find out about Unwin’s movements. But it was time he got back to Llanfair.

“Can I call someone to sit with you?” Charlie asked.

Dylan shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, though it obviously wasn’t true.

Charlie was torn between the need to get back to Llanfair, and the need to take care of someone in distress. Neighbour, he decided. He let himself out of the house and walked round next door, warrant card in hand, but before he could knock, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in shorts, clogs and the kind of smock seen on gardening programmes. For sure, people could look trustworthy and still be villains, but this was someone who would help, he thought, and he was right. She promised to call in on Dylan as soon as she’d done a bit of ‘tidying up’ and took his card ‘just in case’. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

The roads on his way back were busy with Sunday drivers but the air-conditioning worked. The journey gave Charlie time to think. How had Unwin sustained relationships with two people, maybe more, when he, Charlie, was struggling with one.

“It’s arson and murder,” Ravensbourne said. She was sitting in one of the few shady spots in Llanfair — on a bench under an oak tree in the art college grounds. All the other shady spots were occupied by people sprawled out on the grass. Charlie was careful not to look for Tom. Ravensbourne smelled of recent cigarette smoking, for which he couldn’t blame her. She probably needed to replace the odour of damp and decomposition with something less upsetting. The mortuary van had left leaving the pathologist, Hector Powell, standing beside the burned building looking thoughtful. Charlie wanted to talk to Hector, but Ravensbourne would have the essentials.

“What did Dr Powell say?” Charlie asked.

“Blunt force trauma to the cranial something or other,” Ravensbourne said. “In other words, someone hit Unwin over the head with a hammer. We know it was a hammer because it was next to his body, covered in blood, poor bastard. Charlie, we have to get the fucker who did this. I know Unwin had some odd habits, but this?”

“Odd habits, boss?”

“This business of multiple girlfriends and boyfriends. I’m sure it’s all with consent … I dunno, I struggle with it to be honest … or maybe I’m just curious.”

“His mother said that he and Patsy were planning to get married, and Patsy said they were planning to move in together,” Charlie said. “And Unwin’s boyfriend had nothing but good things to say about him. His sister, though, seemed to have a problem with jealousy. She certainly didn’t like Patsy; all but accused her of the killing. If it was Patsy’s body we’d found, I’d have a closer look at her – except she’s seventeen and weighs about eight stone wringing wet. And according to Unwin’s dad, she worshipped her brother, and her parents give her an alibi for last night.”

Ravensbourne leaned back on the bench. It wasn’t a comfortable bench, but Charlie couldn’t imagine holding the conversation sitting on the grass. He shuffled about, wishing he had a cushion.

“Tell me about the boyfriend,” Ravensbourne said.

Charlie described Dylan. “He says that Unwin was with him all afternoon, but I don’t know when he left. I couldn’t push it. He was telling me to go. Really distressed. I found a neighbour to keep an eye on him. I’ll go back later and find out.”

“So, what was Unwin doing here? In an empty shop?”

Charlie shrugged. He’d been asking himself the same question. “You asked Patsy?”

Ravensbourne looked at him. Of course she had asked Patsy. She would have found out what time Unwin left Dylan, too. Ravensbourne would have insisted, regardless of Dylan’s tears.

“Who’s with Patsy now?”

“One of her friends. A funny-looking girl with a T-shirt proclaiming that she’s a witch. But she came when Patsy rang, and I left her making herbal tea and providing tissues. In answer to your question, Patsy has no idea what Unwin was doing in Llanfair. She thought he was staying the night with Dylan.”

Charlie thought about that for a moment. Finding out why Unwin was in the empty shop must be one of the keys to his murder. “And you said arson?” he asked. “I did think there was a smell of petrol, but I forgot about it, in the light of what else we found.”

“Petrol and lots of it. One of those plastic containers you can fill up at a petrol station. The fire investigator thinks it was thrown through the window with the lid off, and then something like a burning rag, or a lit cigarette, thrown after it. And apparently, no one saw a thing.” Ravensbourne’s tone was dismissive of the idea that the arson had gone unseen. She fumbled about in her pockets, producing cigarettes and lighter. “Filthy habit. I should quit. I will. As soon as we find out who killed Unwin. OK, working hypothesis. Whoever killed Unwin set the shop on fire with the hope of concealing the body.”

“Or maybe,” Charlie said, “with the opposite aim. Because without the fire, we wouldn’t have found the body. Or we would have, but not so quickly.”

Ravensbourne gave him one of her patented pats on the arm, the kind that left bruises.

“It’s one or the other, or possibly something else altogether. None of which helps us understand what the hell happened last night.”

“What I want to know,” Charlie said, “is when the fire investigator found Unwin’s body. Because he was odd about the whole thing. And the other thing I want to know about is that graffiti. Because that’s odd, too. I spoke to Unwin yesterday. He said the nutters would head to Liverpool or Manchester to cause trouble. So, why were they here?”