The Snuffbox Murders (14 page)

When Farleigh’s shining big eyes met Angel’s, he yelled, ‘It was a trick, you bastard! A filthy trick.’

Angel nodded and said, ‘Rather good, wasn’t it?’ He turned to Crisp and said, ‘Search him. Then charge him.’

Crisp said, ‘Spread your feet.’

Farleigh did so grudgingly and Crisp began patting him down.

Over his shoulder Farleigh looked at Angel and said, ‘What are you charging me with?’

‘The murder of Charles Razzle. What did you think?’ Angel said.

‘Ridiculous. What motive could I possibly have for murdering him?’

‘Robbery,’ Angel said as he dusted down his suit with his hands.

There was a pause.

Crisp began emptying Farleigh’s pockets.

‘Robbery of what?’ Farleigh said.

‘The contents of that safe.’

‘How would I know what was in his safe?’

‘You saw the contents when you fitted this door and you’ve been wanting to get your sticky fingers in there ever since.’

‘That’s not true. What proof have you got that I knew what was in there?’

‘The fact that it was found empty after his dead body was found.’

‘That’s not proof, and it’s not proof that I murdered him.’

‘Robbery was the motive, and
you
stole the stuff. We’ve plenty of proof of the murder. Firstly, rather obviously, what are you doing here now, and don’t say you fancied a midnight stroll. You’ve already acknowledged you were tricked.’

‘No comment.’

‘Exactly. You were worried in case a CCTV camera, which doesn’t exist, had film showing you murdering Charles Razzle and ransacking his safe.’

‘No comment.’

‘And where did you magic a front-door key from in a matter of six hours? It was the same key you used to break in here on the twenty-fifth of May to murder Charles Razzle, wasn’t it?’

‘No comment.’

‘No matter. We shall find it.’

Crisp took something out of Farleigh’s jacket pocket and handed it to Angel.

Angel looked at it. It was a strangely shaped key. He nodded and said, ‘Well, well, well. Here it is. Obviously home-made from the cast of an original. The jury will love that.’

Farleigh glared at it and said, ‘It’s a plant. I’ve never seen it before.’

Angel shook his head. ‘You’re a terrible actor, Farleigh. But what really brought you to my attention was the fact that it took you over two hours to open that door for Rosemary Razzle with your modern combination lock equipment the night you murdered him, while three days later, the police sergeant at the head of the CID Specialized Services, Cyphers, Codes and Combinations division, opened it in one minute and forty seconds, which was about the length of time it took you tonight. So why did it take you so long on the night of the murder?’

‘No comment.’

Angel looked at Crisp, nodded and said, ‘Get on with it, lad. I’ve a bed to go to.’

Crisp said, ‘Brian Farleigh, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something….’

‘Come in,’ Angel said.

The office door opened. It was Ahmed, his eyes like two fried eggs in a frying pan. ‘Good morning, sir. Is Mr Farleigh locked up for the murder of Charles Razzle?’

‘He is, lad. Why?’

‘Mmm. That’s great, sir. He’s making a lot of noise.’

‘He can make as much noise as he likes. He’ll get tired before we do.’

‘He’s saying he didn’t do it sir, and he wants to see his solicitor.’

‘Well, he can see his solicitor, but he’ll have to give the poor man time to finish his kedgeree and devils on horseback. Find out who he is and tell him he has a client screaming out for his services.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘And there’s no soap again in the washroom, Ahmed. When we’ve finished here, will you see if you can catch the cleaner before she goes and get a bar put in there?’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Now we’ve a lot to do this morning, Ahmed. I’ve no time—’

The phone rang. Angel reached out for it. It was Harker.

‘Yes, sir?’ Angel said.

Harker coughed several times into the mouthpiece, causing Angel to screw up his face and hold the phone away from his ear. When Angel thought he had finished the racket, he brought the phone back to his ear and had to endure another ear-splitting episode. Eventually, between the coughing, he managed to hear Harker say, ‘Come up here, Angel. This is a very serious matter.’ It was followed by more coughing.

Angel wrinkled his nose as he replaced the phone. He stood up. He looked across at the young constable. ‘It’s the super,’ he said. ‘I have to go.’

‘Right, sir. I’ll see if I can find the cleaner,’ he said and went out.

Angel thought about what the ‘serious matter’ might be. There were quite a few peripheral matters and corners he had cut over the past two weeks, but he couldn’t bring anything to mind that might be described in such terms. Of course, he had never adopted the HOLMES method of investigation, which in the UK was highly regarded and applied by most of the forty-three police forces. It had nothing to do with the fictional character, Sherlock Holmes. The name was an innocent coincidence. HOLMES was an acronym for Home Office Large/Major Enquiry System, the UK mainframe police computer system.

Angel had never attempted to adopt this thorough and extreme system and he hoped that Harker hadn’t suddenly realized that it should have been in use and that he intended to compel Bromersley force to embrace it.

He arrived at the superintendent’s door. He took a deep breath, knocked, and walked in.

Harker glanced up from his overloaded desk. His eyes seemed more bloodshot than usual, his sparse grey/ginger/brown strands of hair even sparser than before, and his potato-shaped nose more purple than the red colour he usually showed.

He sniffed. ‘Ah, yes.
You
, lad.’ He reached out for a letter in one of the wire baskets on the desk in front of him. He read it, put it back, pulled out another, read that, looked up and said, ‘You were assisting Sheffield CID last Tuesday?’

Angel blinked then he said, ‘No, sir.’

Harker glared across at him. ‘Your BMW was seen driving away from the crime scene at Strawberry Reservoir just as Detective Chief Inspector Pimm and his team were arriving. You took statements from the four witnesses and instructed them on how to behave at a crime scene.’

Angel’s eyebrows shot up. ‘No, sir. Not really. I—’

‘Didn’t I tell you to stand fast because the crime was in the Sheffield area and was nothing to do with us?’

‘Yes, sir, but I needed to know whether the victim was who I thought it was.’

Harker was angry. His heavy eyebrows fluttered. ‘Have you stopped taking orders from your superiors, then?’

‘No, sir. You didn’t order me not to
look
at the victim. I understood that you simply didn’t want me to undertake the investigation of the case.’

‘You did not only
look
at the victim, you had … DS Crisp, I suppose it was … take photographs. And you interviewed the four witnesses.’

‘I didn’t interview them, sir. I merely spoke to them, or rather they spoke to me.’

‘Are you quibbling with me, lad? Did the witnesses impart any information to you about the dead woman or not?’

‘Well, yes. I suppose…. They sort of … volunteered it.’

‘And did you have someone take photographs at the scene?’

‘Well, er – yes. That was entirely at my instigation, sir.’

‘DCI Pimm is not favourably impressed with this interference, lad. He is quite right to call it professional trespass. The matter will have to be reported to the chief constable. It will be up to him how far he wants to take the matter. We must retain a good professional relationship with all other forces, particularly those with whom we share a common boundary. Also, there’s the matter of the taking of photographs of corpses that are not your case.’

Angel suddenly had an idea. ‘Does DCI Pimm know the identity of the dead woman, sir?’

‘Of course not. That’s what’s made him so angry. He says that he may never find out who she is.’

Angel ran his hand slowly across his mouth and said, ‘That’s true, sir. That’s very true.’ Then he added, ‘I can send him the photographs if—’

‘What’s the point of that? He’s got the body. He can take as many bloody photographs as he likes, can’t he?’

‘Just trying to put matters right, sir. If he feels hard done by—’

‘I should think he does. Right. Get back to your desk. This complaint against you is far too serious for me to deal with. I shall pass it upstairs. The chief can make the decision what to do with you when he gets back.’

Angel didn’t like that. If it was upheld, it would go on his record and might be referred to endlessly by Harker. He might have a stoppage of pay. He didn’t want any of that, either.

He came out of the superintendent’s office and stormed down the corridor. He felt as if he had been force-fed three helpings of Strangeway’s fish pie and it wouldn’t drop down his stomach.

PC Ahaz saw Angel coming towards him. He stopped and said, ‘Excuse me, sir. The radiator in the corridor outside the CID office is making a funny noise.’

Angel kept on walking. ‘Tell me later, lad. Tell me later,’ he said, not caring if the radiator exploded into a thousand pieces. He reached his office, immediately reached out for the phone and tapped in the number for the South Yorkshire Police.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Pimm, please.’

After a few seconds a crisp, efficient sounding voice said, ‘DCI Pimm.’

Angel bounced straight into dialogue with him. He had absolutely nothing to lose. He could only gain or stay as he was. He began very quietly. ‘I believe you are trying to determine the identity of a body found near Strawberry Reservoir yesterday?’

‘Indeed I am,’ Pimm said. ‘Who is this speaking, please?’

‘I am the driver of the unmarked police car you saw leaving the crime scene.’

‘Oh yes, the BMW,’ Pimm said.

‘I would like to point out that I didn’t interview
any
of the four men. They approached me and told me where the woman’s body was and how appalling it looked. I am pretty sure that they were fed up of waiting. They were anxious to tell their story so that they could leave and get on with their fishing. I didn’t ask them any questions. There was no interview. I didn’t even say I was from the police.’

‘That’s all right,’ Pimm said. ‘What is your name?’

‘My sergeant, under my instructions, took some photographs because I thought the dead woman probably had a bearing on a case I am working on. Accordingly, we put them on the computer, blew them up and I discovered that I was able to identify the woman. I also know where she lived.’

‘Right,’ Pimm said. ‘That’s great. How
could
you recognize her? Her mouth had been mutilated, and the rest of her face had been—’

‘I know that her tongue had been pulled out with some sort of—’

‘Oh. You knew about that?’

‘I have another case, similar.
He
was shot in the heart, before the—’

‘Yes, this woman had been shot in the heart before the mutilation.’

Angel was relieved to learn that the old lady hadn’t been alive to experience the savagery. ‘I identified her from a piece of jewellery … a gold crucifix on a chain I had seen her wearing recently.’

‘Ah yes. Good. Well, who is she?’

‘Hold on a minute,’ Angel said. ‘Now, I am in trouble with my super because you have written complaining – with some justification, I admit – of professional trespass.’

‘Oh, that’s what’s bothering you? Forget that, old chap. I was peeved because I thought you would turn out to be some cheeky sprog copper, treading heavily over my crime scene to get ghoulish photos of yet another corpse to enlarge his scrapbook collection and sell to the
Daily Bugle
for some outrageous sum of money.’

‘Not at all. Nothing like that. I will let you have all the photographs my sergeant took if you wish. And my sergeant was very careful approaching the body, and, after all, the crime scene
was
out of doors.’

‘Are you going to give me your name?’

‘My name is DI Angel and the dead woman’s name—’

‘Just a minute. DI Angel, did you say? Not Michael Angel, the cop who they say, like the Mounties, always gets his man?’

Angel’s cheeks felt hot. He knew his face would be red. It always embarrassed him. ‘Yes, sir,’ he mumbled at length. ‘That’s me, I’m afraid.’

‘Well. Well, well. Pleased to meet you – well
speak
to you – Michael. Call me Archie. Well, well, well. That’s all right, Michael. I understand perfectly well. I wish I had
your
record. You say you know the dead woman’s name and address? Well, I forgive anybody anything who knows that. She’s not known on the NPC, there’s nothing on her clothes, only sawdust, no distinguishing marks on her body, she’s not been reported missing, there’s nothing. No
that
’s all right. I will immediately contact my super, straighten all that out and quash the whole thing. He’ll be delighted to have the dead woman’s ID. He’ll be on cloud nine. Wait till I tell him it was Michael Angel who told me. Well, well, well. Meeting Michael Angel at last.’

‘Thank you very much, Archie.’

‘It’s a pleasure, Michael.’

Angel told Pimm what he knew about Aimée Podlitz, the huge fire on Bradford Road of her shop and home, and that he had just heard that the buildings at the back were all in her name and had been burned out the previous day. He told him that he believed that the property had been the HQ of the country-house gang, that she had probably been a lowly pawn, murdered because, in the eyes of the gang leader, she had become a security risk, following the visit by Angel to the shop, and that he assumed the gang must now have established themselves in other premises.

Pimm and Angel parted good friends and Angel was clearly much happier. The three unwelcome helpings of Strangeway’s fish pie on his chest seemed to have swum away just as quickly as they had arrived.

Angel then rang for PC Ahaz.

‘You wanted me, sir?’ Ahmed said.

‘Yes, lad. Who is on surveillance of Edward Street?’

‘Ted Scrivens, sir. Been there since 0600 hours.’

‘Is Riley in the house?’

‘Unless he went out in the night, sir, yes.’

‘Any post? Any phone calls?’

‘Only the electric bill and a mail-order catalogue, sir, both addressed to Mrs V. Beasley. No phone calls yesterday, not even a wrong number.’

‘Right lad. If there’s any change, let me know.’

Ahmed made for the door.

‘And find DS Carter and ask her to see me.’

‘Right, sir,’ he said, then dashed out.

Angel phoned Don Taylor and told him that Brian Farleigh had been caught and charged with the murder of Charles Razzle. He instructed him to search Farleigh’s premises on Abbeydale Road, also his home address. He also told Taylor that he was looking particularly for anything valuable and compact that Farleigh could have stolen from Razzle’s safe.

He then rang Mr Twelvetrees at CPS and had a long discussion with him about the case against Farleigh. Angel wasn’t too pleased with the outcome. He was returning the phone to its cradle when there was a knock at the door. It was DS Carter.

‘Come in, Flora. Sit down. I’ve just been talking to the CPS. There are a few snags. Mr Twelvetrees says he needs to know how Farleigh came by the gun that he used to murder Charles Razzle. He’s happy about the fact that it
was
Razzle’s gun all right, and that Rosemary Razzle said it was kept in the drawer of the table on her husband’s side in their bedroom. But Twelvetrees thinks there needs to be some explanation as to how Farleigh actually came to possess it to commit the murder. Twelvetrees also said he needs to know how Farleigh managed to get hold of the key to the front door of the house from which a cast was made. He says the case needs those points strengthening, or some additional compelling evidence is required, such as whatever Farleigh stole from Razzle’s safe being found in his possession, before he’d be satisfied in taking the case to court.’

Carter frowned. ‘I thought you had enough, sir.’

‘So did I.’

‘Well about the keys, sir,’ she said. ‘There were four keys to the front door, weren’t there?’

Angel nodded. ‘Charles Razzle, Rosemary Razzle, Jessica Razzle and Elaine Dalgleish each had one. I can’t see Charles Razzle parting with his to anybody easily. Jessica was abroad up to the time of the murder, so she’s way out of it. That leaves Rosemary and the housekeeper. I wish I knew where Rosemary was … we can’t ask her until she turns up. That leaves the housekeeper, Elaine Dalgleish.’

‘Do you want me to see her?’

‘No, I’ll see her,’ he said. ‘I’ve got used to her.’

‘Well, didn’t you want me for something, sir?’

‘Yes, Flora. I’m concerned … very concerned. We’ve only one lead to the country-house gang.’

‘You mean if we find Sean Noel Riley with a bullet through his heart and his tongue pulled out, we’ve been the cause of another death and we’re no further forward.’

Angel blew out a metre of breath and ran his hand over his chin. ‘I didn’t mean to be as graphic as that, but, yes.’