from the victim’s skirt on the settee is the identical variety and the same maturity as the oranges in the wheelie. Therefore it would be reasonable to assume that there had been five oranges in the bag originally and that one of them was consumed by the murderer, Reynard.’
Angel felt a slight, cold tremor run up his back at the very mention of the name as he thought that he might be so close to identifying and arresting that infamous man.
‘Pity you couldn’t have managed a print off the bag,’ Angel said. ‘It would have been a big step forward.’
‘Sorry sir,’ Taylor said.
Angel thanked him, replaced the handset and brought Ahmed and Gawber up to speed with SOCO’s news.
Then he said: ‘Ron, Nip up to Creesforth Road. Ask Don Taylor for that bag and then go round the town. See if you can find a fruiterer in town or on the market who sold a man five oranges in a bag like that, yesterday, Monday. I know it’s a long shot, but you never know.’
‘Right, sir,’ Gawber said and went off.
Angel watched the door close.
Ahmed came up to the desk. ‘Can I do anything, sir?’
Angel smiled. He liked the lad’s enthusiasm.
‘Yes. Fetch me a cup of tea.’
‘Right, sir,’ he said eagerly, and dashed off out of the room.
Angel reached out for the phone. He tapped in SOCO’s number. He wanted to speak to DS Taylor.
‘Ron, I want you to send a fingerprint man up to Flat 20, Mansion Hill. There’s an impressive amount of fun-time money under the floorboards, and I want to know where it has come from. It wants fingerprinting, counting and depositing in the station safe. Trevor Crisp is hanging on there for you. All right?’
He hung up and pushed the swivel chair backwards and gazed up at the cream ceiling with the grey dust marks round the rose and the electric flex that came down holding the white plastic lampshade. He rubbed the lobe of his ear between finger and thumb.
There were many things that didn’t make sense in this murder case. This orange business was wacky. Why would Reynard buy five oranges, murder somebody, peel one, throw the peel over her, eat it and throw the other four away?
‘Come in. Come in,’ Harker squawked. ‘Sit down. Sit down.’
Angel knew he was in a bad mood, by the speed he spat out his instructions and the pitch of his voice.
Angel pulled up a chair and looked across the desk at the superintendent. His bushy ginger eyebrows made him look like one of the uglier Muppets. And he didn’t look well. His face was the colour of an outside loo and there was that lingering smell of TCP. He always smelled of the stuff when he was out of sorts.
‘Now, what’s all this about the Prophet woman being murdered by Reynard?’ Harker said challengingly.
Angel blinked. He must have been talking to SOCO. He didn’t know that Harker was yet familiar with the finding of orange peel at the crime scene. ‘I’m not sure that she was, sir,’ he replied carefully.
‘Orange peel over her body, isn’t that the MO?’
‘Not strewn about the place like this was, sir. The case notes of his two latest victims say that the orange peel was put in a relatively tidy pile, in one case on a table, and the other, a chair arm. Also, there was a printed card about, saying, “With the compliments of Reynard”. SOCO have found no sign of a card.’
‘I know all about that,’ Harker said leaning back in his chair and flaring his nostrils.
At that angle, his nose looked like the entrance to the Dover to Calais tunnel.
‘Nevertheless,’ Harker continued. ‘SOCA should be advised. We want a quick clear up, and they’ve been making a special study of Reynard. They’ve got specialist officers. They maybe could clear this up in no time. Also, I heard that in that Merseyside murder, all the motor expenses for the two weeks they were there, were put down to SOCA. Saved Liverpool CID over six thousand pounds. Helped their quarterly budget no end.’
Angel frowned as he ran his
Angel felt a slight, cold tremor run up his back at the very mention of the name as he thought that he might be so close to identifying and arresting that infamous man.
‘Pity you couldn’t have managed a print off the bag,’ Angel said. ‘It would have been a big step forward.’
‘Sorry sir,’ Taylor said.
Angel thanked him, replaced the handset and brought Ahmed and Gawber up to speed with SOCO’s news.
Then he said: ‘Ron, Nip up to Creesforth Road. Ask Don Taylor for that bag and then go round the town. See if you can find a fruiterer in town or on the market who sold a man five oranges in a bag like that, yesterday, Monday. I know it’s a long shot, but you never know.’
‘Right, sir,’ Gawber said and went off.
Angel watched the door close.
Ahmed came up to the desk. ‘Can I do anything, sir?’
Angel smiled. He liked the lad’s enthusiasm.
‘Yes. Fetch me a cup of tea.’
‘Right, sir,’ he said eagerly, and dashed off out of the room.
Angel reached out for the phone. He tapped in SOCO’s number. He wanted to speak to DS Taylor.
‘Ron, I want you to send a fingerprint man up to Flat 20, Mansion Hill. There’s an impressive amount of fun-time money under the floorboards, and I want to know where it has come from. It wants fingerprinting, counting and depositing in the station safe. Trevor Crisp is hanging on there for you. All right?’
He hung up and pushed the swivel chair backwards and gazed up at the cream ceiling with the grey dust marks round the rose and the electric flex that came down holding the white plastic lampshade. He rubbed the lobe of his ear between finger and thumb.
There were many things that didn’t make sense in this murder case. This orange business was wacky. Why would Reynard buy five oranges, murder somebody, peel one, throw the peel over her, eat it and throw the other four away?
‘Come in. Come in,’ Harker squawked. ‘Sit down. Sit down.’
Angel knew he was in a bad mood, by the speed he spat out his instructions and the pitch of his voice.
Angel pulled up a chair and looked across the desk at the superintendent. His bushy ginger eyebrows made him look like one of the uglier Muppets. And he didn’t look well. His face was the colour of an outside loo and there was that lingering smell of TCP. He always smelled of the stuff when he was out of sorts.
‘Now, what’s all this about the Prophet woman being murdered by Reynard?’ Harker said challengingly.
Angel blinked. He must have been talking to SOCO. He didn’t know that Harker was yet familiar with the finding of orange peel at the crime scene. ‘I’m not sure that she was, sir,’ he replied carefully.
‘Orange peel over her body, isn’t that the MO?’
‘Not strewn about the place like this was, sir. The case notes of his two latest victims say that the orange peel was put in a relatively tidy pile, in one case on a table, and the other, a chair arm. Also, there was a printed card about, saying, “With the compliments of Reynard”. SOCO have found no sign of a card.’
‘I know all about that,’ Harker said leaning back in his chair and flaring his nostrils.
At that angle, his nose looked like the entrance to the Dover to Calais tunnel.
‘Nevertheless,’ Harker continued. ‘SOCA should be advised. We want a quick clear up, and they’ve been making a special study of Reynard. They’ve got specialist officers. They maybe could clear this up in no time. Also, I heard that in that Merseyside murder, all the motor expenses for the two weeks they were there, were put down to SOCA. Saved Liverpool CID over six thousand pounds. Helped their quarterly budget no end.’
Angel frowned as he ran his
Similar Books
