It was still a mystery, but Angel was delighted. His chest warmed with excitement and his pulse thumped noticeably. There she was: the murderer of Alicia Prophet. The name was false but, at last he was holding a photograph of the actual murderer. It was the first step towards getting a conviction. He frowned and continued to gaze at the photograph.
All he had to do was … find the lady!
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Ah. Mrs Duplessis. Good morning. Can I have a word with you?’
‘Oh?’ she said peering at him. ‘It’s Inspector Angel, isn’t it? Yes, of course. Please come in. Sit down … wherever you like.’
‘Here is fine. Thank you.’
Angel took the photograph, which he had carefully wrapped in polythene, out of his pocket. ‘Will you take a look at this? Do you recognize either of the two people sitting at the table?’
Mrs Duplessis took the photograph, held it to the light, adjusted her spectacles, looked back at Angel and said, ‘Of course. It was taken in the garden next door. It’s dear Alicia with … somebody.’
She peered at it more closely. ‘They’re having tea on the patio.’
Angel licked his bottom lip.
‘Do you know who she is with?’
‘Ah yes,’ she said after a moment’s hesitation. She pulled a face and added: ‘It’s that woman, Lady Blessington.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Oh yes, Inspector. Positive.’
Angel sighed and nodded.
‘You couldn’t mistake her,’ she added. ‘And that blue dress. That hat. Yes that’s her.’
‘And that’s the woman who you saw rushing down the path just after three o’clock last Monday afternoon?’
‘Without any doubt, Inspector. Yes.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
He smiled. He felt good. He now had a second witness who provided positive ID. ‘Now what can you tell me about her. You spoke to her, did you not?’
‘Only briefly. She was good at the social graces. Introduced herself. Told me she was a friend of Charles and Alicia Prophet. That she and Alicia went back a long way. That she had recently caught up with her. That’s about all she said.’
‘Can you tell me if there was anything unusual about her … any little thing … doesn’t matter how small.’
Mrs Duplessis looked blank, then shook her head.
‘Well,’ Angel began, ‘did she have any particular mannerisms. Did she have a twitch? Did she smell of anything? The smallest thing might help me to trace her, you never know.’
‘No. I can’t think of anything. She always kept a good distance from me. When she shook hands, she just held out the tips of her fingers, at arm’s length, very briefly. And after we had touched she pulled back and turned away, as if I had the plague.’
Angel thought about this.
‘Her voice was strained, as if it pained her to speak.’
He nodded encouragingly.
‘But title or no title,’ she added. ‘I am as clean as anybody. I am always washing my hands.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Angel said kindly. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘Yes. There was something else that I noticed. Only a little thing….’
Angel nodded encouragingly.
‘A matter of bad manners, really,’ she said. ‘Whenever I saw her come up the path, she always walked straight into the house. She never knocked and waited … like you or I would do. She didn’t knock. Just barged straight in.’
‘Perhaps she did that because she knew Mrs Prophet was blind. They were supposed to be good friends. Save her getting up.’
Mrs Duplessis didn’t agree. She simply shook her head. She thought Cora Blessington was categorically rude.
Angel made a note of it.
‘How often did you see Lady Blessington?’
‘Three or four times. When I was in the garden. She would arrive suddenly, by taxi. Sail up the path. Wave and call out a greeting of some sort then dash into the house through the front door. An hour so later, a taxi would arrive, she would come out of the house, down the path to it and away.’
‘Did you always see her in the company of Mrs Prophet?’
‘I don’t think so. Dear Alicia hardly ever came out. Her blindness made it difficult.’
‘And what did she say to you about her?’
‘Nothing. I don’t think she ever spoke of her.’
‘What did Charles Prophet say about her?’
‘Can’t remember him saying anything in particular. But I don’t think he cared for her.’
Angel pursed his lips.
‘And I didn’t care for her,’ she added. ‘I can tell you.’
Angel nodded. He understood why.
It was ten o’clock.
Angel passed the open CID-room door on his way up the corridor to his office.
Ahmed saw him and called out: ‘Good morning, sir.’
‘Good morning, Ahmed,’ Angel said without even glancing back. ‘Have you heard from Newcastle about that address?’
‘Yes, sir. Been looking out for you, sir,’ he said, carrying a newspaper. ‘There are a couple of things.’
‘Come into my office, then. What’s up?’
Angel opened the door and Ahmed followed him in.
‘The address National Insurance have for Simon Spencer is 212 Huddersfield Road.’
‘Right, Ahmed. That’s good. Tell Scrivens I want to see him urgently, will you?’
‘Yes, sir. And I’ve brought this to show you,’ he said, unfolding the paper and putting it on the desk in front of him. It was that morning’s copy of the South Yorkshire Daily Examiner.
Angel looked at it eagerly, his eyebrows raised.
‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Mmmm. Done us proud. The front page. Couldn’t be better.’
The headline read: ‘Rubbish Skip Murder. Police completely baffled.’
Angel smiled and quickly read the item about Harry Harrison’s body being found in the skip and that he had been discovered hiding out in flat number twenty, Mansion Hill.
He smiled and put the paper down. He was as chuffed as a serial murderer let off with an ASBO.
He rubbed his chin.
He turned to Ahmed. ‘While I remember, I want you to go through back copies of Police Review also into the NPC and see if there are any women who have been released from prison in the last three months. They may have served time for fraud, and aiding and abetting fraud. Particularly, also, if they are known to have carried handguns. All right?’
‘There shouldn’t be many, sir,’ Ahmed said.
Angel wrinkled his nose. ‘I only want one,’ he bawled. ‘One’s enough!’
‘Right, sir,’ Ahmed said and turned to go.
‘Hang on, son. There’s summat else. I want a meeting of all CID on duty, in the briefing office at 16.00 hours today. DS Crisp already knows, so you needn’t bother him. But spread the word. Don’t miss anybody.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘And I’m expecting an Albert Amersham anytime now. He’s a witness. When he comes, will you show him in here?’
‘I got your message that you wanted to see me. I was fair worried. I never been into a police station afore, much less into an office. I’m a reight careful driver. I hope I haven’t been breaking any laws or anything. And my car is regularly serviced and kept safe. Well, it has to be. You know that. Else I wouldn’t get my licence.’
‘It’s nothing to worry about. Please sit down, Mr Amersham,’ Angel said. ‘Thank you for coming in so promptly.’
‘Aye. Ta,’ he said and looked round the little office. ‘It’s a darn sight posher than our dispatcher’s office, I can tell you.’
‘Yes. You work for A1 Taxis as a driver, don’t you? Tell me about being sent to twenty-two Creesforth Road on Monday afternoon, please.’
‘Well, let’s see. I’d just taken a fare to the railway station to catch the 13.48 to Leeds when it came up on the RT to go to Wells Street Baths to pick up a fare for Creesforth.’