Evan Blessed

by Rhys Bowen

  “No, I can see that you’re busy,” Evan agreed. “But another question. Earlier in the year, a couple of months ago, maybe. Did you ever happen to see someone going up the mountain carrying a shovel, or any building materials?”

  “A shovel? Building materials?” He thought about this one. “I’ve seen National Parks workers driving up with tools in their vehicles when they have to do repairs to paths.”

  “Right. Brilliant. You can’t remember any particular vehicle you’ve noticed recently?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  That was all that Evan could get out of him, but at least he’d come away with one slim lead. Of course National Parks workers would arouse no suspicion if they were seen driving over mountain tracks with tools or wood. Definitely one thing worth pursuing.

  He repeated the question about tools and building materials at businesses and homes with gardens that backed onto the mountain, but got no other tips. He stood looking up at the start of the Llanberis path up Snowdon and at the woodland where the bunker had been discovered. How did anyone manage to grab Shannon without being noticed? he wondered. How did anyone manage to dig the bunker without being noticed, and then stock it? And if the girl wasn’t still hidden away somewhere on the mountain, how could anyone have brought her down into this hubbub of activity? Evan stood, letting the tide of humanity sweep around him, then finally shook his head and made his way back to his car. He would just have enough time to drive into Bangor and show the picture at the mainline station.

  “All these young people look alike to me, mate,” the sad-faced man at the ticket counter said. “We’ve got a constant stream of them coming through every day.”

  Evan called in his findings to Inspector Watkins, who jumped at once on the possibility of a National Parks vehicle being involved.

  “Those ranger types are often social misfits and loners, aren’t they?” he said. “I want you to go and talk to them, right after the two o’clock briefing this afternoon.”

  That gave Evan a precious hour of freedom. During his lunch break, he managed to visit a local car dealer and blanched at the price of a new four-wheel drive utility vehicle. Until he was made an inspector and Bronwen was a headmistress, it would definitely have to be secondhand. The dealer promised to keep his eyes open and Evan picked up a copy of the weekly free advertisements to study when he had a moment. He decided it might be wise to double-check what kind of payments they could expect on a car loan, glanced at his watch, and sprinted in the direction of the bank.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Shorecross isn’t in his office. He’s stepped out for a while,” the pleasant-faced young teller called to Evan. “Is it anything I can help you with?”

  “No thanks, it’s about a car loan,” Evan said. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “He should be back soon. I think he’s at a doctor’s appointment,” she said.

  Evan turned to go and noticed the other teller—the silent, sallow fellow with the heavy specs. Suddenly he remembered the conversation with Mr. Shorecross and his mention of the Peeping Tom. Wouldn’t someone who watched young women from the shadows be the kind of person who might have dug the bunker? Evan turned back to the young teller. “I wonder if I might have a word with you in private, Miss?”

  “Jones. Hillary Jones,” she said. “Isn’t everyone called Jones around here?”

  “Except for those who are called Evans, like me,” Evan said.

  “Or Williams or Davies.” She smiled. “What’s this about?”

  “Nothing to do with banking. It’s police business.”

  She looked wary. “Okay. We can use Mr. Shorecross’s office, I suppose.” She looked across. “Rhodri, can you handle things? I need to talk to this gentleman. Give me a call if you need me.”

  Her tone was completely relaxed and friendly, making Evan rethink the suspicions that were hovering in his brain. Hillary Jones led the way into the bank manager’s office. Evan closed the door behind them.

  “Miss Jones,” he said, “Your manager mentioned that you’d had problems with a Peeping Tom.”

  “That’s right, I did. A few months ago. Nothing recently. He seems to have given up on me because I invested in heavy curtains.”

  “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  “Nothing much to tell, really. I have a ground-floor bedsitter. It faces the front of the house. There’s quite a big front garden with a path up to the front door and laurel bushes on either side. I hadn’t closed the curtains and one night I was watching telly and I got up to throw an apple core in the wastepaper basket and there was a man standing across the street. Just standing there. Not moving. When he saw me looking out, he took off. Then a few nights later I looked out and I saw the shrubbery moving. I thought it was a cat or a dog, but then I realized it was a person. He dodged behind a bush when I got a glimpse of him and I called the police that time.”

  “Did you see what he looked like?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Average height. He was wearing a long raincoat and some kind of cap on his head so I didn’t have a chance to see his face or his hair color. The police came right away, but they were too late. They staked out the place for the next few nights but he didn’t come back. And I went out and bought these really heavy curtains that you can’t see through. So I suppose that solved that.”

  “And you have no idea who might have wanted to spy on you? No secret admirers?”

  “If they were secret, I wouldn’t know about them, would I?” she asked with a grin. Then she shook her head. “Honestly, I’ve no idea.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  She nodded. “I’ve a very nice boyfriend.”

  “Any disgruntled former boyfriends?”

  “No, I’ve been going out with Jeff for two years now.”

  “Any neighbors who have ever shown interest or acted strangely toward you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t really know the neighbors much, but the ones I’ve met are nice enough.”

  “What about co-workers?” Evan tried to make it appear that he was just tossing off the question. “Get along well with them, do you?”

  “Oh yes. Everyone here is very nice. I don’t hang out with them in my spare time or anything, but they’re friendly.”

  “The young man out there?”

  “Rhodri?” She giggled. “I don’t think he’s the type who’d be interested in watching a young lady undress—if you know what I mean.”

  Evan wondered if she meant that Rhodri was gay or just not interested in women.

  “Anyway, he’s really sweet. He bought me flowers on my birthday.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “Llewelyn. But he’d never do a thing like that.”

  “You’d be surprised at the things people do. Sometimes the most harmless, inoffensive person can commit the most unspeakable crimes.”

  He broke off and looked up as Mr. Shorecross came into his office. “What’s this about, Miss Jones?” he asked in a clipped voice. Then he recognized Evan. “Constable Evans. It’s you.” He smiled and crossed to his desk. “Mr. Llewelyn said you were meeting with a young man in my office. I didn’t quite know what to expect.”

  “Constable Evans wanted to question me about my prowler.”

  Mr. Shorecross frowned. “But I thought that all stopped months ago. Don’t tell me he’s returned?”

  “No, he hasn’t. At least I have no idea if he’s outside or not. He certainly can’t see much since I put in those new curtains.”

  “We still haven’t located the girl who went missing on Mount Snowdon,” Evan said. “Since she hasn’t turned up after an extensive search, we can’t rule out foul play. And since your Miss Jones is another pretty young girl who was stalked, I thought it might be wise to see if she could share any insights with us.”

  “But I’m afraid I couldn’t be at all helpful,” Hillary Jones looked up at Evan. “It was really too dark to see him clearly.”

&nbs
p; “Surely a prowler, a Peeping Tom, is usually a harmless kind of chap, isn’t he?’ Shorecross asked.”The type whose own life is boring and who seems to find watching young women take their clothes off exciting.”

  “You’re probably correct,” Evan said, “but we have to follow up any possible lead at the moment. Young girls don’t just vanish in broad daylight on busy mountain paths.”

  “I did offer my senior Scouts to help you,” Shorecross said in a slightly pained voice. “Maybe more people out searching on the mountain at an earlier stage might have been beneficial. My boys are well trained in rescue drills.”

  “I did pass along your kind offer. Unfortunately I’m not the one handling the search and frankly I don’t think more manpower would have made any difference.”

  “Well, if you still need us, just let me know,” Shorecross said. “Be Prepared is the scouting motto, after all. I can mobilize my troops fairly rapidly.”

  “Thanks. That’s good of you,” Evan said.

  “Now, if you’re finished with Miss Jones, I’d like her to get back to work. There was a line waiting at Mr. Llewelyn’s counter and we hate to keep our customers waiting, don’t we?”

  “Very good, Mr. Shorecross.” Hillary gave Evan a beaming smile with just a hint of flirtation to it and left the room.

  “A bad business then, Constable?” Shorecross asked. “I didn’t like to say what I was thinking in front of Miss Jones, but if your girl hasn’t been found by now, then the outcome is probably not going to be favorable.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” Evan said. “We’re doing everything we can. But it’s hard to know what to do next.”

  “I don’t envy you your job,” Shorecross said.

  Evan glanced at his watch. “And I should be getting back to it. I came here to ask your advice on a car loan, but I see my lunch hour is almost over, so it will have to be some other time.”

  “Very well then,” Shorecross said. “I’m always here. Bring your delightful fiancée with you. I did enjoy talking with her. Such a well-educated young woman.”

  “She went to Cambridge.”

  “Did she really? Good God.”

  Evan read the thoughts—then why is she marrying a police constable and settling in a village? He occasionally had the same thoughts himself. It was still miraculous to him that anyone as bright and wonderful as Bronwen had chosen to share his life.

  As he hurried out of the bank, he noticed the surly Rhodri Llewelyn watching him with apprehension. I’m definitely going to check on that one, Evan thought. He considered going back to Neville Shorecross and asking a few discreet questions there, but realized that this line of investigation should probably go through his chief first. He’d been in trouble before now for being the maverick and not working through the appropriate channels. He was, after all, a relatively new D.C., assigned to D.I. Watkins. It was not his investigation.

  As he walked back to the station he remembered that Hillary had reported the Peeping Tom incidents to the police. Surely Rhodri’s name must have come up in the process of that investigation?

  It appeared that D.I. Watkins had stepped out when Evan returned to the station so he used the time to hunt through records. He found Hillary’s complaint from last February. Rhodri Llewelyn’s name was among those mentioned in the report, along with Hillary’s other co-workers. But he had obviously been dismissed with the brief annotation: “Interviewed co-workers. Alibis check out.”

  “Hello, what are you up to?” Glynis’s voice made Evan jump.

  “Just searching through our records,” Evan said.

  Glynis laughed. “You must be doing something unapproved, you look like a guilty schoolboy caught raiding the biscuit barrel.”

  Evan grinned. “If you must know, I wanted to see what a previous investigation had turned up.” He told her about the Peeping Tom.

  “And what makes you suspect this chap?” she asked.

  “Nothing except that he looks nervous every time I see him. And he looks like a Peeping Tom.”

  “He looks like a Peeping Tom? Evan, if everyone looked like the type of criminal they were, our job would be so much easier. We’d just have to say, ‘All line up and the one who looks like a murderer probably did it.’”

  “I know, but he has this guarded, secretive sort of look to him and I noticed him staring at Hillary Jones when he thought she was busy.”

  “So you think this incident may be linked to our current case?” she asked.

  “Probably not, but it would be the same type of bloke, don’t you think? Someone who lurks in the shadows to watch a girl undress? He might take his fantasies one stage further.”

  “Possibly.” Glynis nodded. ‘See what the D.I. thinks.”

  “What about you—have you come up with any leads?”

  Glynis shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of male psychiatric patients we should take a look at. One has a huge grudge against women, the other likes to build things.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Ah, there you are, troops.” D.I. Watkins came bursting into the room. “Good news. HQ have okayed our profiler. I’m picking him up and showing him our potential crime scene later this afternoon. Evans, you’re going to tackle the National Park people. Smart observation that. Why didn’t we think of it before? A Parks Service truck can go all over the mountain without drawing any special attention. Why, if she’d fallen and twisted her ankle, she’d have accepted a ride in a Parks Service vehicle, wouldn’t she?”

  Evan and Glynis exchanged a glance.

  “No news from the divers yet, then?” Glynis asked.

  “Not yet. But it’s a very deep lake. It’s probably not an easy assignment.”

  “Right, sir. I’ll be off then,” Evan said.

  “Tread carefully, Evans. We don’t want to put the wind up anybody. We’re just wondering which of their men might have been working on the mountain and might have seen anything unusual. No hint of suspicion or accusation. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Evan said, somewhat annoyed at being told what to say, especially in front of Glynis. “But before I go, I’ve come up with another lead we should look into.” He recounted the Peeping Tom story.

  “But you say the chap you suspect was investigated once before and apparently his alibi checked out in the incident?”

  Evan nodded.

  “But Evan thinks he looks suspicious.” Glynis couldn’t resist getting in the dig.

  “I’d like the chance to question him, sir. He’s definitely uneasy when he sees me. I just have a feeling that this is something we should follow up.”

  “When you’re through with the National Parks then,” Watkins said. “Worth keeping at the back of our minds.”

  “At the back of our minds,” Evan muttered as he left the building. Pretentious git. Watkins was dismissing his suggestions as if they were of no importance. There had been a time, not too long ago, when he and Watkins had made a good team. They’d shared pints and laughs. Since Watkins had been promoted to detective inspector, he had to act the authority figure, firmly in charge all the time. Normally it didn’t bug Evan. He supposed he was especially keyed up at the moment.

  He signed out a police car and headed south to park headquarters just outside Porthmadog. The journey along the A487 took a frustrating hour as the road was full of slow-moving holidaymakers, many of them towing caravans, making passing impossible. At last he passed Porthmadog and drove over the shining tide pools and mud flats of the Glaslyn estuary on the toll bridge known as the Cob. It was with a sigh of relief that he finally came to a halt outside the headquarters building.

  “Oh dear, so they never found the missing girl then,” the slim, gray-haired woman at the reception desk said, when Evan announced the reason for his visit. “We sent out everybody available as soon as we got the call from the police.”

  “I know you did, and we’re very grateful,” Evan said. “I just wondered if I could speak with those involved in the search. We found the g
irl’s glove the next day, you see. So they might be able to provide us with more clues.”

  The woman looked up at a white board. “We’ve got sixteen on call at the moment—most of them summer volunteers, of course. Our permanent staff is only four rangers—lack of budget these days, I’m afraid. They’d all be out on patrol right now. You couldn’t imagine how many people get themselves into trouble and need rescuing in the tourist season.”

  “Oh, I could imagine it very well.” Evan smiled. “I’ve been part of a mountain rescue team myself.”

  “Have you now?” She gave an approving nod. “Then you’ll know what stupid risks tourists take. Going up Snowdon in their shorts and sandals and then finding themselves trapped when a storm comes in and snows on them.”

  “Where would I find your chaps on patrol then?” Evan asked.

  “That’s hard to say. They call in from time to time. Let’s see. Eddie was last up near Cader Idris. Diana and Roger were investigating an illegal fire on the shore flats outside Harlech. I can call them on their mobiles if it’s important—”

  “That’s all right. It can wait. If you could give me names and addresses, I can contact them when they’re off duty,” Evan said. He copied down names as she gave them to him. Of the four workers, two were women.

  “So, who would have access to your vehicles?” he asked.

  “Our vehicles?” A confused frown crossed her face. “Whoever is out on patrol. Usually one of our rangers will take one of the volunteers with them. The volunteers aren’t supposed to take vehicles out alone. We have a mini-bus for transporting them around.”

  “But it doesn’t go up mountains?”

  “Of course not. What is all this about our vehicles? One hasn’t been stolen, has it?”