Angel of Death

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  "Did it?"

  "No, I... Yes. Yes, it did."

  "How long ago?"

  "Oh, well, I... four months, maybe?"

  "Four months before Krysta's death?"

  "About that."

  "Was Krysta aware?"

  "No. Not to my knowledge, anyway."

  "Could she have suspected?"

  He shrugged, looking away. "She said nothing about it to me."

  "Did her behaviour towards you change?"

  "Well, I told you we were cooling off with a view to breaking up. It's just... Well, it is sometimes... hard. It's difficult to cut ties with someone."

  "Why didn't you tell her about Eva?"

  "I didn't want to hurt her. I don't suppose you'll believe me, but I felt bad, going behind her back, and I didn't want to argue with her, either. She could be..."

  "What?"

  "Unstable."

  "Unstable? In what way?"

  "Well, she could blow up on occasions. Out of the blue. I was a coward, and I didn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger."

  "What did Eva think about that?"

  "Eva? She would have preferred it if I had told Krysta, that was clear."

  "Are you serious about Eva?"

  "Yeah." He shrugged.

  "You don't sound too sure."

  "It's only been a few months. I mean, if it had continued for a few more months while Krysta was alive, I would have spoken to Krysta about it and packed my bags."

  "Where did Krysta keep her things, Ed?"

  "Most of her stuff is in our bedroom upstairs."

  "May we go up there?"

  "Well, you can, but like I said, your officers already went through her belongings."

  "Are some of her things still here?"

  "Yes, they are. Although they won't be for much longer. I can't hang on to them forever. I thought I would return some things to her parents."

  Ed led them up the narrow stairway to a small bedroom at the top. The unmade double bed took up half of the space which seemed smaller than it was, because of a large wardrobe which dominated the room. On the floor lay piles of clothing, some of which looked like they belonged to a female.

  "Are those Krysta's?" Yvonne cast her eyes over them.

  Ed rubbed his forehead. "No. They're Eva's." He didn't meet her eyes.

  "Where are Krysta's things?"

  Ed nodded towards a leather armchair in the corner, on which various items such as books and clothing lay mingled together.

  "Do you mind if we look?"

  Ed shrugged. "Help yourself."

  "Could you give us a moment?"

  "Sure." Ed paused, his mouth open to say more. He closed it again.

  After he left the room, Yvonne flicked through Krysta's books, in case someone had missed the diary.

  Dewi opened the wardrobe doors to look inside.

  "Anything?" Yvonne asked him.

  He rattled the hangers. "Nothing in here except Ed's clothes, by the looks. What about you?"

  "Nothing." Yvonne sat on the edge of the bed, her brow furrowed, two brochures in her hands. "Found these, though."

  Dewi walked over to her. "What are they?"

  "Well, this looks like the plans for a leisure complex on the outskirts of town. It’s talking about taking advantage of the improved access due to the new bypass." She handed him the top brochure. "Bannerman Holdings."

  "Wow. I didn't even know the company existed."

  "Hmm. And this one, is from Futurecon Energy, the firm that wants to set up new wind farms in the area."

  "Well, how about that? Looks as though she had a few environmental protests pending before she died."

  "But were they motives for her death? I'll speak to Ed. I think we'll hang onto these."

  Eva's long red hair reflected her surname, like she had been out in a gale for an hour. Yvonne suspected, she used her chaotic hair to hide her eyes when she wished to avoid scrutiny or, perhaps, felt shy.

  Trying to gauge the woman's thoughts was like waiting for badgers to come out of their set. Just when she thought she might get a glimpse, they disappeared back inside.

  Eva's cheeks and chin sported copious freckles, as did her forearms. Her nails were bitten to the quick and her legs wrapped around each other, crossing at both the thigh and the ankles.

  They sat on a bench in the park, near to where Eva had been helping man a stall, aimed at recruiting more people to the saboteur cause. Eva had left it in the care of a friend whilst she and the DI talked.

  Yvonne cleared her throat. "Thank you for speaking to us, Eva. You know why we're here?"

  Eva clicked the knuckles of her left hand. "You're looking into the death of Ed's ex-girlfriend."

  "Krysta. Yes, that's right. What have you heard about that?"

  Eva pulled at her lips, taking a few moments to consider. "Only that they found her in the woods, nailed to a tree." She shrugged.

  "Did you know her, Eva?" Yvonne tilted her head.

  "Kind of."

  "Kind of?"

  "Well, I met her a few times, but I never talked to her. I'd fallen for Ed and was uncomfortable seeing Krysta as it seemed two-faced to talk to her. I didn't want to be her friend, knowing I would betray her friendship."

  Yvonne caught Eva's eye. "That is decent of you. What did you make of Ed two-timing Krysta? Did you suppose he might do the same to you one day?"

  Eva shrugged.

  "Did you worry your affair wouldn't last?"

  Eva chewed the inside of her cheek.

  "Eva?"

  "I didn't worry. I like him and I wasn't considering the longer term."

  "Did Krysta suspect Ed of seeing you? Did she voice suspicions?"

  "No. At least, I wasn't aware, if she did. She seemed comfortable around him. She didn't notice me. Not in that way. I doubt it crossed her mind that Ed would want to date someone like me."

  "Why?"

  "She was beautiful."

  "You shouldn't put yourself down." Yvonne sighed. "What about Ed? Did Ed speak to you about Krysta?"

  Eva nodded.

  "What did he say? Did he mention leaving her?"

  "He said he would. Told me he was getting up the courage to do it."

  "When did he tell you that?"

  "Oh, I can't remember, maybe a few weeks before Krysta died."

  "And he never confirmed saying anything to her?"

  Eva shook her head. "No. No, he did not."

  "Where were you, on the morning that Krysta disappeared?"

  Eva uncrossed her legs, crossing them again on the opposite side. "I was with the Shropshires. I mean, the Shropshire hunt saboteurs, planning where each of us would be during the hunt."

  "What time did Ed join you?"

  "Hmm, As far as I can remember, it was around eleven in the morning. He was late because he waited for Krysta, who didn't arrive." Eva blushed, her head bowed. "For obvious reasons." The last, was almost a whisper.

  "Could Ed have been involved in Krysta's death, in your opinion?"

  "What? No. No. He wouldn't do anything like that. Never." She looked up, allowing Yvonne to see both her eyes, which were wide and determined.

  "You seem very sure."

  "Look, Ed's heart wasn't in the relationship anymore, but he would not have wanted to harm Krysta. None of us would. Don't you get it? We care about the lives of creatures and people. We love all living things. We're not about taking life, but about saving it. We care, you get it?"

  At that moment, Yvonne fancied she could see into the girl's soul. She sensed that Eva believed everything she said and nodded. "Can you come into the station to give a formal statement about that day's events and all the things you've just told me?"

  Eva nodded. "Yes, of course I can. When do you want me to come?"

  "This afternoon?"

  Eva nodded. "I can be there about three-thirty, once we've finished here."

  Yvonne rose to leave. "Thank you, Eva."

  13

&n
bsp; Death strikes twice

  The wind pushed and pulled at their car as a flurry of hailstones fell from a sky filled with every variety of cloud.

  Yvonne's nails left painful indentations in her palms, so intense was the way she balled her fists. Fifteen minutes earlier, a call had come through to say they had found another body. This time it was a male in the woods above Castell-Y-Dail, a small holding near Newtown.

  The DI's worst fear realised. No longer was this a simple case of finding out who Krysta's potential enemies were. The DI recognised the signs, she'd been here before. Pray God she was wrong, and this wasn't another serial case.

  They were one of the first cars to arrive and, much to Yvonne's chagrin, had to hang back until SOCO had secured the site and set out the designated walkways. The ambulance and medics left the scene, having confirmed death.

  After kicking their heels for half-an-hour, Yvonne and Dewi suited up, when allowed to enter the inner cordon where the body leaned against the base of a pine tree.

  Pathologist Roger Hanson knelt by the victim, talking to another member of his team.

  Yvonne walked over. "They killed him in the same way they killed Krysta Whyte?” She crouched alongside.

  Hanson nodded. "Back and arms broken. Hands nailed together to the tree and this..." Hanson pointed to the feather between the victim's legs.

  "Sorry, excuse me, could I-" The photographer looked at her, grimacing. "Sorry," he repeated.

  "No problem." The DI's knees clicked as she stood and moved to the side.

  The male victim had sustained extensive bruising to the left side of his head.

  "Did he put up a fight?" Yvonne asked Hanson.

  "It looks like he could have done. In which case, the killer may also have sustained injuries. Something to consider when you're examining suspects."

  The victim's eyes lay open. He was facing the ground, his head having fallen forward at the time of death. His clothing dishevelled, he had lost the top two buttons of his shirt, which hung open. His short, curly hair appeared sweat-soaked and, as with Krysta, the flesh of the hands had torn around the nail as he tried to free himself.

  "Same MO. Same signature." Yvonne sighed. "Damn."

  "I don't envy you." Hanson was busy transferring swabs and samples into vials.

  The DI shifted her gaze to the countryside around. "If this victim fought with his killer, we might get DNA. We got nothing from Krysta. Any evidence of skin under his nails?"

  Hanson shook his head. "Nothing obvious, but I've swabbed them and will swab them again in the lab, once we get the body back. Do you have an identity?"

  "No." Yvonne stood. "I expect we'll know by the end of the day, though. I'll let you know."

  Callum and Dai greeted her when she got back to the station.

  Dai pushed his pen behind his ear. Sleeves rolled up, he read from the notes in his iPad. "The body found this morning was that of Terry Lloyd, aged twenty-nine and from the Barnfields area of Newtown, where he'd been living with his mum, Michelle. His dad is deceased."

  "Living with his mum? Not in a relationship, then?"

  Dai shook his head. "He was in a relationship until about eight months ago when he and his girlfriend split up. Mrs Lloyd, his mum, said the split was amicable, and they remained on friendly terms."

  "Children?"

  "No. They had a miscarriage a few months prior to the split. I checked out the ex-partner, and she isn't and wasn't in the area at the time the killer murdered Terry. She's living and working in Cardiff and never involved herself in his environmental protests."

  "Wait, he was an environmentalist, too?" Yvonne cocked her head, brow furrowed.

  "Yeah, sorry, I should have said."

  "No, that's all right. So, we found a tentative link with the first victim, they both protested countryside issues. Can we confirm whether they knew each other?"

  "We've been looking at whether they did, ma'am and it's not looking like it at the moment, but there are a few more calls to make, so I'll keep you posted."

  "Ok, good. Also, find out if Terry had any run-ins with anyone. Anyone whose back he might have gotten up. We've got two murders with the same MO and signature. The killer may have been an opportunist serial killer but, with two environmental protesters killed, it would appear there's more to it. If you find anything significant, I want it, okay?"

  "Fair enough."

  Callum caught her arm just as she was about to go. "Sorry, I almost forgot, they found fibres on Krysta's clothing which do not belong to her. Two red fibres. They've checked Ed's place and there is nothing red in the furnishings. They've taken a red jumper belonging to Ed for examination as the fibres are from a woollen item, most likely a jumper or blanket. The jumper was at the back of Ed's wardrobe and he claims not to have worn it for eighteen months to two years. Said he had forgotten it was there as he shrunk it in the wash a long time ago. So, he said."

  "Okay, well, keep following that up. I suppose it's possible she may have taken an item from Ed's wardrobe that had been in contact with the jumper?"

  "Not, according to Ed, ma'am. He reckons Krysta never went into his wardrobe. She kept her things separate from his. SOCO took all the clothing from both Ed and her parents’ homes for comparison."

  "Okay, good work, Callum."

  "Thank you, ma'am."

  Yvonne made herself a coffee at the tiny table housing the kettle at the back of CID, stirring for longer than warranted while she mulled over the day's events. She could still see Terry Lloyd propped up against the tree, head lolled forward, the telltale evidence of his final struggle etched on his face. He joined Krysta in the DI's waking thoughts and nightmares. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was a familiar one. She would need to dig deep, again."

  The tremor in her right hand as she stirred her coffee reminded her that she needed to eat something.

  As if reading her thoughts, Dewi came up behind her. "I'm just nipping out to get a sandwich. Do you want anything?"

  She pursed her lips. "I ought to. I don't know how much I'll manage, but I should try to eat. Could I trouble you to get a cheese and onion roll for me? I'll make you a cuppa for when you get back."

  Her sergeant nodded. "Tea would be great, thanks."

  As Dewi left to get food, she sipped her drink and thought of Tasha. Up until now, she’d had little time to worry about her friend. Desperate to find out how she was, Yvonne took her mobile phone out of her bag and stared at it. Dare she ring? Would it be a good time? She flipped through her contacts and tapped on Tasha's name, hitting the green button as the number appeared. But, before anyone could answer, she tapped on the red button and stopped the call. Something in her gut told her it was a bad time. She put the phone back in her bag.

  14

  The favour

  It was much later that evening, when she found the courage to ring her friend, standing outside her house, where the signal was a little better. It was still blowing a gale, but at least it was dry, if somewhat cold.

  "How is he?" Yvonne turned away from the wind, mobile phone pressed tight to her ear.

  "He's so damned stoic about it all." Tasha sighed. "I'm amazed at how serene he is, actually. I can't imagine being that brave if I were in his shoes."

  "Incredible... And your mum?"

  "Hasn't stopped crying. She hopes for a miracle; asking the doctors for second opinions, clutching at straws and I don't blame her."

  "What about you?" Yvonne's voice was almost a whisper.

  "Don't worry about me." Tasha sighed down the phone. "I'm sure you've got enough on your plate."

  "That's not the same thing." Yvonne wanted to say something more, but the right words failed her as everything she thought of sounded inadequate. Glib, even.

  "They're moving dad tomorrow. He's going into a hospice near Canterbury. He'll be much more comfortable in a hospice. It's busy where he is at the moment. The chaos confuses him, so many people coming and going."

  After a two-s
econd pause, Yvonne looked at her shoes, asking, "Is there anything I can do? I thought I might drop by the cottage. Check everything is all right. Can I do anything specific for you at the cottage?"

  "If you can afford the time. There may be some post in the letter box and I can't remember whether I locked the sliding doors."

  "It's no problem and will be a pleasure. I feel so helpless here, it will be a relief to do something practical for you."

  "If you need it, a spare key is hidden in the middle pot of the potting tray, in the greenhouse out the back. If you are driving to Aberdovey, the least I can do is make sure you have a cup of tea and a bite to eat. Just help yourself to whatever."

  "Thank you."

  "I'd better go."

  Yvonne cleared her throat. "Get some rest when you can. Look after yourself."

  "I will."

  Yvonne ended the call, looking across the fields to the hills behind. "I miss you," she whispered.

  Yvonne pulled on the sliding doors, but Tasha had remembered to lock them before leaving for Ashford. She headed round the back, to the tiny greenhouse where the psychologist had planted various seedlings in a large tray. The antique metal-and-glass door rattled on its hinges as she pushed it open.

  A tiny island in the centre held a large potting tray. As promised, the centre pot yielded up a Yale key with tiny clumps of compost still clinging to it.

  Yvonne wiped it with a finger, before taking it back to the front of the house and opening the door from the yard.

  The cottage felt odd. Unfamiliar. All silent and cold. The chill wind blowing off the sea had sapped any heat imbued by the sun's rays through the tiny gaps in the ageing windows and under the doors.

  She thought about putting the heating on, but decided against it, instead, heating leftover milk in the microwave to make hot chocolate and allowing its thick warmth to rejuvenate her.

  The post, she left next to the kettle ready for Tasha's return, there having been nothing amongst it which screamed urgent to her.

  On the mantle were family photographs including one of Tasha as a child of around five years old. In it, she wore a cute pair of dungarees covered in mud, the same mud which caked the tiny hands she held up for the camera; a cheeky smile lighting her face. Yvonne lifted the photo frame, running her fingertips over the smiling girl before replacing it, her attention taken by a photo of Tasha's parents. Arms around one another, they leaned against a fence somewhere in the countryside. The DI remembered meeting Mr and Mrs Phillips, the time the Priest Killer abducted Tasha. How terrified they were and how relieved when they got the psychologist back safe, if shaken. The fear had made Yvonne vomit, the river bank taking the brunt.