Angel of Death

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  It was still with her that evening, when she had continued working for another two hours after the rest of her team had left, going through the events of the last few weeks and perusing photographs, forensic results and vehicle descriptions. Drawing flow charts, writing stuff down, scribbling it out.

  She stared into space, trying to make sense of it all.

  "You should be at home, Yvonne."

  The DI started, heart thudding inside her chest. She hadn't heard the DCI come to the doorway. Why was he still in the building?

  She put a hand to her heart to calm it. "You made me jump." She sounded cross, without meaning to.

  "Sorry." He grimaced. "That wasn't my intention. You were miles away. You look tired. What's worrying you, Yvonne? It's not because you are fretting about letting me down, is it? I mean, about seeing me? I'm not offended or upset, honest."

  She turned to him, noting the concern in his eyes, and sighed. At that moment, she thought she might tell him of her concern for Tasha, and how much she missed her, and that this case was getting under her skin. But she refrained, keeping her thoughts in a secret place. Believing that, even if she disclosed everything, he wouldn't be able to help her, anyway.

  "No, no. I mean, it's not that I'm not sorry about not being ready to date. I like you, just not in... not..."

  He held up his hand. "It's okay. I should know better, anyway, in my position. I don't think for one minute that the Super would have approved." He grinned. "We would have gotten into a lot of hot water."

  She smiled back at him. "You are a good man, Chris. You will make someone an amazing husband."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "You know what I mean."

  "Get your coat," he ordered. "You're going home."

  21

  Jake Bannerman

  Yvonne discarded her jacket over the back of her chair, before grabbing a coffee and heading to find Callum and Dai.

  "Did you get anything on Bannerman Holdings?" she asked, undoing the cuffs on her blouse and rolling her sleeves up to just below the elbows.

  Callum handed her a small file with the notes he had printed off. "Over the last ten years, Bannerman Holdings have gained swathes of land across the UK, which they are developing or looking to develop, and for which they are seeking developmental planning permissions. Some sites were brown field. Others, like the one near Llanidloes, are common greenfield sites and beauty spots."

  "You say gained?" Yvonne frowned. "Have they bought the site near Llanidloes, then?"

  "Well, that's the strange thing. Final negotiations for the sale are ongoing, but the current owners applied for the first lot of planning permissions on Bannerman Holdings' behalf. Jake Bannerman insisted that planning permission must be in place before his company would purchase the land."

  "I heard they turned the first lot of planning down?" Yvonne flicked through the pages Callum had given her.

  "That's right, they did. The protesters were vocal at the various meetings and drummed up a lot of support for their cause within the local community. They use the land in question to walk their dogs and take their children for picnics, etc. There would be some disruption to wildlife, also a factor."

  "So, now they are applying for planning permission, again?"

  "Right, but it looks like the new permission is being sought by Bannerman Holdings, themselves, as they feel they would be better at getting it through."

  "Can they do that before the sale?"

  "As long as the current owner's signature is also on the paperwork, yes. It just means that Bannerman Holdings will be out-of-pocket by the planning costs, if their pitch is unsuccessful. My guess is, if they lose again, they'll move on."

  "What do we know about Jake Bannerman?"

  "He's in the area, for meetings with Powys Council. He's staying in Montgomery. I've got you half an hour with him at the Dragon Hotel in Monty, tomorrow at half-eleven. His secretary said he'll be happy to answer questions." Callum pulled a face. "Very generous of him, I'm sure."

  "Thank you, Callum and Dai. Good work, both of you." She grinned at them. "I can't wait to meet him." Her lip curled in sarcasm.

  The Dragon Hotel in Montgomery impressed her. Built in the 17th-century as a coaching inn, it had a period black-and-white front. The rooms had exposed beams and contained many of the original features from the Elizabethan era. Yvonne could understand why it was popular with wealthy visitors to the area.

  Jake Bannerman agreed to see her in his suite.

  She went alone as the rest of her team were busy gathering information around Bannerman Holdings and Futurecon. Callum had discovered that Terry Lloyd was protesting against both companies at the time he lost his life.

  A member of staff showed her to Bannerman's room. She took a deep breath, before knocking on the substantial door.

  "Come in."

  It reminded her of entering the DCI's office and she had a similar sense of trepidation as she always had when knocking on Llewelyn's door, as though she might be in for a ticking off. She gave herself a mental shake and went in.

  Jake Bannerman did not rise. He sat on a sofa, dressed in suit trousers and shirt, a loose red tie draped around his neck. His grey eyes observed her without expression, as though he was weighing her up without wanting to give anything of himself away. His blonde hair was short and styled with a trendy quiff. He appeared to be someone who kept a tight control of his image.

  Yvonne estimated him to be around forty years of age. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," she said, in the most confident voice she could muster, walking up to him whilst holding out her hand.

  He accepted it with a firm shake which he twisted somewhat, so he had the upper hand.

  Yvonne removed hers.

  "I must admit, it surprised me to hear I was having a visit from the police. What can I help you with, Inspector?"

  Although not invited, Yvonne took a seat on the chair at right angles to him, removing her bag and coat. "Mr Bannerman, I don't know if you are aware, but we've had a double murder on some land in which you have a vested interest."

  He stared at her and she could tell from the flickering of his eyes, that he was calculating his answer. Did he think she was trying to trap him? Or, something else?

  "I was aware. I learned about it first thing this morning." He leaned back on the sofa and folded his arms. "Am I a suspect, given that the people killed were protesting my proposed use of the land?"

  "You are a person of interest, Mr Bannerman." Yvonne kept her tone cool and even. "Suspect might be too strong a word, though you may have information that could be relevant."

  "How so?"

  "I understand that you, yourself, visited a picket a few weeks ago, back on the fourth of May. Am I right?" She watched for any change in his demeanour. There was none.

  He appeared controlled. Face and body. "That's right. I wanted to see it for myself. It was a civil affair. Bit of shouting from the opposite side, but no arrests."

  "The council must have disappointed you when they turned your first lot of planning permission down."

  "Well, yes they did.” He brushed a hand across his knee twice. "But I'm used to the cut and thrust of such negotiations. They're par for the course. I don't see it as an incitement to murder, if that is what you're thinking."

  "Do you have security at your sites, Mr Bannerman?"

  "Jake, please," he said, but there was no warmth in it.

  "Jake." She added, but it gave her no pleasure to use his first name.

  "We use security when we are expecting a major protest. The protestors always claim that they are the environmentally conscious ones, which you wouldn't think, given the damage we sometimes encounter and have to deal with."

  "Did the protestors on the Mochdre site cause damage, then?"

  "Well, they removed barriers and a billboard which showed the proposed layout of the leisure complex. They left them lying in a field."

  "I see." So no major damage, she thought.


  "A lot of work and financial investment goes into these plans. We rework and redraw plans many times, before they go to the councils for planning permission. We aim to be environmentally friendly and sensitive and we hash out whatever issues we can foresee. I don't want to rub up against the local community. I want them on board. On my side. My sites provide jobs, growth, and pleasure for those not hell-bent on having a lean-to for the hell-of-it."

  "I'm not picking sides." Yvonne pursed her lips. "But I understand it concerned the protestors that wildlife would suffer and the complex would be inaccessible to locals who might wish to walk on the land and that they would have to pay as opposed to walking for free, which they do now."

  "Well, any development would be likely to enclose land which would then become private. As for the wildlife, it would be disrupted for one year. An extensive lake within the proposal would bring further wildlife into the area." He looked self-satisfied with the last, placing both hands behind his head, puffing his chest out.

  "Did you ever speak with Robert Griffiths or Sarah Jones?"

  "Who?" His brow furrowed.

  "A young couple murdered on the land. Crucified, actually."

  "Oh, God." He jerked his head back. "Extreme way to go."

  "It was horrific."

  "If I did, I don't remember."

  Yvonne reached into her handbag and produced a recent photograph, given to her by Robert's family. It showed him grinning at the camera, as he was mid air in a snow-covered scene, somewhere in the Alps.

  She showed it to Bannerman. "That's Robert Griffiths. Full of life. He enjoyed snowboarding. His loss has devastated his parents."

  "I don't remember speaking to him. Someone from my security team may have, if he was protesting at the site."

  "Do you use your own security? Or is it contracted in?"

  "Contracted. Aside from my personal protection. I've had the same close-protection team for the best part of ten years. They're superb. You can't be too careful these days."

  "But you contract in for the site?"

  "Yes."

  "How well do you know the firm you use under the contract?"

  "G-Force? Well, Inspector. They have an impeccable reputation in the field. They excel at what they do, are reliable, and they do a professional job for a reasonable fee. What's not to like?"

  "They've had one or two run-ins with locals before, though, haven't they? Didn't a protester have a heart attack after being pushed on his back by one of G-Force's security guards last year?"

  "I don't recall."

  "It made national news."

  "I don't read the papers."

  "On the telly."

  "Oh."

  "And there were some rather unsavoury incidents at a private prison during the year before, if I remember correctly."

  Bannerman shrugged.

  "Signing a multi-million pound contract for an hotel and leisure complex is a good motive for murder, wouldn't you say?"

  "So, I am on the suspect list? A minute ago, you said I was only a person of interest?"

  "I'm just trying to get my head around it all, Mr Bannerman."

  "Okay, well, I didn't kill that couple and, as far as I am aware, neither did anyone who works for me, contracted or not."

  Yvonne sighed. "Okay." She reached into her bag to retrieve one of her cards. "Here is my number. If you hear anything that might interest us, be sure and let me know. I'll let myself out."

  22

  Tasha’s return

  Although reluctant, Tasha agreed to stay with Yvonne for several days, following her father's death.

  "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this." Yvonne had told her down the phone, being unable to bear the thought of Tasha being isolated after her bereavement. She could still see the psychologist on her knees on the beach outside her home and the image cut her to the quick.

  "Well, I would enjoy your company and your sensible head." Tasha sniffed. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You are never a burden, Tasha. How's your mum? How's she taking it all?"

  "She took it hard. She has gone to stay with her brother and his wife for a few weeks and we'll explore how she is after that. It's possible she'll come to stay at my cottage, if she's not any better about things."

  "Good. That's good. Well then, I'll greet you when you get here."

  "Good."

  "Bye, then." Yvonne pulled a face as she finished the call. Words were harder, now that she had recognised her feelings for Tasha. Things which had been easy, now seemed difficult beyond measure. She needed to see her and yet the nerves made her sick. The DI wondered how she would deal with that, let alone put what she was experiencing into words. And yet, everything and everywhere she looked had a fresh and vibrant brilliance, like it had only just sprung into existence, newly born from some giant womb.

  Tasha arrived lugging a suitcase and a large holdall. Yvonne met her at Newtown rail station, rubbing her palms down the sides of her skirt as she ran forward to help.

  The psychologist dropped the suitcase and bag and held her arms out for a hug which Yvonne gave, holding on for a little longer than was usual.

  "Are you all right?" she asked, as she pulled away from Tasha to examine the puffiness below her eyes and the weight loss, evidenced by hollowed cheeks. She squeezed her arm before grabbing the holdall to take it to the car.

  "I'm getting there." Tasha trundled the suitcase behind the DI.

  "I'm so sorry for your loss." It seemed inadequate, but Yvonne struggled for the right words.

  "Hey, it's okay. It's my mum I'm worried about. She has hardly slept since... since-"

  "I know." Yvonne gave her a knowing look. "Thank goodness she has somewhere to go."

  "Yes."

  They lifted the baggage into Yvonne's car and the DI adjusted the positioning, so she could close the boot. "Have you eaten?" She asked, moving round to open the passenger door for Tasha.

  "Not yet." Tasha gazed at her, a question in those dark brown eyes.

  The DI turned her head away, quickly moving round to the driver's side.

  They drove most of the way to Yvonne's home in silence. Several times, she thought she should break it and yet the words still would not come. She felt tongue-tied and lacking, even though there were so many thoughts swirling in her head. Things welling inside of her, wanting to burst forth.

  The sun was setting as they pulled into Yvonne's drive, shedding a russet glow over the trees and the house. The temperature had dropped a little, and the DI resolved to light a fire while she prepared something tasty to eat. Something that would happily cook in the oven while they shared a glass or two and talked.

  "Is it all right if I shower?" Tasha asked, before taking the bags through to her room.

  "Yes, it is. You don't have to ask." Yvonne tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll get a fire and some food started." She smiled. "I'll see you soon."

  The fire spat and crackled as it got going enough for Yvonne to leave it be and start dinner. She decided that tuna lasagne and garlic bread would be the way to go. Easy to make and fortifying as she was sure Tasha was not eating properly.

  With the food in the oven, she poured two ample glasses of red wine and headed back to the lounge, feeding the fire with another couple of logs. Tasha was not yet back.

  Yvonne looked about and took several large cushions from the sofa, arranging them on the floor so that they might sit in front of the fire, with their wine, in comfort. A twinge of doubt had her picking them back up and placing them back on the sofa before once again changing her mind and placing them back on the floor, rearranging them again for good measure.

  Fighting the nerves, she gulped some of her drink.

  "Oh my, get this." Tasha's smile lit her face, as she entered the lounge and saw the fire, the full glasses, and the arranged seating on the floor. "I'm being very taken care of." The question was back in her eyes as she studied the DI's face.

  "Here's your wine," Y
vonne blurted, as she handed her a glass. "I'm just going to check on the food." She was running away, but couldn't help herself. She needed to find the right moment and was scared she might time it wrong. Running was easier.

  When she returned, Tasha sat amongst the cushions, sipping her drink and staring into the flames. Yvonne could tell the psychologist was concentrating and took her seat, so as not to disturb whatever thoughts her friend was pondering. The smell from the kitchen tantalised her nostrils.

  Tasha turned to her, as though realising she had been miles away and wanting to make amends. "And how are you? What's happened in your world since I went away?"

  Yvonne cleared her throat, looking back towards the flames. "I'm well, thank you. I've been busy at work, and worried about you."

  There was a warmth about Tasha's smile, accompanied as it was by the tenderness in her eyes.

  Yvonne brushed her tongue over her lip. "Actually," she blurted as a fragile thread of confidence gave her a push, "there's something I wanted to tell you..." Her voice trailed away, as another wave of sickness knotted her stomach.

  "What?" Tasha tilted her head, concerned.

  "Well, I..."

  "Yvonne? What is it?"

  "We're hunting another crazy killer." The words were rushed and wrong and a million miles from what she intended. She closed her eyes, inwardly cursing herself.

  "Oh, no. Not another one." Tasha leaned in, trying to read Yvonne's thoughts. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  No, Yvonne thought. That is the last thing I want. "I'm not sure."

  "Would you like my help?"

  "No, I mean, I shouldn't impose on you. You have been through so much. I don't even know why I needed to mention it."

  "Well, it's weighing you down and if I can help, I will. It's the least I can do."

  "You're an amazing person and a wonderful friend."

  Tasha laughed. "Likewise."

  After further prodding, Yvonne filled Tasha in on the case, their conversation continuing through dinner, while seated at the table.