The Diamond Rosary Murders (15 page)

‘You’re very quiet, Michael,’ Mary Angel said as she cleared away the plates from the supper table.

He looked up, gave a little shrug, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the key that had been cut away from Lee Ellis’s jeans and put it on the table.

‘Didn’t you enjoy the pie?’ she said from the kitchen worktop.

‘Yes, love. It was great, thank you.’

She opened the fridge. ‘Fruit salad with ice cream coming up.’

He nodded and smiled.

‘Don’t put that dirty key on the clean tablecloth, Michael,’ she said.

He snatched it up.

‘Are you worrying about something?’ she said.

He was thinking about the answer, when she said, ‘Is it the gas bill?’

He frowned. ‘The gas bill?’ he said. ‘Why? Has it come?’

Angel hated the gas bill. It was always a struggle to pay it and Christmas was an expensive time.

‘No,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t any post for us today. How much ice cream do you want?’

He was still thinking about the horror of the gas bill, when the dish of fruit and ice cream was put in front of him.

‘Thank you,’ he said and he reached out for the spoon and fork.

Mary sat down. She looked at his dish and said, ‘All right?’

‘Fine, thank you,’ he said through a mouthful of pineapple pieces.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘aren’t you going to show me that key?’

He put down the spoon, reached into his pocket and handed it across to her.

She looked at it and said, ‘And you think that the Rosary is locked away somewhere. And that this is the key to finding it.’

‘Yes, love. I do. And it has to be somewhere safe. And
somewhere
local, convenient for him to pick up quickly.’

‘Mmm. What about a safe deposit box?’ Mary said.

Angel pursed his lips. ‘But I don’t know of a bank or a security firm in Bromersley that offers that kind of service. Our high street banks offer to hold customers’ deed boxes securely for a fee, but this key isn’t the sort of key that would be used to lock up a small metal box, like a deed box. I think it has to be a key for somewhere else. Also there is a number stamped on the tag. Number 74.’

‘Could it be a key to a flat?’

‘I don’t know of a building in Bromersley that has 74 flats,’ he said. ‘Besides, the key is a bit small for the kind of locks they use on house or flat doors.’

Mary shrugged. ‘Well I don’t know where else, Michael. You will have to consider the man’s interests, his workplace, the sort of places he might visit …’

Suddenly Angel beamed. His eyes shone. His pulse began to race again. ‘Lee Ellis is a fitness fanatic. It’s the key for a locker. Of course. It’s the key to a
gym
locker! He’s bound to belong to a gym, isn’t he? This is the key to his locker. Number 74. I bet that’s where the Rosary is hidden right now.’

Mary stared at him her face muscles taut. ‘If I had known he was into physical fitness, I could have told you that straightaway. Huh!’

T
he following morning, Angel was in the office early and began phoning the fitness clubs in Bromersley. There were three. He had phoned two and was ringing the third and last.

A man answered. ‘Joe Johnson,’ he said. ‘Johnson’s Sports Club.’

‘This is Detective Inspector Angel, Bromersley Police. I am making inquiries about—’

The man cut in and said, ‘Heyup, did you say Inspector Angel?’

Angel wasn’t pleased. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘You must be that famous one that’s in all the papers?’ the man said. ‘The one that always gets his man? My brother-in-law works for the
Yorkshire Gazette,
and he’s told me about you.’

Angel winced. ‘I’m not sure about all that, Mr Johnson. I am making inquiries about a man called Lee Ellis. I want to know if he is a member of your club.’

‘Dunno. Lee Ellis, did you say? I’d have to look it up. It’ll take me a little while.’

Angel lips tightened back against his teeth. ‘This is urgent,’ he said. ‘Important police business.
Very urgent indeed.
’

‘Oh. Well, what’s his membership number?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, when is his membership up for renewal?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t even know if he’s a member. That’s what I need to know
urgently.
Also I need to know if your locker system numbers as far as 74?’

‘Lee Ellis, wasn’t it? It’ll take me a few minutes. You’ve not given me much to go on. You’ll have to ring back. 74? Is that his locker? Yes. We’ve 182 lockers here, so his number could easily be 74. Lee Ellis, wasn’t it. Lee Ellis. You know, Inspector Angel, that name rings a bell. I’m sure I heard it on the news this morning. Was that the bloke found in a burning car?’

Angel sighed. ‘I just need to know if he’s a member or not, Mr Johnson. That’s all.’

‘It’ll take me a while, Inspector Angel. Got to go through the membership book. And I’m on my own on reception until the staff come in at nine o’clock. I should ring back about 9.30. I should know then.’

Angel gripped the phone so tight he almost crushed it. Through gritted teeth he said, ‘All right. Thank you.’

He slammed the handset into its cradle. His pulse was beating so fast he had a pain in his chest. He had had it before. He would try to ignore it.

He got up from the chair, sent it flying rearward with the back of his knees, pulled open the office door and crossed to the CID office.

Ahmed was at his desk by the door looking studiously at his computer screen.

When he saw Angel he stood up. ‘Did you want me, sir?’

‘Find DS Crisp. Tell him to ring me on my mobile, pronto. If he isn’t around tell DS Carter. I have to go out. Going to Johnson’s Sports Club.’

‘Right, sir.’

Angel returned to his office, reached out for his coat and began storming his way down the corridor towards the back door. At the end of the corridor he saw Crisp coming towards him.

Crisp smiled and said, ‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Come with me. We are going down to Johnson’s Sports Club.’

As Angel drove onto the gym car-park, he noticed the black
Mercedes which had been following him the last few days parked near the Sports Club entrance. His face dropped and his pulse began to beat even faster. He drove the BMW into a parking space at the far side of the car-park. Then they got out of the car and locked it. Angel then turned to Crisp, quickly pointed across at the Mercedes, said something and gave him the key to his BMW. Crisp pressed the remote to open the boot and began looking for something.

Angel had a quick look inside the Mercedes as he passed it, but saw nothing of interest. He rushed through the automatic door into the reception area of Johnson’s Sports Club..

There were about a dozen men and women chattering among themselves who, from their dress, didn’t look like members of the gym. Some had reporter-style pads and pens in their hands, others were holding cameras. Angel realized they were newspaper men and women.

As he approached the reception desk, one or two of them recognized him and pounced on him, asking questions about the Rosary, the recent murders, the Chameleon and what he was doing at the gym.

They had obviously been waiting for him. It must have been Joe Johnson courting publicity for the gym.

Angel wasn’t pleased. He fended the questions off the best way he knew how. Several lightbulbs flashed as he jostled his way to the reception desk.

He caught the eye of a young lady from behind the counter.

She said, ‘Can I help you?’

The reporters crowded round him, as he showed her the locker key with the number tag hanging from it.

He leaned over the counter and whispered, ‘Is this key one of yours?’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You must be that Police Inspector what phoned earlier.’

Angel’s lips tightened back against his teeth. ‘
Is this key from one of your lockers?’

‘I think so.’

‘Could you direct me to this particular locker, number 74?’

Before she could reply, there was a dull explosion. It came from the basement. The floor shook. A door flew open. The light fittings rattled. There were screams from various directions. A few voices cried out, ‘What’s that?’ There was a loud babble of alarm. Some people ran out of the building.

Angel dashed down the steps towards the source of the blast. People in shorts and trainers charged past him towards the exits. He weaved his way through them against the flow down to the basement floor and along a long corridor. He saw smoke billowing out of a door halfway down. He went through the door into the smoke-filled room. There was the unpleasant smell of burned gelignite.

‘Anybody there? Anybody hurt?’ he called.

There was no reply.

The nitrate in the air caused him to cough.

The smoke was clearing. He could see wooden lockers fitted on the walls all round the room. Numbers had been stencilled on the doors. There was a locker at the far end without a door. He ran up to it and looked inside. It was black with smoke burns and it was empty. On the floor nearby he saw the charred remains of the wooden locker door. Stencilled on it, he could just make out the number 74. He bit his lip as he sighed. He heard a door nearby banging. He looked round. It was an emergency fire door. It was swinging open and shut in the wind. He dashed through it. The air was clear and cool. It led outside and up some steps. It brought him outside facing the wall of a building. He ran along the side of the wall to the end and discovered that he was on the car-park. He was just in time to see the blonde, Marcia Moore, cigarette in mouth, reverse the black Mercedes out of its parking
slot at high speed. He ran towards the car and saw the two men, Charles Domino and Joseph Memoré in the back seat. The diminutive figure, Memoré, glanced at Angel, eyes half-open and the corners of his mouth turned mockingly upwards. The car leaped forward into the traffic lane towards the exit.

Angel stopped running. He couldn’t have caught them. He gritted his teeth, ran his hand through his hair and looked round for the BMW.

Crisp ran up to him from behind. ‘Did they get it, sir?’

‘Yes. Let’s get after them.’

‘Your key, sir,’ Crisp said as he thrust the BMW key into his hand.

They ran back towards Angel’s car. As they got near they saw that the offside front tyre was flat.

Angel’s jaw muscles tightened. He rubbed his chin. He glanced back in time to see the rear of the Mercedes bounce wildly over the last traffic-calming bump and disappear between the exit pillars.

Crisp went round to the nearside of the car and said, ‘There’s another flat here, sir.’

Angel’s lips tightened back against his teeth. He breathed in and out heavily as he reached down into his pocket for his mobile and tapped in a number.

As it rang, he turned to Crisp and said, ‘I hope you got that tracer fixed all right.’

‘I got it under a wheel arch, sir,’ Crisp said. ‘It should be fine.’

‘Operations Room, Bromersley Police,’ said a voice from Angel’s mobile.

He quickly reported the robbery of the Rosary from the gym, gave the model and colour of the Mercedes, the licence number and the descriptions of the three passengers. He instructed the duty sergeant to put out a call to all cars to look out for the car and its occupants, and to direct that any sightings of it be
reported directly to him on his mobile. Also, he directed that
officers
were not to approach the vehicle as the passengers were armed and dangerous. He terminated that call and tapped in the direct number to the transport department. He asked for the urgent provision of an unmarked car for his use and mechanics to repair the punctures to his car tyres.

After he closed the phone, he turned to Crisp and said, ‘We must look at the tracer screen and see if it is transmitting a signal.’

Angel plugged the tracer monitor into the cigar lighter of the BMW and he and Crisp were soon watching a screen that showed a map of the local area and a flashing white light moving slowly on it. The light indicated that the car was travelling at high speed, much faster than the law permitted, heading on a road due south towards Sheffield.

‘Taking a risk keeping on the main road, sir?’ Crisp said.

Angel nodded. ‘I hope they don’t stop and part with the Rosary.’

Crisp frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Sell it. Pass it on. Hide it. If that light stops flashing – even for only a few seconds – we’ll need to note the exact point, got it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Angel suddenly noted a change in the direction of the flashing light. ‘They’ve turned right, off Sheffield Road at the Redhouse. They’ve turned into a little back road I’m not familiar with.…’ He looked at Crisp.

‘I don’t know it, sir.’

Angel pursed his lips. He was a worried man.

‘Get me Flora Carter on your mobile, Trevor,’ Angel said.

Two minutes later, he was speaking to her.

‘Flora, drop whatever you’re doing. I’ve got the car of the two armed men who are in possession of the Rosary on a location monitor.’

‘I heard your message via the Operations Room a few minutes ago, sir.’

‘Grab Ted Scrivens as your driver. Start out in a southerly direction. When you get two miles out of Bromersley ring me.’

‘On my way, sir.’

Angel closed the phone and returned it to Crisp. He looked up from the monitor and said, ‘The car’s stopped, sir.’

Angel gazed at the screen. He squeezed his lower lip between his teeth and held it there. Eventually he said, ‘Where
is
that place, Trevor? There’s an inch-to-a-mile map in that glove compartment.’

Crisp opened up the map. ‘I’ll mark that point, sir.’

Angel didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. After another minute, he quickly ran his hand through his hair and bawled,
‘They’re still there!
What are they doing? Whatever they’re up to, I only hope they haven’t parted with that Rosary.’

‘Looks like a cluster of trees. A sort of mini forest. Look, they’re off again, sir. One of them might have needed to spend a penny.’

Angel nodded. He looked at his watch. ‘They were at a
standstill
there for two and a half minutes,’ he said. ‘That’s long enough to have made an exchange.’ He looked out of the
windscreen
towards the exit road then banged his hands hard on the steering wheel. ‘It’s time the garage brought that car. We can’t sit here all day.’

A few minutes later, a replacement police car was delivered to the gym car-park. It was an unmarked Ford Mondeo, and Angel and Crisp quickly made the transfer.

‘You drive,’ Angel said. ‘I’ll keep my eye on the monitor. Make for Barnsley then Ecclesfield, that would be the most direct route to where they are now.’

Crisp took the wheel and pointed the car towards the car-park exit.

After a few moments, Angel frowned and said, ‘They’ve taken another right. They are travelling north now, towards Tunistone.’

‘They’re making sure that nobody’s following them,’ Crisp said as he applied the Mondeo’s brakes at the car-park exit. He turned left on Barnsley Road.

‘Never mind Eccclesfield, Trevor. Continue to Barnsley, but go through the centre, along Dodworth Road and out in the general direction of the A628 towards Manchester. That should put us in a good position depending on where they are headed.’

Angel’s mobile rang.

It was Flora Carter. ‘I have Ted Scrivens with me, sir,’ she said, ‘and we’re two miles out of Bromersley travelling south.’

‘Right,’ Angel said. ‘Now, the Mercedes stopped at a place, 1.1 mile east of the Redhouse. I want you to check it out. You’ll have to inspect both sides of the road. I need to know
why
they stopped. See what there is and let me know. It’s possible that they met the Chameleon there by arrangement and made the exchange. See if you can see anything, anything at all. And let me know ASAP. All right?’

‘Right, sir,’ Flora Carter said.

‘One more thing,’ Angel said.

‘Yes, sir?’

Slowly and deliberately, he said, ‘I want you to be careful, Flora.
Very careful.
We don’t know the identity of the Chameleon. It could be anybody, male or female. It could be somebody we know well. So don’t venture into situations on your own. Stick close to Ted Scrivens and tell him to stick close to you. All right?’

She hesitated, swallowed and said, ‘Right, sir.’

Angel pocketed the mobile and pursed his lips. He was glad Scrivens was accompanying her. He was intelligent. He was also tall and muscular, and would be useful in case of trouble. However, he would need to be especially slick to protect himself
against a stiletto … well, everybody would. A stiletto was a particularly evil weapon that could be skilfully used to kill by a man or a woman. The Chameleon didn’t need strength to kill, simply a little knowledge of anatomy.

Angel returned to watching the tracer screen.

During the next 30 minutes, the Mercedes made a circuitous route in a north-westerly direction to the small farming town of Tunistone, 10 miles west of Bromersley, several hundred feet higher up the Pennines.