Page 15 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“Right, go home, have a shower and a nap, and get over to the post mortem. Hector said he’d do it at five, so make sure you get there in plenty of time.”

“Patsy is grieving, boss. She’s not putting on an act, I’m certain of it. I’ll do what you say and keep an open mind, but I don’t want her …” what he wanted to say wasbulliedorharassedbecause he knew there were plenty of detectives who would love to take a shot at a young, attractive, newly-minted constable with a non-standard love life. His meaning must have shown on his face.

“Calm down, Sir Galahad. The Chief Super owes me a favour. He can talk to her, and he can meet at her house in Llanfair. Will that do?”

Charlie slumped against the police station wall, feeling the heat stored in the bricks. Chief Superintendent Mal Kent would treat Patsy with courtesy and respect, even as he turned her inside out searching for inconsistencies in her story. Patsy might not be the easiest of colleagues, but she was part of his team, and she was vulnerable and hurting. Charlie wanted to keep her safe.

“Thank you,” he said.

Ravensbourne lit another cigarette from the stub of the first one. “I really am packing the ciggies in when this case is done,” she said. “Now, go home, and let me get on.” What she was going to get on with, she didn’t say.

Charlie made his way out of the shady car park into the street. Heat radiated from the pavement and the buildings alongside, sapping what was left of his energy. His legs felt as if they had been encased in stone, barely able to bend and move. The walk home was short and flat, and for the most part, shaded, but the heat had become palpable, a pressure pushing Charlie towards the ground, making his feet drag and his hands swell. Only the thought of a cold drink, straight from the fridge, a shower and even a ten-minute nap, kept him going.

Please let them all have gone to the beach. I can’t deal with any more aggravation.

He was out of luck. As Charlie stumbled up the path, Tom opened the front door. But there was no sound of teenager music rattling the window frames, nor any girlish chatter floating down the stairs. A small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless.

Tom held out his arms and Charlie all but fell into them, then pulled away.

“I stink and I’m filthy,” he said.

“So?” Tom asked, and pulled him into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. “Drink, dinner, shower? You can stay the night if you like.” But he was smiling, so there was that.

“I’ve got to go out again,” Charlie said.

“Not without some proper food,” Tom replied.

“Yes, without food. I’m going to an autopsy. But I’d kill for a cold drink and a shower.” He felt himself sagging internally. Tom would look after him. Tom always looked after him. Except when he was too busy looking after his daughters. Yes, Charlie knewallabout jealousy, and about the guilt that came with it. How had his relationship with Tom, celebrated only a few months ago in front of all their friends and family, changed into this? He was angry. Angry at the heat, at a stupid murder, at Tom, at himself for not being able to act like an adult. Then his phone rang, and he got angrier.

“HQ say that another bunch of anti-immigrant protestors are on their way to Llanfair,” Ravensbourne said.

“Then HQ had better send some bodies to deal with them,” Charlie snapped. “Ring Alun Evans MP. He might actually be able to do something about it. Because I sure as hell can’t.”

There was an ominous silence, followed by the sound of Ravensbourne clearing her throat. “Sorry, Charlie, what was that?”

“I meant to say that I’ll watch out for the protestors, boss,” Charlie said.

“That’s what I thought,” Ravensbourne said and ended the call.

Great. Now I’ve lost Ravensbourne’s support. Anything else I can mess up today?

12

Sunday afternoon

Charlie was still angry when he arrived in Hector Powell’s autopsy suite after another Sunday driver-ridden journey. He always thought of it as belonging to Hector, though there were other pathologists, including, bizarrely, Powell’s wife Sasha, doing a placement from her university course. “We bonded over corpses,” she had told him airily. Today, he was even angry — jealous — of the easy way Sasha and Hector managed Unwin’s body between them, laying it out on the stainless steel table, ready for examination. He didn’t want to see Unwin naked and helpless, unmoving, his flesh mottled and cold, unable to stop the coming dissection. He had been talking to Unwin the day before, and here he was,a case.Somehow, it was worse that this invasion of Unwin’s body was to be carried out by two people whose love was still strong and obvious. That was how he and Tom had been, and it was how Unwin and Patsy had been. There was no way back from this for Patsy and it made Charlie want to scream.

“I don’t want to see this.” The words burst out from Charlie without conscious decision on his part, looking down at the tiled floor, concentrating on the marks left when it had been lastmopped. From the corner of his eye, Charlie saw the sweep of something white, and then Hector was beside him, a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to,” Hector said. “There are things you will need to know, but you don’t have to watch if it’s too much. There’s a chair over by the wall, or you can wait in my office.”

Charlie looked up to see that Unwin’s body was now covered by a sheet. He breathed out. Unwin was still dead, but not being able to see bare skin, hair, feet, and fingers made it more bearable.

“Could you stay while I look at the head injuries?” Hector asked, and Charlie nodded.

Hector moved back to the body and uncovered only Unwin’s head and neck. Thick hair covered his head, making the damage hard to see, but Charlie remembered the pool of dried blood on the carpet of the upstairs room.

“Here … and here,” Hector was saying, parting the hair with probing fingers as Sasha took notes. Then, “Let’s turn him over.”

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