Page 22 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“If you have the only keys in your key cabinet, and your staff are the only people who know which keys match which property, then we are going to have to talk to your staff.”

“No one here would give a key out,” Huw said.

Charlie revised his opinion about how much Huw had realised. It was time to acquaint him with the reality of a murder investigation.

“I’ll need a list of all your staff, with their names and addresses — ideally their personnel files. And I’d like your undertaking not to contact them before we interview them.”

Huw looked shell-shocked. “I suppose so,” he said.

“In the meantime, I have a few questions for you, starting with your movements from lunchtime on the day of the fire.” Charlie leaned back in his chair, waiting for the reaction.

It came in the form of a fiery blush, the redness spreading from Huw’s neck and up over his face until the sweat stood out on his forehead.

“I was here,” he began. He looked at Charlie, who looked back as blankly as he could. “And I stayed quite late. Maybe until half-six or seven.” Huw visibly swallowed. Charlie leaned his head forward in encouragement but remained silent. “Then I went out. To a pub. I don’t want my wife to know.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Charlie said. “This is a murder enquiry. If you’ve done something you don’t want your wife to find out about, I suggest you tell her yourself.”

“I didn’t do anything. I talked to some people, that’s all. I just needed a break, you know. The business, the kids, my wife going on about a new kitchen, the heat, the whole boiling. Sometimes it gets on top of me, and I tell my wife I’m working late and take a couple of hours off, that’sit. But she wouldn’t understand.” Huw rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, leaving it damp and disordered. “I was home by ten. My wife will tell you.”

Charlie nodded. “I will be asking her. I’d also like to know which pub, and the names of the people you talked to.”

“The Pelican. I talked to a Helen, and a Sion, and I think one of the women was called Rhian. They are just people I see now and again. But this is silly. I didn’t even know the bloke who was killed.”

A key rattled in the main office door. Huw got up, said “Excuse me,” and returned a moment later with Corrine Bailey, the branch manager. Perfect.

“I wonder if I might have a word with Ms Bailey,” Charlie asked. “While you get those names and addresses for me, Mr Jones.”

Huw Jones nodded.

Corrine Bailey’s face lost all its colour.

17

Monday morning

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Charlie asked.

Corrine Bailey said, “Sure,” and led him past Huw Jones’ office to a small kitchen, with a door to the back yard. There was just enough room for a table and chairs, pushed up into one corner, opposite a counter with sink, microwave, kettle and an under-counter fridge. A collection of mugs hung on a mug tree, next to a box of tea bags, a bag of sugar and a jar of instant coffee. Not that she offered Charlie a drink. Corrine pulled out a chair and sat. She looked about his own age, Charlie thought, maybe a little older. Her hair was a glossy dark brown, and very well cut into a sharp asymmetrical bob. She wore a cream linen dress, which from the rustle when Corrine sat down, Charlie assumed was fully lined. Matching low-heeled sandals completed the look: professional, smart and attractive. She wasn’t Welsh, or at least she didn’t have a Welsh accent; rather a generic newsreader’s English.

“What’s this about?” she asked. “Because, sorry and all that, but I do have to get started before Megan and Jackie come in.”

Charlie pulled out another chair and sat at right angles to her. “I’m investigating the murder of one of my colleagues, MsBailey. A murder which happened in the shop next door. I understand that the keys to the back door of the shop are kept in your key cabinet here, and that everyone who works here has access to those keys.”

Corrine nodded, a look of wariness on her face. “Do you want me to check if they’re still there?”

“In a minute,” Charlie said. “First, could you tell me your movements from lunchtime on Saturday, until yesterday morning?”

“My movements?”

“Where you were, who you were with, what you were doing.” Did this woman not watch TV?

“Why would you want to know that?”

“I’m asking the same questions of everyone even remotely connected to this case. That includes everyone who has access to the keys to the shop next door.”

Corrine nodded, slowly, turning the rings round on her fingers. “OK,” she said. “Let me think. I would have been here on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t have any viewings, but I did take some details for a new client and arranged some things for next week. Saturday afternoons are usually quiet, especially on nice days.”

“What time did you leave?” Charlie asked.

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