Page 37 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“I have to go to work,” Charlie said. “Really, no choice. Sorry.”

Tom turned his head and looked Charlie in the eye. “You can go to work after you’ve had a meal and a drink and a wash. You’re an adult. I’m not going to argue about it.” He wanted to, though, Charlie could tell.

Charlie remembered just in time not to take a deep breath before he spoke.

“I got blown up,” he said. “I’ve got a burn on my leg under this bandage, and I think I’ve cracked a rib or two. It all hurts like hell, but I would love five minutes with you, and something to eat before I get back to it. I’m going round in circles, and I need to stop.”

In a very tightly controlled voice, Tom asked how and when Charlie had beenblown up.

“It was a gas explosion at Hassan’s takeaway. Almost certainly not an accident. Mr Hassan called us because he’d seen a person moving about inside just before it all went to custard.”

“Someone’s got it in for the Muslims, then?”

Now it was Charlie’s turn to stare at his husband. “Muslims?”

“Hassan’s Takeaway and Mo’s Autoparts. I’m assuming Hassan is also a Muslim.”

“Jesus,” Charlie breathed.

Tom grinned. “Definitely not him. But since you ask, yes, Mo is short for Mohamed. It’s a national firm. One of the biggest in the UK.”

“Those are probably the only two Muslim-run businesses in this area of Wales,” Charlie said.

Could it be a coincidence that they were both targeted on the same night? Was this all the work of their fake fireman, along with the graffiti and the bogus social media posts? If it was, how did Unwin’s murder fit? Could that have been Patsy after all, in a fit of jealousy? No, he wouldn’t believe that.

“I need to check who owns the trading estate site,” he said, wanting a few minutes with Tom, but wishing for his whiteboard, or even a piece of paper, so he could get his thoughts in order. Maybe saying things aloud would stop him forgetting.

“I can answer that,” Tom said. “It’s the Art College, though we don’t have anything to do with the businesses there. We rent the land out, and it’s managed by an agent.”

“Here in Llanfair?”

Tom shrugged. “No idea. But that’s how I know that Mo is Mohamed, though I can’t remember his surname. I have to sign off the accounts each year, and they are on the list of tenants, showing the business name and the owners. I can find out if you like.”

Tom parked outside their house, and jogged round to the passenger door to help Charlie out, along with his crutches.

“I suppose I’d be wasting my breath if I suggested a trip to the nearest hospital?” he asked.

“I’ll go as soon as I can,” Charlie said. If he meant, so that he could talk to Freya Ravensbourne, rather than have the doctors poking and prodding him, that was something Tom didn’t need to know. “And yes, I’d be interested to see anything you’ve got about the trading estate.” Charlie was embarrassed by how much of Tom’s help he needed to get into the house, and very gladto sink into his favourite armchair, blessedly free of teen-girl clutter. Tom had gone into the kitchen when Charlie’s phone rang.

Will Wayward

“Hi Will,” Charlie said.

“That address I gave you for your camper van? No use. No one with a camper van lives there. So, I got on to the DVLA with the name, and I’ve got a driving license address for the same guy, here in Wrexham. Thought you might want to visit yourself. Or I could go.”

Charlie couldn’t help his groan. “I can’t. I’ve burned my leg and I’m on crutches. Not sure I can drive to be honest.”

“No problem,” Will said, sounding surprisingly chirpy. Was this the same Will who liked to spend his days in darkened rooms staring at computer screens? Apparently it was. “Everyone keeps telling me how nice it is outside. Maybe it’s time I went to have a look.”

28

Tuesday, getting towards lunchtime …

When Tom returned from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches and fruit, Charlie had almost fallen asleep, thanks to the effects of the early morning and his injuries. But he dragged his way back to full consciousness and took the proffered plate. Tom sat down beside him and helped himself to a sandwich.

“Hey, I thought those were for me?”

“The rest of them are, mostly,” Tom said, and took another.

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