Page 38 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

Charlie put the plate out of his husband’s reach. The bacon sandwiches brought by the nice woman to the trading estate seemed a long time ago. “I’ve got some pills,” he said. “Painkillers from the paramedics. You couldn’t get me a drink?”

“I could,” Tom said and went back into the kitchen.

“So, attacks on Muslim-run businesses?” Tom asked when he came back Charlie swallowed a pain pill, because surely it had been four hours since the last one?

“It looks that way,” Charlie said. “Only two Muslim-run businesses in Llanfair.”

“But you’re not convinced.”

Charlie remembered that his husband wasn’t someone to take things at face value, any more than he was himself.

“How many people know that the takeaway and the car parts place are run by Muslims? I mean, I didn’t know about the car parts place, and you only know because the Art College owns the land. And how does Unwin’s murder fit? I can’t make it add up.” But Charlie also knew that the media would force it to fit, because attacks on Muslim-run businesses would make a coherent story, when allied to the graffiti and the social media posts about refugees coming to Llanfair.

“What you don’t know,” he continued, “is that there was another body. In the fire at the trading estate. No ID yet, but I refuse to believe we’ve got two lots of arsonists and murderers running about the place. And I’m worried about Patsy.” As he spoke, Charlie realised that his concern about Patsy had been lurking at the back of his mind all day, nagging at him like a sore tooth.

“Patsy?” Tom asked.

“She keeps turning up, making herself look like a suspect … all Unwin’s family are determined that she killed him out of jealousy. She says she wasn’t jealous. Is it possiblenotto be jealous? Is jealousy part of the human condition?”

Tom leaned back on the sofa, titled his head upwards as if seeking the answer from the ceiling. “The girls are jealous of each other, but I wasn’t jealous of my siblings. I’m trying not to be jealous that you work with a hunk like Eddy …”

Charlie snorted.

Tom sat up. “Come on, he’s a feast for the eyes compared to me.”

Charlie stared at his husband in amazement. “You can’t be serious.Eddy?”

Tom blushed. “That’s the point, though, isn’t it? Rationally, I know you love me, but on the other hand, you spend all day with a guy who is much younger and fitter than me, who shares yourworking life and understands what you do in a way that I never will.”

Whereas, thought Charlie with a pang of self-awareness,I am not at all jealous of anyone at the college of art, but I am jealous of the attention Tom gives to the girls.

“So perhaps Patsy isn’t jealous of most of Unwin’s partners, but might be upset by someone new? Or not bothered by a casual hookup but not prepared to put up with something more serious.”

“Possibly the other way round,” Tom suggested.

“The problem is, I don’t believe it,” Charlie said. “I mean, I suppose I can believe Patsy could be jealous, whatever she says, but I don’t believe she would kill Unwin. I can’t get past that, no matter how much I try to make myself.”

Tom came and sat on the arm of Charlie’s chair and leaned over so that his beard brushed Charlie’s cheek. “Trust that instinct. My experience is that you are generally right.” He beamed at Charlie. “About crime things anyway.”

Charlie twisted around so that he could kiss Tom, and as their bodies touched, the pain disappeared, and he felt warm and loved. In different circumstances, he imagined suggesting they adjourn to bed. Only the circumstances were not different. His body hurt, he had a killer to catch, and the trail did not lead up their stairs, or if it did, it was for fresh clothes and nothing else.

“Dammit,” he said. “I really do have to go back.”

Tom sighed and stroked Charlie’s hair. “Eat some more and then I’ll help you get changed and run you to the cop shop, or wherever you have to go next.”

The phone buzzedwhile Charlie was sitting on the side of the bed, wondering miserably whether anyone would comment if hewent back to work in shorts, while knowing that it wasn’t an option.

“Will,” he said. “What have you got?”

“I found somewhere else your camper van owner doesn’t live,” Will said. “Because he apparently lives in the van itself. Hedidlive at the address on his driving licence, but not any more, and to be honest, I don’t blame him. Urgh.” Charlie heard the shudder over the phone. “One of the most hostile women I’ve met in a long time. Most hostile person in fact.”

“Tell me more.”

“I’m probably exaggerating. She didn’t want to talk about camper van guy, except to say that he was using her for an address and somewhere to park. I think she’d hoped for something more, but it didn’t happen, but she still got mail for him, and reading between the lines, the occasional booty call.”

“So, if he didn’t live there, where did he park his van?”

Will sighed. “At work. Specifically at Mo’s Autoparts in Llanfair. Apparently, the manager there let him plug into the electrical supply. He wasn’t full time, but he was friends with the manager, and filled in on the weekend, or for holiday cover. The rest of the time he was supposed to be writing a book. I got this whole tirade about how living in the van gave him freedom, which Ms Hostile said was mostly freedom to shag other women, seeing as there was never any sign of an actual book … you get the picture.”

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