Page 41 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

A minute later he was back.

“Sorry to add to your burdens, but there are a bunch of nazis outside, with some rather unpleasant placards.”

Charlie’s phone pinged. Will.

“Joshua P was one of the four Joshes. And did you know there’s an anti-police demonstration in the street?”

I do now.

With Tom’s help, Charlie struggled to his feet, and they climbed the stairs slowly to the CID room which had a window to the front. Outside were about a dozen people, mostly middle-aged white men, shuffling up and down with placards. One read:Cops protect foreign criminals — what about us?Another:Give us our country back.Some of the protestors wore scarves over their faces, along with heavy boots and black clothes.

“They must be boiling,” Charlie said. “I hope they melt.” He snapped a couple of pictures on his phone and called Mal Kent.

“There’s a van full of uniforms on their way,” Kent told him. “They’ll be with you any time now.”

Suddenly there was a crash and shouting from outside. The three of them crowded around the window. It wasn’t clear what had made the noise, but some of the black-clad men were shouting at the driver of a car, who was yelling back. Another car, stuck behind, began to blow its horn. Charlie looked at Will, who looked about as keen as Charlie felt about going out into the heat to attempt to calm things down.

“Radio, body cam, hi-vis, baton,” Charlie said, and began to limp his way to the rail of equipment by the door.

“You’re surely not going out?” Tom said. “No way.”

“That’s what they pay us for,” Charlie said. “Give me a hand into this jacket.”

Tom’s expression could only be described as mulish, but he did hold the jacket. Which was when the police van arrived, almost blocking the street, as six uniformed officers piled out and began to separate the protestors from the angry driver, waving him on, along with the cars behind.

“Thank God,” Tom said, and hung the yellow jacket back up on the rail.

“I’ve still got to go and talk to them,” Charlie said. “And you’d better go and talk to Ori.”

In the end,it was Will who went to find out what was what with the uniforms and the protestors, returning with a Sergeant Susie Clement, who Charlie knew from his own days in uniform. She had seemed middle-aged to him then; now she must be coming up to retirement. But she still looked fit, and more than a match for a few masked placard-wavers.

“Social media,” Susie said disgustedly. “It doesn’t matter how many messages we put out, dickheads like that crewage would still rather believe some rando on the internet.” She flopped into a chair, flapping a hand in front of her face in an attempt to create a draught. “It’s the weather. Brings all the half-wits out from under their stones. Now, what about these murders?”

With a growing sense of relief, Charlie explained where the two crime scenes were, and arranged for some of Susie’s uniforms to keep them secure, releasing Eddy and Mags to have a break.

“So, you’re the boss, now,” Susie asked with a grin. “Young Charlie Rees, with his own police station. Who’d a thunk it?”

Charlie pulled a face. “Not doing such a great job today,” he said.

“You’ll get it sorted,” she said. “I have it on the best authority: the Chief Super says you saved Freya Ravensbourne’s life and so you can do no wrong.”

If only.

Susie bustled off to see whether she could persuade the protestors to go home, leaving Charlie and Will.

“Bring a laptop downstairs,” Charlie said, “because I want my whiteboard, and you want a computer, and it’s cooler down there. Also, there’s cake in the fridge. You might not want any, but I do.”

Will found that he could eat some cake but refused coffee in favour of mint tea. He showed Charlie the details of the four Joshes: Unwin, Joshua Pettifor, Josh Lineham and JoshThomas. All had been at school together in Wrexham at the same time, and now one, probably two of them, were dead. Josh Lineham lived in Manchester, Josh Thomas in St Asaph.

“So, is the killer targeting Joshes?” Will asked. “Because if so, I’ve fallen into an Agatha Christie, and not even a very good one.”

“Same,” Charlie said. “I don’t believe it, but we should get hold of them anyway. Find out if they’ve had anything odd happen over the last few weeks. Find out if they were in touch with each other. I mean, it’s completely bonkers, but we can’t ignore it.”

“The other thing I did was have a quick look at the finances of the Hassans and Mo’s Autoparts. Mo’s is showing a healthy profit. Hassan’s not so much, but they must have spent a lot refurbishing the new premises. Neither look like candidates for insurance fraud.”

Charlie nodded. “I’m going to ask the forensics guys to make sure Hassan’s takeaway still had all its expensive new equipment before it blew up,” he said. “Just in case. Then, as soon as Eddy gets here, I’m going to see DI Ravensbourne.”

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