Page 42 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

Tuesday afternoon

The urge to see Ravensbourne with his own eyes had been building ever since Charlie had watched the ambulance take her away after the explosion. He absolutely believed everyone who told him that she was going to be OK, but that wasn’t the same as being able to ask her for himself. Charlie felt responsible for not having got her out of the way sooner, though rationally he knew that hadn’t been possible. She was a heavy smoker, with the reduced sense of smell that created. He had smelled the gas and reacted straight away. He couldn’t have done any more.Rationally. It was also dawning on Charlie how much he appreciated having Ravensbourne as a sounding board. He was generally left to his own devices in Llanfair, to run the little police outpost in his own way. But if there was any kind of serious or major crime, Ravensbourne was the senior officer in charge. She gave orders, and sometimes he didn’t like them, but she always listened to his ideas before deciding on the next step. If she was wrong, she admitted it. If she was right, she didn’t gloat. The police was not a democracy, but Freya Ravensbourne was at heart, a democrat.

Charlie contemplated taking an extra painkiller and driving himself to the hospital, but common sense prevailed. Eddy would get him there quickest, but Eddy was needed here. Tom was dealing with whatever Orianna wanted, and all the uniforms were busy keeping the crime scenes safe from nazis and reporters. So, he rang for a taxi.

Most people look diminished in a hospital bed. Not Freya Ravensbourne. Charlie found her sitting up, blankets tossed back, wearing a pair of flannelette pyjamas in a purple checkered pattern, with a multicoloured shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her face looked as if she had been in an explosion: red and blotchy, with patches of dark bruising and healing scratches, head wrapped in a turban of bandage. Oddest of all, she was holding hands with a long-haired man in jeans and some kind of artist’s smock, who was sitting on the chair beside her bed. She had a private room, not large, and almost cosy with a cheerily curtained window with a view out onto the tiny patients’ garden. Ravensbourne looked up as Charlie entered the room, and her face brightened through the bruises, though he could see it was painful for her to smile.

“Charlie,” she said. “What happened to you?”

“A burn on my leg, nothing serious.”

Ravensbourne didn’t look convinced. “If you say so. This is my partner, Gavin.” The long-haired man stood up and offered Charlie his hand.

“It’s great to meet you. Thank you for what you did today. That was too close for comfort. For you, as well, by the looks of it.”

Charlie shook hands. Gavin’s was warm and roughened as if from manual work. “I’ll leave you two in peace, to talk,” Gavin said, and left the room. At a wave from Ravensbourne, Charlie took his vacated seat, leaning his crutches against the wall.

Charlie realised he was gaping like a fool. He dragged his wits back from wherever they had gone. “How are you, boss?” he asked.

“Alive, but concussed, and as you see, rather bashed about. They’ll let me go tomorrow. I’m in your debt for saving my life and don’t think I’m going to forget it.”

Charlie blushed. “You would have done the same.”

Ravensbourne just looked at him, making him blush harder. Then she smiled. “You may be sure that Gavin has pointed out that smoking very nearly killed me this time. I am now sporting a nicotine patch. I have been told that my cigarette days are over. I suppose I should be thankful.”

There was no answer to this, and anyway, Charlie was still struggling with the idea of Ravensbourne with a romantic partner. “I … um … he seems nice.”

“Yes. He is.” Ravensbourne smiled, and Charlie thought she was enjoying his discomfort, dammit. Why shouldn’t she have a bloke? “Now, Charlie, delightful as it is to see you, I sense you have a purpose beyond meeting Gavin. Care to share?”

Charlie told himself, for the second time, to get a bloody grip. “I wanted to run things past you, boss. I know you aren’t on duty, but if you don’t mind, I’d be grateful.”

“Tell me,” she said, and despite the bruises, the familiar Freya Ravensbourne was back.

Charlie described finding the second body and its likely identity, the arrival of the protestors, the possible Muslim connection between the two fires, Will’s suggestion that whoever had set the fires needed to have access to the buildings, their failure to find Jeff Britton, and even how Patsy kept appearing at the crime scenes. Ravensbourne shuffled back against her pillows, so that she sat more upright.

“Ow,” she said, “Bugger these bruises. Now then. Four Joshes. What have they got in common apart from their name?”

“They must have known each other. They were at school together.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Who are you still in touch with from school?” Charlie’s answer must have shown on his face:no one.“Quite. Unwin was a police officer; this Pettifor was, by all accounts, a waste of space. You need to talk to his co-workers and his boss. Find his family. See if he and Unwin did know each other. Come on, Charlie, you know this. And obviously get in contact with the other two Joshes if you haven’t already. Get onto Hector Powell for the post mortem report on the second body. Did he die in the fire? Or was he dead already?” She paused. “Then Jeff Britton stroke Burton. Do whatever you need to do to find him. That’s a priority. Get Mal Kent’s help. If you want my opinion, Burton is a troublemaker and needs stopping. Will could be right about access, and firefighters have to be good at getting into buildings. Though you might find out if anyone else had access. Worst case scenario, Burton’s a witness. Get Will onto who’s behind all this social media crap. What else? Patsy. Do you think she’s involved?”

“No, boss.”

“Well then. Stop worrying about her and concentrate on the others.Now, please, because I’m getting a headache. Gavin will be outside. Tell him he can come back. And get that leg seen to on your way out. You look worse than I feel.”

Ravensbourne had gone pale underneath her bruises and Charlie felt guilty for making her think about the case. He stood up. “I’m sorry. I hope you feel better.” He realised he was hovering but couldn’t find a way to stop. Ravensbourne provided it.

“Go,” she said, so he went. Gavin was outside as predicted, sipping a drink from a paper cup. He looked up as Charlie approached, and smiled.

“Thanks again for what you did,” he said, and then he clapped Charlie on the arm, exactly as Ravensbourne did, with the force of a baseball bat connecting with the ball.

32

Tuesday afternoon

Charlie stopped at the nurses’ station on his way past and asked for directions to the minor injuries unit. The nurse behind the desk gave him both a concerned look, and directions, then called him back.

“Were you in that explosion as well?” she asked.

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