Page 45 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“I took a day off, promised to take my wife and kids to the beach, and the eight-year-old turned my work phone to silent. I’ve been called in too often on my days off so …”

Charlie could relate to that. He’d been known to turn his own phone to silent on occasion. “There really was nothing anyone could have done,” he said. “The place was flooded with petrol, and no one heard an alarm. The fire brigade will back me up, if you need help with your employer.”

“Thanks,” Mitch said. “You wanted to know about Josh?”

“Anything you can tell me, like why was he here, and is it likely it wasn’t him in the van?”

Mitch rubbed his hands through his hair and stroked his beard — longer and more straggly than Tom’s.

“The van was where he lived, so if you only found one … person, then it was most probably Josh. He worked for me when I needed him — covered holidays and sickness. Bright bloke, he could do pretty much all the jobs, but he didn’t want full time. He liked to travel. Went off for a few weeks every couple of months.”

Charlie didn’t get the sense that MitchlikedJosh, but rather that he was useful. The comment about only findingone personwas interesting though. “Did Josh have companions? Girlfriends? Staying with him in the van?”

Mitch blushed. “Um, yeah. I had to tell him, not to, you know, in the day. People complained. And there were a couple of girls who came here, looking for him. It wasn’t … he didn’t treat women very well, I think.”

Which exactly chimed with what Will and Eddy had found. “No one regular then?”

“He went out with one of the staff here, Priya, for a bit, but she found he was cheating on her, so she dumped him. One thing, all the girls he slept with, they were mostly Black,or Asian. I overheard Priya saying some stuff about that being Josh’s thing.”

Charlie asked where he could contact Priya, and alarm flared on Mitch’s face.

“She wouldn’t … she works in the office … you can’t think …”

“I don’t think anything yet,” Charlie said, “I’m just trying to find out as much about Josh as I can.”

Mitch reluctantly gave Charlie the details.

They talked for a bit longer, but it was clear Mitch had nothing else to add. He got out of Charlie’s car and wandered back over to the wreck of his business, head down, hands shoved into his trouser pockets. If he was right that not attending the fire would lose him his job, then he at least had no motive to kill Josh Pettifor.

The phrase “white men going with coloured women are betraying their race,”came into Charlie’s head as he drove towards Wrexham for his second visit of the day. He remembered Jeff Burton’s boss telling him and Ravensbourne that it was something Britton was in the habit of saying. Josh Pettifor preferred women of colour. Had that brought him to Burton/Britton’s notice? If Burton was behind the attacks on Muslim businesses, perhaps it had. If someone was as looney-tunes enough to spout that crap, were they also mad enough to kill? Mad enough to blow up a takeaway and burn down a car parts warehouse?

34

Tuesday evening

By the time Charlie got to Wrexham, both his leg and his ribs were aching like a bitch. Vile word, but the only one that worked. He stopped at a garage for petrol, chocolate, and a machine coffee to take more painkillers. It was technically too early for another one, but he figured the instructions were probably on the conservative side. And he was taking it with food. Well, chocolate.

His appointment with Ella Williams wasn’t for an hour, so he went to the Pettifor house, dreading the conversation to come, sitting in the car outside, gathering his courage. In the end, he made himself get out of the car and knock on the front door.

It was opened by a red-faced man in his fifties or early sixties, who had clearly been too long in the sun. Pale rings around his eyes showed the shape of his sunglasses. The sunburn looked fierce, the skin on his nose already beginning to peel. Charlie’s leg ached in sympathy. He’d left the crutches in the car and was regretting it.

“Mr Pettifor, I’m Detective Sergeant Charlie Rees,” he said, showing the man his ID. “May I come in?” The man lookedpuzzled but let Charlie into the house. “Is Mrs Pettifor at home?” Charlie asked.

The man nodded. “What is this?” he said.

“Perhaps you would call your wife, sir, and I could talk to you both.”

Charlie could see fear in the man’s eyes. “Jen,” he called, and his voice was shaky.

A well-tanned woman came into the room, drying her hands on a tea towel. “What’s up, love? Who’s this?” she asked.

Charlie asked if they could sit down and was led to the front room, where the Pettifors perched on a very shiny red leather sofa in front of an enormous TV set. Charlie sat on a matching armchair. “This morning, we found the body of a man, who we believe may be your son, Joshua,” he said. Mrs Pettifor put her hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened until they were almost round.

“No,” she said.

“You saidmay be Joshua,” the man said. “So, it might not be him.”

Charlie started to take a deep breath and remembered not to, just in time. This was the worst part. “The person was found in your son’s camper van, in Llanfair at the car parts firm where he worked. There is no evidence that anyone other than your son was using the van. I’m afraid there had been a very bad fire, and it means we aren’t able to identify …”

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