The Fruit Gum Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

here.’
    He handed the piece of paper to him.
    Angel could see she had made a lasting impression on him. ‘Aye, all right, lad.’
    â€˜Will you do it right away?’
    Angel smiled. ‘Give me chance to get to my desk.’
    Ahmed nodded and dashed off.
    Angel wondered what the old martinet wanted.
    He went into his office, picked up the phone and tapped out the number. The phone was promptly answered.
    â€˜Ah yes, Inspector Angel,’ Mrs Mackenzie said, ‘I have just had a call from Lady Muick this morning. She has received a packet sent by ordinary post that contained the missing necklace in perfect condition. So there is no need for you to take any further action in the matter.’
    â€˜Oh good,’ Angel said. ‘Was there any message or address in the package?’
    â€˜No. Nothing like that. It was a local postmark.’
    â€˜Thank you for letting me know, Mrs Mackenzie.’
    â€˜Goodbye,’ she said and the line went dead.
    Angel slowly replaced the phone. He was pleased that the necklace had shown up. He was even more pleased to get that dragon off his back.
    The phone rang. He reached out for it. ‘Angel,’ he said.
    â€˜There you are,’ the voice said hoarsely. He promptly recognized it. It was his superintendent, Horace Harker. He started coughing into Angel’s earpiece. Between short bouts of coughing, he said, ‘A triple nine for you. Man reported dead in a bedroom at the Feathers. Doesn’t look very nice. I couldn’t get hold of you, then your phone was engaged, so I have notified SOCO and the pathologist’s office to get things moving. All right?’
    â€˜Right, sir.’
    â€˜Get to it.’
    He cancelled the call and tapped in a number.
    Ahmed soon answered. ‘Yes, sir.’
    Angel told him about the triple nine and then instructed him to find his two sergeants, Flora Carter and Trevor Crisp, and instruct them to come to the Feathers hotel, ASAP.
    Room 201, the Feathers hotel, Bromersley, South Yorkshire,
    11.45 a.m., Monday, 3rd June 2013
    Detective Inspector Michael Angel opened the hotel room door, and peered inside.
    Four Scene of Crime Officers in sterile white paper overalls, caps and rubber boots were busily working away in the bedroom. One was dusting for fingerprints, another was taking photographs, a third was labelling plastic containers containing samples, and the fourth was looking at a clipboard and checking boxes to tick off.
    DS Donald Taylor, section head of the SOCO team, heard the door open, looked up from the clipboard and crossed to greet the Inspector. ‘Good morning, sir.’
    â€˜Is it clear in here, Don?’ Angel said.
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    Angel came in and closed the door.
    â€˜We’ve finished the sweep and the vacuum,’ Taylor said.
    Angel spotted the near-naked body of the half-dressed man on the bed. He was wearing only a white shirt, vest and socks. Most of the buttons down the front of the shirt were undone. The blankets, sheets and pillows were in great disorder, and one pillow was on the floor. His coat, trousers, shoes and underpants were on a chair in a corner of the room.
    Angel gestured towards the bed. ‘Dr Mac been yet?’
    â€˜Oh yes, sir. He’s examined the body … he’s ready to have it moved to the mortuary.’
    Angel glanced round the small bedroom and frowned. ‘Where is he?’
    â€˜I’m here, Michael,’ the white-haired Glaswegian said as he came in from the en suite bathroom wiping his hands on a white napkin. ‘I’ll be with you in a couple of jiffies.’
    Angel nodded to his old friend, then turned to Taylor and said, ‘Right. What have you got, Don?’
    Taylor turned a page back on the clipboard and said, ‘Well, sir, as far as we have been able to determine, his name is Norman Robinson, aged about 28, lives at Flat 12, Kyle House, Montague Street, Govan, Glasgow. He has a credit