Page 7 of Murder in Shades of Blue and Green

“It’s awful,” Charlie replied. “No one should have to work in a place like this.”

“We could paint the whole place in a weekend,” Edwards suggested. “Team building exercise. Or you could get on to Superintendent Kent, seeing as how you seem to have him on speed-dial. Cover up the past and make a new start.”

“Please don’t use the words cover up,” Charlie said, and the anxiety lifted a little more as they all smiled at each other. Tentative smiles, but it would have to do.

“I should answer the phone,” Jellicoe stood up to leave. Charlie had almost stopped hearing it.

“Record everything,” Charlie said, and she nodded.

“Always, Sarge.” She went to a key cabinet on the wall and produced two sets of keys. “The ones with the blue tags are the front, red for the back and green for the cells and the flat I told you about. The car keys are in the cabinet if you need them. One of the cars is in for servicing.”

They all swapped numbers, and Charlie reminded Jellicoe to follow them downstairs and lock herself in when they left. “We’re going to the Art College to find out about these allegedly missing students,” he said.

They were heading to the door when they heard the unmistakable sound of vehicles colliding. Two car alarms went off simultaneously. Then another crash and the sound of running feet. The three of them were down the stairs and out of the door in seconds, but they were too late.

A rusty white van had ploughed into the police car at some speed, leaving them fused together like two pieces of Play Doh. Screeches and creaks spilled the air as they settled. The van had ricocheted off the front of Charlie’s car, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The driver’s side window had been smashed and the inside of his car was yellow with flames. Everything reeked of petrol.

Jellicoe spun round back into the station and returned seconds later with a fire extinguisher and was spraying Charlie’s car a moment after that. It was a large cylinder, but although it seemed to dampen the fire, showed no signs of being likely to put it out. Tendrils of fire spread over the weedy tarmac towards them.

DC Edwards spoke rapidly into his phone, on to the fire brigade.

Charlie ran over to Jellicoe. “Leave it!” He grasped her arm and pulled her back towards the station when she protested. “Round the front!” He wanted the building between them and the burning car. He pushed Eddy in the same direction.

They heard the scream of the siren, and a fire engine roared into the yard.

“Fire station in the next street,” Eddy shouted over the noise.

A few moments later, one of the firefighters spotted Jellicoe in her uniform and trotted towards them.

“Only take a minute,” he said. “What happened?”

Charlie showed his warrant card. “We were inside when we heard the crash and the car alarms. When we came out, my car was on fire, and the window was smashed. It all stank of petrol.”

The firefighter nodded. “That sounds right. Smash the window, Chuck a Molotov cocktail through, and leg it. Stay here.” He disappeared back round to the yard. When he came back a few minutes later, it was to tell them that the fire was out, “But you won’t be driving either of those cars again, sorry.”

“What about the things in my car?” Charlie asked.

The firefighter’s face dropped. “I hope you’re well insured, mate, because there isn’t much left. And don’t go messing with it. It’s hot. We’ll be hanging around for a while, just to make sure. We need to check for the remains of whatever they used to get it going, and you’ll want to find the owners of that van.”

“Which will turn out to be stolen,” Edwards said. “Do you want me to check, Sarge?”

Charlie sighed. Of course, the van would turn out to be stolen, but they had to check. There might be some kind of clue about who stole it, or the owner might be the kind of person who loaned his van out to his dodgy mates. In the meantime, he had only the clothes he stood up in, and they were ripped and muddy. He was supposed to be the one in charge, and so far this morning he’d had his tires let down, been assaulted by a dog, locked out of his own police station and lost everything he owned. And it was still only just after ten in the morning. Charlie had the urge to laugh, because surely things couldn’t get any worse. Except even having the thought seemed like tempting fate. Most importantly, he had no idea why. The tyres were, by all accounts, kids. The dog assault was about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But being locked out was the result of a fake email, and the fire was deliberate. What he didn’t know was whether it was targeting him, DS Charlie Rees, or the Llanfair police in general.

“Let’s go and brew up,” he said, pulling his shoulders back. He opened the front door to the police station with his newly acquired key, and the three of them trooped back inside. The telephone was still ringing.

Jellicoe boiled the kettle and made the drinks. They took the same seats as before.

“Thanks,” Charlie said. “First up, is there anything respectable I can wear hanging round the station? Or a men’s clothes shop in the town? Because that was all my clothes in the boot of my car.”

Jellicoe looked distraught. “What about at home, sir?”

“Don’t ask,” Charlie said. “I’m homeless as well. I’m booked in with Dilys at Primrose Lodge…” he got out his wallet with the address.

“I know where it is.” Jellicoe said.

Edwards laughed. “Dilys is my aunt.” They looked at him. He shrugged. “I assume that’s why they seconded me. I was brought up here, but I’ve always worked in Wrexham. I’m back at my mother’s house. I’d offer you some clothes, but…”

Jellicoe jumped up. “My husband is the same size as you, near enough. I’ll be right back.” Charlie heard her talking on the phone on the other side of the door, then she came back in. “That’s sorted. Only jeans and a jumper, but it won’t have paw prints up the front. And there’s plenty of jackets upstairs. Marks and Spencers will do next day delivery for tomorrow.”

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