As Laura and Joe approached David Hoyle’s home, Laura shook away the stab of envy she felt every time she saw where defence lawyers lived, because it always seemed like they reaped the rewards while people like her did all the dangerous work. Yet deep down, despite the long hours and hard graft, she was proud of her job. She wondered if David Hoyle felt the same about his.
As she climbed out of the car, she looked at the house, three small almshouses converted into one, with views towards the hills that separated the Lancashire cotton belt from the more cosmopolitan sprawl of Greater Manchester. Stone steps led to a solid wooden door, although it looked like the knocks and dents in the wood were affectations, trying to reclaim the age of the house. She banged hard on the door. It was a while before anyone answered, but then she heard the rattle of a key and a face peered through the door, from behind a small chain.
‘We’re the police,’ Laura said. ‘It’s about your intruder from last night.’
There were some nervous blinks, and then, ‘Do you have identification?’
Laura lifted the police identification. Joe did the same.
There was another pause, but then the door closed and there was a small rattle as the chain was removed. When the door opened, there was a slender woman standing there, barefoot but in tight leggings and a long cream jumper. Her hair was luxurious and dark, falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale and drawn though, as if she hadn’t slept.
‘Is it Angel?’ Laura asked.
The woman nodded.
Laura and Joe exchanged quick glances and then said, ‘We need to talk about last night.’
There was a pause, and then, ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’
‘We know about the man who came to your house last night,’ Laura said. She noticed Angel’s eyes flicker nervously and her hand take a firmer grip on the door.
‘David said it was a client, some kind of revenge, because a case had gone wrong,’ Angel said.
Laura shook her head slowly. ‘He has killed people.’ Angel’s eyes grew wide. ‘If we don’t catch him, he will kill someone else. You can help stop that.’
Angel paused, with her hand on the door, before she let go and the door swung open.
She led them into a spacious living room with views over the lawn at the back, her bare feet padding quietly across the hardwood floor, in contrast to the loud clicks of Laura’s heels. Set in front of the window was an easel, a large piece of paper on it, washed-out watercolours visible. As they followed her, Laura asked, ‘Is Angel your real name?’
‘It used to be Angela,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘My publisher thought Angel was more marketable.’ Angel caught Laura looking and said, ‘I illustrate children’s books. That’s why I like it here, because the light is so fantastic. The window is west-facing, and so is in the shade for a lot of the day, dark and brooding, but all the time the fields and hills are painted by brilliant sunshine or the mood of the clouds. When I get the light later on, it catches the dust and the pollen, like fairies dancing.’ Angel looked down, embarrassed. ‘Listen to me, going on about sunlight when people are dying.’
Laura smiled politely and waited for Angel to continue.
‘So who has he killed, this person?’ Angel said. ‘And how do you know it was the same person who came here last night?’
‘I can’t tell you how we know, but you are an important witness. You can help save lives.’
Angel nodded weakly, her face pale. ‘Tell me about him.’
And so Laura did. She saw Angel’s eyes widen when she mentioned Jane Roberts.
‘Did you know her?’ Laura asked.
Angel shook her head. ‘David has mentioned Don, her father, and he told me that his daughter had been murdered.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I shouldn’t say,’ she said. ‘David was probably revealing confidences, and if he told me things, then they should stay with me.’
Laura didn’t push it, because she knew that she and Jack had a similar arrangement, that she was allowed to come home and moan and gripe, knowing that it wouldn’t be repeated outside their home. She had to keep back the really sensitive stuff though, but everything else was legitimate pillow talk.
Joe sat down on the sofa on the other side of the room, and Laura could tell that he was leaving it up to her, that there was a woman-to-woman rapport going on that he didn’t want to spoil.
‘So tell me about last night,’ Laura said.
Angel rubbed her eyes as if mentally preparing to bring back the sequence of events. ‘David had gone out, to speak with a client,’ Angel said, a slight quiver to her voice.
‘A client?’
‘I didn’t ask him for details, because he often sees clients in their home. That’s the problem with living with a defence lawyer – it feels like your life is always on call, your plans wrecked by some idiot who has got himself locked up. Anyway, so he went out.’
‘He went to Don’s house,’ Laura said.
Angel shrugged. ‘Like I said, a client.’
‘David was out, you were alone, and I reckon your intruder must have known that.’
Angel looked thoughtful at that.
‘I didn’t hear him come in,’ she said eventually. ‘I’d finished drawing. I was in the spare bedroom, where we have the computer. I was on the webcam, talking to a friend. She lives in France and we keep in touch that way. My friend spotted him, not me. She said that there was someone there, and when I looked round, there he was.’
‘What did he look like?’ Laura said.
‘I didn’t get a good look. I was shocked, frightened.’
‘But you saw him, and at this point anything you remember will help. How tall was he?’
‘He was tall,’ Angel said. ‘I noticed that. And slim, like his height made him awkward. Long arms and legs.’
‘Ethnicity?’
‘He was in shadow, but I would say white.’
‘Facial hair?’
Angel shook her head. ‘I couldn’t see that much detail. It was like a flash and he was gone. I think the webcam scared him.’
‘Close your eyes,’ Laura said. ‘Get rid of all of this visual clutter and think just about last night. Tell me what you see. Imagine you had to paint him.’
Angel sighed, and then she closed her eyes.
‘Okay,’ she said, after a few seconds. ‘He didn’t have a full beard, but he might have been unshaven. And his face was skinny, with pronounced cheekbones. His hair was short, but cut that way, not shaved. His jacket seemed to hang off his shoulders, as if he was all a bit weedy under his clothes.’
‘What was he wearing?’
‘It was all dark,’ she said. ‘Black top, black trousers, I think.’ Then her eyes opened. ‘There was one thing: his smell.’
‘What do you mean?’ Laura said.
‘He smelled musty and dirty, like he didn’t wash his clothes enough. That’s what I could smell when he’d gone.’
‘Anything else?’
Angel shook her head.
‘What did David say to you last night that made you not report it?’ Laura said.
‘He said he thought it was work-related, and that he knew who it was. He said he would sort it out, that the guy was harmless.’
‘But that is a lie.’
‘So you say.’
Laura leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘There’s something I need you to do for me.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Spy on David.’
Angel sat back and shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘David is a good lawyer, we both know that, but he is going along with Don Roberts just to keep the money flowing, and right now Don is looking to kill whoever he thinks murdered his daughter.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘It is if he gets it wrong,’ Laura said. ‘And even if he doesn’t, we would have to do something about it, because we can’t allow summary executions. David will get dragged in like everyone else when we start kicking in doors. If you want to carry on living with David, you need to protect him from himself.’
Angel thought about that for a few seconds, and then said, ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Just let me know if you find anything out, or hear anything,’ Laura said, handing over one of her cards. ‘Please, Angel, you need to do this.’
Angel took the card and looked at it for a long time. Laura could see her struggling – if she helped the police it could end David’s legal career in Blackley, and what’s more, it could end their relationship.
But then Laura saw Angel realise that she had no choice. Angel looked up at Laura and, with a tear running down her cheek, nodded her agreement.