“What do you make of the bite mark?”
Sgt. Bethan Morgan kept her eyes on the road as she and Det. Chief Inspector Gareth Davies drove along the A55 North Wales Expressway from Bangor to Llandudno. They had just attended the postmortem examination of the body of Glenda Roberts and had been shown a clear and recent bite mark on the inside of her right forearm. The area had been swabbed for DNA and close photographs taken. The pathologist wasn’t optimistic, though, that they’d get any DNA from the wound. It was a day or two old and Glenda had most certainly showered or bathed since the bite had been inflicted.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bethan replied. “And asking myself, who would bite another person. And the only answer I can come up with, really, is a child.”
“A frustrated child who is also very angry,” Davies replied.
“Or frightened?” Bethan suggested. “But the pathologist said the size of the bite indicated an adult, not a child.”
“That’s troubling,” commented Davies.
The pathologist recorded cause of death as blunt force trauma. “I know what you’re going to ask me now,” he had said to Davies. “Could she have fallen? And the answer is no. The head injuries are not consistent with a fall. Someone delivered several blows to the back of her head with something sharp and flat, I would say. You wouldn’t have seen the extent or nature of the injury while the body was in situ at the mine and especially in the darkness; we needed to get her up on the slab to get a good look at it. I can’t say exactly what kind of weapon or instrument caused the injuries, but the blows were delivered with strength and intensity. The assailant certainly meant to inflict great harm, or more likely, to kill.” The pathologist peeled off his gloves, and dropped them into the medical waste bin. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful with the type of instrument. I expect determining what the weapon was will be at the top of your to-do list.”
Davies sighed and glanced out the car window. The afternoon was wearing on and the countryside would soon be shrouded in semidarkness. It got dark early, this time of year, in this part of the world, and the day had brought the kind of rapidly changing weather often seen here. Rain, heavy at times, had now eased off, giving way to a pale sky filled with purplish-grey clouds, some of them tinged with pink along the tops. The waters of the Menai Strait, which separates the mainland from the island of Anglesey, pounded the shore in white-capped waves. His thoughts returned to the question of the weapon when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and then pressed the button.
“Hello, Penny.” He listened for a few moments. “She did? We’ll need a statement from you, then. And can you ask Victoria to gather up everything for us. Envelope and all the contents.” He peered out the window. “We’re just approaching Conwy, so we could be in Llanelen in about forty minutes. Are you still at work?” He exchanged a quick glance with Bethan, to see if she’d picked up that their plans were changing. She gave him a quick nod. “Right. We’ll meet you there.”
He ended the call and replaced his phone in his coat pocket.
“Glenda Roberts dropped off a packet for Victoria at the Spa yesterday morning. It’s probably nothing, but it’ll fill in some gaps on the timeline. We’ll talk to Penny at the Spa.”
“What was in the packet?”
“Sheet music.”
A light, misty drizzle was now falling so Bethan switched on the windscreen wipers and leaned forward to turn up the car’s heater. A welcome warmth soon wrapped itself around their legs.
“Ever think about retirement, sir?” she asked.
“Retirement? Why, are you after my job?”
She laughed. “From DS to DCI? Not likely. No, I was just thinking how good it would be to go somewhere sunny. Get away from this awful wet weather. It’s endless, this time of year.”
“I would like to see you sit the inspector exam, though,” said Davies. “You have a wonderful career ahead of you and you’re ready for promotion.”
Bethan smiled her gratitude.
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence broken only by the soothing, rhythmic sound of the windscreen wipers.
As they entered the market town of Llanelen, Davies’s chest constricted in a familiar tightening that was a pleasurable mix of anxiety and anticipation. He’d been in love with Penny almost since the moment they’d met a year and a half ago, and for a while, it had seemed that his feelings were reciprocated. But gradually he’d come to accept that the romantic feelings of the early relationship had run their course and given way to a deeper underlying friendship marked by respect and admiration on both sides. Although he knew that part of him would always love her in a gentle, undemanding way, he wished their relationship could be more.
Bethan parked the unmarked police car on a side street and they walked across the cobblestoned town square. The black wrought iron gate that separated the path leading to the Spa from the pavement squeaked in protest as Davies pushed it open. “Every time I come here I tell myself we need to put some oil on that thing,” he remarked as he held the gate open.
“Do Penny and Victoria not have a handyman to take care of things like this?” Bethan asked as she passed through.
“Only me as far as I know, and based on results I’m not really up to the job, am I?” He closed the gate behind them and they made their way up the path.
The door opened and Penny smiled as she held it open for them. And his heart felt a little lighter and fuller.
* * *
Penny was glad to see him. She’d always liked and respected this handsome police officer and for a brief time those feelings had teetered on the brink of becoming something more, something deeper. And then, as sometimes happens, the romance had stalled and on her part, flamed out. Whatever it takes to turn feelings of friendship into romantic love just wasn’t there and she wasn’t the kind of woman who could pretend to feel something she didn’t. She’d agonized over her feelings, but in the end, stayed true to herself. You don’t want to marry someone if you have to talk yourself into it, she told herself. She had been honest with him and hoped he didn’t feel she’d messed him about.
She handed over the brown envelope Glenda had dropped off the day before. “There was just sheet music in it,” she said. “Victoria asked if you could return it to her as soon as possible because she needs it for the concert.”
Bethan tucked the envelope under her arm and took out her notebook.
“How did Glenda seem?” asked Bethan. “Agitated, upset?”
Penny gave a little shrug. “No, she seemed fine. Normal.”
Bethan asked her what time Glenda had left and if she’d said anything Penny found unusual or interesting.
“Not really. Said she had a couple more places to go and errands to run. I think she was dropping off those envelopes for other performers.”
“Right, well, get in touch if you think of anything else,” Davies said, with a knowing look. “Or if you hear anything else. Or think of anything else that might help us.”
“I will. What happens next?”
“We’ll pursue the usual lines of inquiry. Talk to people, check out CCTV footage, look at her phone records—the usual things. I have a feeling that our killer was either very lucky or very clever.”
“Or,” said Penny, “maybe a bit of both.”