the answer to our serial arsonist. I need you to make the identification.”
Short, sweet, and to the point, Evan thought. At least now he had his excuse to drive down to HQ. It was strange, but he’d pushed the whole arson aspect of the case aside the moment they started to focus on Madame Yvette and the murder. Obviously there was still a serial arsonist out there, even if he might not have torched the restaurant. Evan wondered if it would turn out to be the Meibion Gywnedd extremists who were responsible for the fires after all. It would be nice to solve at least one aspect of this case.
Chapter 20
As luck would have it, Evan literally bumped into P.C. Davies as he came through the swing doors.
Oh, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed as she staggered backward, then realized whom he was steadying and felt doubly stupid.
“Oh, Constable Evans, it’s you,” she said, not looking at all flustered. “Welcome back. How was Paris?”
“All I saw was one street, one metro station, and a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower,” Evan answered.
“Too bad. And too bad that the Frenchwoman got away after all your efforts. I bet you were amazed when you found out she wasn’t the real Madame Yvette, weren’t you? The D.I. couldn’t believe it when he heard.”
“I still haven’t got the whole thing straight,” Evan said. “It got more complicated by the minute. And now that Janine’s disappeared I wonder if we’ll ever know the truth. By the way, thanks for keeping me updated on the murder weapon.”
“I thought you’d like to know and I didn’t imagine anyone else here would remember to tell you,” she said, glancing around with a guilty smile. “I’m escaping to get my coffee fix again. I don’t suppose you’ve got time to join me?”
“I’ve been summoned to the presence of Sergeant Potter,” Evan said.
“That awful Englishman? Talk about God’s gift to the world of forensics!” She grinned. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it,” Evan said.
“I’ll bring you back an espresso if you like. I think strong coffee is in order after you’ve been in with him.”
“Thanks, Glynis,” he said. She really was very nice, as well as being pretty and clever. Close to perfect, actually. He still couldn’t tell whether she really did fancy him, or if she was just friendly to everyone. Better to keep it strictly on a professional level, just in case, he reminded himself. No more calling her by her first name . . .
“Only don’t let on to Sergeant Potter that I’m bringing you back a coffee,” she murmured, leaning close enough to him that he got a whiff of a very nice spicy perfume. “He asked me to get him a cup of tea the other day and I told him not to expect maid service just because I was a woman.”
Evan laughed. “I’ll remember. So what’s the latest on the murder weapon—did they find any prints?”
“Yes, two sets. One belonging to Madame Yvette, or whatever her real name is—which makes sense because it was her biggest kitchen knife, but a thumbprint that doesn’t belong to her. And it doesn’t match any print that we’ve looked at so far.
“Man’s or woman’s? Can they tell?”
“It was bigger than hers but not necessarily a man’s. I’ll keep you posted if I hear any more, okay?”
He nodded. “Brilliant.”
“Although her sudden disappearance must point to her guilt, don’t you think?” Glynis asked. “You don’t run away if you’ve got nothing to hide.” She looked up at him. “Do you think they’ll ever catch her?”
“I hope so, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“I wonder who tipped her off that you’d gone to France and were checking into her background?”
Evan smiled. “You don’t know how the local bush telegraph works in places like Llanfair. It would have been around the whole district in seconds.”
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, trying to work in a little village like that?” she asked. “Why don’t you ask for a transfer to headquarters?”
“I’m sort of used to it now,” Evan said. “It’s my own little niche up there.”
“You’re too young to get stuck in a rut, Constable Evans,” she said. “It’s about time you thought about getting ahead.” Then she realized what she had said and blushed. “I’ll bring you back that coffee.”
Evan went in search of Sergeant Watkins but couldn’t find him. The D.I. was out, too. He was met with blank faces when he inquired where everyone might be, which must mean that Operation Armada was in full