by Dave Duggan
Tony continued.
‘We’re wrapping up. Get Amy all documented. Get the gear broken down and get on the road. We’re in last and out first, if we can manage it.’
The sound of squeaky rubber and metal wheels and the thump of feet coming down the tarmac walkway made us turn around. Four uniforms pushed a metal bier on which a body bag lay strapped. Beside them, a small man in a white suit, carrying a medical satchel and speaking rapidly into a phone, trotted to keep up. Then the crowd began, led by top brass. Very clearly one step ahead of everyone else strode the Chief Constable, Elaine Caldwell, looking stern yet relaxed, sunlight glinting off the single diamond stud in her left ear-lobe, her signature accessory. Behind her stepped Hammy and other senior officers from our division. That’s why we were all out. Elaine Caldwell, the Chief Constable, always draws a crowd.
The bier stopped directly across from me and the WART team. Camera flashes began to pop and glow from the area taped off for the media. A press liaison officer, with a clipboard and a head-set, began to stage-manage the scene, moving people and the bier around until the Chief Constable was perfectly placed under the TV lights, within easy touching distance of the body bag. After some jostling and gentle elbowing, Hammy was at her right shoulder. I hoped, for his sake, that he was well in shot. There was one time when only his left shoulder appeared in a press photo and he huffed about the office for three days. Sharon, grinning, said that was his cold shoulder.
‘Ocelot,’ Tony said.
‘Ocelot?’
‘Yip. Leopardus Paradis. The dwarf leopard. Mainly South America. If you live in this country and have a few bob about ye, well then, you have to flash it.’
‘So you collect wild animals.’
‘Or cars. I’d collect cars.’
‘I thought you were all into animals.’
‘I am, but that’s work. Give me a vintage Beetle over an ocelot any day. She’s almost tame. Been around humans a good deal. Probably reared in captivity and sold by an on-line dealer.’
I looked at the bier where I could see the head of the big cat, nestling under heavy tarpaulin. Her eyes were closed. Not a whisker twitched. Her face was as serene as a seal with a belly full of mackerel.
‘Been sighted in the park three or four times now. So they called us in. We nearly had her in a net. Tempted her with a nice juicy lump of lamb. But she wasn’t that hungry, so we geared up Amy and the “have-a-nice-sleep” shot. Phzzzt! She’ll wake up in a couple of hours and the vets will check her over. Time we were gone, Slevin.’
Then he called out.
‘Mount up team. Show’s over.’
The WART crew finished stowing their gear and began climbing into their vehicle. Amy opened the passenger side door and, with a neat two-step climbed in, all the while looking straight at me. I felt her green eyes sum me up, as if I was a prey she was intent on putting to sleep.
‘Do you know who owns the cat?’ I asked Tony.
‘My guess? Local. Maybe in one of the big houses up there,’ Tony said, gesturing to the banking above us, where apartment low-rises bounded large single houses on extensive grounds.
‘We reckon it came and went for a few days. Found a hole in a fence and used the park as a runabout. Your uniforms are on the house-to-house now.’
‘Are they not registered, these things?’
‘Heh, Slevin, are you a cop or a buck-eejit or what? Some are. Some not. This one has dog-tags. Like a marine, if you don’t mind.’
He pulled out his phone, went to photos, flicked his thumb along, pinched-out to focus and enlarge and showed me a rectangular metal name-tag with the word ‘Pangur’ over a phone number.
‘The phone number didn’t work. See there. Up in the corner. Sort of an insignia. Looks like a crouched skeleton, under what, acorns? The skeleton is holding a small cross. See?’
‘Can you zoom in some more?’
Then I could see it clearly. De Burgo’s skeleton, from the city crest, sitting on a stone, holding a small cross, his head bent under a halo of acorns and oak leaves.
‘Send me that. No, not the whole picture. Just the skeleton bit.’
I sent him my number and he replied with the image.
‘You collecting historical pictures now, Slevin? Always the dark one. Even in the Police College. No one knew if you were really in it or just a plant. A kind of sleeper.’
‘Like the ocelot, is it?’
‘Too cute for me, boy. Too cute for me. Here, good to see you. Look after yourself. Don’t let the bad boys get to you now.’
He climbed in beside Amy Miller. The van started up immediately and, with low steady revs, the driver reversed it one hundred metres further along the walkway. Everyone at the press conference turned to look and all they saw was me, a lithe man in a suede jacket, squinting in the sunlight, against a backdrop of tall reeds, whispering secrets to each other in the breeze. Surely not a policeman? More an extra in a film, wondering where the tea and sandwiches were. But I didn’t care, because not only had Tony White given me a hint of a lead, he also gave me a ‘thumbs up’ as the van reversed past me. And Amy Miller, knees tucked to her chin beside him, gave me a delicate wave and enough of a smile to know that I could seek her out. Safari-wise.
THREE
A short while later, the press conference began to break up and Hammy approached me.
‘Trust you to upstage the CC.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The bloody WART wagon whizzing off like a...’
‘Exactly. The WART Wagon. Take it up with them.’
Then we both laughed. Hammy pushed his closed fist into his mouth to stop himself from repeating ‘WART’ in a child’s voice, just ahead of the arrival of the Chief Constable and two of her aides.
‘Great to see my officers enjoying their work.’
‘Ma’am, … yes, that’s right, Ma’am. Excellent,’ said Hammy, composing himself. ‘The Chief Constable is keen to meet you, Slevin. Chief Constable, this is Detective Sergeant Slevin.’
‘Delighted to meet you, DS Slevin.’
Slighter taller than me, with the aura of a lean cat used to leading from the front and claiming new territory first, Elaine Caldwell stepped closer to me, took my hand and pressed it firmly. I sensed my palm filming with a delicate cream, which carried a hint of lavender when I later put it to my lips.
‘I understand from Detective Inspector Hamilton that you have settled in well.’
‘Yes, Ma’am, I have. The Detective Inspector and all his senior management team have been very supportive.’
‘And what are you working on now, may I ask?’
Hammy jumped in.
‘We tend to work across cases, Ma’am. In a collegiate-style. Slevin is currently part of a cross-disciplinary investigation, bearing down on...’
‘Something specific, Slevin. What’s your focus?’
‘There was a footballer shot in the back of the head. Todd Anderson. I’m working on that.’
‘Good luck. And remember, like footballers, we’re in the results business.’
She then stepped even closer to me, so that I had a clear view of her diamond ear-stud, sparkling grandly in the afternoon sunlight. She took my elbow and steered me round so that we were side-on to the remnants of the media pack. She clasped my hand once more. Two or three cameras flashed and that’s how a photograph of detective and political ex-prisoner Edmund Slevin, shaking hands with the Chief Constable of PS(N), appeared in the local press and the Belfast Telegraph. It even made it into the Irish Times in a side-bar story on the capture of the big cat of St. Columb’s Park. Hammy’s shoulder, or any other part of him, did not feature in newsprint or on-line anywhere.
The Chief Constable departed with her aides, chased by a keen photographer capturing a few last shots. Hammy barked at me.
‘You drive
back. I want you in the front.’
We walked towards the vehicles which were shunting, reversing, pirouetting and moving off in a dumb show of hand signals and up-turned thumbs. A white veterinary ambulance led the posse up the hill between the apartment blocks. I quietly wished the ocelot well and wondered if Amy Miller might be doing the same in the front seat of the WART personnel carrier, her feet on the dashboard, her chin on her knees, her eyes closed under downy lids.
When we reached Hammy’s saloon, Hetherington was standing beside it. A thumb-jerk from our boss took him by surprise and into the back-seat. He tossed me the keys and I got in to the driver’s seat. I pulled the visor down against the late afternoon sunlight. As I drove away from the river, I looked to my right to view the bigger houses climbing up the slope. Up where the ocelot lives, I was sure. And the owner. The uniforms would find him soon enough. Maybe they’d also find out why the ocelot had the skeleton image on its ID necklace. The same image as on Dalzell’s business card.
As soon as we breasted the rise and faced onto the roundabout Hammy said,
‘Drive up by the hospital. I want to go the long way round. Through the town.’
I drove on to the roundabout and exited up Crescent Link. Hammy revved up with the engine.
‘I’m putting Hetherington with you, Slevin. You heard the Chief Constable. We want a result. A tight team can do it. Stick on the Anderson case. Focus, Slevin, that’s what this needs. They’re all out there, waiting to have a pot at us. And we won’t let them. Dodge the bullets, Slevin, that’s the man. You know that.’
Whatever colourful images Hammy had of my days in the war against the state, I wasn’t going to disabuse him of notions he might have of derring-do and gun-fights. I had no intention of boring him with tales of waiting around, late night arms’ moves and the occasional burst of war activity more akin to a deadly circus than to military strategy. But I was focused. Then, as now.
‘The Anderson case has something, Slevin. The CC asked directly about it.’
That’s why he introduced me to her. Put a warm body in front of her to show he was doing something about it.
‘And she wants to be kept fully briefed. Leave that to me. I told her we use you on these special cases. Your background. Local connections. Penetration.’
Hetherington almost sniggered, but managed to stifle it. I gave him a single finger in the rear view mirror and I saw him smile. It mightn’t be too bad to have him as an assistant. Hammy stared out of the window and witnessed none of this. He spoke again, more to his reflection in the window, than to his junior colleagues in the car.
‘One thing you learn in this job is that it’s all about survival. Not about dreams or aspirations. She might think it’s about results. That’s part of it, sure. But you can have all the best results in the world and still get nowhere.’
We arrived at the hospital roundabout and stalled as traffic came from our right, leaving the city.
‘Go straight on,’ said Hammy. ‘I want to see how the streets look today. You take Hetherington with you everywhere you go, Slevin. You’ll need back-up. And another set of eyes and ears. Use him. Lapdog him.’
I threw a mock salute and said ‘Yes, sir.’ Hetherington grinned. Hammy continued staring out of the window.
‘The days of the solo run are over, Slevin. It’s all cogs-in-a-wheel now. One of a team. If you’re not a team player, you’re a goner. What have you got so far?’
‘I’m finishing an update. I’ll have it on your desk tomorrow.’
‘Give it to me now. The bones of it. And you’ll be bringing Kenneth up to speed too.’
He sat back in the car seat and stared out the front windscreen. I saw his heavy jowls reflected in the glass. There was no levity there. I launched in.
‘Detective Inspector Omar Hamilton requested I review the first interviews made by Detective Sergeants Goss and Doherty of Denis Green, chair of …’
‘Spare us the bureaucratese, Slevin. I’ll skip that tomorrow. And today. Get to the flesh of it. Trim the fat.’
‘I read Goss and Doherty’s notes. I went to Denis Green’s office. I don’t need to tell you, sir, that they weren’t very happy that I was going over ground they had already covered.’
‘But you finessed – or bashed – your way past that. No doubt. Go on.’
‘Green told me Todd Anderson was a capable young professional whose death was a significant loss to the club. He offered no conjecture as to who might have killed him and why. Anderson was well-liked, well-mannered, well-groomed and well-got by everyone at the club. Scoring average per game 0.7. That was in Goss and Doherty’s report. They both fancy Argentina for the World Cup.’
‘That’s who Goss pulled in the draw. Doherty got Palestine, good luck to them. Did Green offer you anything new?’
The roundabout cleared and I moved into the traffic lane heading straight ahead. Here’s where I took a plunge I would not have taken in times past. My background was in a secret army. You tell nobody nothing. Not even yourself, to some degree. No amount of re-training at Police College could completely over-ride such a grounding in the clenched-teeth arts. But I decided to air this nugget of knowledge because I wanted to retain others.
‘Green asked about boot marks on the victim’s neck.’
Hammy turned towards me.
‘He knew about those?’
‘More than me.’
‘Karen Lavery not keeping you up to speed these days?’
A smirk widened on Hetherington’s face in the rear view mirror. I flashed a hard look at him and the smirk withered.
‘I had a preliminary report from Forensics about a football boot pattern. I’m waiting for the full report.’
‘Aren’t we all? Did Green offer any opinion as to how these marks came to be there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘But he knew about them?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Probably heard it from the groundsman who found the body. I see you’ve reverted to huffy-kid mode, Slevin. You’re too old for that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Hammy raised an eyebrow at me. I met his gaze and we both laughed. When Hetherington attempted to titter in harmony, Hammy stared him down and he shut up.
‘OK. That’s a bit of news, right enough. Good. People say a police service is a fortress, a citadel, a haven, a maze of intelligence, a keep, a castle, a battery of power and diligence. In reality, a police service is a sieve, with very fine openings. Something like your own former institution, The Irish Republican Army, mark five or six, was it? Anyways, information comes in and we solve crimes. There’s always the odd one … Some of the information leaks out. We can never completely stop that. But we do need to know where the specific holes are. That’s why I’m giving you Hetherington. Another pair of eyes, ears and legs. He may even have a heart and, with any luck, a brain.’
Hetherington wisely didn’t even attempt a laugh.
‘And I’m going to give you both the Todd Anderson case.’
‘But Goss and Doherty …’
‘… have been instructed to pass on the Murder Book and all other files and all their notes.’
Hetherington piped up in an excited voice, pulling his phone from his pocket.
‘The digital version?’
‘All forms,’ said Hammy. ‘Slevin is still a bit old school when it comes to files. Turn right here. Through the Irish Street Estate.’
I had to stand on the brake to make the turn, but, thankfully, no one was behind us.
‘This is where I grew up. But you fellas probably know that from hours poring over my write-ups in the police glossies. “Man of the streets, raised in the loyalist heartland; doyen of the local community.” Waffle, pish and shite. But I did run about here. Dreams are shaped on streets like these. My two best mates are from here. Lesley’s in London.
Vernon’s in New York.’
‘You stayed, sir.’
Hetherington was more foolish than I thought. Or more daring.
‘I stayed. Dreams become reality. I stayed to serve. Remember that. We – you – are here to serve.’
We left the estate and rejoined the main road to the city centre and the police barracks.
‘Straight back, sir?’
‘Yes, Slevin. Straight back. Upright stance at all times. Shoulders; squared and pressed backwards. Chin; clean-shaven, out and up. Eyes; forward. Tread; honest and forthright. Get stuck into the Anderson murder book, when you get back. Hetherington, move your desk nearer his. Anyone quibbles, refer them to me. Report to me only. Not to the room. We’ll bring in the squad when we have something. When we need them. Anything more, Slevin?’
‘No, sir.’
I didn’t tell him about the meeting with Dalzell. Or about the message from IS. I needed to keep some cards turned face down for a while longer.
‘Do me one page on your interview with Green. Leave out the marks on the victim’s neck. Let them come in the forensic report. Get a copy to me and put a copy on file. Hard and digital.’
The rest of the journey continued in silence. When we breezed through the automatic gates, Hammy said to drop him at the main entrance and I took the saloon into the parking area. I buttoned the handbrake and turned to face Hetherington.
There was the frisky fight-not-flight look of a startled hare in his eyes and a firm set to his shoulders, the right one angled towards me. He would be hard to budge.
‘You don’t want to work with me, Kenneth,’ I began. ‘I’m tainted. Wouldn’t be good for your career.’
‘You heard the Inspector. We’re here to serve.’
I began to get out of the car, but stopped as he continued.
