Murder In The Academy : A chilling murder mystery set in Belfast (Alice Fox Murder Mysteries Book 1)

by Maggie Feeley

  “Please come in. Mrs Breen is in the living room, reading the morning paper,” said Lisa, in the noticeable Belfast accent that suggested she had been there for a good many years.

  She directed the constable into a large, comfortably furnished room off the hall which was bright, impeccably tidy and with just a hint of furniture polish hanging in the air.

  An elderly woman sat in a winged armchair near French windows that opened onto a well-tended garden. A mobility aid sat to the right of her chair, ready to be deployed if need be. She was reading the local daily paper with glasses that sat halfway down her nose and peered over the top of them as her carer entered.

  “Mrs Breen, you have a caller,” announced Lisa and turned to the policewoman. “Would you like some tea?”

  Before the woman could answer, Mrs Breen said, “Yes, Lisa. A pot of tea and some biscuits, please.” Then, as Lisa withdrew, she turned her attention to the policewoman who stood facing her. “I suppose it’s about the parking, is it?”

  There had been issues on the road between neighbours in dispute about parking access and the local police had been involved in mediating. Mrs Breen enjoyed the chance to gain a little local gossip. She was almost entirely housebound now but relished the fact that others were in a conflict that had required police intervention on several occasions in the past.

  “I am Constable Sandra Woods, Mrs Breen, and I am a Family Liaison Officer from Grosvenor Road Barracks.” She extended her hand to Agatha Breen who was clearly welcoming the distraction her visit provided. Sandra sat at the end of the sofa nearest to Mrs Breen’s armchair and decided to wait until the carer was back in the room before she delivered her difficult news.

  “Are you living alone here, Mrs Breen?” she asked, beginning the process of gathering as much background as she could for the investigation team.

  The elderly woman did not seem opposed to entering into what she saw as a friendly chat. Nor did she show any sign that she feared any possible unpleasant purpose behind the policewoman’s presence.

  “Well, my husband died over twenty-five years ago,” she began. “He ran a large refrigeration company and had a major heart attack one day. It was after completing a very substantial business deal that would have further increased the size of the company’s dealings. Sadly none of the three children were interested in taking over and it was sold.” This was articulated without any significant feeling as if the events were of no particular emotional consequence to the speaker. It was not unusual for elderly people to become very upset when recounting difficult events in the past, but Mrs Breen remained matter-of-fact in her tone.

  Sandra noted the irony of the nature of the family business and the location of Dr Helen Breen’s remains. She wondered if there might be some connection to a past family issue or if it were just a bizarre coincidence.

  “I have three adult children,” Agatha continued her dispassionate account. “Frank has been in Australia for a long time now. Michael is in the import and retail business here in Belfast and my daughter, Helen, is a legal academic who works in the Belfast City College. They are all quite successful in their chosen careers but that keeps them busy and I don’t see too much of them.” She paused as if considering this reality but again there was neither criticism nor recrimination in her voice.

  Sandra wondered if Mrs Breen’s apparent coldness was a personality feature or if her disassociation from her family members was a form of protection developed because of their absence from her life.

  Lisa reappeared, carrying a tray, and proceeded to arrange the contents on a coffee table. When the tea was served and biscuits distributed, Lisa made as if to leave the room.

  “Actually I’d prefer if your carer stayed with us, Mrs Breen.” Sandra motioned for Lisa to sit beside her and made eye contact with Mrs Breen. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news to tell you.” She paused to let the message sink in.

  The elderly woman returned her gaze and for the first time showed a flash of alarm. The Filipino woman inhaled sharply.

  “Mrs Breen, I am sorry to have to tell you that we have found the remains of a body in suspicious circumstances in the Belfast City College. Professor Bell, from your daughter’s place of work, last night identified the remains as those of Dr Helen Breen, your daughter.”

  The woman’s hand went to her chest and her carer went to her side. Both women looked bewildered as if they had accidentally stumbled into unfamiliar surroundings without knowing how they had got there. Lisa took her employer’s hand and stroked it. It was clear from Mrs Breen’s surprised expression that this degree of intimacy was unusual in their relationship but she did not reject the act of kindness. She dropped her carefully honed dispassionate exterior and allowed the horror to register on her lined face.

  Sandra allowed some time to elapse before adding, “I recognise that this is shocking news for you to receive, Mrs Breen, and I want you to know that I will stay with you and help you cope with this dreadful situation as best I can.”

  “I did wonder if something was wrong when she didn’t call for her post before the start of the new term.” Mrs Breen’s voice was barely audible, as if she was speaking to herself alone. “Lisa, you must phone Michael. Sometimes I need my family even if they no longer need me.”

  Lisa looked questioningly at Sandra as if the locus of power in the room had altered suddenly. Sandra nodded assent and turned her attention to Mrs Breen.

  Lisa left to make the phonecall from the landline in the hallway.

  “Would you like to have a visit from your doctor, ma’am? He may prescribe something to help you deal with this most awful shock.”

  “Thank you, Constable, but I will self-prescribe a stiff brandy if need be. I am more resilient than I look.”

  There was a moment’s silence, which Sandra was happy to leave uninterrupted. She found that people opened up more when not put under pressure to do so.

  Eventually Mrs Breen let out a lengthy sigh. “Poor Helen,” she said quietly. “She was a teenager when her father died and she never really ever forgave him for abandoning her. She and I were never close and she just used the house here as a poste restante really. Lisa took occasional telephone messages for her from work and she called on Sundays to collect any mail that was here.” She was silent again for a while. “I never really understood why her own address was a secret from those at work but I didn’t ask either.”

  Sandra was making mental notes of all these revelations and would take the chance to write them down as soon as there was a moment.

  Lisa returned and said that Michael was on his way. Mrs Breen made a disgruntled noise but said nothing.

  Sandra waited and observed.

  17

  In the basement of Grosvenor Road Barracks, DS William Burrows waited patiently for the autopsy scheduled for nine to begin. It was already nine thirty but Cynthia Boylan was known for being a little flexible about time schedules. Just as Burrows was thinking he’d be better making his way to join the others at the Titanic Quarter she breezed in, whistling melodically.

  “I know I’m a tad later than we planned, Bill, but I promise I’ll be speedy with my slicing and dicing and you’ll be away before you know it.”

  Burrow’s experience of pathologists was that they were pretty callous in their manner of describing the nature of their work at the same time as being respectful of their subjects and meticulously objective in the quality of what they did. Maybe the cavalier talk was part of how they managed to do a job that was unthinkable for most people, without becoming emotionally drawn into the minutiae of each case. The police used similar defence mechanisms at times but they did not connote any lack of care about the work. He knew there was no offence intended by Cynthia Boylan’s culinary references.

  Within five minutes the pathologist was in her disposable paper jumpsuit and matching hairnet. She was equipped with a headset linked to a recording system that would ensure the entire process was captured in all its detail. Her young assi
stant pushed in a trolley bearing the remains of Dr Helen Breen and steered it into position beneath the tracks of strong lights that delineated a workspace. Then he applied the locking system. Since the identification of the remains the previous evening, the assistant had done the preliminary work of photographing, weighing and measuring the body. Clothing, jewellery and other personal effects had been removed, logged and packaged for safe storage. All the data would be centrally stored and available to the detectives online with the appropriate access codes.

  DS Burrows was well used to being present at autopsies and had hardened himself to the whole procedure. With older remains like these, he wore a facemask imbued with lavender essential oils and positioned himself off to the side of the workstation where his view was sufficiently interrupted to spare him the most graphic details. Cynthia’s commentary was enough to keep him abreast of all the salient facts and his presence allowed him to ask questions that the DI would expect answers to when he returned.

  “We are looking at the remains of a white female in her late thirties, early forties. The hair is black and shoulder-length, showing minimal greying and evidence of traumatic disturbance and forced removal of several patches of hair at the roots. This is congruent with brutal handling of the hair and the head both prior to and probably after death. The eyes are green and there are no significant birthmarks, tattoos or other markings.” Cynthia had become totally immersed in her task and her concentration was absolute.

  Burrows found from experience that her voice took on a kind of chanting quality as she systematically worked through her fairly fixed agenda. Of course she assiduously followed new tangents as they occurred, but her process was routinely guided by the task of examining, dissecting and reconstructing the body of someone whose death poses questions that demand answers.

  “Let’s look at external evidence first. We know, without here delineating the pathological evidence, that the body has been frozen for a period of time and then defrosted as a result of the protracted power failure occasioned by the recent storm. We can see, and smell too, that the flesh had already begun to decompose prior to freezing.”

  “Can we gauge a time of death at all?”

  “Sorry, no miracles available this time, Bill. We can set down a number of facts that may eventually allow you to make educated guesses. For example, we can say that before freezing, bodily fluids had released as would be expected and the immediate signs suggest that death occurred between twenty-four and forty-eight hours before decomposition was arrested due to freezing. It takes a body considerable time to freeze so that needs to be taken into account. I will include all those hard sums in my written report.”

  “That’s helpful, thank you.” He made hurried notes as the process continued.

  “Again prior to freezing, but some time after decomposition had already begun, the head was enveloped in a number of layers of plastic sheeting, secured with sellotape. This was certainly due to the extreme, and rather messy damage caused to the back of the head through substantial penetrating trauma. Moving the body from the place of death would have required quite some clean-up. Cause of death was the penetrating trauma that led to cerebral oedema, which in turn led to catastrophic brain impairment and loss of life. When we get to the internal exam, the brain will reveal more of the detail of that sad story.” She broke off from her perusal of the body and looked at Burrows for the first time since the postmortem examination had begun. “There is no evidence of resistance or struggle on the part of the victim. Let’s put it this way, Bill. This was a surprise attack but not an accident. The force needed to cause the death of this woman was far exceeded. In fact, we can say that the trauma-inducing actions were continued well after death had already occurred. There are conclusions to be drawn from that fact.”

  “Any chance of anything useful surviving the period of freezing? Like might we get prints from the tape or the bags used on the head?” Bill Burrows was ever hopeful.

  “Some latent prints can survive freezing or being submerged in water over a period of time but I wouldn’t hold out any hope here, Bill. In his preliminaries, George has already established that the perp or perps were equipped with gloves, at least by the time the head wrapping was being done. The materials used were standard issue in most institutions so nothing particular there but, of course, we will be ever watchful. We know that black plastic bin bags have identifiable individual markings but they will only allow you to pinpoint the supplier and that won’t be of much use to you. One company probably supplies every educational establishment in the country. Now, where was I?”

  She returned to her task with the usual total focus. Every so often she asked George to photograph something for inclusion in the file that might help the investigation. There was no sign of sexual assault or indeed any interference with the body other than the ravages visited to the back of the head. The body was turned over, this back view revealing the extent of the fatal damage to the skull, the brain and the spinal column.

  Cynthia intoned onwards: “The skull is fractured in multiple places and all of the internal protective sub-cranial layers have been breached. Shattered fragments of the skull bone have ruptured all three meninges, that is the cushioning layers between the skull and the brain itself. There will have been bleeding and grey and white matter at the scene and probably on the clothing of the person inflicting the injury. In order to muster the pressure to cause such injuries they must of necessity have been in close proximity to the body. Close enough for it to get very unpleasant.”

  Burrows inquired as to the possible means of inflicting these injuries.

  Cynthia puckered her mouth, inhaled and exhaled deeply through her nose. “The level and concentration of damage to the bone suggests that the head was repeatedly brought into contact with a smooth, hard surface. There was extreme focus and control exercised to repeatedly target the same point on the skull with such precision. These are not randomly positioned injuries that would result from aiming a weapon at the skull. It would be unlikely to have such a precise intensity of damage in the one area. I will know better when I have the brain extracted and can see the exact nature and shape of the damage. For now I am thinking that the head has been the moving part in this attack. The head has been smashed against a hard, fixed surface and with relentless brutality. The pattern of shattering of the bone indicates a smooth rather than a sharp façade.”

  After the external examination was complete and the remains returned to a supine position, Boylan slipped a headrest under the mid-shoulder area of Helen Breen’s waxy, discoloured body. This caused the upper part of the corpse to tip backwards with the chest area slightly elevated. From this position, she made a Y-shaped incision beginning from each shoulder to the sternum and from the apex of that point vertically to the pubic bone. In this way the body could be opened to reveal any evidence inside. In fact, in this case, there was little to be gleaned from the study of the internal organs. It was when the body was once again turned over and the brain was the focus of attention that things became really interesting. The rear and top of the skull had suffered the brunt of the attack with other aspects of the autopsy only seeming relevant when it came to trying to establish time of death.

  When the brain was removed Cynthia held it aloft on the palm of her hand. “Look at this pattern of impact, Bill! Here’s one favour the freezing process has done you!”

  The marking on the brain itself had been preserved through the freezing process and confirmed that the repeated and frenzied contact was with an unyielding, curved surface.

  “If, as I suspect,” continued Cynthia, “the head was controlled by the assailant and battered repeatedly against the solid surface, then that required a certain amount of strength and stamina. Mind you, the adrenalin that rage pumped through the system would have fuelled both. I can’t make any assertions about gender because, frankly, it could have been anyone with some knowledge of head injuries and a reasonable amount of energy and muscle development.”

&nb
sp; With the promise of Cynthia’s completed report by the end of the day, Burrows left the pathology section and headed straight to the College to join in the process of interviewing the staff there.

  On the way, he called Sandra Woods from the car and arranged to contact her later when she was free to talk. She indicated that she had already made some progress that would be useful to them. Burrows relished the sense of momentum at the outset of an enquiry when all systems were on go and he was at the heart of it.

  18

  Those listening to the mid-morning news would have heard a short item that announced that the PSNI were beginning an investigation into the circumstances surrounding the discovery of some human remains in suspicious circumstances in the Titanic Quarter. In the maintenance section of the Belfast City College and the Marine Biology Department, where Caroline Paton and Ian McVeigh had already begun their questioning, this caused less surprise than in other quarters.

  On the fifth floor of the Human Science’s Campus of Belfast City College, the staff of DePRec gathered as instructed in the Staff Common Room at eleven o’clock. Alice had gone in a little ahead of time and taken an empty seat in the corner with a wide view of the room. She was interested in seeing the impact of Bell’s announcement on all those present and on some in particular. Most had armed themselves with a cup of tea or coffee and were already seated, chatting vigorously, when Jackson Bell entered the room. His demeanor was even more serious than usual. The Head of Faculty, Janet Hartnett, took up a position slightly behind the departmental leader. With her advance indication of the purpose of the gathering, Alice remarked that Hartnett’s face was set in a perfect blend of concern and composure. She was skilled at presenting the appropriate public demeanour and her background in working with those in the caring professions clearly had contributed to this. At the last moment, Mairéad Walsh’s admin team and the IT technicians slipped through the door and stood somewhat timidly just inside. Mairéad Walsh herself was not present but, as Alice had observed, she was covering the administrative office next door where Caroline Paton and Ian McVeigh were waiting for Professor Bell’s signal to join the meeting. This unusually comprehensive staff attendance caused those waiting to speculate even more widely about what was to come. Without being asked, they came naturally to order as soon as the Common Room Door was closed. All eyes were fixed on the DePRec head.