“I’m serious! She has a mean right hook.” He paused for a moment, regrouping. “OK, how’s this for a suggestion? I’ll take a quick trip to Derry on the pretext of Mike needing a consult, so I can really assess the Italian stallion’s state, and how much longer he’s likely to be up there. I’ll let you know what I find. Then, when we get some time over Christmas we’ll try talking to him, separately or together, I don’t mind. He might ignore one of us but not both. He needs to acknowledge that there’s a real problem, before his team get fed up and resign, or…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew Craig’s propensity for self-destruction far outweighed the likelihood that he would ever hurt someone else.
****
Craig’s meeting with Sean Flanagan was painless; all he’d wanted was an update, not answers. Yet. The pressure would start when the Christmas headlines loomed large. Flanagan had even offered him a whisky, citing not medicinal reasons but seasonal bonhomie. It wasn’t a sentiment Craig could share with two murders still to solve.
The drive back to Derry wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, either. The snow had turned to slush beneath the grit from the council lorries, and a wariness of ice had kept the side roads clear of all but the fearless and there weren’t too many of those.
He was left alone with his thoughts for thirty miles. He stared at the slumbering countryside, thinking of spring when the fields would be filled with plants and noise. Where would he be then; where would any of them be? He shook his head at his morbid thoughts in what had always been his favourite time of year and forced himself to focus on the case.
Had Diana Bwye been having an affair with Joshua Kelly? And if she had what could it possibly have had to do with her own or her husband’s death? He corrected himself. Her affair could have had everything to do with Oliver Bwye’s death, but for her to die as well seemed odd if it had. Could her lover have killed them both? But why? What possible benefit would anyone have got from her dying? He shook his head hard as if shaking it would knock the ill-fitting pieces into place, but it was no use, he needed to start the jigsaw again.
Diana Bwye and her husband were both dead. Diana shot dead and Bwye so injured that he couldn’t have fought back and was drowned in concrete. The attack was well planned; a van with facilities that enabled a large man to be loaded onto it and covered in the concrete that had caused his final demise. OK, so it was planned. Craig thumped the steering wheel in irritation; it changed to surprise when he realised something else. Of course it had been planned, but not only the abduction. The boat might have been a contingency, used to dump the bodies in panic, or perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps the plan had always been to dump the bodies in the lake. Take the Bwyes from the house to the van and then the boat, deposit them in a watery grave and drive away.
But why bother? Why not just kill them in the house and leave the bodies where they’d dropped; it would make sense, even if a stranger had killed them. Unless. Unless they hadn’t wanted someone whom the Bwyes knew to see the bodies, or someone had specifically wanted the police to think it was a stranger attack.
He mulled over the first option; they hadn’t wanted anyone who knew the Bwyes to see them dead. Did they have a considerate killer, concerned with Jane Bwye’s or the staffs’ sensitivities? Someone who knew the family or someone in the family? It led him back to the deaths being organised by Oliver Bwye and him worrying about his daughter’s feelings.
Craig shook his head. No. By all reports Oliver Bwye was a selfish bastard who’d cared too much for himself to end even his terminal life, not the sort of man to give a damn what the discovery of his body would do to his child. That left Diana Bwye. She would have cared about Jane’s feelings, so she definitely wouldn’t want her to have found their dead bodies in the study. Had Diana organised her own death and that of her husband, then arranged for them to be disposed of in the lake? If she had then why? Craig half shook his head at the idea, but only half. Something prevented him from dismissing it completely.
He turned to the second option; someone had specifically wanted the police to think that it was a stranger attack. It led him back to the first option but with an additional strand. Richard McCann. Had Richard McCann killed his abusive father-in-law in a deliberately convoluted way so that his young wife would never find out? But why kill his mother-in-law as well? By all accounts he’d liked her. Unless Diana Bwye had simply been collateral damage, the unlucky wrong person in the wrong place.
Craig ran the possible scenario. Diana had cancelled going to a charity meeting that evening, a meeting that she never missed. She wasn’t supposed to be in the house at all, so when Richard McCann had arrived to dispatch Oliver Bwye, he’d been taken by surprise. Or perhaps Diana had heard the noise and entered the study to find McCann shooting her husband with his own gun. McCann had been startled by the noise when she’d entered, fired at her in reflex and suddenly he’d had two injured people on his hands. And even though Bwye was a pig of a man, Diana’s religious beliefs would have prevented her allowing or concealing his death, meaning that McCann would’ve had to finish them both off.
After that it was a simple matter of McCann leaving the room in disarray like a burglary, faking the bloody prints and then dumping the bodies and the gun in the lake. He’d only brought enough concrete to cover Bwye, so he’d had to improvise for Diana and use stones from the lake shore, and he hadn’t covered Diana’s face because he was fond of her. Jane would never know that he’d done it and they would inherit everything.
The theory worked, except that McCann had two alibis for the Wednesday evening; his mother and his wife. Craig shook his head. A mother alibi-ing her only son would never stand up in court. But would Jane really have lied to alibi a husband who had killed her mum? No, but she might have innocently given him an alibi to protect him, if McCann had told her that he was somewhere else for part of the evening.
The scenario fitted. McCann had wanted rid of Oliver Bwye for the way he’d treated Jane and to gain access to her trust before she reached thirty. With Bwye gone, Diana Bwye would never have held to the thirty clause and he and Jane would have had a comfortable life. Diana Bwye was supposed to be out of the house that night, just as she’d been every Wednesday night for years; her death was simply bad luck.
Craig nodded. OK, it fitted, so why did he still feel so uneasy? The questions came thick and fast and he answered them as they did. Why wouldn’t McCann simply have knocked Diana out? Because she still might have recognised him. But surely McCann would have worn a mask, and even if she had recognised him, would Diana really have testified against him when it would have dragged her daughter down? Perhaps; she had staunch Christian beliefs that she might not have compromised, even for Jane.
The idea of Richard McCann killing his mother-in-law still stuck in Craig’s throat, not from disgust but from disbelief. He shook his head at an invisible jury, imagining giving evidence on the case. If he didn’t believe that Richard McCann had done it how would he ever convince twelve citizens good and true?
He made a decision and pressed dial. He needed to look into Richard McCann’s eyes as he asked him the question, then he would be sure.
“Liam. Richard McCann; where is he?”
Liam held his mobile at arm’s length and made a face, knowing from the background noise that Craig was driving fast. That mean he wasn’t in Belfast where the average speed was less than twenty mph, he was on his way back. He waved goodbye to his relaxing evening in the pub.
“They’re both at his mum’s apartment. I take it you want to see him?”
“Forty minutes at the station. I’ll see you there.”
The line went dead and Liam muttered at his phone. “Forty minutes at the station, Liam. I’ll see you there, Liam. Tote that barge and lift that bale, Liam. Sod the fact that there’s a match on the box tonight.”
Annette rolled her eyes at his monologue. “I take it that grumbling means the Super’s on his way back and you’d been hop
ing that he’d stay in Belfast overnight.”
Liam warmed to his theme. “I ask you. What sort of normal man doesn’t take the chance for a bit of nooky? There he is, only five miles from his own bed with a warm and willing girlfriend close at hand, and what does he do?”
Annette decided to irritate him further. “He decides that solving a double murder is more important. Oh dear me, no; a man who actually does his job! Call the BBC.”
He reached for something to throw at her but Davy shook his head sanctimoniously. He had ears like a bat and he’d heard everything that Craig had said.
“If you don’t get McCann lifted and leave for the s…station now, the chief will get there before you.” He dropped his tenor to a movie-trailer bass. “And we all know w…what’ll happen then.”
Annette nodded. “Especially in the mood he’s been in.” She drew her finger across her throat graphically, smiling as Liam grabbed his keys.
“I’m going under duress. Union rules state it’s time for dinner.”
As he left, Craig was thirty miles away, still pondering the case. OK, so Richard McCann was a possibility but his gut said no. He thought about the names Cameron Lawton had given him, perhaps one of them would bear fruit. Liam and Davy had been running through them, so he would ask Liam when they met. If it wasn’t one of them then that still left the Bwyes’ solicitor as a possibility. He of the wine soaked shirt and affectionate glance. He made another call, this time to Annette.
“Annette, has Liam finished moaning and left?”
She smiled. It was as if Craig had heard their exchange. “Yes, but he has his mobile if you need him.”
“Thanks, but it was you I wanted. I need you and Davy to check out the Bwyes’ family solicitor; he’s called Joshua Kelly. Get Davy to do a background check so I can read it tonight and can you call Kelly’s office and arrange a meeting for me tomorrow morning.”
Annette raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t heard Kelly’s name mentioned before and she was curious.
“Is he a suspect, sir?”
Craig sighed. She was asking him what he’d been asking himself since Lawton had first mentioned the name.
“Good question. The answer is I don’t know. Cameron Lawton said something that suggests Kelly and Diana Bwye might have had a thing. Although it seems unlikely. Everyone says she took her marriage vows seriously.” Something occurred to him. “Get back to her friend Stephanie from the charity committee, and Niamh McDermott, the lady who lives across the lake, and see what they know about a possible affair between Diana and anyone. Then drop Kelly’s name in and watch their reactions.”
The lady who lives across the lake; it sounded like nineteenth-century poetry.
“Will do. Are you having dinner with us later at the hotel, sir?”
“Dinner?”
He said the word like he’d never heard it before and glanced at the dashboard clock in surprise.
“It’s nearly six o’clock!”
“Yes, sir. That’s why Liam was moaning.”
That and the fact that the match started at eight.
“I’m sorry, I’ve completely lost track of the time. Have something to eat before you get on with all that. I’ll see you later.”
She said goodbye and smiled, knowing that Liam’s stomach would be rumbling all the way through their interview. She lifted her handbag and tapped Davy on the head.
“Come with me, young man. I know a good restaurant in the centre of town.” She threw him her keys. “You’re driving. I have calls to make on the way.”
****
By the time Craig arrived at the station it was six-thirty and Liam’s mouth and stomach were groaning in unison. He was sitting in reception, eyes shut, with his forty-inch legs deliberately obstructing everyone who passed. John Ellis jerked a thumb in his direction.
“For God’s sake get him out of here. He’s making more noise than ten men.”
Craig stared pointedly at Liam’s limb barricade. “If you think I’m climbing over those you’ve another thought coming.” As Liam stood up he added. “And I hope McCann’s in the interview room.”
Liam was less than amused. “Where else would he be at six-thirty in the evening? Oh yes, maybe at home having dinner like normal folk.”
Craig ignored him and Ellis buzzed them through. As they pushed open the interview room door Craig watched as Richard McCann jumped at the intrusion. It always amused him when interviewees did that, as though they thought they’d be sitting alone all night.
“Mr McCann. You have no solicitor present.”
McCann gazed around blankly as if Craig knew something he didn’t.
“Do I need one?”
“You’re being questioned under caution so it’s advisable.” As Craig said it he hoped fervently that McCann wouldn’t think so; the delay waiting for a solicitor would make Liam grumble even more. To his relief the young husband shook his head, casting a wary glance at Liam as he did.
“Are you going to beat me up?”
Craig wasn’t sure if he was joking, then he remembered McCann’s west Belfast roots and wondered what had happened to his family in the bad old days.
“No, Mr McCann. We don’t do that. If you’re sure you wouldn’t like a solicitor then we’d just like to ask you a few more questions.”
On McCann’s nod Liam clicked on the tape machine and ran through the formalities. Then both detectives folded their hands on the table and sat back, leaving the room in silence apart from the whirr of the tape and McCann’s feet tapping nervously on the floor. The longer the silence ran the louder McCann’s tapping got, until, when it had reached door-knocking level, Craig finally spoke. He stared directly into the young man’s eyes.
“Did you kill your in-laws, Mr McCann?”
It was a toss-up who was more surprised. McCann at the content of the question or Liam that Craig had asked it in such a rookie way. Where was his usual circling of his opponent, winding him up to a pitch before going in for the kill? A first week probationer would have asked the question more covertly!
McCann was the first to recover, his answer drowning out the near deafening volume of his feet.
“No I didn’t!”
“Did you kill one of them?”
“No!”
McCann’s eyes were wide and wild, and he leaned forward so abruptly that Liam reached out a hand to halt him before he head-butted his boss. His hand said ‘back off’, but his brain said the way Craig had been behaving lately a head-butt might knock some sense into him.
“I didn’t kill anyone. I swear it.”
Craig looked unperturbed, both by McCann’s answers and by Liam’s obstructing arm. His voice said that he was bored, as if he was just going through the motions of the interview. Unknown to the other men in the room that was exactly what was going on.
“Where were you on the evening of Wednesday the tenth of December?”
“At my mum’s flat on the estate. You already know that. I would never have hurt Diana; she was a lovely woman. She was Jane’s mum, for God’s sake!”
Craig waved Liam’s arm away and leaned forward so that he and McCann were almost nose to nose. Liam noticed Craig’s nose was completely straight; how the heck had he escaped having it broken when he’d played as much rugby as he had? His own nose looked like it had been used as the ball. Craig kept his tone conversational.
“But you wouldn’t have minded killing Jane’s dad, would you?”
McCann shook his head, but not vehemently.
“I didn’t kill him, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished him dead plenty of times. He was a bastard and there’s not one person worse off for him being dead.”
Craig shrugged and sat back. “That’s honest of you.”
McCann warmed to his theme, his naturally rapid speech speeding up even more.
“Tell me one person who’s sad that he’s gone. Diana yes, but not him. He was an animal. He terrorised Jane and her mum all their lives. I’m only sorry Di
ana didn’t live to see life without him.”
Either McCann was so stupid that he didn’t realise openly saying you hated a man was incriminating, or he didn’t care, probably because he was innocent. Craig stared into the younger man’s eyes and finally his logic and instinct agreed. He rose suddenly to his feet, beckoning Liam to do the same.
“I’d like to keep you here overnight, Mr McCann, to recheck your alibi. A Detective Constable Carmen McGregor will speak to you in the morning. Do you have any objection?”
McCann shrugged. “If it helps you prove me innocent and catch Diana’s killer, that’s fine. Can I call Jane and ask her to tape the match? Derry’s playing a special fixture.”
Liam’s expression turned wistful.
“Fine. We’ll ask Sergeant Ellis to arrange the call.”
Craig strolled towards the staff room with Liam hot on his heels. When the door had closed behind them Liam let rip.
“Is that it? Did you kill them? No. Oh well, that’s all right then.”
Craig gave him a wry look. “What would you have preferred? Thumb screws? He didn’t do it, Liam. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
Liam touched his nose defensively. “Then why waste time bringing him back in if you already knew?”
Craig brought the ever ready kettle back to the boil.
“I wanted to look him in the eye when I asked the question. I’ll be doing the same tomorrow with another man; Joshua Kelly.”
“And who the hell is he?”
“I’ll tell you later. Anyway. I saw what I needed to see with McCann.”
Liam found two mugs and started to make the drinks. “And what did you see in his eyes, Swami? The answers to life and the universe?”
Craig laughed despite himself. “Something like that. He wasn’t lying, that’s what I saw.”
“I thought you’d already dismissed him as a suspect.”
“I needed to recheck some things before I narrowed the field down to five.” He gestured at the clock before Liam could ask who the final five were. “If we hurry we can have dinner before the match.” He slipped his hands inside his jacket and withdrew two tickets, handing them to his disgruntled D.C.I.
The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series) Page 28
