The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series)

by Catriona King

  Kelly yelled in his face.

  “I would never have harmed Diana, I loved her!”

  “Enough to do whatever she asked?”

  The younger man’s grey eyes locked on Craig’s dark blue so intently it was as if he was staring straight through him; seeing something else, something in the past. Without another word he fell back into his chair. Craig repeated his question, but he knew that he’d lost the man; Kelly’s thoughts were elsewhere. He’d have to abandon his questioning unless he arrested him and he had no grounds for that except a wine stain, Kelly’s admitted love for Diana Bwye and half a hunch. He left the office in silence, chilled by the sound of wracking sobs before he reached the outer door.

  ****

  Liam banged the desk phone down so hard that it bounced and sprang back on its cable to whack him in the face.

  “Ow!”

  He banged it down again, more firmly this time. Annette glanced up from the page she was reading at the red mark on his cheek.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  Liam rubbed his face, making the mark worse. “Nicky.” He searched for a mirror until Annette relented and gave him the one from her handbag. He squinted at the mark and made a face as she tutted sympathetically.

  “That’s going to bruise.”

  “Sodding phone.”

  A lecture about his rough handling was pointless so she turned back to what had provoked his bad mood.

  “What did she have to say?”

  Liam looked blank.

  “Nicky. Why did she call?”

  He slumped in a chair beside her. “To make the boss an even bigger pain in the ass. Greer’s appeal’s been given the go ahead. They’ve decided not to wait for our report.”

  Annette sprang to her feet, knocking her papers onto the floor. “What! But that case was solid! What grounds are they citing?”

  “The fact that the money went through the Russian’s accounts, not hers. They’re saying they can’t link her directly to employing the hit-men and it was just the Russian’s word against hers. She’s saying she just said what he told her to say and he’s dead now, so…”

  Panic filled her eyes. “You can’t tell the chief till this case is over.”

  Liam gawped at her. “I’m not telling him at all! If Nicky’s got bad news she can bloody well tell him herself. He won’t yell at her half as much as he’ll yell at me.”

  Annette’s face set determinedly. “No-one’s telling him anything until we’re back in Belfast.” She grabbed the phone and waved it dangerously close to Liam’s face, making him rear back. “Just you leave Madam Nicky to me.”

  ****

  Craig was preoccupied when he arrived at the Northwest labs. Joshua Kelly had loved Diana Bwye and his reaction had said that he definitely hadn’t killed her. That only left Kelly with two possible roles; mourner or accomplice after the fact. The former was more likely, based on his lack of reason for wanting her dead. As Craig entered the long corridor to pathology he stopped abruptly in his tracks. Damn! He’d forgotten to ask Kelly about the estate’s female inheritance line. He’d have to call him on the way back to the house.

  He carried on walking till he reached a glass door and opened it without knocking. He’d expected to see Mike when he entered, but a leaner, more familiar face also smiled hello.

  “John! What are you doing here?”

  John’s smile creased his angular face like origami. “I take it you’re pleased to see me.”

  “Yes. But…”

  “Mike asked for a consult, and I can see why. It’s a tricky case.”

  Craig grabbed a chair and sat down. “Not that tricky. Bwye was shot and disabled first, then loaded into the van, drowned in concrete and dumped into the lake. Mrs Bwye was shot and killed, possibly by Bwye but more likely by someone else, either their killer or…”

  John raised an eyebrow. “That tone says you’re not convinced, and you’re right to be sceptical.” He gestured at Augustus. “We’ve found something that doesn’t fit. Let’s go to the dissection room.”

  Craig talked as they walked. “The divers found the gun.”

  “Good. Where?”

  Mike’s higher voice answered. “In the lake, near where they found the bodies. It was in a black plastic sack weighed down with stones.”

  John nodded. “OK. Now you can match the bullets, the stones and with any luck the perforations will show that the plastic sack came from the same roll as the Bwyes’. It’s doubtful we’ll find any prints on the gun. Forensics hasn’t found any but the Bwyes’ prints on anything so far.”

  “The survivor’s from Lawton’s list drew a blank. We’re looking at their families now.”

  John made a face. “I don’t think so.”

  Before Craig could ask why not they’d arrived at the room and Mike was removing the sheet from Oliver Bwye’s jowly face. Craig stared down at him for a moment.

  “What are we looking for?”

  Mike shook his head. “You can’t see it so I actually don’t know why I uncovered his face.”

  John smiled. “Showmanship. I do it all the time.”

  Mike put the sheet back and turned towards the wall, flicking on an X-Ray screen. Images of a head and torso came into focus.

  “OK, again, what are we looking for?”

  Mike tapped the screen with his finger. “That’s Oliver Bwye’s head.” He drew his finger down. “And this is his throat and oesophageal tract.”

  “Which they filled with concrete.”

  “Yes.” He pointed to another film that showed Bwye’s throat. “This is an MRI scan of the concrete in his throat. Can you see the markings?”

  Craig peered at it for a moment before admitting defeat. “It just looks like solid material.”

  “It is, but I had a hunch so I asked the materials lab in Belfast to take a closer look.”

  John interrupted. “That’s why I drove up. Des was going to email the report…”

  “But you fancied a road trip? In this weather!”

  John had a ready prepared excuse that sounded better than ‘I’m here to check you’re not making everyone’s life hell, or worse, about to endanger your own life’.

  “Natalie’s hounding me to show her the house. I thought getting off side for a while would give me a few more days.” He smiled. “Not that I don’t trust her but I’ve hidden all the keys.”

  Craig perked up. “So you’re staying here tonight?”

  John shook his head, feeling instantly guilty. “Sorry, no. I’m heading back in an hour, but Natalie won’t know that. She’ll think I’m away for days. I can nip back and finish the house in time for the party without her ever knowing that I’m there.”

  Craig hid his disappointment behind a joke. “You’re a dead man if she finds out that you lied.”

  “I’m in the right job then.”

  Mike’s patience was wearing thin.

  “If you two have quite finished…?” He tapped the screen’s magnification, enlarging the concrete. “What you’re looking at here are micro fissures in the concrete. They formed as it dried.”

  Craig was genuinely puzzled. “So?”

  “So it tells us how quickly it set. It was quick-setting concrete, but even so the concrete in his throat dried first.”

  “But didn’t that happen because it was poured into his throat first, to suffocate him?”

  “Yes. Logic says that the area that’s filled first should set first, but not as quickly as it actually did.”

  John cut in. “You’re going to like this, Marc, trust me.”

  Mike’s eyes grew wild. “He will if you ever let me get it out! The materials lab confirmed that the fissures in Bwye’s throat don’t match the ones in the rest of the concrete.”

  It was Craig’s turn to interrupt and Mike raised his eyes to heaven. “But isn’t that to be expected, given that the throat is internal and warm and the rest of the concrete probably set in the back of a cold van?”

  Mi
ke’s eyes lit up and he decided not to tell Craig off. “Yes, yes, you’re right, but that wasn’t the only thing that made the difference. Body heat alone wouldn’t account for it. The fissures in Bwye’s throat suggest that he was also in a warm external environment when the concrete there dried.”

  Craig’s eyes widened. “It was poured down his throat while he was still in the house! Bwye was already dead when they put him in the van.”

  “That’s what we think. Bwye was shot in the study to incapacitate him or maybe even to render him unconscious, and then finished off by having the concrete poured down his throat where he lay. Then he was put in the van already dead, covered in concrete to weigh him down and taken to the lake to be dumped.”

  He turned back to the bodies excitedly and lifted the sheet from Diana Bwye’s face.

  “Mrs Bwye died instantly from her second gunshot wound, to the chest, then she was put in a plastic sack and weighed down with stones. So I thought, why not cover her with concrete as well?”

  Craig was still thinking so John answered. “No time, not enough concrete, or the killer didn’t hate her as much as he did her husband?”

  Mike shook his head and John frowned. Mike had only told him about the concrete fissures in the husband’s throat so why were they re-examining Diana Bwye?

  “No. Well, yes and no. The concrete would have dried in the van in the same time it took Bwye’s to dry, so I don’t think time was a factor. I agree the killer didn’t hate her as much, but that’s irrelevant either way.”

  “You’re being annoying, Mike.”

  Craig cut in. “No, I think he’s onto something.” He waved Augustus on.

  “OK, let’s say that the killer’s main target was Oliver Bwye. He needed to disable him quickly because he was a big man, so he killed him in the way I said. But he didn’t expect Diana Bwye to be there; Annette says she normally went to a committee meeting that night.”

  Craig smiled. It was the first time he’d mentioned Annette, even though they’d been seeing each other for months. Augustus saw his smile and blushed.

  “OK, so if Diana Bwye wasn’t supposed to be there, she became an unexpected problem to be dealt with. Perhaps she screamed, so they shot her to shut her up and accidentally killed her, or perhaps they’d already decided to kill any witnesses before they arrived…”

  John interjected. “Which means that they weren’t masked.”

  “OK, yes, let’s say that they weren’t masked. OK, so they disable and kill Bwye and then Diana appears. They shoot her in the leg to shut her up and put her in the van, but either they don’t have enough concrete to cover her…”

  Craig was getting confused. “Not even enough to suffocate her?”

  Augustus smiled. “Exactly! That’s my point. They could have suffocated her easily by pouring concrete down her throat, just by using a little less concrete on Bwye’s torso. So why not kill her that way? Why risk a second shot that might have been heard by the staff?”

  “Because they knew her and liked her?”

  “How about instead of like we put love? How about this is someone who cared so much about her that they couldn’t bear to watch her suffocate, or to erase her identity by covering her face?”

  John snorted rudely. “What, so they shot her through the chest? Very romantic.”

  Craig waved his scepticism down; Mike’s theory fitted with where his thoughts were heading. But he still needed one question answered. He nodded at Diana Bwye’s body.

  “She definitely died from the second shot through her chest, not strangulation from the ligature. Yes?”

  Augustus nodded. “Yes. The ligature mark was left for distraction. The gun barrel was actually held against her chest. There were scorch marks on her blouse and skin.”

  Craig walked to the head of the trolley and gazed down at the dead woman. After a full minute’s silence John had to ask.

  “What are you thinking, Marc?”

  Craig shook his head, working furiously through possible scenarios. He wasn’t certain enough of anything yet to confide it, but he needed to ask a question.

  “Mike, is there any way that she could have shot herself?”

  The two doctors stared at him, stunned, then they scrutinised the body frantically. John drew back the sheet to reveal Diana Bwye’s scorched and bruised chest and examined her arms and hands, while Mike examined her gunshots; then they covered their victim and both took a step back. Mike spoke first.

  “Her arms are certainly long enough…”

  Craig urged him on. “She could have propped the rifle against a wall and reached the trigger. It would have left the same wounds but…”

  John shook his head. “There was no GSR on her hands.”

  Craig pressed his case. “Gloves, or could the water have washed it away? She was submerged in that lake for days and she wasn’t encased like her husband.”

  Mike shook his head in disbelief. “I suppose…it’s possible, but why would she have killed herself? Surely with Bwye dead she would have had even more reason to live?”

  Craig shook his head. “Motive’s a different thing; I haven’t got there yet. I just need to know if it could have played out that way.”

  John led the way back to the office and they resumed the conversation.

  “So you’re saying that she killed her husband and then killed herself?”

  Craig shrugged. “I’m not saying anything yet. We still have suspects to rule out. I just needed to know if it was physically possible and you’ve said that it is.”

  Mike shook his head, still not sold on Craig’s idea. He favoured a professional hit.

  “Forensics found some blood on the boat, but still nowhere near enough, although I suppose the van…”

  John followed through on Craig’s suicide scenario. “It still doesn’t negate the need for a third person, even if they just helped by dumping the bodies in the lake. Diana couldn’t have dumped her husband by herself.”

  Craig nodded. “The third person could have been purely a disposal man. Someone who loved her, which by the sounds of it was a pretty large group; she was a popular lady. Their job was to arrange a cover-up to protect the people left behind. Maybe that’s what the ligature mark around her neck was about, although if so, that was overkill.”

  John nodded. “An amateur. Chucking in evidence to try and throw you off the track.”

  “Not that amateur. It’s worked for ten days.”

  Mike looked stunned. “So you’re saying that this was a murder suicide by Mrs Bwye, with an elaborate cover-up to protect her daughter? If it was then it’s succeeded. There’s no way that we can tell Jane definitively that her mother was responsible for this mess.”

  Craig shrugged. “It’s all just speculation at the moment. They could still both have been murdered and the reason the killer didn’t cover Diana’s face was because he ran out of materials or time, or he had some last minute remorse because she wasn’t the originally intended victim. And we still have the possibility that Bwye organised a hit on himself for the K&R money, although it sounds a bit altruistic for him, from what I’ve heard.”

  John shook his head sadly. “This third person must have cared a lot for her to risk prison.”

  Mike stared wistfully into space. “I would do it for Annette.”

  Craig smiled. “Good to know. I’ll make sure to tell her that you’d be happy to kill her when I get back.”

  Augustus blushed deep red. “I didn’t…ach, you know what I meant. The whole thing’s quite romantic. Almost Shakespearean.”

  “Except in Shakespeare’s version the lover would have topped himself as well.”

  Craig’s eyes suddenly widened and he pulled out his phone. It seemed like an age until it was answered and, when it was, Joshua Kelly’s quiet voice came on the line. The detective hung up without speaking and slumped back, relieved. John squinted at him curiously.

  “I take it Romeo and Juliet isn’t today’s show?”

  Craig sh
ook his head. “Just another hunch that could be nothing. Like I said, we still have suspects to rule out.”

  John muttered something to himself and Mike asked him to repeat it.

  “I said; just remember that Romeo doesn’t die until the end of the play.”

  Chapter Nin

  eteen

  A call to Joshua Kelly on the way back to Rocksbury confirmed the estate’s female inheritance line and the fact that Jane had never been told. There were a few more gaps to fill in then they would have as complete a picture of the crime as Craig believed they ever would.

  The briefing started slowly, punctuated by more yawns than a university lecture. Davy was the liveliest one in the room. In fact, he looked positively excited so Craig waved him on to start.

  “I’ve more info on Ray Mercer and the van.”

  His words were drowned out by a particularly loud yawn from Liam. As he tried to continue they were obscured again by two size thirteen feet banging onto the desk. Craig rolled his eyes.

  “What did you say, Davy?”

  “I s…said that no forensic evidence s…survived from the van but there was enough left of the doorpost to find the VIN number. It was registered to The Chronicle. It w…was adapted with a hydraulic lift and hoist, for deliveries and w…waste paper disposal.”

  Andy glanced up from his hot drink. “Didn’t someone say that Diana Bwye went to see Mercer recently? What if she went to ask for the loan of the van?”

  Davy answered him. “I’ve been trying to find out w…why she saw him, but no-one at the paper seems to know.”

  Craig sipped his coffee for a moment before commenting. When he did it was in an exhausted voice, more because of what he had to say than his physical tiredness.

  “Mercer knows why she visited him, but how the hell do we get him to tell us? I can’t see him cooperating now that we’ve cost him his job.”

  Liam sniffed. “He wouldn’t have cooperated anyway. He’s a belligerent sod. Anyway, why bother with him when odds are his lackey Bill Reynolds will know?”