The Keeper

by Catriona King

  “I think it’s the only thing that’s the same with all four victims. Their sex, religion, age, education; nothing else is the same. OK, they belonged to the same two paramilitary organisations, but there weren’t that many big ones to choose from back then.” He turned to the analysts “Unless I’m missing something and there’s some other common denominator that I’ve overlooked?”

  They answered in unison. “Not so far.” Davy waved Ash on.

  “We’ve checked their education, schools, churches, addresses, where they got married, children or not, siblings or not, but nothing’s the same except their year of release.” Craig opened his mouth to ask another question, only to have his hopes dashed by Ash’s next words. “They weren’t even in the same prisons.”

  Suddenly the detective’s frustration erupted, with an open handed smack against the desk. “Damn. I was hoping they’d all been in The Maze, that way we could have chased prison links and cell mates.”

  Davy replied. “S…Sorry, chief. Hart was in Crumlin Road Gaol till ninety-six then the loyalist wing at The Maze for two years; Mulvenna and Murnaghan were in the republican wing at The Maze but Mulvenna was separated because he was in for twenty years, and Lindsay was in Maghaberry first and then transferred to Magilligan. Eilish Murnaghan w…was held in Armagh; separated from the other republicans because of her sex.”

  The Maze or Long Kesh Detention Centre, more properly known as Her Majesty's Prison Maze and colloquially as The H Blocks or The Kesh. Used to house paramilitary prisoners from mid-nineteen seventy-one until the GFA and the site of the historic hunger strikes.

  Liam had been eyeing another donut but he broke off his perusal temporarily to venture an idea. “Could it just be as simple as someone who doesn’t think paramilitaries on either side should ever have been released?”

  Craig thought about it. It was possible.

  “Maybe. OK, so who would fit the bill? If it was a victim’s relative they’d have been more likely just to target the individual who’d harmed them; I doubt that they’d have the passion to kill all the others as well. So who does that leave us with? I’d like your ideas before we go on to discuss Eilish Murnaghan in detail.” He scanned the blank faces. “Anyone? Any idea at all, no matter how ridiculous it seems.”

  Nicky stuck her neck out first. “What about…” She stopped, staring at the floor for inspiration before restarting. Liam looked down as well, in reflex, and then realised how stupid he looked. “What about that Star Chamber thing that Ken mentioned once.”

  Ken nodded. “The Westminster court in the middle-ages that tried powerful people no-one else was brave enough to judge.”

  She shook her head. “No, the movie with Michael Douglas. Where judges got together and killed people who they thought had escaped justice in the courts. Maybe someone thinks our victims’ early release in ninety-eight wasn’t justice so they’re killing them?”

  Craig pictured the aging judiciary of Northern Ireland forming an assassination ring. It was a bizarre idea, but then before March he’d never heard of a religious sect annihilating people that they thought had sinned. He wasn’t convinced but he approached the suggestion diplomatically.

  “I’m not saying no, Nicky, and we’ll certainly look into it, but let’s just think about how hard it would be to A, do and B, keep quiet. All it would take would be for one judge to go to the police…”

  He saw her eyes narrow.

  “I didn’t mean that it had to be judges.”

  He decided to widen the discussion before she blew. “Comments anyone?”

  Liam was the first to risk his office supply of custard creams being cut off forever. “I can’t see it, boss. Maybe one judge but for a group of them to agree to kill and risk their reputations, livelihoods-”

  Ken chipped in. “And liberty. Don’t forget they would go to jail forever if they got caught, and a judge in jail wouldn’t have a good time.”

  Craig could see Nicky’s face darkening so he picked up one of Liam’s threads. “OK, how about one judge then, or some other official? What does everyone think about that?”

  There was silence for a moment while everyone thought. Nicky smiled, mollified by them taking her idea seriously, and the office biscuit supply was saved for another day.

  Annette broke the silence. “I think we have to put it on the list, sir. But if we do then we have to also consider other people in the justice realm: solicitors and barristers, especially those involved with victims. Prison officers, police officers…”

  Craig groaned. They’d had a corrupt A.C.C. two years before and the publicity had taken almost that long to subside. The last thing they needed was another one. Annette hadn’t finished.

  “The heads of justice organisations, army officers here during The Troubles; the list could go on and on. Not to mention that it could still be paramilitary or even non-paramilitary gangs, killing for some reason that we haven’t thought of yet.”

  Craig closed his eyes, searching for a way to narrow things down. Nothing came to him so he tapped the board again.

  “OK, none of that will be ignored, but unless we can narrow things down we’ll get buried in the hundreds of potential suspects we’ve just discussed. So…” He tapped the board hard. “Back to the victims. Let’s move on to Eilish Murnaghan. This is the first victim that has been I.D.ed at the scene, thanks to Liam. Tell us about her please, Liam.”

  “Right…” Liam halted, momentarily surprised by Nicky placing a fresh mug of tea in his hand and smiling directly at him. He should disagree with her more often. The fact that it had only been Craig picking up one of his threads that had saved his bacon completely passed him by.

  “OK, right. Eilish was a well-known IRA terrorist. She was a university grad who worked on the strategy and planning side of the ’RA, including planning several bombings that killed and maimed. She was also well known for her torture supervisions and to say that she wrote the manual on torture would be no exaggeration. Not a lady you’d want to meet on a dark night. She married Gerry Murnaghan in the seventies. He was a standard IRA enforcer; brute force and ignorance. They were a real life Bonnie and Clyde, unfortunately without the shootout -”

  Annette couldn’t resist interrupting. “Did you just say real life Bonnie and Clyde? Or did my ears deceive me?”

  Liam puffed out his chest. “I did and they didn’t. Great film. They don’t write characters like that anymore.”

  No one had the heart to tell him that Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow had actually lived.

  “Anyway, Eilish was found at the back of May Street early this morning. Killed the same way as the others. Because I recognised her we’ve already had her I.D.ed by the husband and warned him that he’s likely to be a target. He’s refused protection but we’ve lads watching him at arms’ length anyway-”

  Craig interrupted. “Thanks. OK, Davy, look in more detail at the locations the bodies were found, times of discovery and also their times of death. Let’s see if there’s anything there.” He scanned the group, assessing his next move. “Annette, since you found the witness on Hart, keep going with that and Mulvenna. Ken, assist her on all that please. Jake-” He stopped abruptly, assessing Jake’s face; he didn’t want him on the streets scaring the horses but he was short-staffed so he would have to do.

  “Jake, get that treated, and then you and Andy-” He suddenly realised that the lethargic lothario wasn’t there. “Where is he?”

  Ash answered first. “Is that the blond one who dresses like Paul Weller?”

  It was as good a description as any they’d heard.

  “Yes. Have you seen him?”

  The analyst nodded, jangling the silver strands that were hanging from a cuff high on his right ear. “He got a call from his kid’s school. Said he’d be back around three.”

  “School? On a Saturday?” He didn’t wait for an answer just turned back to Jake. “Help Davy on background and then see Geoff Hammill about the gangs. When Andy returns you can start work o
n Eilish Murnaghan. John can give you the pathology side. Davy, you and Ash keep digging for those connections. Liam and I will follow up on Rowan Lindsay.”

  He leapt off the desk. “Right, that’s it. It’s too early to say anything about what links these deaths, so for now it’s just ploughing through interviews, talking to your snouts and following up any leads that you find. I’m on my mobile; otherwise we’ll meet here tomorrow morning. Liam, Annette, join me in my office please.”

  He’d turned to walk across the floor when an indignant howl erupted from Carmen. “What about me? You haven’t given me anything to do.”

  He hadn’t. It was a dangerous and possibly Freudian oversight. “Sorry.” He thought quickly. “As you’ve been working on Hart’s trip to Newcastle and back, you’ll continue to do that, under Liam’s supervision.” It would keep her beyond sniping distance of Ken.

  A minute later the three detectives were seated in Craig’s office and he began.

  “Liam, you and I will follow up the religion angle with Lindsay. Also, while Carmen pieces together Hart’s journey we’ll pay a visit to Dusty Wilson. Davy can check Hart’s phone to see if it was Wilson who called him in the pub. If Wilson was involved in Hart’s killing we need to know it quickly, so we can weed out any of our victims who might not belong with the others.”

  Liam arched an eyebrow sceptically. “You really think one of them mightn’t fit? Killed for some normal reason?”

  Annette laughed. “Define normal.”

  “You know what I mean. If Hart owed money and he got bumped off for that, it means his death wasn’t just because he was a paramilitary.”

  Craig nodded.

  “My point exactly. Although…I admit it would be a hell of a coincidence that the others died in exactly the same way. Unless…”

  Liam nodded, warming to the idea. “They were copycats! Hart was the first killing so maybe someone got wind of it and decided to do the others the same way. Hide him in plain sight so to speak.”

  “It’s far-fetched but not impossible. If Dusty Wilson killed Hart over his debt and someone heard about it they could have decided to mimic the method when they killed Lindsay and the other two. It wouldn’t be the first time. You remember that case in two thousand and nine.”

  How could any of them forget. They’d wasted days thinking they’d had two poisoning victims, instead of just one and a suicide.

  Craig’s face said that he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own hypotheses, but he would run with it for now.

  “We’ll see Wilson later and see what we can get. Then you and Carmen can take that strand forward.”

  “Cheers, boss.” Liam’s sarcasm was heartfelt.

  “So that’s Hart and Lindsay, I want to talk about Jonno Mulvenna for a minute. We all know his back story, but as of two years ago he was playing the doting dad on the North Coast, so why was he in Belfast at all?”

  Annette searched her memory. “His son was sent to Magilligan, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. Up in the North-West. So what was Mulvenna doing here?”

  “Maybe he’d taken a place in town. Davy’s digging into his finances, so we’ll see what’s what.”

  “Or he’d been making road trips. Ask Ash to check if Mulvenna had a car, its mileage and if it was clocked on any cameras recently. He had a motorbike so have him check that as well.”

  “Will do.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It seems a bit strange…”

  “What does?”

  “Well, why kill them all now, seventeen years after their release, and especially why kill Rowan Lindsay, if he was actually trying to do some good?”

  Craig sighed heavily. “You’re expecting a murderer to think logically. “ He paused, wondering whether to voice the thought that had been nagging at him for days. The answer was yes. “I take your point about the seventeen years. Unless…”

  Liam saw where he was heading and smiled. “You think this is someone out to destabilise Stormont. Because of all the latest hoo-ha.”

  Annette’s eyes widened. “You think the killer’s looked at the rumours of residual paramilitary activity-”

  Craig nodded. “Which have been enough to cause MLA resignations and trigger a whole new round of peace talks…” He paused to let one of them fill the gap. Liam obliged.

  “So our perp has decided that a few more paramilitary style killings right now would kill two birds with one stone. Bring down the assembly completely and settle a few old scores. Man, that’s brilliant!”

  Annette wasn’t so impressed. “It’s not brilliant, it’s twisted.” She saw Craig’s wry smile and added hastily. “I didn’t mean that you were twisted for thinking of it, I meant-”

  He waved her down. “Don’t worry. I know what you meant and if that is the rationale behind these killings then it is twisted. It’s also very clever.” His face darkened. “We could be dealing with an extremely dangerous man.”

  ****

  Barnetts Road. Near Stormont.

  Rowan Lindsay’s church was larger than they’d expected. Georgian, with its flat fronted three storeyed façade topped by a gambrel roof, and its plain stone cross and wooden doors opening straight onto the main road. A recent renovation had plastered its brick a matt white and painted the doors a deep ruby red. It made the building look welcoming; the open doors a cheerful smile on its grand white face.

  If Craig had been a churchgoing man he would have felt comfortable there but for now the detectives stood deferentially on the pavement outside, watching the traffic whizz past. They were waiting for the man and woman that Nicky had asked to be there. They didn’t have long to wait before a small, thin man of indeterminate pre-pension age appeared, and a woman of a similar vintage clicked quietly one step behind. Craig extended his hand.

  “Reverend McConville?”

  The man smiled, showing a set of beautifully even teeth. “Indeed it is. Lester. And you’re Superintendent…?”

  “Craig.” He gestured at Liam. “This is D.C.I. Cullen; we’re both working on the case.”

  The smile faded quickly. “Dreadful business.” He turned thirty degrees towards the woman. “This is Mrs Hazel Dodds. She works with the church in a pastoral role.”

  The woman eyed the men’s large hands warily, keeping her own small ones firmly on her bag and nodding in greeting instead. McConville walked through the ruby door and beckoned the group to follow. Once inside Liam gazed around, always in awe of an empty house of God. He loved them. As an altar boy he’d often lingered when mass was over and the priest had darkened the lights, just to revel in the quiet, cool stillness before he returned to the noise of his family’s dairy farm.

  Craig broke his daydream.

  “I’m sorry to meet you both in these circumstances but we need to ask you a few questions about Rowan Lindsay.”

  He gestured towards the pews and they sat; he and Liam in one pew and the others in the pew just in front.

  The minister nodded him on. “Anything that we can do to help we will. But first, could you tell us how poor Rowan died?”

  Liam’s eyebrows shot up. Poor Rowan. It made him sound like a cuddly pet instead of the murderer that he’d really been. Perhaps people really could change. He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head, his lifelong cynicism intact. Nah, leopards didn’t change their spots, although they might occasionally trim their claws.

  Craig watched his mime, inwardly amused, but he answered the reverend in a sober voice. “I’m sorry but I can’t disclose that. It could jeopardise the investigation. I hope you understand.”

  McConville nodded furiously, feeling stupid for asking at all. “Of course, of course. Please, ask us whatever you wish.”

  “When and where did you first meet Mr Lindsay?”

  “When he was working at the youth club on the Demesne Estate. We were there on a project to try to prevent young people joining gangs.” His face fell. “There are so many of them now.”

  “Can you say which g
angs are dominant on the Demesne?”

  “Well…there are the old paramilitary gangs of course. The UKUF and the UFU, but they don’t hold the real power now. That belongs to the Velnias.”

  Craig had never heard of them and a glance at Liam said that neither had he. Craig leaned on the back their hosts’ pew.

  “Tell us about the Velnias, please.”

  Hazel Dodds rolled her eyes and uttered her first word in the encounter. “Devils.”

  They were pretty sure she meant it literally. The reverend added more detail.

  “All of the gangs are brutal, but the Velnias are the worst. They came to the Demesne around six years ago. Just a few of them at first, a mixture of the various Eastern Europeans who’d moved onto the estate: Lithuanians, Albanians, more recently some Romanians-”

  Liam cut in. “No locals?”

  McConville shook his head. “They gave them a wide berth until around three years ago, when they began recruiting actively from the local boys. That’s why we were there; trying to prevent it.”

  “Did many join?”

  “Not at first, but then they threatened them and it was either have your legs broken with a baseball bat or join, so…”

  Craig stepped back in. “What do the Velnias trade in?” Gone were the days that people joined gangs just to listen to the same music or wear the same clothes.

  “Drugs mostly, then some of the older boys tried to use the young girls on the estate for sex.” He shook his head, picturing a more innocent time. “They made so much money from drug dealing that some of the girls went along with it.”

  “And that’s what you were trying to stop.”

  “And Rowan.” He leaned in earnestly. “He was very devout, you know. I know you probably won’t believe this, but he knew that what he’d done in his youth was wrong and he was trying to give something back to the community.”

  His companion nodded. “Rowan and I often talked of what we could do to help the young people.”