Little Bird: a serial killer thriller

by Sharon Dempsey

  Thomas walked across the room and looked out over the yard, ‘Does Robert have a girlfriend?’

  ‘For the love of God, what’s this about? I’m not saying another word.’

  ‘Mrs Briers, we are investigating a serious crime,’ Anna spoke softly, ‘and at this point we need to eliminate Robert from our enquires. You are helping him by giving us this background information.’

  She saw the woman relax a little. ‘Rabbie has never been in trouble. He’s not that kind of man.’

  Anna glanced at her notepad, ‘We have an address for him in Belfast, 56 Tildarg Street, Cregagh Road. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, he bought that house when his father had to move into the nursing home.’

  ‘No sign of him at that address. Neighbours say he hasn’t been around much. Comes and goes, but keeps to himself. Any idea where we would find him?’

  ‘No, maybe he’s gone away for a few days.’

  ‘Would that be usual for him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on him. When he turns up I’m delighted to see him, but there’s no reason to say he can’t head off somewhere.’

  ‘If he were to head off, where do you think he’d go?’

  ‘I honestly couldn’t say, I haven’t a notion,’ she said her lips pressed tight together and looked towards the fireplace.

  ‘Ach, I’m dying for a cigarette. Would you mind?’ Thomas asked. ‘Was a long drive down, sure I’ll just pop outside.’ Anna knew he was offering to get off side, to let them chat one on one, while he took a nose around.

  Anna took a sip of the weak tea, ‘So, no girlfriend?’

  ‘Not that I know off. But he’s a handsome young man. Plenty of girls have tried to catch his eye,’ she lifted her head, as if proud of Robert’s good looks. ‘But he isn’t ready to settle down yet. It would have to be the right woman. And sure, why would he tell his old aunt? It’s not like I’m desperate to see him marry.’

  ‘What about work? What’s he do for money?’ Anna asked.

  ‘He works for some property developer in Belfast, maintenance like. Helps fix up this old place too, when he gets the chance. Rabbie can turn his hand to anything. This’ll all be his one day,’ she said, looking out of the window across the fields.

  ‘Did he mention the name of the company he works for or the names of any of his colleagues?’

  ‘No, not that I can think of.’

  ‘What about work for a security firm. Did he ever mention doing doorman or bouncer for events?’

  ‘No, for goodness sake! Can’t a man have a job and go about his business without people asking all sorts of questions. I told you, Rabbie is a good lad.’

  Anna had a feeling she knew more than she was saying. There was something unsettling about the house. Maybe it was the location, low down in the Glen, it felt as if darkness was never far away. The sinister doll seemed to be watching from the dresser. Anna suddenly felt too hot. The fire crackling in the hearth emitted a fierce heat.

  Maude suddenly turned and looked directly to Anna, ‘Tell me detective, have you tasted the promise of the Lord?’

  Anna raised her eyebrows, unsure of how to reply.

  Mrs Briers continued, ‘We can be purified by our sacrifices, you know. It’s not too late to repent and rejoice in the light.’

  Anna instinctively flinched. The old woman was making her feel uneasy. There was something sinister in the way she was looking at Anna, as if she could reach in and rip out her very soul and dash it into the fire.

  ‘Deuteronomy 27:16,’ she declared, ‘‘Cursed is anyone who dishonours their father or mother.’ What do you say to that?’

  ‘I don’t actually have anything to say to that Mrs Briers. I’m here to ask some questions and then let you get on with your day.’ Anna decided to go softer on Maude. She could easily tell them to leave. Maude Briers appeared to be the type of woman who spent too long alone with nothing but her own thoughts and the bible for company. Anna looked down at her notebook, wondered where Thomas had got to and tried to get back on track, ‘How did Robert do at school? Did he have friends?’

  ‘Well, he often kept to himself, but that was because his da was in the police, you were told to keep your business to yourself in those days. Not like nowadays when everyone flaunts everything for all to see and hear.

  ‘Besides, Nelson wouldn’t have let him bring friends home. I think that’s why Rabbie loved the animals so much.’ She smiled, as if remembering him as child. ‘We’d a goat once that he took a shine to. He’d a piece of string, he tied round its neck and took it on long walks with him, like it was a dog.’ The smile faded and her face darkened. ‘One day the poor thing was found hung. Jumped over a fence with the string still on it and got caught. Poor Rabbie found it. But he didn’t cry – knew better than to let his da see that kind of weakness.’ The woman shifted on her seat as if to say she’d said enough and began tidying up the teacups. ‘Can I help you tidy up?’ Anna asked. Without waiting on a reply, Anna carried the teapot into the kitchen with Maude following after her. She placed the still warm teapot beside the sink when, in a sudden swift movement, Maude grabbed Anna’s wrist, ‘You know, the law of the Lord is the final stand. We will look to him for judgment on the last day.’

  Anna freed herself, feeling uneasy, ‘Thank you for your time Mrs Briers. If you can think of anything else, give me call. We’ll be in touch, and if Robert contacts you, let us know.’ She stared at Anna with suspicious narrowed eyes, as if to say she knew she carried sin deep in her heart. Anna placed her card with her contact details on it on the windowsill next to an earthenware, blue jug filled with drying lavender and left to find Thomas.

  ‘Well what do you make of her?’ Thomas asked as they headed back up the country roads towards the motorway.

  ‘Obviously protective of Robert. Definitely a paid-up member of the scary God squad. It seems that Robert is as close to a son as she has ever had. The father, Nelson seemed to be a big problem, reading between the lines. The photograph though – that could easily fit the description Genevieve gave of Luke Nead.’

  ‘Yeah, I caught that too. Plus, he knows how to handle wildlife. Robert Brogan is becoming more interesting by the day.’

  ‘Did you see anything of interest outside?’

  ‘Nothing much. One of the outbuildings though had the windows whited out with Windowleen,’ he looked out the side window, ‘Managed to get a glimpse through the side door, which was near hanging off its hinges, seemed to be some sort of storage place. Looked like a barrel of potatoes, some animal feed and some old tools.’

  It was going on for seven o’clock when they arrived back at the station. Anna had met plenty of eccentrics in her line of work but there was something about Maude that had made her feel uneasy. It must have been the combination of the desolate farmhouse; the creepy Victorian doll and her religious fervor that made her feel unsettled.

  ‘I’ll put a call in to the local police see if they can keep an eye on the place and watch out in case Brogan pays his aunty Maude a visit,’ she said to Thomas. She wanted to ask about Maude as well, see if there was anything they may have missed. Local coppers were often helpful when a case brought them out of their usual locale. In a place like Glenariff everybody was bound to know each other’s business.

  She got through to Donald Montgomery, the local Glenariff officer, on the second ring. ‘Aye sure I know old Maude Briers. She’s a harmless aul being. Keeps herself to herself, apart from her church that is. She’s well known among the Protestant churchgoers down here. Her church is the Baptist Christ Covenant Church, but I’m positive you’ll only hear good things about her from them. She plays the organ and sings a bit I believe as well.’

  ‘What about her nephew Robert Brogan, have you had any contact with him?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No, can’t say I have. I’m aware of him. He stays with Maude from time to time so I’ve seen him about the town. The girls all fancy him, right enough but I don’t think he’s much
interest. Probably has himself a Belfast belle to keep him company.’

  ‘We are looking into one line of enquiry – that he uses another name. Luke Nead, ring any bells?’

  He thought for a moment before saying, ‘Nope. Nothing familiar about a Luke Nead. We can run it through the system but I’m sure you’ve done your own checks.’

  ‘Well, thanks Officer Montgomery, you’ve been helpful. Keep an eye on the Brier place for me. Drive past the odd time and if Brogan should turn up let us know ASAP.’

  Manus came bounding into the office, making Anna think of an over excited puppy. ‘Hey, Emma Casey’s been found, safe and well. The mother’s just off the phone,’ he said.

  ‘That’s music to my ears,’ Thomas replied smiling. Emma Casey, had crashed at her ex-boyfriend’s house in Limavady and had failed to tell anyone. Her phone had been dead and she didn’t realise that her family and friends were frantic.

  ‘I hope she realises what a fuss she created. We have had manpower stretched looking for her while we’ve a double-murder investigation on our hands,’ Anna said.

  ‘Ah, now Tonto, lets just be happy she’s turned up and all is well,’ Thomas said, still grinning as he headed out of the office. His relief was genuine and Anna liked him all the more for it. She was being churlish. It was the stress of not having that break they needed.

  ‘Right, that’s me away home,’ Manus said, ‘Unless you need me for anything else?’

  Anna shook her head, ‘No, we’re just finishing up here ourselves. Get some rest and be in early for the briefing tomorrow morning.’ She was thinking of shutting down her computer and heading home when Thomas reappeared and threw a file on her desk. ‘The Nelson Brogan – HR file,’ he said.

  She knew it was pointless to resist. If she left, she’d probably end up all night turning the case over in her mind, torturing herself until she came back in to dig around again.

  ‘Anything of interest?’

  ‘All exemplary stuff. Except for one incident. 1987 call to his home. Boys in dark bottle green turn up to find his missus in bits and saying Brogan had threatened to kill her. All retracted the following day.’

  ‘He roughed her up?’

  ‘Seems so, and most likely not a one off.’

  ‘Ha, so as old Maude said, Brogan wasn’t so perfect. An abusive husband.’

  Thomas leaned back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head, ‘Yeah, so the big question is what affect did all this have on little Robert?’

  The morning briefing had an edgy feel to it. Everyone was getting irritable. The team was deflated and quieter than usual. Forensics had failed to link Finnegan to Grace and what samples they had scraped, were not matched in the system. Hundreds of police hours had been spent interviewing the wedding guests, and the prom attendees, examining the CCTV and generally picking through the details.

  ‘Where are we with staff reviews?’ Richard asked. The team had been working its way through the staff lists of the two hotels.

  ‘Nothing of interest except for the security details. As we know both venues hire in extra bouncers and security staff for big events and they often use the same company.’

  ‘Check it out and don’t miss anything.’

  ‘Already on it, Sir.’ Anna said.

  ‘We’ve a couple of guests at the Wells–Finnegan wedding who have reported seeing Esme and Rory Finnegan arguing in the hotel foyer. Apparently, they had words, no one caught what was said but he did grab her arm as she tried to walk away. One of the guests said she thought Esme was crying but she couldn’t be sure. We suspect he and Esme have been in a relationship.’

  McKay raised his eyebrows. ‘Keep the pressure on him. No evidence on her phone or laptop of their relationship?’

  ‘No, they were all clean, other than lots of phone calls to Finnegan, no texts of particular interest.’ He picked up the newspaper left on the desk, and threw it in disgust. ‘That jumped up wee shite McGonigle is getting off on this. Can you believe he is calling the killer the Gate Crasher?

  ‘We have the First Minister breathing down our necks to get this maniac off the streets. Young women and girls are frightened to go out, and we are chasing our fucking tails.’ He looked stressed and pissed off.

  Anna had seen the news story online – ‘Who will be the Gate Crasher’s next victim?’ The scare mongering had started. Photographs of Grace Dowds and Esme Wells staring out, the archetypal tabloid victims.

  It was true they had come up against a wall. The numbers of people at both events hampered the investigation. People were unsure of what they heard, if they had seen the victims leave the hotels and at what times. There was plenty of talk, conjecture, but nothing solid.

  ‘There are to be no leaks to the press. If Communications and the PR department want to pander to them that’s their problem, but they are to get nothing from us. Is that clear?’

  Anna picked up the newspaper. ‘Sometimes the press can be helpful in a case like this.’

  ‘It isn’t helpful to be scaring people and saying we have a Jack the Ripper type scenario on our hands,’ Richard fumed.

  Later that evening Anna and Holly were alone in the canteen.

  ‘Rough day?’ asked Holly, helping herself to coffee and a blueberry muffin, her make-up as perfect as ever.

  ‘Yeah, could say that.’ Anna took a chair and Holly sat opposite, stirring her coffee as if she hoped to find salvation at the bottom of the cup.

  ‘I don’t know what’s happening to this country. At least during the troubles, you knew who was what, and who to keep an eye on. This pervert makes a change from dissidents and flag protestors getting out of hand. Any firm leads?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘We keep chasing ghosts of leads.’

  Holly took a drink of her coffee, ‘We’ve seen a rise in the number of sex crimes, in keeping with the national figures, but this killer doesn’t have a MO for sexual assault, does he?’

  ‘No, that’s the thing, the girls are murdered, brutally so, but there isn’t a sexual assault.’ Anna paused, ‘All this talk of a new dawn for Northern Ireland and a workable ‘shared future,’ do you think the murders could in any way be linked to the past?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seems as if the killer is trying to prove something. It’s a feeling I get, but maybe it’s this place – Belfast. You all seem so hung up on the past. Sure, there’s plenty of talk about the new order and peace and all that, but every which way I look there’s historical inquiries, flag protests, marches and meetings about banning marches, riots about the marches being banned - the lot. For an outsider, it doesn’t look so harmonious.’

  ‘We don’t let go easily, that’s for sure,’ Holly said, picking at her half-eaten muffin.

  ‘Maybe that’s it, our killer doesn’t want to let go of the past.’ Anna placed her hands around the hot cup of coffee.

  Anna hadn’t seen the little grey and white cat for a few days. The weather had turned cold so she assumed he was keeping himself in doors. But she missed seeing the swish of his tail and the interaction. She called Declan. ‘You said before that you didn’t think the police would take Esme’s death seriously. That it wouldn’t be a high priority.’

  ‘The peace process is a fragile beast. The Executive is at an impasse yet again. The balloons sitting up in Stormont can’t make a decision that doesn’t involve name calling and point scoring, so keeping them happy and preventing all-out war on the streets is the bigger picture for the PSNI.’ Declan sighed.

  ‘What if our killer is acting politically?’

  ‘Where are you going with this?’

  ‘What if he has an agenda? That he didn’t like the new status quo and he wanted to make a point?’

  ‘Angry with the state?’

  ‘Yes, or the police. Someone with a grudge and an agenda.’ She heard Declan breathing down the line, thought of his warm breath caressing her neck and shivered, ‘Could he be trying to tell us something, or t
each us a lesson?’

  Declan sighed, ‘Do you think the girls were singled out?’

  ‘Not necessarily. They may have been planned locations but chanced encounters with each of the victims. It may have been enough that they were young girls with everything to live for. The first generation to have lived free of the bombings and shootings.’ Anna said.

  ‘What has made him hate like this, who is he angry at – the police or the state?’ Declan asked.

  ‘Or is it the new order? Belfast is ‘buzzing’ according to all the marketing hype maybe our killer doesn’t like this new way of life. Not everyone wants to let go of the past.’ She could sense him thinking.

  ‘Their bodies weren’t posed in any way but it is possible that they were staged,’ he said.

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘To pose would suggest sexual gratification for himself, whereas to stage it, is sending a message to us.’

  ‘So, what’s his message?’ she asked, ‘That’s where we need to go with our investigation.’

  It was dusk. The sky had settled into a violet hue, edged with pink and orange. He loved this time of evening when he could go out trapping without fear of running into to anyone. Usually the Giant’s Ring, a henge monument at Ballynahatty, near Shaw’s Bridge, was free from walkers at this time of year. The odd car would be parked in the Minnowburn car park, ostensibly just sitting there but, those in the know knew that it was a gay pick up point. Most men parked up there where either married or had yet to come out, so they had no interest in his lone figure walking along with his leather satchel draped across his body.

  He walked across the grassy circular enclosure, sunken into the ground and surrounded by its earthy bank, and headed towards the river where he hoped to find prey. Something different, like a stoat or an otter. He had trained himself to walk with care, making as little noise and movement as possible. His eyes peered through the falling darkness, alert to subtle movements and the flash of bright eyes.