“I’ll think about it. Right, now let’s get on with the case. Liam first on Julian Mooney, then Annette on the McCaffertys, Davy and Jake on their side and I’ll bring you up to speed on everything else. Liam?”
Liam grinned and Craig knew he was still thinking of his three pints of beer. “Well now. Mr Mooney. I didn’t get to see him but I spoke to him on the blower; he’s in the Republic on business and can’t get back for a few days. He was pretty cut-up about the girlfriend, Vicky Linton, there was no mistaking that. He said that he’d no idea who would have sent her such an expensive gift. She’s a criminal prosecutor so it wasn’t likely to have been a grateful client.”
“Expensive gift?”
Craig nodded at Jake. “Something I told Liam. We’ll get to it later. That’s a good point about her being a prosecutor, Liam. Her only client would have been The Crown. That means, depending how successful she was at her job, that she must have put hundreds of people away over the years. Plenty of angry cons and their relatives to consider.” He raked his thick hair. “Though that wouldn’t really fit with the other victims.”
Davy interjected. “S…She specialised in cooperate law for years, chief, not criminal cases. She only joined the court system in 2007.”
Craig gave him a puzzled look. “That’s an unusual career shift. She was defending corporate clients then?”
Davy nodded. “Yes. I’m only s…starting to get the details, but I’ll know more tomorrow.”
“OK. Thanks. Sorry, carry on, Liam.”
“Julian Mooney and Vicky Linton had been dating for nigh on a year and he said he was working up to proposing, but then we all say that, don’t we?”
Craig winced, remembering his own moment down on one knee many years before. The engagement hadn’t ended well.
“And Mooney must know it would make him look less of a suspect in her death if he seemed loved–up.”
Craig interrupted. “What does your gut say?”
Liam shook his head. “Not guilty. He sounds a bit smooth for my liking. Like the sort you wouldn’t trust near any woman you cared about, but not guilty of this. Like I said, he was pretty cut-up.”
“OK, that’s Mooney out of the way until we can meet with him. Davy, run all the usual checks on him anyway, please.” Craig turned to Annette. “Right, Annette, the McCaffertys. Anything?”
Annette was rummaging in her handbag for something and Craig waited until she pulled it out. It was a photograph of Jonathan McCafferty on a beach, and judging by the sunshine and the exotic looking brunette by his side, it wasn’t Portstewart Strand. She passed the picture round and started reporting, ignoring Liam’s noisy “Phoaw.”
“Jonathan McCafferty wasn’t the paragon of virtue that his job and press clippings might have suggested. He was the only son of two elderly parents. They adopted him when they were in their forties; they’re in their eighties now. Nice people, very religious.”
Jake interrupted with a wary look on his face. “Like the Fosters?”
Craig recalled the case Jake was referring to; a murder on the North Coast the winter before. The Fosters had been a couple who’d adopted a child late in life and they’d been religious as well, expressing their love of God by beating their son half to death. He sincerely hoped that the McCafferty’s approach to worship was more benign.
Annette shook her head at Jake’s question. “No, nothing like the Fosters, thank God.”
Craig smiled at her choice of words.
“The McCaffertys seem like genuinely devout people. They live very simply and there’s definitely no money to spare. They disapproved strongly of their son’s fast lifestyle. The father in particular was very vocal about it.”
“What about his lifestyle? What was he doing that was so bad?”
She pursed her lips, gesturing at the circulating picture. “That wasn’t his wife and she wasn’t the first. Apparently he had several affairs. He was very good at spending money on himself too; took off to exotic places whenever he felt like it. Eventually his wife, Amelia, took the kids and left. The McCaffertys took her side. The father said he thought Jonathan was into cocaine as well.”
Liam squinted suspiciously. “How would an eighty-year-old know about coke?”
Annette arched an eyebrow. “You’ll know about more than that when you’re eighty, I bet. Anyway, he didn’t call it cocaine.” She flicked open her notebook and read aloud. “That white stuff they put up their noses.” She gave Liam a sarcastic smile. “OK now?”
“Aye, well. I like accuracy.”
“It’s your middle name, isn’t it?”
Craig intervened before their barbed exchange took over the meeting. “Grow up you two. Keep going, Annette.”
“Well, the rest of the conversation was basically the mother singing Jonathan’s praises, along the lines of ‘don’t you remember that tie he bought you for Father’s Day when he was ten?’ and the father calling him all the worthless whatevers of the day. It was clear they’ll never agree on the subject.”
Nicky smiled. “Motherly love.”
Annette nodded. “There was one interesting thing, sir. Neither of them believed that Jonathan had committed suicide, but the father said that at least his wife and kids would get all his money now. Motive?”
Craig frowned. He doubted that Amelia McCafferty had managed to drive her husband to suicide, the other way about sounded more likely. But they had to rule it out. He smiled ruefully. She wouldn’t be the first black-widow spider in the world.
“OK, that’s interesting, Annette. I’m not sure it will take us anywhere, but go ahead and interview the widow.” He turned to Davy. He was whispering something to Jake, making him laugh. “Care to share it, lads?”
Craig had asked the question pleasantly but Davy blushed anyway. He decided to brazen it out.
“I was just s…saying that if Maggie killed me all she’d inherit would be my PlayStation games and a pile of black T-shirts.”
A quick laugh went round the group and Craig could see them all thinking about what they would leave behind.
Davy was on a roll. “At least if I s…snuffed it now, I’d be a good looking corpse.”
Jake chipped in. “Like James Dean. Live fast, die young and be a good looking corpse.”
Nicky had had enough of the conversation and tutted loudly. “And leave your poor mothers crying their eyes out too. There’s nothing glamorous about dying, at any age.”
Craig stifled a smile at her serious face and folded arms. They didn’t quite go with today’s outfit of black and white cat suit and false eyelashes. He didn’t know who Nicky’s fashion icons were because she changed them every week, but today’s looked like Siouxsie and the Banshees.
“OK, let’s get back to work. Annette, interview Amelia McCafferty. Take Jake with you please. Davy, check her out in depth and Julian Mooney as well, in addition to the checks you’re running on everyone else.”
“Will do.”
“Right, what have you found on our victims, Davy?”
Davy uncrossed his gangly legs and leaned forward with a solemn look on his face.
“Jake’s been helping me and between us w…we’ve looked at all but the most recent victim, Victoria Linton. I’ll get to her today. S…So far there’s nothing obvious on any of them. No criminal records, no obvious debts, no nasty little secrets. W…Well, none that are illegal anyway.”
“Did Jonathan McCafferty’s affairs show up on your searches?”
Davy nodded. “Yes.” He turned to Annette apologetically. “Sorry, Annette, I s…should have told you about him. It came up when I was doing his financial checks. Hotels and meals for two all the way through his marriage, even w…while his wife was in hospital giving birth, so it obviously wasn’t her he was eating them with.”
Annette smiled ruefully and Craig nodded Davy on.
“There’s nothing obvious that connects the three victims, chief. I’ve run the combinations between them in pairs and all three of them toget
her. They didn’t go to s…school or college together, they didn’t w…work together anywhere at any time, not even student attachments. They didn’t even like the same things.”
Liam interrupted. “In what way, lad?”
“McCafferty was into s…sailing, exotic holidays and he played five-a-side football up at the Olympia playing fields once a week, with a bunch of other suits. W…Warner was into ballroom dancing and the theatre, and Diana Rogan never left the house without her kids.”
Craig stopped him. “Not even the odd night out with her friends, Davy?”
Davy shook his head hard, making his long hair fall over his face. He pushed it back, irritated. Craig predicted he’d cut it soon and he wondered what style would appear next. As long as he didn’t take fashion tips from Nicky he should be all right.
“Nothing. She was a real home bird.”
Craig turned to Liam. “Check that out, Liam. I want to know if Diana Rogan and Nelson Warner had any skeletons in their closets, they both sound a little bit too perfect to me.”
Annette and Nicky exchanged an indignant look and Craig sighed. “OK, tell me off. What have I said now?”
Nicky answered first, in her husky voice. “Well, I know everything has to be looked at, sir, but some people just have normal lives. Lots of women never go out without their husband or kids; I don’t. And lots of people lead quiet lives and go dancing or to the movies.”
Craig smiled, enjoying her challenge. “That’s perfectly true, Nicky, and I agree with you. But lots of people don’t end up being killed in such a strange way. I know you and Annette have said before that we look as if we’re blaming the victims, but we’re not. We’re looking into the darkest recesses of their lives hoping that we’ll find nothing there and can rule things out. If their killers escaped because we didn’t bother looking, how would you feel then?”
Nicky folded her arms defiantly and Annette gave a sceptical, “Mmm…”
Craig laughed and turned back to Davy. “What about the suicide notes, Davy? Anything there?”
“No, s…sorry. Des says there are no prints but the victims’ on any of them. Hand-written on s…standard paper.” His face lit up. “But the phone-call you got was a bit tasty. The report came back from linguistics this morning.”
He rushed to his desk and came back with a piece of paper, while Annette prised the beach photograph she’d passed around out of Liam’s reluctant hand.
“OK. The report says that the caller w…was male.”
“That was pretty obvious!”
Davy gave Liam a triumphant look. “No, it w…wasn’t actually. I only gave linguistics the w…written text; I didn’t tell them that it was a man who’d phoned.”
“How’d they know then?”
Craig intervened. “Speech patterns. Now shut-up and let Davy report, Liam.”
Liam snorted. “You mean men’s speech patterns are different from women’s? I could have told you that years ago. Men only talk when we’ve something worth saying.”
Nicky and Annette rounded on him together. “Shut-up.”
Liam shrugged and Davy carried on. “The phrasing and vocabulary indicates s…someone educated, like you said, chief. University or college.”
“They’re sure, Davy?”
“Certain. More than that. The w…wording in the phone call, ‘You would see both those things as a challenge’ indicates a particular use of English. I know you said he had a local accent but the language indicates that the caller spent some time in England, probably in London or the south-east.”
“Anything on their age?”
“No. They said that it was more likely that they were older than thirty, but if younger they could have s…spent time around older people.”
“He was somewhere in his twenties or thirties, I’m sure of that.” Craig paused then turned to Nicky. “Nick, get permanent recording and traces on my mobile and desk-phone until I say stop. I want his voice on tape next time.” He turned back to Davy. “Anything else on that, Davy?”
“Nope. S…Shall I go on to the USB now?”
Craig saw the other’s blank faces and shook his head. “I’ll update everyone first then we’ll come back to that.”
Over the next five minutes he brought them up to date on Victoria Linton’s suicide scene and his and Des’ findings. The padded envelope marked ‘private’ that she’d received at work, and the note that had accompanied it, mysteriously inviting her to look at her past. When Craig reached the description of the USB, Annette gasped.
“What is it, Annette?”
“I’m not sure, sir, just something you said rang a bell. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”
Craig updated them on his road trip with Des. “We were sure that we’d find something and we did. An identical USB was found in Nelson Warner’s effects.”
“With the key cover, sir?”
“Yes, Jake. Why? Is that significant in some way?”
Jake frowned in concentration then nodded his head hesitantly. “It’s probably just me being ridiculous, but when I was a kid there was a computer game we used to play a lot.”
Something occurred to Craig and he interrupted. “How old were you when you played it?”
“About fourteen or fifteen. It was all the rage at school.”
“And you’re twenty-eight now, is that right?”
“Twenty–nine next month.”
Nicky mentally added the fact to her team birthday list as Craig continued. “So this game might have been popular with anyone who’s around their late twenties or early thirties now?”
“Yes. It was rated 16 so it was mainly played by A Level students. Parents wouldn’t have bought it for anyone younger, that’s why we played it at school.”
“That fits with the age of the man who called me. OK, Jake, sorry for interrupting. Carry on.”
“Well, the game had several levels of difficulty, like they usually have, and when you reached the top level you got a key that allowed you to open a door. Behind it was a great treasure and you had to fight your way through a series of opponents to reach it.”
Davy cut in. “Sounds like a cool game. What was it called?”
“Justification.”
Craig’s ears perked up. “Justification as in it was OK to kill your opponents to get to the treasure?”
“Basically, yes. But also, you had to kill to get through the levels as well. You could do whatever it took to get to your goal, including killing anyone who tried to prevent you, in any way that you fancied. The ends justified the means, hence the title.”
Davy nodded. “I remember it now. My mum wouldn’t buy it for me ‘cos I w…was too young and she said it was immoral. The older boys at s…school played it all the time.”
Annette sniffed. “It certainly sounds immoral, giving children permission to behave as badly as they want and rewarding them for it. I never let Jordan and Amy play computer games. You never know what goes on in there.”
Jake shrugged. “I turned out all right.”
Liam tapped the side of his nose. “We only have your word for that, son.”
Craig waved them into silence and turned back to Jake. “What about the key, Jake?”
“Let me draw it then you can tell me if it looks anything like your USB.”
He grabbed a sheet of paper from Nicky’s printer and sketched quickly with his pen. When he was satisfied Jake turned the page round. The grin that covered Craig’s face said it all. The gothic design on Jake’s page exactly matched the key-shaped cover they’d found on Victoria Linton’s and Nelson Warner’s memory sticks, down to the ornate scrollwork down its shank. Craig seized the page urgently.
“What was the key made of, Jake?”
“Sir?”
“In your game. What metal?”
“Oh, right. It was anything you fancied it being. You could choose. Why?”
Craig smiled, realising that they were on to something. “Not specifically platinum?”
/> Jake shook his head. “Why platinum?”
“That’s what Linton’s and Warner’s keys were made of.”
“You could have chosen platinum I suppose, but most people I knew chose gold.”
Annette interjected. “That’s what most kids would think of as the most valuable metal, even nowadays. The choice of platinum might mean something specific to our killer.”
Jake continued. “I think the whole game was really supposed to signify the corrupting influence of greed, or the dangers of desire or something like that, but the message was totally lost on kids.” He smiled, remembering. “I used to play it for hours on end unless my mum took it off me.”
Liam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that the game that was banned in the States?”
Jake nodded excitedly. “In the Bible belt, yes. They said it was the Devil’s work.”
They chatted about the game for a moment until Liam realised that Craig wasn’t joining in. He was sitting quietly with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Penny for them, boss?”
Craig started talking slowly, as if he was working things out as he spoke.
“Jake’s drawing of the key matches the cover of Warner’s and Linton’s USBs exactly… down to the scroll work on its shaft. The key’s design was copied directly from Jake’s game. That means our perp played it and… the deaths are probably being justified as a means to an end as well… again, like in the game.”
Annette cut in. “So what’s their treasure at the end?”
“I don’t know. It could be money, power, anything, but I’m pretty sure that in their mind our four victims had to be killed so that they could reach it.” He glanced at Jake urgently. “How many opponents were behind the locked door in the game, Jake?”
“I can’t… no, hold on, I can remember. There was no number put on them. As soon as one was killed another one sprang up.”
“So how did you ever reach the treasure?”
“You just had to keep killing more brutally until you got close enough to touch it, then your enemies suddenly disappeared into thin air.”
“Do you still have a copy of ‘Justification’, Jake?”
The Coercion Key Page 8
