“Liam, you take illegal arms deals with Andy, and pick up on some of the contacts you made on that bomb case in Smithfield in twenty-fourteen to ask about antiques smuggling as well.”
He was referring to a book shop that had been deliberately destroyed in an explosion, to cover the theft of an original Crusader text by Islamic terrorists.
Liam sat down again, palming a muffin he’d managed to free from Nicky’s stash without her noticing.
“Tommy might know about both of those as well, boss. Remember he was the middle man for the sale of that old book.”
John shook his head at the description of the ancient text as an ‘old book’ but Craig nodded.
“Good thinking. Take Rhonda with you as well.” He scanned the group. “Where is she by the way?”
Rhonda O’Neil was the squad’s detective constable. Seconded from Australia for two years, her striking dark-haired, ice-skinned looks and romance with the edgy Sergeant Karl Rimmins of the drugs squad made her recent makeover as a Goth seem like a natural choice.
“Dentist.”
“OK. Well, when she gets back can you brief her, please, Annette. She’s friendly with Karl Rimmins in Drugs, so I’d like her to ask around about that possibility too.”
He turned back to the whiteboard. “Which just leaves us with political machinations and Kyle and I will take that one. OK. That leads us on to our second case.” He rapped his knuckles against their shooting victim’s name. “Nicky, pull up a photo of Peter McManus, please.”
A considerably healthier looking politician than the one they’d seen the day before appeared on the LED screen.
Craig leant against a desk and faced the group. “Peter McManus, forty-years-old, married, father of three. His wife Emily is a barrister, usually working with the Public Prosecution Service. Some of you may know her as Emily Rickert, she mostly works on fraud.”
It didn’t ring any bells.
“OK, well, McManus had been a member of the Independent Britain Party since twenty-ten, previously serving as an independent unionist MLA. He was elected as the IBP MLA for North Antrim in twenty-eleven, became deputy leader in twenty-fourteen, and earlier this year he took over as leader of the party and First Minister when his predecessor stepped down due to ill health-”
John Winter cut in. “Internal party election?”
“Probably. Ash, check that out please. What’s your point, John?”
“Was anyone’s nose put out of joint by such a young politician getting the leadership?”
Craig’s navy eyes widened; it hadn’t even crossed his mind that the killing could have been down to simple jealousy.
“Good call. Kyle, ask around your contacts and see what the situation was. Any internal resentment against McManus, party dissent, etcetera.”
The Intelligence Officer looked thoughtful for a moment. “Will do, but my guess is that his rivals across the floor of the Assembly probably hated him a lot more. It isn’t a secret that there was no love lost between him and Gloria O’Rawe.”
“I thought the Whole Ireland Party welcomed McManus’ appointment, on the grounds that some of his more unpopular views were likely to drive votes their way.”
Kyle’s face said he wasn’t so sure. “I’ll check.”
John interjected again. “Actually, Marc, that’s a point. What were McManus’ political views? The only two I can think of were that he wanted Northern Ireland to remain in the UK, but he was anti-leaving the EU while some of his party were pro.”
Liam concurred. “He had that in common with gorgeous Gloria then.”
The European Union referendum scheduled in nine days’ time was driving a coach and horses through UK politics, and turning even party colleagues against each other, obliterating the traditional ideological lines. Both the Leave and Remain camps had their fanatics, and the glitterati of the media, celebrities and wealthy were leaping on board as well, with even pop singers and reality TV ‘stars’ spouting off like someone really gave a damn what they thought.
Suddenly an Australian voice piped up from across the floor. “McManus wanted rid of me.”
Liam swung round to face the newly dentisted constable. “You in particular, Rhonda? Why? What did you do to him?”
Rhonda O’Neil took a seat, shooting him a sceptical look. “Immigrants in general, I mean. Wasn’t that one of McManus’ election promises? Northern Ireland for the Northern Irish, or something equally catchy.”
Craig tried to imagine anyone telling his Italian mother than she’d have to leave her County Down home after forty-odd years. She would have shot Peter McManus herself.
“OK, that’s enough speculating, everyone. Ash, find out exactly what Peter McManus’ public promises were, and dig out what he said in private as well if you can.” He turned back to the board. “McManus was shot around three p.m. yesterday with a sniper rifle. Des, have you managed to confirm the ballistics on that?”
The forensic scientist nodded. “The bullet found at the McManus scene matched the rifle found with William Regent.”
John tagged on “And his fatal injury was definitely caused by the bullet found. One through and through shot to the forehead. Death would have been instant.”
“OK, good. What about the guns’ makes and models?”
Des made a face. “That might take a bit longer. They’re not anything that I recognise and every distinguishing mark has been filed off.”
Liam shook his head. “Someone didn’t want to be traced, boss.”
“Regent?”
“Only if he’d thought he was leaving that roof. If not him then maybe our second man?”
“If one exists.” Craig considered for a moment. “If someone really doesn’t want to be traced then they don’t leave two guns behind.”
“So, what are you thinking?”
“They removed the markings to slow us down?” It was a question, and one that couldn’t be answered right away so Craig moved on.
“OK. What about the trajectory, Des?”
Des nodded Davy to tap his smart-pad again. A diagram and map appeared, showing the arched trajectory of the bullet from the top of Carson Tower on the Travis Estate, through a small grove of trees between there and Hillsborough Castle and straight over its wall, impacting at the exact position on the forecourt where Peter McManus had died.
“It was a beautiful shot.” Realising how admiringly he’d said it the scientist back-pedalled hastily. “That’s if it hadn’t killed anyone, of course.”
Craig nodded. “Don’t worry, Des. There’s no need to observe the niceties in here.”
Nicky sniffed loudly. “I beg to differ.”
But Craig had already moved on.
“OK, so an expert marksman could have made that shot, in those weather conditions.”
Des nodded. “He could and he did. There was virtually no wind yesterday and it was perfectly clear. Conditions were perfect.” He glanced apologetically at the PA as he went on. “Regent found a small break in the trees and lined his shot up perfectly. The events that followed led Armed Response officers to the Travis Estate, marked with the letter A on the map, and there to Carson Tower, marked with a B. After clearing the fifteen floors of the building they reached the roof, marked C, where they found the body of William Regent.” He turned to the pathologist. “John, can you take it from there.”
The pathologist rose to stand beside the screen, gesturing Davy to show the next slide. It was a picture of Billy Regent lying bloodied and dead on the ground, and was the cue for Nicky to busy herself making fresh drinks. John shone his light pen at the screen.
“OK. As you can see, this…” He drew a circle with red light “...found lying on the ground beside him half-packed in a bag, is the rifle that Billy Regent used to shoot Peter McManus. The ballistics is a match, as we’ve said, and GSR was found on Regent’s hands.”
Craig opened his mouth to interrupt, but John shook his head, moving on. He tapped the screen with a finger.
“And this…
is the handgun that was actually found in Regent’s right hand. It’s a semi-automatic pistol and we found a bullet that matched it in Regent’s skull, lodged against his left temporal bone, which means that the shot had to have entered from the right-hand side. Close inspection revealed stippling and charring typical of a contact wound on Regent’s right temple.”
He leant against Nicky’s desk, sighing. “Our first impression was that Regent placed the pistol against his right temple and fired, killing himself, but unfortunately it’s impossible to say whether the GSR on his hands came from it or the rifle.” He saw Craig’s face fall and moved on hurriedly. “However… initial swabs have revealed traces of latex on both of Regent’s hands.”
Craig frowned. “Gloves?”
Liam chimed in. “There were no gloves at the scene.”
Aidan shrugged. “Maybe someone else got rid of them.”
Liam wasn’t having it. “Between when Regent shot himself and us getting there? I don’t think so. Boss?”
Craig shook his head. “Unlikely. One, Aidan and Armed Response were already on the estate when the suicide shot occurred, and Carson Tower had been locked down, so no-one could have got on or off that roof, or at least not in through the cordon. And two, why the heck would anyone have bothered to remove Regent’s gloves, if he was wearing them? Come to think of it, why would Regent have been wearing gloves at all if he’d planned on remaining at the scene to shoot himself?”
John waved him down. “You didn’t let me finish. If Regent had been wearing latex gloves to avoid leaving prints on the rifle, which he wasn’t because prints from both his hands were all over it, that would surely have signalled his intention not to be IDed and therefore his intention to escape, so why then commit suicide? Or, if he’d been planning suicide all along, he wouldn’t have bothered with gloves at any point, so where did the latex come from?”
Des jumped in, eager to play Devil’s Advocate. “Let’s say Regent had his rifle half-packed and was about to leave the roof, when someone else, wearing latex gloves, appeared. They forced the handgun to Regent’s temple, transferring the latex trace to his hands somehow, shot him and then left the roof. Couldn’t they have hidden in some flat inside the tower until your lot left?”
Craig’s expression was equivocal. “It’s a long shot.”
“But not impossible. The only other alternative is that Regent put on gloves to kill himself and someone removed them afterwards, and who would do that? Who would have tidied up after him?”
Liam put forward a theory. “Someone who loved him and didn’t want anyone to know it was suicide? His mother maybe? We can check her alibi for the time of his death.”
Aidan jumped in. “It might have been done to ensure his life insurance paid out?”
Annette looked sad. “Maybe someone tried to stop him but they were too late, and they didn’t want Regent’s daughter growing up knowing that he’d killed himself.”
Craig shook his head. “All of those are possible, but I think John’s right. Why would Regent have put on gloves at all if he’d planned suicide? Although… if he was wearing gloves when he shot himself, the GSR you found must have come from the rifle.” He wrinkled his forehead, trying to make sense of the scenario. “No… none of those ideas work.” That left only one reasonable conclusion. “Someone else must have killed Billy Regent.”
John nodded excitedly, his imagination racing ahead. “To tie up loose ends.”
Liam objected before Craig could. “Whoa. Not so fast, Doc. You’re implying Regent killed with or for someone else, and we can’t say that till we know a lot more.”
Andy had been quiet during the discussion but now he raised a finger to make a point.
“Something to suggest, Andy?”
The spiky-haired D.C.I. looked puzzled. “More something to clear up, chief. We’re positive that Billy Regent pulled the trigger on McManus, are we?”
There was a series of nods, except for Craig.
“No. Andy’s right, we can’t be one hundred percent that Regent made that shot. The GSR on his hands could be from the handgun and his prints could have been planted on the rifle deliberately, after he was dead. Also, I’m pretty sure now that someone else was on that roof, for whatever reason. But just for the moment let’s say that Billy Regent shot the rifle and killed Peter McManus. What’s your point, Andy?”
“Well, I’ve two, but one’s a question really. Why would Regent have agreed to kill McManus? He was on McManus’ side of the political fence; Loyalist, ex-British Army, plus he had a young kid to live for. So, what would have made him risk everything to kill Peter McManus? Secondly, if there was someone else on that roof, then the person most likely to have been able to slip away when the tower was on lockdown would have been either a Carson resident or someone in uniform.”
There was silence for a moment and then Liam slapped his fellow D.C.I. so hard on the back that Andy almost brought up his lunch.
“Bloody brilliant! There is a brain in that gelled up head of yours after all!”
Craig was equally impressed but drew the line at physical assault.
“Excellent thinking, Andy. It’s clear we need to know a lot more about Billy Regent. You and Liam take that together; we learned a little about Billy from Tommy Hill earlier, but there’s bound to be more.”
Liam shifted to the edge of his chair. “And the idea that someone in police uniform might have done for Regent, boss?”
Craig answered by turning to the analysts. “CCTV?”
Davy nodded. “There’s bound to be some on the estate.”
“We’ll need images from both inside and outside the tower, and it was a long way up to that roof, so they may have used the lift. Also, we need to continue door-to-door-” There was a loud groan which he ignored. “-enquiries. Liam, bring Reggie up to speed with our thinking.”
He glanced at his watch. “OK, let’s wind it up. Everyone knows what they have to do. We’ll pick it up same time tomorrow.”
John shook his head, halting him. “There was something else, Marc. Regent had skin under the nails of his left hand. I think he got a piece of his attacker.”
Craig’s hopes rose. “DNA?”
“Preliminary only. It’s not a match for anyone in the system but we’re running deeper analysis.”
“Good. Keep me informed, please.”
Just as the group was about to disperse, the phone on Nicky’s desk rang. Her responses made Craig stop in his tracks.
“Where? How long ago?”
As she scribbled down the replies Liam read over her shoulder, and before the phone went down he and Craig were heading for the door. John watched balefully as his chance of a pint and some banter exited with them.
“What’s happening, Nicky? Who was that?”
“The front desk. Apparently, some sergeant near Maghera called through half-an-hour ago, but they transferred him to the wrong squad. He said Veronica Lewis has been found alive.”
Chapter Seven
The forty-five-mile trip to Drumnaph Wood near Maghera was punctuated by Liam losing his way several times and swearing, and Craig falling deep into thought, the mystery of Billy Regent’s demise preoccupying him. He wasn’t sure why a killer’s death should bother him so much except perhaps that he hated loose ends, particularly when that loose end might implicate a uniformed officer or imply that Regent hadn’t been acting on some vengeful motive of his own.
But the more the detective thought about it the more doubtful he was that Billy Regent had been pursuing a personal vendetta. Or could he possibly have blamed the First Minister for his war experiences; as a symbol of the British government if nothing else? Craig shook his head, rejecting the idea almost as soon as it occurred to him. No, unless Billy Regent had been driven insane by his PTSD, which was highly unlikely, he was moving closer to believing that either the squaddie had been paid to kill the First Minister and then disposed of by his paymasters, or that he had been completely set up.
&nbs
p; As Liam swore at the GPS that he’d just reluctantly switched on, his mistrust of computers of all sorts extending to anything that even beeped or clicked, Craig resorted to his far less technical notebook, scribbling down: Peter McManus, any military connections? And, Get Billy Regent’s psychiatric history and check payments to his bank account. He added a P.S.: Check the Regent family’s accounts as well, and then signed off with, arrange a meeting with the Armed Response commander who was working yesterday.
To the backing track of Liam thumping the dashboard Craig pulled out his phone and called Nicky to allocate the tasks.
“Liam already asked Ash to check Regent’s bank account, sir, but I’ll add in his family’s, shall I? and would you like me to contact Ken Smith about Regent’s and McManus’ military records?”
Ken Smith was an Army Captain stationed at the nearby Craigantlet Barracks and the partner of Craig’s younger sister, Lucia. He was also about to leave the military to start a career in the police.
“Good idea. Ken’s not leaving the army for a few more days. Ask him to call Liam when he gets a minute as well, please. He had something to ask him too. About Billy’s mental health.”
Liam’s instantly raised eyebrow said he’d completely forgotten the task he’d left Tommy Hill’s with earlier that day.
“Fine. I’ll get Doctor Winter onto the psychiatric history as well if that suits, and I’ll set up that meeting with the AR Commander for tomorrow afternoon.”
As Craig ended the call, the elusive police station finally appeared in front of them. Liam gave a smug smile that implied he’d never been lost at all.
“There you go now. We’re here. Easy.” He pulled into a nearby parking space, one of eight left empty in a row of ten. There obviously wasn’t a crime wave. “Although why the hell they built the place up this cow-rucked lane beats me. I’d have thought the middle of some town square would have been a better idea.”
Craig was out of the car before the engine was turned off. “Maybe because this is a farming community and they were trying to accommodate that.” He slammed the door shut. “Anyway, it gave you a chance to practice using the GPS, so taking an hour longer than we should have done wasn’t a total dead loss.”
The Cabal (#16 - The Craig Crime Series) Page 11
