The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  “Hazel. Hazel Gormley. I’m the sister here. Please come in.”

  As she led the way Craig noticed a disgruntled look on Liam’s face. He fell back and whispered. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “T-shirts and jeans. I like nurses’ uniforms, especially the ones with the little hats.”

  “This isn’t your erotic fantasy, Liam. She’s wearing normal clothes because this is people’s home, not a hospital ward.”

  Liam made a face. “I’m just saying.”

  “Well stop.”

  As the exchange ended the sister halted in front of a second door and Craig realised she’d just led them through an entrance hall; quite a grand one now that he looked at it. The inner door resembled the outer except without a letter box, and as it swung inwards Craig gasped. The communal area in front of them was parquet floored and elegant in an old fashioned way, just like his parent’s hall. If it had been designed with older people in mind it worked. Off the space were several rooms and a quick tour revealed them to be bedrooms, sitting, TV and drawing rooms, with a games room towards the rear. Other hallways led to a dining room and sports complex.

  The sister stopped walking and smiled up at Craig. “Most people are at dinner at the moment but I got permission to show you one of the apartments. It belongs to a married couple – Joe and Maria Muldoon. They moved in last year.”

  As she talked she led them into an airy room, decorated as if it was in someone’s house. “The residents can bring their own furniture if they wish; it makes it feel more like home.”

  This particular pair of residents had brought a four poster bed!

  “This apartment has a living room, bedroom and ensuite. There’s also a small kitchen if they want to cook.”

  After the tour had finished the sister showed them into her office. Over tea and biscuits Craig asked questions while the others munched.

  “How many residents do you have in total, and how many couples versus single occupants?”

  “Twenty-two at the moment; six couples and ten single residents. The age range is sixty to ninety-two. Most are mobile, although one uses a wheelchair and some use Zimmer frames and canes.”

  Craig smiled. Those had been his next questions. Liam interjected.

  “Sixty. That’s a bit young, isn’t it?”

  Craig smiled, knowing that he was feeling his age.

  Gormley shrugged. “I suppose it is if you’re in perfect health, but our residents all have problems such as asthma and diabetes. That’s why Professor Taylor started the unit; to research the outcomes if elderly people are treated with vigorous prevention and care.”

  Craig asked another question. “How often is the professor here?”

  “Usually twice a day, although he spends most of his time on the acute ward: Newman. The rest of the time he’s at the university doing research.”

  “And the residents here? Do they ever go onto the acute ward?”

  The sister burst out laughing. “Not if they can help it! Most of them avoid Newman like the plague; it reminds them of their age.” She pointed towards the back of the suite at what Craig imagined was a door. “That’s the suite’s main entrance. It leads onto the garden and tennis courts and lots of them have their cars parked out the back.”

  Another way in. Craig still needed his question answered.

  “Can they access the acute ward?”

  Hazel nodded. “Ah, I see. You’re thinking about the murder in the linen room. Well yes, residents can come and go as they please, and many do. They like the hospital shop and library so they often go there. But…”

  “What?”

  “Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re talking about elderly people here and the victim was a young nurse.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I doubt that any of our residents would have the strength to commit murder.”

  Craig smiled. She was probably right, but they still needed to be interviewed. He rose to leave.

  “Thank you for being so helpful, Sister. We’ll need to interview all your residents. D.C.I. Cullen here will be in touch.”

  He headed for the exit before Liam had time to complain.

  ***

  The C.C.U. Friday, 9 a.m.

  A sudden clatter came from Craig’s office followed by a loud “Damn!” Nicky was wondering whether to knock on his door when it opened and Craig emerged, clutching his right arm. She saw blood spreading down his shirt sleeve and rushed across, concerned.

  “What have you done?”

  Her tone was a mix of worry and reprimand that reminded Craig she was the mother of a twelve-year-old boy. He winced as she prised his fingers off the wound.

  “I tripped over my sports bag and banged it on the edge of the desk. Who knew it was so sharp?”

  “Everyone but you, apparently.”

  Nicky pushed him onto a chair, chiding him in her husky voice. “Why you keep that stupid sports bag in your office beats me. You never get time to go to the gym.”

  “Someday I might and this way I won’t have to drive all the way home to collect it.”

  She rolled up his sleeve and inspected the wound. “Since your flat is only two minutes from that gym you pay exorbitant fees to, that’s hardly logical, is it?”

  The question was rhetorical, but any answer Craig might have given would have been rendered inaudible by the thump of Liam’s footsteps across the room, followed by his loud guffaw.

  “You been in the wars again, boss? I hope it wasn’t another bullet.”

  He was referring to a case in April during which Craig had been shot in the arm and he’d taken two to the chest, or at least his armoured vest had. Craig suddenly realised the cut was in the same place he’d been shot.

  “It tore my scar open, Nick; that’s what happened.”

  Nicky gave him a dry look. “That might be why it’s bleeding so much but it’s not what made you trip.”

  She applied a crepe bandage, tying it tight with a satisfied smile.

  “There. Annette can check it if she likes, but it should hold till you can get it stitched.”

  Craig had no intention of getting it stitched; it was only a cut. He pulled down his sleeve and beckoned everyone to gather round.

  As Nicky made the coffee, Craig scanned his team. It had grown in size recently, although Ken was only on loan for a year and who knew when one of the more ambitious members might leave. Carmen was a constable but too bright to stay at that level, Jake was a sergeant who’d be going for inspector soon. In fact, if he had to lay a wager the only ones he could be sure would still be there by the end of 2015 were Liam, Nicky, Davy Walsh their analyst and Annette.

  As Annette’s name entered his head a doubt entered too. Would she still be with them next year? Since her husband’s affair her already significant ambition had grown; who knew when she’d try for D.C.I.

  He called the group to order. “OK. Let’s get on with it. Most of you know that a body was found yesterday morning on a ward at St Mary’s Trust.”

  “W…Where, chief? Not the M.P.E. again?”

  Craig turned towards Davy and shook his head. The young analyst was more confident now, his once constant stutter on ‘w’ or ‘s’ down to only the odd word. He’d also developed from a skinny youth whose narrow width had seemed incongruous with his six-foot height, to someone almost as muscular as him.

  “The main building off the M2.” He gestured at Liam. “Where Liam seems to like the beds so much.”

  Liam had been hospitalised twice in the previous two years, both times on cases. Once for poisoning and once when he’d been shot along with Craig. Craig continued.

  “OK. The victim was a twenty-five-year-old nurse called Eleanor Rudd. She was found manually strangled in the linen room on the Elderly Medicine Unit. The E.M.U.” He threw out a challenge. “Suggestions please. As wild as you like.”

  “Another nurse?”

  The words had come from Annette who’d once been a nurse and that interested Cr
aig. He turned to her. “Go on.”

  Annette set her handbag on the floor and kicked it under the chair. As she did so they all noticed her new high heels. She’d always worn mid-height shoes and after her promotion to inspector she’d gone to sensible flats and had worn a suit every day. Craig had speculated that it was her attempt at being taken seriously by the ‘higher ups’. But today, and in fact since they’d returned from John’s wedding in Barbados, she was back in heels again, much higher than before. Not only that but she’d lost a stone in weight and was growing her hair long. It suited her, but as Nicky had pointed out at the wedding, it also smacked of a woman about to make a fresh start.

  Annette’s Maghera accent cut across Craig’s thoughts.

  “Ward rivalries happen all the time, sir, and they can be nasty.”

  Craig nodded. “OK, let’s run with that for a minute. Eleanor Rudd was manually strangled which means her attacker had considerable upper body strength.”

  Annette shrugged. “There are plenty of male nurses around. Or what about a doctor? She might have been romantically involved with one and it went wrong.”

  He dragged over a white board and started writing.

  “Right. So we have possible rivalry or romance. Good. Anyone else?”

  Liam had been busy adding sugar to his tea but now he glanced up. “What about both together: rivalry and romance. A love triangle.”

  Craig thought for a moment then drew a triangle with Eleanor Rudd at one corner and question marks on the other two. Annette jumped in again.

  “Liam’s right. They happen all the time in hospitals. Two women after the same man or two men after the same woman. It’s more common than average because of the hours people work. They’re thrown together day and night in emotional situations.”

  Liam guffawed. “You mean like here?”

  As he preened himself, implying that he was the natural choice of man in the triangle, Annette and Nicky glanced at each other and shook their heads.

  “Nope. That level of rivalry would require a gorgeous man.”

  Craig smiled. Annette was only saying it to keep Liam in his place but either way none of the other men cared. Jake was gay and had been happily settled with Aaron for years, Craig was paired with Katy Stevens, a doctor at the Trust, Davy had been dating Maggie Clarke, a journalist at The Belfast Chronicle for ages, and Ken Smith only had eyes for Carmen, although whether she’d even noticed his love-sick gaze was anyone’s guess.

  It was Carmen’s Scottish burr that drew them back to the case. “What if it was someone from outside? After all, hospitals are open to the public.”

  Craig nodded. “Carmen’s right. There’s little security on wards unless they’re paediatrics, maternity or intensive care. Everywhere else relies on someone challenging new entrants.” He updated them on the unit’s ground-floor location and easy street access.

  Carmen leaned forward enthusiastically, pushing her copper curls back from her face. “Maybe that’s exactly what happened. Maybe our victim challenged someone walking onto the unit and it got her killed?”

  Craig wrote the words ‘stranger attack’ on the board, but it was more out of politeness than belief. Stranger attacks were rare, especially ones that led to murder; studies said 80% of victims knew their killers. A straightforward intruder would have been more likely to lock Eleanor Rudd in the linen room than murder her in cold blood. He thought of something else.

  “Davy, get onto John and ask if our victim was sexually assaulted, please.”

  “Now?”

  Craig nodded. If Eleanor Rudd had been raped it added a new dimension to the case. He turned back to the group. “Any more ideas?”

  Ken dragged his eyes away from Carmen’s pert profile long enough to offer a suggestion. Nicky wished he would just ask her out instead of mooning over her all day long, but she wasn’t holding her breath. If he hadn’t managed to get a date in a romantic location like Geneva, the office was an unlikely choice.

  “Theft of some sort, sir? Were any drugs missing off the ward? Or money?”

  Before Craig could answer, Annette leapt in. “Ward safes often contain money and valuables belonging to patients, and elderly ladies wear lots of gold.”

  It was a good point. “OK. We need to get the safes on both sides of the E.M.U. checked. Jake, do that when you and Liam go back to St Mary’s, please.”

  Jake stared at Craig vaguely, as though he hadn’t been listening to a word he’d said. It wasn’t like him; he was normally on the ball. Nicky watched the exchange and arched an eyebrow in a way that told Craig she’d find out what was up with the sergeant and report back.

  He turned back to Ken. “On the drug thefts, Ken. Nothing seems to be missing, but I’ll ask the ward to carry out a full inventory, so thanks for that.” He wrote ‘theft’ on the board and turned back to the group. “Anything else?”

  Liam went to speak but Annette got in first. “Perhaps someone was trying to get at a patient and the nurse prevented them?”

  Liam was indignant. “Here, that’s what I was going to say!”

  “It’s just as well I’m psychic then, isn’t it?”

  Craig waved them down just as Davy said “Thanks. Goodbye.” and set down the phone. He looked at Craig and shook his head.

  “Doctor W…Winter says there was no sexual assault and the nurse’s cash and jewellery were still there.”

  Craig nodded. His instinct had said that rape and robbery weren’t their killer’s motives but it was good to have it confirmed. He turned back to Liam and Annette.

  “Both of you. We need to know more about the E.M.U.’s patients and whether Eleanor Rudd was the sort of woman who would step in to protect one of them.”

  He wrote ‘protecting patients?’ on the board and then stood back to look at the list. It read: rivalry, romance, triangle, challenging stranger/stranger attack, theft and protecting patients. He squinted at ‘romance’ and ‘stranger attack’ in light of the lack of sexual assault but decided to leave them in place; the absence of rape didn’t rule them out. Any one of the reasons could be valid and the only way to narrow them down was by sheer hard graft.

  “OK. Annette, I want you to interview Hannah Donard, the nurse who found the body. Take Carmen with you on that. Find out anything you can about the culture on the ward: was Eleanor Rudd well liked, romances etc. You know the form.”

  He turned to Davy. “Davy, dig into Eleanor Rudd’s background, get her phone and laptop dumps, the works. Also, take a look at the other staff on the unit, doctors and nurses. As much as you can get without raising suspicion at the moment, I don’t want people complaining we’ve violated their rights until we really have to.”

  Davy nodded, throwing his black hair across his face. “How far up do I go, chief?”

  “I want everyone, including the professor. His name’s in my briefing note. Also, pull the hospital CCTV for the time around the death. There are cameras on the wards, in the main corridor and in the gardens outside the unit. Also, there are traffic cams on the road running behind.”

  Davy grinned; he loved the covert part of his job. It made him feel like a spy without the risk or the wet work. Craig turned to Liam.

  “Liam, you and Jake go back to the ward and set up base. I want all the staff who were working yesterday interviewed. Make friends with the sisters on both wards and see what they have to say about unit relationships; if anyone will know what’s been going on they will. Also, take their advice on which patients to interview first and get Joe to help out with that. If you need back-up ask Jack Harris for some troops.”

  Jack Harris had been the sergeant at Belfast’s High Street Station for thirty years and he knew everything that happened in the city. Craig used his interview rooms on cases, bringing a little excitement into Jack’s life, and in return he’d lend them uniforms to help out the odd time.

  Liam nodded. “Aye, OK, but I’m not in his good books these days. He hasn’t forgiven me for telling you he dressed as a g
imp that time we went undercover.”

  Craig laughed. “Buy him a present then. Preferably not a leather mask.”

  Everyone laughed except Jake. He was staring into space as if he was carrying the worries of the world. Craig wrapped up.

  “OK, that’s it. You’ve all plenty to get on with. We’ll brief at eight and four every day.”

  Ken shot Craig a puzzled look. “You haven’t given me anything to do, sir.”

  Craig was realised he was right and then he remembered why he hadn’t. “You’re shadowing me, Ken, if that’s OK?”

  Smith nodded vigorously. Shadowing Craig meant that he’d be at the centre of things; it was exactly why he’d wanted the secondment. He rose to follow Craig into his office but Craig motioned him to wait and walked over to Jake’s desk.

  “Jake, could I have five minutes?”

  The young detective glanced up, startled, wondering what he’d done wrong. Craig smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.”

  They entered Craig’s small corner office and he shut the door, beckoning the sergeant to take a seat. As he poured them both coffee Craig glanced out at the river. The Lagan was smooth and grey today; it looked quiet, too quiet. It was the quietness that signalled a coming storm.

  Craig sat down, smiling at the younger man. “Do you know why I called you in?”

  Jake gazed blankly at his boss. A hundred possible answers tumbled through his brain but none seemed to fit so he shook his head.

  “I called you in to see if you were all right. You’ve seemed down for days. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Relief crossed Jake’s face and then he dropped his eyes. His mouth opened and closed as if he was searching for the right words, until finally he spoke.

  “You know that my parents were killed in a fire when I was five, sir.”

  Craig’s eyes widened; he hadn’t known. How had he missed something so big? He made up his mind to check everyone’s personnel files and said nothing. Jake was already carrying on.

  “My mother’s parents raised me. They were wonderful, especially when I was confused about being gay when I was younger. But…”