Annette wagged a finger at Davy for his ageism and started to report.
“Well…the Rudds. It’s a highly dysfunctional family. The mother’s been beaten by her husband for years, if her demeanour and his willingness to try it in front of two cops is anything to go by.”
Jake gawped. “He didn’t!”
“He would have if we hadn’t been there to stop him. He’s in High Street now under arrest.” She shook her head. “He called his dead daughter a whore as well, so God knows what sort of life he gave her when she was alive.”
Craig interjected. “Annette’s right. His mood wasn’t improved by the press camping outside their door.”
Liam’s bass echoed through the room. “Mercer?”
Craig nodded. “Being his usual charming self.” He was about to ask Liam to have a word then he remembered that every time Liam saw Ray Mercer he struggled to control his fists. He turned to Jake and Ken instead. “Jake, take Ken and have a word with Ray Mercer.”
Ken looked at Craig curiously. “Who is he?”
“One of the most unpleasant tabloid journalists you’ll ever meet – a real bottom feeder. Have a word with his editor as well please, Jake. You know what to say; obstructing enquiries, interfering with a case. The usual.” He smiled. “Tomorrow’s time enough.”
Liam saw Craig’s smile. He was about to ask what was wrong with Jake seeing Mercer sooner when Annette nipped him on the calf. “Ow! What the hell?” The look in Annette’s eyes said ‘shut up. I’ll tell you later.’ Craig had updated her on Jake’s home situation on the way to the Rudd’s.
Craig restarted. “OK, so Eleanor Rudd didn’t have the happiest family in the world and she was undoubtedly beaten by her father. She has old scars and if he hits his wife I’m sure the children didn’t escape.” He turned to Carmen who was scribbling furiously on her pad. “Carmen, you and Ken interview Ellie Rudd’s brother tomorrow please. If he’s not living at home Davy can get you his address.”
Ken blushed and Liam rolled his eyes. He stopped quickly at Craig’s sharp glance.
Craig continued. “So we know Eleanor Rudd had a hard past and we know she wasn’t the nicest person. Anyone anything more on that?”
Liam reported Hazel Gormley’s reasons for banning Rudd from working in Reilly Suite. He was about to continue when Craig crossed the room and brought back a white board. He wrote up the heading ‘Motive’ and beneath it ‘harsh/cruel’ then he waved Liam on.
“Aye well, Rudd was so bad she actually bruised an old lady’s arms helping her dress.” His brow furrowed. “If I ever saw…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. “Apparently she was a bit of a girl for the men as well.”
Annette cut in. “We’d already guessed that. Dr Cooke and the Professor.”
Liam reclaimed the floor decisively. “Aye well, Mrs Smartass, did you also know that Adrian Cooke was a drug addict?”
Everyone looked shocked.
“No, you didn’t. You see now. I’m a chief inspector for a reason.”
Craig laughed. “Dear God, Liam, all that’s missing is you sticking out your tongue. Grow up and get on with it.”
Liam sniffed. “Aye, well, I’m just saying. A bit more respect wouldn’t go amiss around here. Anyway. Adrian Cooke had or has a drug problem. Sister Gormley said he’d got help for it but for all we know it might still be there.”
Craig thought for a moment. There was no such thing as an ex-addict but that didn’t mean Cooke was still using. “What sort of drugs?”
“Coke mostly.”
Craig was surprised. Most drug–addict doctors’ poison of choice was Morphine; it was easy to find in the medical world. Cocaine meant that Adrian Cooke had gone to a dealer. Risky behaviour. Liam was still speaking.
“That’s not the worst of it. He was using Roids as well.”
Steroids! That brought all kinds of possibilities. Craig asked the obvious question.
“Is he a body builder?”
Liam shrugged. “Might be. I don’t know yet. Fit was all Gormley would say. But if Cooke was on steroids then Roid-rage isn’t a million miles away.”
Craig nodded. “Especially if he’s on coke too. OK, check it out. I want him looked into and interviewed.”
Annette said something and Craig turned to see her musing to herself. “Do you have something, Annette?”
“Just…if Cooke knew that Rudd was seeing the Prof and he was taking that cocktail, jealousy’s a good trigger for murder.”
Craig nodded. “It is, but not the only one. Cooke’s a suspect but not our prime one yet.” He turned back to Liam. “Good work, Liam. What else did your team find out on the ward?”
Jake and Ken exchanged a look on the word ‘team’ and smiled as Liam preened himself.
“We interviewed everyone on Reilly and came up with a five person shortlist of those who might have the strength to strangle Rudd. Two women and three men; some of them are a bit of a stretch.”
Craig nodded. “OK, make sure Davy has that list. Anything else?”
“Nope.”
Craig nodded, rounding up. “OK. Everyone go home, but fair warning, tomorrow’s a full day and we’re briefing at four.” He waved down the moans, allocating tasks. “Davy has a lot of background checks still to do, so Carmen, when you and Ken have interviewed Eleanor Rudd’s brother come back here and help Davy with that. Annette and Jake, I want you to re-interview both ward sisters and see if there’s anything more: on ward rivalries, Rudd’s work misdemeanours, general background etc. I want to know about all the doctors on the ward, especially the Prof. But don’t get specific about Cooke’s drug problems please; Liam and I will deal with him in the morning. We’ll interview William Rudd as well, but he can wait till the afternoon. Annette, while we’re with him, go to their house and interview his wife.”
“She’s in a women’s refuge at the moment, but if Rudd’s not getting out she can go back to the house. You’ll know if he’s being held tomorrow, won’t you?”
As Craig nodded Liam leaned forward enthusiastically. “Are we arresting Cooke then, boss?”
Craig smiled at his eagerness to make a collar. He’d spent too long in uniform.
“No, we’re not. We’re going to do what detectives do, we’re going to chat to Dr Cooke and detect.”
***
Craig’s apartment. Stranmillis. 11 p.m.
“Sorry I’ve been neglecting you, pet. It’s been a busy few days.”
Craig set down his glass of wine and pulled Katy closer on the settee. She smiled and rubbed his chin, deciding she quite liked his one day stubble; it gave him an edgy look.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been busy myself. We have a grant application to submit, so tomorrow’s going to be spent doing that.”
Craig pushed a strand of hair from her face, marvelling at the delicacy of her nose. He was about to test the delicacy of her lips when she burst his bubble mischievously.
“I saw Liam in the canteen yesterday. So who’s been murdered at St Mary’s and where?”
Craig sighed heavily; the last thing he wanted to talk about was Liam, especially when he had a beautiful woman in his arms. He turned his attention to the top button of her cardigan and began to work his way down. Katy laughed.
“I take it you don’t want to discuss it.”
He leaned forward and with a smile that said ‘tomorrow’ and began to kiss her neck.
***
Sunday morning, 10 a.m.
It was ten o’clock by the time Carmen and Ken reached the Rudd’s small house. Ken parked his Golf and walked to the passenger side to open Carmen’s door and act as a human shield. His intent was to repel any journalist who approached, preparing to battle them like an Arthurian Knight, but she gawped at him as she got out, wondering what he was on. First, men didn’t hold doors open nowadays, well not any man that she’d ever dated, and second, she was the one carrying the gun! She didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. Unfortunately her feminist side won.
She glared fiercely at him, hissing. “What are you doing? Everyone’s staring at us.” Ken gazed around with a bewildered look and Carmen hissed again. “This isn’t bloody Camelot. Don’t open my door, ever.”
Then she marched ahead so fast that she was at the Rudd’s front door before he had time to lock the car. He caught up just in time for a reporter to take a snap, as the house door opened and Carmen stormed inside. A thin youth of barely eighteen was standing in the hallway. He stared at Ken and then at Carmen, who was so busy glaring at Ken that she’d forgotten to show her badge. Ken saw the boy’s confusion and extended a hand.
“I’m Ken Smith and this is Detective Constable McGregor. We’re here to ask you a few questions, Mr Rudd.”
The lad hadn’t given his name but Rudd was a fair bet. Who else would be standing in his bare feet in their hall? Carmen showed her badge hurriedly and smiled at the young man.
“Mr Edward Rudd?”
Edward and Eleanor; the Rudd’s had favoured the letter ‘E’ in the baby book.
The boy nodded. “Eddie.” His voice dropped sadly. “You’re here to ask questions about Ellie, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Is that all right?”
Eddie Rudd shrugged his thin shoulders and led the way towards a small kitchen. He flicked on the kettle and nodded them to a PVC covered banquette, talking as he set out three mugs.
“I don’t know what I can tell you that Mum didn’t. Our Ellie could be a cow, but she was always OK to me.”
Carmen smiled kindly, recognising that the boy was close to tears and Ken had a rueful thought that she’d never been that kind to him. She urged Eddie to sit down.
“I’ve only a few things to ask, it won’t take long.” After a short pause she started. “When did you last see your sister?”
The boy thought for a moment before he replied. “Wednesday night, around ten. As I was coming in she was heading out to see some man.”
Carmen leaned forward eagerly. “Do you know his name?”
Rudd shook his head. “Could have been anyone. She got around.”
It would have verged on ‘speaking ill of the dead’ except that there was no malice in his words, just the knowledge and familiarity of a sibling.
“Perhaps you could write down the names of any men your sister dated for me?”
As Carmen handed the boy pen and paper Ken nodded to himself. ‘For me’… so much for partnership; she probably didn’t believe in it on the job or off. He could feel himself cooling towards her as she continued speaking.
“Has your sister always lived at home?”
Rudd answered without looking up and Ken could see from the tip of his tongue extending between his lips that writing required all his focus.
“Yeh. Except when she lived with a bloke for a year and in the nurse’s home. Dad kept us home from school, but Ellie studied when he couldn’t see so she got out to be a nurse. She was clever.”
“Put that boyfriend’s name on the list for me.” Carmen read the name upside down and smiled. “They broke up, did they?”
“Yeh. She gave him the push, I think. She never said. Anyhow, she moved back here after that.”
“Why didn’t she get a place of her own?”
Rudd glanced up sharply and Carmen saw she’d hit a nerve.
“Whadya mean? Why not move back home?”
“Most twenty-something women wouldn’t have. They’d have got their own place.”
Carmen thought of the apartment she’d bought when she’d arrived in Belfast ten years earlier; her little nest. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to live with her folks after university. As she readied to press the issue Ken spoke for the first time since they’d arrived. His voice was soft.
“Did your sister move back home for you, Eddie?”
Eddie Rudd’s eyes widened and he tugged quickly at his sleeve, but Ken had already seen the marks on his arm. He stared into the boy’s eyes for permission and then rolled back his sleeve on his nod. There were scars all over his forearm. Some were old – silvered cords of flesh that Ken knew must have been opened and healed time and again to appear like that; signs of repeated beatings. There were fresh wounds too, some red and healing only weeks old, others newer and scabbed, surrounded by yellow bruising. Carmen’s eyes widened at the signs of abuse. Eddie was barely eighteen; what age had it begun?
She glanced at Ken gratefully then recoiled at the sudden indifference in his eyes, not for the boy but for her. For the boy there was nothing but empathy, but for her... She recovered enough to ask a question.
“Your father did this?”
The boy nodded. “He punches and…and he has a strap…”
Carmen remembered Craig’s report of his earlier visit. “Your sister and mother as well?”
Rudd nodded again, harder this time, indicating that the Rudd women had been his father’s favoured punching-bags. Something occurred to Carmen. She checked her notes and then shook her head; Eddie Rudd wasn’t a minor so they had no power to make him safe. All they could do was ensure that his father didn’t come home.
They finished their questions then Carmen took the list the boy had scribbled, thanked him for his time and headed back through the crowd of journalists to the car. She stood waiting for Ken to open the doors, then she realised that he’d opened them remotely and was already inside. The journey back to the C.C.U. passed in silence. Carmen occasionally glanced at Ken to see what he was thinking, expecting his usual smile in response. But there was no smile and no pleasant chat on their way up in the lift, and immediate abandonment by him the moment they walked through the squad’s double-doors.
Nicky saw the couple enter and spotted Ken’s frosty reply to a question Carmen asked. She saw his indecent haste to escape to his desk, ostensibly to bury himself in work, but what was most interesting was the copper-haired constable’s response. Instead of Carmen’s usual spiky hostility she was gazing at Smith with sad eyes. The look was tinged with something else and it took Nicky a while to work out what it was. Sorrow! Carmen ‘Prickly’ McGregor was sorry for something she’d done or said to him while they were on the road, and Ken wasn’t giving an inch. Good for him.
She wanted to race across and congratulate him, for finally, after four months of politeness, kindness and gazing at Carmen with puppy dog eyes, giving her the kick up the ass that she deserved. Instead she perked some coffee and beckoned Ken across to her desk.
“Ken. Could I ask you something, please?”
Being the gentleman he was Smith was across the room and smiling down at Nicky in a flash.
“Yes, Nicky. What can I do for you?”
She asked an inane question about a report he’d filed and nodded him to a seat, pouring them both a coffee. As they sipped and chatted she glanced meaningfully at Carmen’s bent head.
“Has Madam been spikey today?”
A hurt look flashed across his face and she had her answer. More than just being spikey, Carmen had managed to hurt him in some way. With a little urging Ken confided what had happened when he’d gone to open her car door. When Nicky gave a little smile he bristled.
“All I did was what any gentleman would do. I don’t see what was wrong with that?”
Nicky calmed him down. “There was nothing wrong with it at all. In fact it was very sweet, especially when there were so many journalists around. But…”
He looked bewildered. “But what?”
“I have the impression that Carmen hasn’t been treated well by men and she doesn’t know how to handle real charm.”
Ken only heard one thing, that Carmen had been hurt. He saddled up his white charger and readied to ride over to her desk. Nicky grabbed his arm to stop him.
“No.”
“But you said…”
“I said she’d been hurt by men, not that you were one of them. She’s got to learn that she can’t use all men as whipping boys for the ex that ‘done her wrong’.”
He re-took his seat, glancing long
ingly at Carmen’s curly head. Nicky whispered confidingly.
“Do you want to ask her out?”
Ken’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. Do you?”
A faint blush crept up his neck. “Well…”
“OK then, here’s how to get what you want. She’s feeling guilty about how she treated you, so for the first time in months you have the advantage. Don’t lose it. She deserves to suffer a little bit, so stay as frosty with her as you have been and watch what happens over the next few days.”
“But she…”
Nicky smiled wisely. “She likes you and you’ve been nothing but nice to her. She’s in the wrong and she knows it. Let her grovel a bit.”
Ken shook his head glumly. “She won’t.”
Nicky glanced across at Carmen just in time to see her glance away; she’d been watching them. It confirmed everything that Nicky thought.
“She will, mark my words. Now, the Super’s office is empty. Take your coffee and work in there until he and Liam get back. He won’t mind.”
As Ken went to object, Nicky raised a hand, halting him.
“Just do as I say and watch. Operation Carmen is about to start.”
***
Adrian Cooke had just entered Reilly Suite’s staff-room and slipped on his white coat when Craig and Liam walked in. He stared at them curiously and then pointed to a sign on the door.
“Sorry, this is the staff-room. If you’re looking for a patient, sister can help.”
Craig pulled out his badge and held it up for the doctor to see. “Police, Dr Cooke. We need a few words.”
As Cooke stared at the symbol of authority, Liam was staring at Cooke, impressed. Adrian Cooke was six-feet-two of solid muscle. His pumped-up biceps barely squeezed into the arms of his white coat and the flat-buttoned shirt he wore struggled to conceal the six or eight pack below. He was shorter than him but Liam was pretty sure that Cooke could take him in a fight. Eleanor Rudd wouldn’t have stood a chance. Craig knew what Liam was thinking and as he glanced at Cooke’s muscled hands he imagined them circling a woman’s throat, but his face gave nothing away.
The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) Page 9
