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

by Catriona King

  Craig nodded. “Do that but we’ll only know why else he might have been there when he tells us, and we’ll need to put pressure on him for that. We need someone besides Donard who’s willing to testify that Dr Cooke was on the ward that day.”

  Liam interrupted, his thunderous expression had subsided to a dark cloud. “We can speculate before then. OK, let’s say Cooke was on the ward but no-one saw him. He knew enough to avoid the cameras and there’re none around the linen room anyway.”

  Davy cut in. “There were two cameras broken as well.”

  Liam nodded slowly. “Maybe Cooke broke them. If he was there working, on or off the Rota, then his signature must be somewhere on that day. Doctors sign their name all the time. If he wasn’t working then did he go specifically to see Rudd and kill her for some reason? If so why? Jealousy or something else? And if he didn’t kill Rudd, why else would he have been sneaking around? Drugs? Were any missing from anywhere?”

  Craig smiled at Liam’s train of thought. “Good. We can rule out whether Cooke was there working and we already know there were no drug thefts. That only leaves Cooke going there to see Rudd or someone else. It is just possible that Cooke went to the ward that day to see Rudd but that he didn’t kill her.”

  Davy tapped his pad again and all but one dotted line disappeared. It led straight from Newman Ward to the area housing the clinical and linen rooms.

  “That’s Eleanor Rudd’s pathway at ten o’clock on Thursday morning, w…when she was sent to inventory the clinical room. It’s a s…straight line. If she met Cooke it was there.”

  Craig had a thought. “I want Rudd’s exact movements since she arrived at the hospital that morning. Can you do that, Davy?”

  “You mean go back and track just her from the CCTV?”

  “Exactly. How long would it take you?”

  Davy thought for a moment. “Tomorrow afternoon, providing I can find the right camera angles.”

  “Great.” Craig was just about to move on when he said. “Don’t you w…want to know what else I found?”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “OK. People entered and left Newman W…Ward all day, visitors and the doctors and nurses, mostly going on their breaks, and none of them entered Reilly Suite. Reilly S…Suite on the other hand had a lot of traffic. Three residents w…were in and out though the front door. I tracked them through the hospital and they went to the chapel, library and foyer s…shop. But because there were no cameras outside the linen room I can’t say whether any of them detoured there yet. I’ll have what I can get on that tomorrow.”

  “Good. Check to see if any of them match the shortlist for upper body strength.”

  “OK. Also Professor Taylor was between the two w…wards a lot that day.”

  Craig’s eyes lit up. “Was he indeed? That’s interesting. He denied being there and pretended to be shocked when we told him about Rudd’s death.”

  Carmen cut in. “Unless he left before it happened, sir?”

  Craig shook his head. “He said he wasn’t there on Thursday at all. Davy, what time was the last sighting of Taylor that day?”

  He scrolled down the screen. “Four-twenty in the afternoon.”

  Craig turned back to Carmen. “Eleanor Rudd’s body was found at eleven o’clock in the morning. If Taylor was there later than that he would have known that someone had died. Even allowing for the fact that he mightn’t have known it was Rudd until we told him; he lied to us about not being on the E.M.U. that day. He lied to us, Donard lied to us and Cooke lied to us and I’m getting fed up being lied to! Davy, see if you can match Taylor’s movements with any of Eleanor Rudd’s, and Liam, you’re with me tomorrow when I interview the Prof.”

  Davy nodded. “Two last things. Des has been in touch. None of the prints on the linen room door match anyone but the unit porter, Ferdy Myers.”

  Craig startled. Had anyone interviewed the porters? He turned to Liam just in time to see him glance away, muttering “we’ll do them tomorrow, boss.”

  Craig sighed. “The lack of prints doesn’t tell us anything anyway; the killer could have worn gloves. The fact the porter’s prints are there at all points to him probably being innocent. What was the second thing, Davy?”

  Davy tilted his head in a way that showed he was puzzled by what he was about to report next. “The dent on the linen room door.”

  Liam shrugged. “What about it? It was probably made by someone banging a trolley into it.”

  Davy shook his head. “That’s w…what I thought at first, but then I got the unit’s w…works schedule. The doors in the whole unit were s…sanded and painted last month as part of a tidy up. Part of the remit was to fill in any holes or cracks.” He tapped his pad again. “Here’s the work s…sheet from the Trust’s estates department. It’s very detailed.”

  Page after page of details scrolled down the LED screen, some of the items as tiny as ‘crack, left wall clinical room filled, sanded and painted with two coats’. Craig whistled. He wished he could find workmen like that to paint his place.

  Davy stopped scrolling at a page headed ‘linen room’. It started with the room’s interior and ended with two lines about the door. ‘Door, white wood, all surfaces inspected, planed, filled and painted; two coats white satin.’

  “There’s nothing there about a dent as of the 12th S…September so it was definitely made after that.”

  Craig started to nod then the nod turned into a shake. “It could still have been accidental, Davy; a trolley.”

  Davy shook his head determinedly. “Not unless it’s an old one that used to be there. The C.S.I.s measured all the trollies and checked for any edges that could have caused the dent and nothing matches.”

  “A walking stick or shoe kicking the door?”

  Davy shrugged. “I hadn’t thought of those. I’ll keep looking.”

  Craig smiled. Davy was like a dog with a bone, there was no way he would stop until he’d found out what it was.

  “OK, good. So we have all the ward staff to re-interview on the question about Dr Cooke, and the porters to interview for the first time. Annette’s taking Ken, Carmen and Jake with her on that. Carmen, Annette will be too busy so can you and Ken also interview Mrs Rudd about her daughter, please. Get what you can from her about the violence as well then hand that over to the Domestic Abuse Unit. Liam, you and I are interviewing Tim Taylor in High Street this time. He lied to me and I’ve been polite for long enough. We also need to interview Adrian Cooke.”

  He turned, just in time to see Nicky tiptoeing towards the double-doors.

  “Nicky…”

  She stopped abruptly and Craig saw that she was carrying her bag.

  “Off somewhere?”

  Nicky retorted. “To have a life if that’s OK? It’s five o’clock on a Sunday, in case you hadn’t noticed?”

  He glanced at the clock. She was right; they’d been talking for nearly two hours.

  “Sorry, go home, but can you get Prof Taylor into High Street tomorrow morning please? Whatever time you like.”

  She nodded regally and continued on her way, still tiptoeing, until she realised it was redundant and straightened up haughtily. Craig turned back to the group.

  “Sorry everyone. We’ll finish in five minutes, I promise. OK, that leaves the three long-stay residents that Davy saw on the CCTV. Annette, when you’ve finished with the others, interview them, please. Liam , contact Karl Rimmins and say that I want him there when we see Adrian Cooke tomorrow.”

  Davy glanced up from his pad. “W…What do you want me to do, chief?”

  Craig thought for a moment. “Follow up what we discussed, dig into the big players’ backgrounds until you hit a wall and chase violent deaths of hospital staff anywhere in Europe.”

  Davy raised an eyebrow. “Are you expecting to find any?”

  Craig shook his head. “Our killer is much closer to home, but I want to rule everything out. At the moment we have two possible suspects, both ropey: Adrian Coo
ke and Tim Taylor. I could stretch to three if we could prove Billy Rudd was anywhere near the hospital that day. I’m not sure any of them did it yet but they’re all we have.” He headed for his office to think. “We’ll be briefing at eight and four every day till I say stop.”

  Chapter Five

  The C.C.U. Monday, 11 a.m.

  At eleven o’clock the next morning the squad-room was like the Marie Celeste, with only the ghosts of Nicky and Davy there to steer the ship. Nicky typed the last line of a court report and saved the file, then looked round for someone to socialise with. Davy was tapping at one of his screens in a manner that said he wasn’t to be disturbed, but that had never stopped her before.

  “Coffee, Davy?”

  He didn’t answer, just continued tapping like a man bent on winning a Nobel Prize. Nicky recruited the help of her glass percolator and marched to his desk, undeterred. She knew he wasn’t ignoring her; he valued his life too much for that, so that only left one thing – he hadn’t heard. When she was standing six inches in front of him she waved the percolator and asked again, in her loudest voice.

  “COFFEE?”

  Davy’s head jerked up at the sudden assault and as it did so he slipped off his chair, sliding under his desk and landing at her feet. It was hard to tell who was more surprised but for sheer shock Nicky’s expression won. She gawped down at him.

  “How did you manage that?”

  He scrambled to his feet, blushing and deeply grateful that Liam hadn’t been there to witness his descent, he’d have suffered the jokes for weeks. Nicky brushed off his jumper.

  “Sorry, pet. I didn’t mean to shock you. I called you from my desk.”

  Davy dusted down his black jeans. “I w…was focusing.”

  “On what?”

  “On finding s…something to fit the dent in the linen room door.” He shook his head. “No joy” and gestured at the percolator. “Time for a break?”

  Nicky went back to perk the coffee, beckoning him to follow. As she set out the mugs and biscuits she got a mischievous look on her face. Davy read the signs and shook his head.

  “W…Whatever you’re up to, I’m not getting involved.”

  Her face was a picture of innocence. “Moi? As if.”

  They drank in silence for a moment before Davy caved in. “OK, I can’t s…stand not knowing. What are you planning?”

  The P.A. glanced around the room exaggeratedly, like a spy with the coordinates of a nuclear bomb, then she whispered in her husky voice.

  “That bet we had on Carmen and Ken…”

  He laughed loudly, taking her aback. She began again, more seriously.

  “It’s not a laughing matter. I have five pounds on them getting together.”

  Davy shook his head, sending his dark hair flying into her face. As she picked strands of it from her mouth he said.

  “Give it up, Nicky. They’ve been on the s…squad nearly four months and there’s no sign of movement. The boss even sent them to Geneva and nothing happened! If it didn’t happen in a setting like that, s…sunny Belfast is hardly going to w…work the charm.”

  She thumped him hard on the upper arm, making certain it wasn’t the arm that held his mug; she had no intention of mopping coffee off her desk.

  “OW!”

  “You’ll get another one unless you’re more helpful. I’m well aware nothing happened in Geneva, that’s why we have to try even harder now.”

  Davy moved to a safe distance, rubbing his arm. “That hurt.”

  “Baby.”

  She smiled, pushing a biscuit his way in apology. He took it grudgingly and sat down again.

  “Anyway, if they don’t fancy each other there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Nicky shook her head. “Ah, but they do. They fancy each other like mad; they just don’t know it yet.”

  He wrinkled his face, puzzled. “How can you not know if you fancy s…someone? It’s either there or it’s not.”

  She sighed. “I meant that Carmen knows she fancies Ken and Ken knows he fancies her, but neither is letting the other one know. Well, Ken’s tried telling her, but she definitely hasn’t told him.”

  Davy shook his head, leaning back to avoid the inevitable cuff around the ear. “I’m s…sure that made sense in your head.”

  The cuff didn’t come. She wagged a finger at him instead. “Cheeky pup. I bet you don’t talk to your mother like that.”

  “My mother doesn’t live her life like an episode of ‘Blind Date’!”

  She laughed then returned to her task. “We have to get them together. They both want to but Carmen’s being so bloody-minded that the poor man can’t get close.”

  Davy thought for a moment then his face took on a serious look. “Have you thought of asking her w…why she’s so anti-men?”

  Nicky glanced at him sharply. “Has she been rude to you?”

  “No…but she doesn’t like Liam, and she was pretty s…suspicious of the chief until a few weeks ago.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she looks at Jake or me as men ’cos we’re younger than her.” He thought for a second then added. “More like pets…you know, like she doesn’t know w…whether to kick us or cuddle us.”

  Nicky’s face dropped. “You don’t kick pets!”

  “I don’t, but who knows w…what Carmen does.”

  “If she ever…”

  Davy laughed and she realised she was being had. “Chill, Nicky. I was winding you up.”

  After a moment’s tutting she admitted that he had a point. “You’re right, she doesn’t like men much, although I’m not sure that she’s mad about women either. I think she’s been badly hurt.”

  “And she’s taking it out on the rest of the w…world. What a grown-up.”

  Nicky sipped her coffee and then her expression suddenly changed. Davy knew what was coming and headed back to his desk.

  “David Walsh, come back here.”

  “For w…what? So you can enlist me in some matchmaking mission. Oh no you don’t.”

  But her expression said that he’d better help or there would be no coffee and biscuits for a month. It was blackmail, but whatever worked…

  He retook his seat and listened as Nicky confided her master-plan. All that was missing was the voiceover saying “this tape will self-destruct…”

  ***

  High Street Station. 11.15 a.m.

  The overhead light in the interview room had raised the temperature a few degrees, but not as much as Tim Taylor’s perspiring forehead implied. Tiny beads of sweat grew into large clear droplets, until eventually their weight dragged them down towards Taylor’s brows, only to be dashed to their deaths by his irritable hand. Craig wondered whether the sweat was hot or cold; a product of the lights or fear. It didn’t matter; either the lights or fear were making Taylor sweat and overheating or anger was turning his face bright red. Whatever the biological mechanism it was working in their favour to produce a man teetering on the brink.

  Craig restarted the tape, ten minutes of introductions and refusal to answer his questions already recorded before they’d turned it off at Taylor’s request. The professor hadn’t imparted any wisdom in the unrecorded gap, just grown redder and sweatier as the seconds passed. Now it seemed that he was ready to cough. Craig would believe it when it happened.

  “For the benefit of the tape, the time is eleven-twenty a.m. on Monday, October 13th 2014. Interview resumed. Present in the room are Professor Timothy Taylor, D.C.I. Cullen and myself, Superintendent Marc Craig. Is there something you would like to tell us, Professor Taylor?”

  Taylor nodded mutely and Liam intervened, his deep bass echoing round the room. “You need to speak.”

  Taylor glared at him, indignant that a mere police officer should dare to correct a man with four degrees. He croaked, “I’d like to make a statement, but I want to see my solicitor first.”

  Craig sighed inwardly. He’d wondered how long it would take for Taylor to pull one of those out of the hat, but the
y had no choice but to agree.

  “Fine, Professor. I’ll get the sergeant to call your brief and we’ll restart when they arrive. Interview terminated at eleven twenty-five, awaiting legal counsel.” He beckoned Jack in through the glass and left the room quickly with Liam in tow. They pushed through the fire-door to the cool day outside and Craig kicked a stone at his feet, hard.

  “Damn, damn, damn. I thought he was going to give us something. Now he’ll lawyer up and all we’ll get will be sanitised crap.”

  Liam watched Craig with a faint smile on his lips. It was good to see the chief’s control slipping for once. He decided to play the voice of reason, to see if it slipped even more.

  “Now now, chief. We don’t know what he’ll say. He might give us a statement yet.”

  Scepticism was normally Liam’s bag, but it was Craig’s turn this time. He pointed at the sky. “You see that pig…”

  Liam laughed and after five minutes of fresh air and banter Craig felt better and they headed for the staff-room and a cup of tea. Work calls followed, punctuated by the football scores and then Jack entered the room.

  “We’re ready.”

  Craig glanced at the clock; it was only eleven-fifty. He gawped at the sergeant. “Twenty-five minutes to find his brief and consult! That has to be a record.”

  Jack grinned. “Aye well, I can’t claim all the credit, the brief was already next door with Dr Cooke. All they had to do was nip in.” He waved at the clock. “Anyhow they’re ready and I’d be grateful if you vacated my staff-room now. It’s Sandi’s birthday and the girls from Musgrave Street are coming down for lunch. They’ve baked and I want a bun.”

  Craig smiled, remembering when he’d been a constable. Their idea of a birthday lunch had involved the pub, not tea and cakes in the station café. They returned to the interview room and two minutes later they were joined by Tim Taylor and a young woman who looked barely old enough to be out of school.

  Liam flicked on the tape and restarted. When he got to the ‘present are’ bit he paused for the solicitor’s name.