“Abigail McIvor, of Morris and Harden’s solicitors.”
The detectives’ eyes widened simultaneously. Abigail McIvor; Adrian Cooke’s girlfriend! Why had she been in seeing Cooke; as a brief or as a girlfriend? And why was she acting as Taylor’s solicitor if Cooke and he had been rivals over Eleanor Rudd?
Craig’s head reeled with the possible significance. He didn’t believe in coincidence, so that meant that either the doctors hadn’t been romantic rivals, or there was something else murky going on. Liam read his mind and took up the slack.
“Right, Professor Taylor. You asked for a break to consult with your brief, what would you like to say to us now?”
He sent up a silent prayer that Taylor’s next words weren’t “no comment” and stared at the young solicitor beside him. Abigail McIvor was chubby; ‘well covered’ would have been his mother’s term. Not fat, just bonny; it was a much nicer word. Her face was broad and freckled, with wide-set dark eyes and lips fuller than any Liam had seen, except on some starlet pumped full of collagen. His beauty pageant scoring was interrupted by McIvor’s high, soft voice.
“My client has asked me to read a statement. He will not be taking questions unless you charge him with some crime.”
Craig nodded her to continue, questions racing through his head. The brief removed a page from her case and began to read.
“I, Professor Timothy Taylor, admit to a relationship with the deceased, Ms Eleanor Rudd. We met in 2007 and co-habited for thirteen months, at which time our relationship ended and we parted amicably. At no time since then have I had a romantic or physical relationship with Ms Rudd. I had no knowledge of her death until informed by the police on Friday, 10th October.”
She stopped and placed the paper face-down on the table, gazing coolly at Craig. Taylor smiled so smugly that Liam wanted to grab him by the throat and show him how Ellie Rudd had felt. Craig stared at McIvor and then at the man by her side, saying nothing for a full minute. He ignored Taylor’s falling face and the blush rising on the solicitor’s cheeks and continued staring, knowing that he was disconcerting them both.
Liam smiled inwardly; he’d seen Craig do it before, sometimes for a purpose and sometimes just for effect. It always resulted in the other side breaking first and they weren’t to be disappointed now. Much to Abigail McIvor’s shock, Tim Taylor started to talk. He started slowly and gathered pace until by the end he was gabbling.
“I didn’t kill her…I wasn’t there…I mean, I was, I was on the unit, but I wasn’t in the linen room…I knew someone was dead, but I said I wasn’t there because I didn’t want to get involved… I didn’t know it was Ellie…not until you told me…Everyone likes me on the wards, they do…I’m nice…I mean I’m a good doctor…Ellie and I were finished ages ago…we never...since…well, only once, at a party in September…and…”
McIvor’s face fell and she hissed “shut-up”. But it was too late. Taylor had blown his perfectly prepared statement by contradicting his declaration that he hadn’t slept with Eleanor Rudd after 2008. Craig watched the half-mimed, furious exchange in front of him and then raised a hand, stilling the room. After a pause during which he stared pointedly at the now redundant paper on the desk, he spoke. His tone was so cool that only Liam could detect the undertone of amusement.
“You obviously need more time with your client to agree an honest statement, Ms McIvor. Until you do we will be holding Professor Taylor for questioning as allowed under PACE.”
He rose as Liam clicked off the tape. As they turned to leave Craig stared meaningfully at the brief. “We’ll be interviewing Dr Cooke next. If you’re acting as his solicitor you may wish to be there. Let Sergeant Harris know when you’re ready to start.”
McIvor recoiled as if he’d slapped her, knowing exactly what he’d meant by the emphasised ‘if’. She’d given Adrian an alibi as his girlfriend; if she was his solicitor it was a conflict that could render the alibi useless and leave him open to accusations of visiting the ward on the day of Rudd’s death. If she stood down legally but continued to give the false alibi on record she could be struck off, and if she wasn’t his solicitor Cooke mightn’t get anyone else who would defend him as vigorously. She was screwed every way and Craig knew it.
They left the young lawyer with her dilemma and walked through reception on their way to the station’s front door. Jack was at the desk and he nodded approvingly when they appeared.
“Off to pay for your coffee this time?”
Craig smiled. “We’re going for lunch. There’s nowhere here for us to sit and Ms McIvor needs a while to sort her clients out.”
Liam laughed. “And herself by the looks of it. The boss fairly flummoxed her.”
“Do you want us to bring you back anything?”
Jack thought for a moment, gazing ruefully at his paunch. “I shouldn’t really…”
“But you will.” Liam patted his own stomach gently, as if it was his child. “It’s taken us years to grow these, Jack. We can’t neglect them now.”
“Ach, OK, you’ve persuaded me. Bring me back some donuts. The jam ones.”
Craig smiled. “Fine. Call me when Ms McIvor is ready. We’ll see Dr Cooke next and then we may need to return to the professor again. By the way, Karl’s coming down. We’ll be at The Merchant if he arrives before we’re back.”
With that he pushed open the station’s steel door and they wandered across High Street for lunch.
***
Reilly Suite. 1.30 p.m.
Annette tucked her long hair back from her face, remembering why she’d kept it short for years; it may not have looked as pretty but it was serviceable. She looked across the table at Carmen and Jake and then glanced at Ken standing by the door. She noticed that he rarely sat; the sign of a fit man. He specifically hadn’t sat beside Carmen that day. Something was eating the pair of them but she didn’t have the time to wonder what.
Jake was staring into space and Annette knew exactly what he was thinking; Craig had told her about his grandfather so that she could help work around his hours. The case had to be hard on him. It couldn’t be easy being in a ward full of the elderly when someone old who you loved was likely to pass away.
Suddenly she sat upright and they all sprang to attention, Ken’s hand twitching towards his face in an aborted military salute. She laughed.
“You can salute me if you like, Ken.”
He blushed as the others turned to look and she carried on.
“OK. So far no-one we’ve interviewed recalls seeing Dr Cooke here last Thursday. That could either mean he wasn’t here or he somehow managed to slip in and out.” She turned to Carmen. She was scribbling down every word in her notebook. Annette wasn’t sure if it was record keeping or a ‘how to become a female Inspector’ guide.
“Jake, I want you and Carmen to go and interview Mrs Rudd. You know what to do.”
Everyone was surprised by Carmen’s next words, including her. “But the Super said I had to take Ken.” It was said in such a disappointed whine that her attempts to back-pedal were no use. “I mean, not that I don’t want to go with Jake…he’s great…it’s just…”
Annette smiled, knowing Carmen had realised what she’d just given away. Ken had realised as well. Carmen wanted him with her; she liked him, perhaps even more than that. He glanced away, sparing her embarrassment, but not before Annette had seen his smile.
“Off you go with Jake, please.”
She wanted Jake as far away from elderly people as she could get him for a few hours, and the others didn’t need to know why.
“Ken and I will interview the porters and the three residents who were elsewhere in the hospital then we’ll see you back at the ranch.”
She beckoned Ken to follow as Carmen and Jake left for the Rudd’s family home. She didn’t hear Jake’s phone ringing as they walked away, or the detour that he and Carmen were instructed to make.
***
High Street Station.
It was two-th
irty by the time Cooke and Taylor were ready for re-interview, and Cooke’s solicitor McIvor had decided to be his girlfriend instead and leave. She’d recused herself from Taylor’s defence as well, much to his chagrin, to be replaced by a shiny-faced associate from her firm who looked almost as young.
Craig took Taylor first. The professor had decided that discretion was no longer the better part of valour. Instead he talked so fast that the tape had trouble keeping up. What he said didn’t add much. Yes, he’d lived with Eleanor Rudd for just over a year, but it was years ago, before he was married. He’d like to deny that anything had happened between them since but, well, Ellie was a sexy girl and there’d been a few times…
Because he’d stood in front of a vicar and said “forsaking all others” Taylor nodded contritely in a mime of shame, but he couldn’t hide his pleasure at his memories of Ellie Rudd or his complete lack of guilt at his lustful thoughts. Craig had pitied Mrs Taylor since he’d met the prof; until he’d found out that she’d left her student boyfriend for him, a richer, consultant bet. It sounded like they deserved each other.
By the time Taylor had stumbled and stammered his way through his list of transgressions with Ellie Rudd, it became obvious that Rudd’s timelines for carnal knowledge of Taylor and Cooke had overlapped. That meant they couldn’t rule out jealousy as a motive for her murder, although Craig’s bet for that motive was on Adrian Cooke. After thirty minutes of listening Craig had heard enough. Taylor had lied but he hadn’t killed her so he was released without charge to concoct a story with Shiny Face that would prevent a ruckus at the University, and Craig and Liam were left mulling over their next steps as they waited for Karl Rimmins to appear.
As Liam picked his way through the leftover sausage rolls and cheesecake from Sandi’s girly lunch, Craig stared into space. Liam waved a roll in his face.
“Sausage roll for your thoughts, boss.”
Craig pushed it away, wondering where Liam managed to put it all. They’d had a big lunch at The Merchant and an hour later he was hungry again.
“I was trying to work out the timeline, but it’s much easier when Davy displays it on a screen.”
“It is that. Especially when he colour-codes the perps for you.”
“Taylor and Eleanor Rudd ended their live-in relationship in 2008. Adrian Cooke joined the ward in 2012 and that’s probably when he and Rudd met. What we don’t know is when they started their relationship.”
Liam looked puzzled, as if the answer was obvious. “We can ask him.”
Craig gave him a sceptical look. “Now why didn’t I think of that? Of course we can ask him, but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell us the truth! Or the truth about what their relationship was.”
Liam’s puzzled look deepened. “What do you mean, what it was? It was a relationship!”
Craig went to sigh and then stopped himself. Liam was right; that was the obvious answer, and Liam couldn’t be expected to follow the random meanderings of his mind. He vocalised his thoughts.
“What if their relationship was more than a romantic one?”
“What do we have that points to that?”
Craig shrugged. “Nothing, but…”
“But your brain’s seen something that none of the rest of us have.”
The team were used to Craig’s eureka moments. They usually occurred when an answer seemed obvious to everyone, then Craig would announce that the truth was actually something else. Liam felt one coming on but instead Craig leapt to his feet and headed for the station’s back door.
“Where are you going?”
“I just heard a car pulling in. If it’s Karl, we can start.”
It was and after a few seconds’ chat they headed for the interview room. The room was small and Cooke and his new solicitor were already there so Craig glanced meaningfully at Liam. Only two of them would fit in the room and Karl needed to be there. That meant either he or Liam should be in the viewing room. Liam took the hint, secretly pleased. He had a cheese sandwich in his pocket that was about to find a good home.
When the preliminaries were over Craig readied himself to start but the solicitor held up his hand. He was a partner from Morris and Harden’s; Shiny Face would have had a conflict representing both men. This man was older and his only shine was on shoes that had doubtless cost him hundreds of pounds.
“Before we start the questioning, I’d like to know why a Drug Squad officer is here. Dr Cooke has already told the Drug Squad everything he knows, including giving up his steroid dealer.”
Craig’s words were as dry as a bone. “I’m quite sure Dr Cooke hasn’t told anyone everything that he knows.”
The solicitor retorted swiftly. “Everything that he’s going to without a deal on the table.”
“Let’s see about that.”
He turned sharply to the young doctor, who was perspiring heavily despite the newly cranked air conditioning making the room freezing cold. “Dr Cooke, would you like to rethink your alibi for the time of Eleanor Rudd’s murder?”
Cooke’s eyes widened and he glanced quickly at his brief, who advised him with a swift shake of his head.
“No, I wouldn’t.” The words hit the air at a higher pitch than they’d been inside Cooke’s head.
Craig shook his head, making it clear the answer was a mistake. “Then you should know that your girlfriend, Ms McIvor, is at this moment being interviewed by a member of my team at Stranmillis Road Station and they will break the alibi she gave you, have no doubt of that.”
Liam smiled to himself in the dark. Stranmillis Road was Jake’s old station. So that was who Craig had telephoned at lunch; Jake must be up there with McIvor now. Cooke lurched forward until he was almost in Craig’s face.
“Leave Abbie alone. She has nothing to do with this. You’ll ruin her legal career.”
Craig was unmoved. “You’ll ruin her career if you insist on having her lie for you.” He slipped out his mobile. “Tell me the truth and I’ll stop her interview. I’m not interested in ruining anyone. The truth, Dr Cooke.” His voice rose to a shout. “RIGHT NOW!”
Liam watched as Cooke’s eyes darted from Craig to his solicitor and then all around the room, as if he might find something on the walls to save him, to prevent him having to say the words that could send him to prison and stop him practicing medicine ever again. He was a good doctor, he cared about his patients, and he’d hoped to make elderly medicine his speciality someday. Now all that would be lost because of a woman that someone else had killed.
Craig read the younger man’s panic and prepared to throw him a life-belt. He’d heard enough from the ward interviews to know that Cooke was liked by both patients and staff; even Katy had heard nice things about him around the Trust. He had no desire to get him struck off but he wanted the truth. He stared hard into Cooke’s eyes and his next question shocked everyone.
“Was Eleanor Rudd dealing cocaine, Dr Cooke?”
The doctor’s eyes widened and Craig read two things there. He’d hit a nerve and Cooke thought he’d found a gap to wriggle through. Karl glanced quickly at Craig, and Liam held his breath as he watched, fascinated to hear what came next. The boss had transformed Eleanor Rudd from innocent victim to criminal in one short phrase.
Cooke dropped his head and his solicitor hissed something urgently in his ear. Cooke waved him away and gazed at Craig, nodding.
“How did you know?”
Craig shrugged. “I didn’t, for sure. Not until now.” Craig paused; the doctor’s reply to his next question might ruin his career. “We already know that you use cocaine, Dr Cooke, do you deal it as well?”
Cooke’s eyes were opaque and Craig knew even Karl was struggling to read what was there, but he knew exactly what was running through Adrian Cooke’s mind. They had him on using illegal drugs which meant a guaranteed sentence and a mandatory rehab programme. He’d have his licence suspended by the GMC but with time and rehab he would probably get it back. On the other hand, if he’d been dealing drugs
Cooke could kiss goodbye to being a doctor and say hello to a stretch in Maghaberry.
Behind his eyes’ opacity Adrian Cooke was trying to recall anything that linked him to drug-dealing, either cocaine or Roids. Evidently he thought there was nothing if his next words were anything to go by.
“I used coke and steroids, but I never dealt them. That’s the truth.”
His face was implacable and Craig didn’t know if he was lying or not. He glanced at Karl and saw his jaw set hard. Karl spoke for the first time in ten minutes.
“You’re lying, Doctor and I’m going to prove it. Tell us the truth now and we may be able to help you.”
Cooke’s eyes widened as he realised that of the two men Craig had been the softer touch.
“I’m not lying! Ellie had been dealing for years, long before I met her.”
“Where did you first meet her?”
“At a party at the nurse’s home, about six years ago. I wanted some stuff and someone pointed me to her. I bought some coke and we got chatting…”
“You slept with her?”
Cooke shook his head. “Not then. That came later, when we met on the E.M.U. in 2012. We had a few drinks and one thing led to another.”
“How long?”
Karl’s tone was unflinching and Craig knew it came from years of lying addicts and parasitic dealers – he didn’t have much sympathy left.
“How long what?”
“How long were you buying drugs from her, and having sex?”
Cooke shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced at his solicitor for advice. The solicitor had all but given up trying to muzzle his client, but he gazed at Cooke with a final warning to shut up that he knew would be ignored, then he straightened his cuffs, the legal equivalent of a shrug.
“Buying from her since 2008. The sex was on and off from 2012.”
“Until when?”
Cooke’s shoulders slumped and he stared at the table. Craig knew he’d decided to tell the truth, at least about the sex.
“Last week.” He looked up quickly. “But Abbie can’t know about it.”
Rimmins nodded curtly; the sex didn’t interest him. Liam smiled in the viewing room, reckoning that his perfect partner was probably a Goth who slept in a coffin at night. Karl was still talking.
The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) Page 13
