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

by Catriona King

  ***

  4.10 p.m.

  Nicky had just finished distributing the coffees and Liam was in the middle of impersonating Karl Rimmins when Jake and Carmen joined the briefing, the tension between them palpable. It wasn’t because they were late; Jake had called to say they were stuck in traffic on the way back from Margie Rudd’s. That meant the tension was coming from something else and Liam knew immediately what it was. He broke off from his version of Karl as Dracula questioning someone, with the mimed cloak over his head and slow Transylvanian voice that it entailed, and muttered to Annette “I bet she’s been giving him earache, the same as she does with me.”

  Annette hissed “be quiet” as Jake and Carmen approached and pointedly took seats on opposite sides of the group. Craig signed inwardly, his sympathy with Jake. Carmen could be spikey, especially with men. He’d experienced a bit of it, although he knew she probably tempered it with him because he was the boss, not out of respect but out of self-preserving common sense. Liam had had earache from her from day one and, even allowing for the fact that Liam gave as good as he got, he was inclined to believe his version of events. Nicky said Carmen had been rude to Ken as well and now she was moving on to Jake, as if the poor man didn’t have enough on his plate. Enough was enough. If this was a man picking arguments with every woman on the squad the sexual equality police would be down on him like a ton of bricks. Constable McGregor was about to find out that sexism worked both ways.

  Craig made up his mind to speak to her after they’d finished then he started to report, summing up their meeting with Adrian Cooke. When he dropped the bombshell that Ellie Rudd had been a drug-dealer a loud gasp went around the room. Annette was the first to speak.

  “It’s not the first time a health professional has been involved with drugs, although usually they don’t deal.”

  Craig nodded, thinking of the Harold Shipman case. “John said a guy in his year was a Heroin addict, started injecting diamorphine from the ward stock.”

  Liam cut in. “Aye well, in a way that’s understandable. Stress of the job, easy access and Bob’s your Aunty.”

  Jake stifled a laugh as he continued.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a cop had dipped into the drugs in the evidence store either, especially during The Troubles. Some of the lads I worked with in the ’80s were as high as kites when they went out on the streets. It was all that got them on patrol when any night could’ve been their last.” He nodded sagely. “I was a whisky man myself.”

  Craig shook his head; he could never work out how much of what Liam said was true. Liam’s covert wink didn’t enlighten him.

  “OK. So we know Adrian Cooke has been using steroids and cocaine. Karl’s after his steroid dealer at the gym and Cooke says Eleanor Rudd sold him his coke. But I’m not convinced that Cooke wasn’t dealing himself so I’ve asked Jack to hold him until I call and I want one of you to follow him tonight. If he’s been dealing he’ll go looking for Rudd’s Black Book and that’s information that we need. It might contain her killer’s name.”

  Carmen and Annette leaned forward simultaneously but Annette spoke first. “Who’s tailing him, sir? I’d like to volunteer.”

  Craig had wanted a woman to do it; Cooke was less likely to make them as a tail. He’d been going to ask Carmen, but her bad behaviour had to be dealt with first, so he nodded at Annette. Part of him wondered why she preferred an evening in a cold car to going home to her family, but only part.

  “Thanks. I’ll give you the details after the briefing.”

  He scanned the other’s faces, watching as Carmen’s face fell and Jake cast a quick look at the clock, eager to get to his grandparent’s home. Craig smiled kindly at him.

  “The briefing will be quick, I promise.”

  Carmen glared sulkily at the sergeant, the question “where’s he off to that’s so important?” on the tip of her tongue. A quick look from Craig told her not to ask.

  “OK, so Eleanor Rudd was dealing cocaine and possibly other things. Adrian Cooke was her customer and/or her dealing partner and he went to the ward on the day of her death, ostensibly to buy coke. He used it in the sluice room so when Hannah Donard found Rudd’s body next door and screamed, Cooke was first on the scene to help. He’d successfully managed to avoid anyone, including the CCTV cameras, seeing him there that day.” He turned to Annette. “By the way, you were right.”

  “Great.” A second later came. “What was I right about?”

  “About Hannah Donard being bought off. Cooke paid her to keep quiet about seeing him on the ward that day, just as he’d asked his girlfriend Abigail McIvor to say he was with her out of town.”

  Davy had been sitting quietly but now he spluttered into life. “But s…she’s a lawyer! And she lied to the police.”

  Annette patted his head. “You sweet young thing. Haven’t we seen enough corrupt lawyers to show you they’re not all Perry Mason?”

  “W…Who?”

  She scrambled for a modern day legal equivalent and hit on Ally McBeal. Davy shot her a look that said it was naff and turned back to Craig.

  “W…Won’t McIvor lose her job for lying?”

  “If people lost their jobs every time they lied there’d be no-one left at work. But you’re right, that’s why I didn’t want her interviewed on the record. I’ve no desire to ruin a silly young woman’s career so I asked Jake to put the fear of God into her and let her go.”

  Liam sniffed. “I’d have scared her more.”

  Craig was deadpan. “If I’d wanted her to throw herself in the Lagan I’d have let you try.”

  He waved Jake to report on his meeting with the solicitor. The young sergeant raked his fingers through his hair. It was getting long and Craig wondered if he and Ken were both aiming for the Davy look. If it got below their collars they’d be getting it cut or tying it back and Liam would have a field day joking about the latter.

  “McIvor was worried before I even spoke to her. She knew what she’d done so I just warned her sternly and let her go. I don’t think she’ll do it again, but it’s beyond me how anyone could be that dim.”

  Craig smiled. He understood Abigail McIvor’s urge to protect someone she loved; he’d done stupid things himself in the past but he wasn’t admitting them to his team. Annette already knew about one of his youthful transgressions, when he’d fought a man who’d been a threat to his sister.

  “Ms McIvor won’t get off scot-free. One of the partners from her firm was present when Cooke admitted that she’d lied. If she keeps her job I’ll be surprised.”

  Annette pursed her lips primly. “She shouldn’t have lied then, should she?”

  Craig shot her a knowing look and she blushed. There weren’t many of them equipped to cast the first stone nowadays.

  “Did you ask her about that other thing, Jake?”

  Carmen gave Jake a sharp look that said ‘why wasn’t I told?’ While her mouth opened to ask “What thing?”

  His answer removed the need. “Yes. She said she offered to represent Prof Taylor because Cooke asked her to. He wanted to know what Taylor said to you.”

  It figured. Adrian Cooke had a Machiavellian streak.

  “OK, thanks. What happened with Margie Rudd?”

  “She confirmed that her husband had beaten both her and the children all their lives. He was particularly hard on Eleanor. When she reached puberty he tried to keep her in the house but the more he tried to control her the wilder she got. Men, tattoos…”

  Liam boomed out. “Drugs.”

  “It seems so. She moved into the nurse’s home as soon as she could and then lived with Tim Taylor for a year.”

  Davy spluttered again. “Taylor? But he’s married.”

  He saw Annette reaching to pat his head again and swatted her away.

  Liam chipped in. “It was before Taylor was married, but apparently they’ve been at it on and off since then. Cooke as well, as recently as last week. Ellie was a bit of a girl.”

&n
bsp; Annette glowered at him. “And what were they?”

  Craig saw the war of the sexes about to start and he motioned Jake on.

  He took out his notebook and read. “Billy hit us all the time, with his hands and a strap. I tried to protect the kids but I wasn’t strong enough. Ellie moved back home to stop him taking everything out on us. She stood up to Billy and it made him hit her hardest of all.”

  “Did Mrs Rudd say anything about drugs?”

  Jake vacillated. “She didn’t say it explicitly, but she did say ‘Ellie did things to cope’. Perhaps using drugs was one of them?”

  Liam shook his head. “Cooke didn’t say Rudd was a user, boss. Just a dealer.”

  Craig conceded the point. “You’re right, he didn’t, and John would have found some signs. Anything else, Jake?”

  “Mrs Rudd confirmed that her husband was at home when Ellie was killed. She said he’d got drunk the night before and was sleeping it off. She didn’t want to wake him in case he hit her.”

  “What a prince.”

  “I think she’s hoping they’ll lock her him up and throw away the key. I contacted the D.A.U. like you said and they’re going to get her and Eddie some help.”

  “Good. Thanks for that.”

  Craig turned to Annette and Ken. Ken was gazing at Carmen like she was Miss World.

  “Annette, Ken.” Craig made the ‘Ken’ louder to break his trance. “What did you find with the ward porters and the people on Davy’s list?”

  Annette shook her head. “Sorry, sir. It took us so long to interview the porter that we’ll have to do the rest tomorrow.”

  “OK. Tell us about the porters.”

  “Porter. There is only one. Ferdy Myers.”

  For the next five minutes Annette and Ken made everyone laugh as they ran through their interview with Myers. Annette summed up.

  “The upshot was that he was nowhere near the linen room after seven o’clock that morning and the trolley wasn’t left in the corridor by him.”

  Craig thought of something. “Davy, were there any prints on the trolley that shouldn’t have been there?”

  “Nope.”

  “Damn… OK, so we have someone strong enough to drag the trolley out of the linen room and strangle a fit young woman by hand, but we can’t find anyone on the CCTV. Is that right?”

  Davy shrugged. “I found Cooke on the main hospital CCTV, coming through the front entrance at nine-thirty on Thursday morning and leaving again around half-eleven, but nothing on the E.M.U. footage.”

  “He knew how to avoid the cameras.”

  “He broke them.” Davy paused. “The only other people from the unit that w…went in and out were the three names I gave Annette.”

  Craig slumped back in his chair and the group fell quiet. They had no forensics tying their murder to anyone and every suspect they’d had: Cooke, William Rudd and Tim Taylor, was being eliminated one by one. He motioned Davy to report on the background checks and similar M.O.s elsewhere, but there was nothing. All their hopes lay with their killer making a mistake and that could mean someone else had to die.

  Craig wrapped up the meeting and beckoned Annette over, briefing her on tracking Cooke. She left for High Street to start the tail and Jake left for his grandparents’. That left six people waiting to hear what he said next, including him.

  “OK, it’s five o’clock. Everyone go home. Carmen, could you join me in my office please.”

  With that he turned on his heel and a startled Carmen trailed in his wake. As she entered Craig’s office and closed the door Nicky drew a finger across her throat, then she moved closer to the door to listen. Liam joined her while the others went home, or in the case of Ken loitered protectively by Carmen’s desk. Nicky and Liam needn’t have stood so close; they could have heard Craig’s words from the end of the room.

  As Craig entered his office he wheeled round to face the woman who was giving his male staff so much grief. His voice was pure steel.

  “Do you know why you’re in here, Constable McGregor?”

  Carmen jutted her chin out defiantly; it made her look like a sulky child. “No, sir.”

  “Then it’s even worse than I thought. You have no insight into your behaviour.”

  She went to pull out a chair and Craig barked. “Remain standing.”

  He paced the short space between his desk and the window in silence while Carmen watched, her nerve failing by the second. She genuinely had no idea what she’d done but the Super obviously thought it was bad enough to warrant this. Finally Craig turned towards her, his voice changing to a narrative tone.

  “Picture a workplace where three men and five women work, with one man and one woman working in a support role. Yes?”

  Carmen nodded dumbly. She didn’t have the foggiest clue what Craig was on about but she thought it was best to humour him. There weren’t three men and five women in the Murder Squad, but the story obviously meant something to him.

  “Now picture what happens if one of the men has a problem with the female sex and barks, snipes and is generally as difficult as possible with every woman on the team. What would you do?”

  Carmen screwed up her face. “Am I the boss?”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I male or female?”

  Craig considered the question. “Female. Although it shouldn’t make a difference.”

  She thought for a moment. “Unless there were good reasons for their behaviour and if they were pleasant to the men and only nasty to the women, I’d give them a warning. Their behaviour is sexist.”

  Craig banged his palm down on the desk, making her jump back. “Exactly! Their behaviour is sexist and unless they stop it the equality police will come down on them like a ton of bricks.”

  Carmen nodded dumbly.

  “That’s what you’ve been doing, Constable. Since you arrived here four months ago you’ve been hostile to every man in this team without, as far as I can see, having any legitimate reason. You’ve done it to me as well, although I think you’ve tempered it because I’m your boss.”

  Carmen blustered. “But I…”

  “But nothing. You’ve been unpleasant to every male team member and I don’t know why; I’m not even sure that I care. But if you want to remain working here, you need to face whatever demon is causing you to behave this way.”

  Carmen drew herself up to her full five-feet-three and was about to say something she would regret when Craig held up a hand to stop her.

  “If the next words out of your mouth are anything except ‘Yes, sir’ you’re off this squad. So think very carefully.”

  Carmen’s lips tightened and her face grew red. Craig watched her fists curl into a ball and he knew she wanted to pummel him with them, but she wisely stayed mute. After a moment he said “Good” and sat down behind his desk, beckoning her to sit while he gave her a note to see the force’s psychologist the next day. Then he waved her out.

  As Carmen’s shadow approached the door Nicky scooted quickly across the squad-room, leaving Liam standing alone. Carmen yanked open the office door and saw him. She glowered and pushed past him, grabbing her handbag from her desk and completely ignored Ken’s sympathetic glance. Then she stormed off towards the lift.

  Craig glanced up to see Liam standing in his doorway. He sighed heavily. “How much of that did you hear?”

  Liam feigned innocence. “Who me?”

  “Don’t give me that. You and Nicky were probably listening to the whole thing.”

  Just then Nicky’s small face appeared and Liam sniffed at her in chagrin. “She legged it and left me in the lurch.”

  Craig beckoned them in and Liam kicked the door shut, then, when they were certain the others had left, the three old hands had a serious chat.

  Chapter Seven

  5.30 p.m.

  Annette parked her hatchback on High Street and waited for Jack Harris’ call. He’d held Cooke in the cells as agreed and now he was deliberately taking his time with the paperwor
k to let Annette get into position. At five-fifty her mobile rang and Jack’s avuncular tones came down the line.

  “He’ll be out in five. There’s a cab coming.”

  The line clicked off just as the taxi arrived. Annette instinctively ducked down in case Cooke saw her and then realised how stupid she must look, and how suspicious. A woman sliding down in her driver’s seat outside a police station – people had been arrested for less. Why was she hiding anyway? Cooke had never seen her. To him she was probably just a middle-aged mum waiting to pick up her kids.

  As Adrian Cooke climbed into his taxi Annette regained her decorum, slipping into the traffic and following the cab towards Carlisle Circus and the Antrim Road. Cooke definitely wasn’t heading for the hospital. If the address Davy had given her was correct, he was heading home. Perhaps they were wrong about Ellie Rudd having a Black Book, or Cooke had already stashed it somewhere.

  Cooke paid the cab and entered a tall, terraced house on Serpentine Road that Davy had said held three flats. The doctor lived on the top floor and Annette pictured him trudging up the stairs, thinking about his life. If his expression as he’d left High Street was anything to go by they wouldn’t be happy thoughts. She glanced at her watch; six-twenty. She’d give it an hour to see what happened.

  As the evening’s gloom deepened the lights on the Victorian building’s top floor blinked on and Annette could make out Cooke pacing around his bay-windowed front room. As the TV flickered she imagined him watching the evening news, knowing that he might hear his own name on it someday soon. What did a man who’d thrown his life away think about? She’d seen Cooke’s file; wealthy parents and a good school, followed by a rapid passage through medical school with stellar grades. He had academic papers and publications galore to his name and had been tipped for the top in his career, all destroyed now by a powder he shoved up his nose.