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

by Catriona King

  “Liam, come with me, Nicky, call everywhere you can think of till she turns up. Davy, ping her mobile and find out where she is. Phone me with the information.”

  Nicky called after them anxiously. “Where will you be?”

  It was Liam who answered. He’d worked out where they were going and he looked as worried as Craig. “Annette’s house. Get the information, fast.”

  ***

  Craig’s Audi screeched into the suburban street off Belfast’s Cregagh Road and halted outside the McElroy’s semi-detached home. Davy had confirmed that was where her phone was, so Annette had to be there as well. Craig was out of the car before Liam had unbuckled his belt.

  “Wait, boss.”

  Liam’s firm tone halted Craig in his tracks and he pulled him behind a hedge.

  “If Pete’s found out she’s been playing away, God knows what’s happening inside that house.”

  “That’s why we need to get in.”

  “No. We need to find out where they are and what’s happening before we run off half-cocked. Pete’s a strong man; he’s beaten me in more arm wrestling matches than I can count. If he loses it he could kill her.”

  Craig grew pale beneath his tan. Liam was right. If Annette was alone in the house with an angry Pete she could be badly hurt. Bile filled his throat. Pete had just expected her to suck-up his infidelity and carry on loving him as if she’d suffered nothing more than a broken nail, yet if his male pride was wounded by her doing the same, he could kill her. Pride and honour killings – women were still a long way from equality. He nodded.

  “What do you suggest?”

  He was the boss, but his temper was shredding his logic now; he’d kill Pete if he’d laid a finger on Annette. Liam was calmer, he should lead.

  “OK. You’re fitter than me. Annette showed me round the house once and there’s a conservatory at the back, just below their bedroom. If you climb onto its roof you can see in. I’ll look for a ground-floor window to jemmy. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

  Craig took the roof and Liam took the ground and five minutes’ later they reconvened by the front door.

  Craig’s face was grim. “She’s in the bedroom, on the floor. I can’t see any blood but her hand looks broken. She’s not moving.”

  “Where’s Pete?”

  Craig shook his head. “Not there. Probably downstairs somewhere. Did you find a way in?”

  Liam nodded. “Yep. The conservatory door looks easy to crack. Time to pay Mr McElroy a visit.”

  Craig motioned him on and hoped that he reached Pete before he did. Annette’s hand looked like it had been stamped on; bastard. Liam nipped to Craig’s car for a suitable tool then he moved to the back of the house, surprisingly stealthily for a man of his size. He jemmied open the door like a pro and Craig followed him in, signalling he’d take upstairs if Liam took the down. He wanted to check on Annette as quickly as he could. He was halfway up the staircase when he heard a thud and a crack. He ran back down and found Liam in the living room, with Pete McElroy sprawled out on the floor. Blood was gushing from his nose and Liam stood above him glaring in a way that said the best thing he could do was stay down. Craig shot him a look of disgust and raced up the stairs, pulling out his mobile to make the call.

  “It’s the police. I need an ambulance at 53 Mission Road. Stat.”

  As he cut the call Craig knelt down on the floor beside Annette. He checked her pulse, it was slow and strong, a testament to her fitness; all those years of circuit training had paid off. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically and he knew she would be OK. He glanced at her left hand ruefully, wishing that it said the same. It was deep purple and the bones were definitely broken, she was looking at an operation and months of physio, but compared to what could have happened she was fortunate.

  As they waited for the ambulance Craig suddenly heard a key turn in the front door; the kids! He raced down the stairs, reaching the front door just as Jordan, Annette’s eighteen-year-old son, entered the hall. He stepped back, shocked to see Craig, then he glanced past him anxiously.

  “What’s wrong? Where’s Mum?”

  Craig gave a calm smile. “It’s all right, Jordan. Your mum just had a fall and hurt her hand. She’ll be fine. An ambulance is coming now. Why don’t you go with her to the hospital?”

  The boy went to push past him but Craig gripped his arms and held him at the bottom of the stairs. Annette wouldn’t want her kids knowing what had happened unless she told them.

  “It’s better if you stay here, Jordan. And phone your sister? She’ll want to meet you at the hospital.”

  “What about Dad, he’ll want to know?”

  Craig bit his tongue and prayed that Pete McElroy had the sense to keep quiet; Liam’s clenched fists should do the trick.

  “I’ll tell your dad, don’t worry.”

  Just then an ambulance pulled up and Craig thanked heavens for their quick response.

  “There’s the ambulance now. Let’s step outside and let them do their work. They’ll look after your mum.” He nodded to the paramedics. “Upstairs, first room on the right. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Craig deposited Jordan in the front garden with a look that said to stay put, then he went to the bedroom to update the ambulance crew.

  “I think she was knocked out and her hand stamped on. Don’t tell her son, please.”

  As Annette was being lifted onto the stretcher her eyes fluttered open and she saw Craig.

  “Sir…Pete…”

  Craig grasped her uninjured hand. “We know, Annette. Jordan’s downstairs, we haven’t told him. I said you had a fall.”

  Annette shook her head weakly. “No…don’t…I’ll…”

  Her words faded away in a mist of pain-relief and Craig hoped that she would sleep for hours. He watched as the stretcher was loaded onto the ambulance and Jordan jumped in, then he set his jaw hard and re-entered the living room.

  Liam was looming above Pete like the Colossus of Rhodes and each time his prisoner shifted his giant fists twitched. Craig signalled to stand him up and Liam grabbed McElroy aggressively by the shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  Craig faced the wife-beater with a look of contempt, not trusting himself to speak. After a moment Liam realised it was up to him to cuff their prisoner and read him his rights. By the time the ritual was complete Craig had regained his self-control. While Pete’s hands had been free there was a risk that he would have swung for him, knowing that it would’ve been a fair fight. Now he was cuffed it would be unequal, the equivalent of what he had done to Annette.

  Craig gestured Liam to put their prisoner on a chair and he complied with forceful glee. Craig sat down opposite and scanned McElroy’s face for some sign of remorse. But there was nothing there, nothing except hatred and anger for a wife he’d loved for twenty years. Craig’s voice was cold.

  “What were you thinking of? She’s half your size.”

  Pete sneered. “You and your bloody job have made her more of a man than me. She earns more; she’s more ambitious, pretty soon she’ll grow a set of balls. The Annette I married was a nurse; gentle, not this…this thug you’ve turned her into.”

  Craig rose and glared down at him. “You pathetic little man. The truth is you’re not man enough to cope with a woman who’s doing well in her career. Annette’s one of the kindest, most caring women I’ve ever met but you only see what you want to. You had an affair and ruined your marriage. I don’t know what Annette’s chosen to do with her life since then but whatever it is it came after you’d destroyed her feelings for you.”

  The sound of a car pulling up made Liam look out the window. “They’re here to take him to High Street. Do you want me to go with him?”

  Craig scanned McElroy contemptuously and then shook his head. “No special treatment. Let uniform take him in.”

  As Liam wrenched him to his feet the teacher turned to Craig and smirked. “Annette will never press charges. She won’t want to hurt the kids.”r />
  Craig knew it was true, even though he would do his best to persuade her. They could prosecute without Annette’s support but he would never do it against her wishes, although Pete wasn’t going to know that for twenty-four hours. He smiled into the teacher’s face, his fists twitching.

  “Didn’t you know? We don’t need the partner to press charges now. We can do it ourselves.”

  Pete’s face fell and Liam shunted him to the car quickly, before he could see the defeated glance the detectives exchanged behind his back.

  ***

  Four p.m.

  “Right, let’s get on with it.”

  Nicky scanned the squad-room and then stared at Craig curiously. Annette was nowhere to be seen and Carmen still wasn’t back from the shrink’s. Liam was glaring at nothing in particular, although the look in his eyes said his glare was reserved for someone specific, even if they weren’t there. Ken was picking at the edge of his notebook in an accelerating rhythm that said he was stressed and Davy was reclining at his desk. It was the motliest crew she’d ever seen and she said so.

  “No.”

  Craig squinted as if he’d heard her incorrectly. “No?”

  Liam pulled his gaze from the far distance and started to pay attention. If a fight was gearing up he wanted a ring-side seat.

  Nicky folded her arms. “No. Not until you tell us what’s going on. You and Liam have had faces like Lurgan spades since you got back. Where are Annette and Carmen?”

  Craig’s squint hardened and with it his voice. “If I say we’re going to brief, then that’s what we’re doing. You and I will have a conversation later, Nicky.”

  With that he scanned the faces around him and Liam watched their expressions shift to heightened alertness, one by one. All except Nicky who buried her head in her notebook and poised her pen ready to start. She’d minute the briefing exactly even if she did it with a hurt expression and pursed lips, but Craig would have hell to pay later for telling her off in front of everyone.

  “OK. Davy, what have you got for us?”

  Davy’s eyes darted from Craig to Nicky and then back again, as if he was waiting to see who blew first. Seeing Craig about to shout he pushed his hair behind his ears and started to report.

  “You asked me to look for men in their fifties and eighties w…who were on the unit at the time of both deaths. Focusing on men w…who’d spent a substantial time in Canada or the S…States as well as the UK.”

  He paused for Craig’s input. There was none, just Craig’s jaw set so hard that it looked like it would crack and his swift nod to carry on.

  “That brought the number down to three.”

  Liam interrupted in an astonished voice. “Three men who’ve lived across the pond in a group that size! What are the odds?”

  Craig relaxed his scowl to smile at Liam’s incredulity. “Given that nearly twenty percent of North America is of Irish descent, not as unlikely as it seems, I’d say.”

  Liam paused, remembering something. “Aye, right enough. Two of my uncles were there for years. They came back, mind.” He grinned and Craig felt a joke coming. “Must’ve missed the rain.”

  As Liam guffawed the small group relaxed and Craig sneaked a look to see if Nicky did the same. She didn’t. Her face, what he could see of it given that she was studying her notepad as if it was the Bible, was granite, and he knew he’d pay for chastising her for quite a while. He waved Davy on.

  Davy gave Liam a look that said ‘thanks for breaking the gloom’ and continued.

  “The three men are the w…ward porter, Ferdy Myers. He’s in his fifties obviously; you couldn’t have a porter in his eighties, could you?”

  Liam laughed. “You could the way the pension age keeps rising.”

  Davy continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “A doctor who was visiting from another ward; Dr Brian Kirk. He’s fifty odds as well.”

  Craig lifted a hand to still him. “Why was he there, Davy?”

  “I’ll come to timings next but he w…was on Newman the morning Rudd died to see a patient. He’s a chest s…specialist.”

  Craig was curious. “Who was he there to see?”

  “A lady with asthma. Mrs Bains.”

  Craig nodded him on. They’d come back to the details once he’d laid everything out.

  “The last man who fits the criteria is a patient on Reilly. Caleb Pitt; he’s in his eighties.”

  At the mention of Pitt Craig shifted in his seat. Liam noticed and earmarked a question for later.

  “All three were there both times? The morning Eleanor Rudd was killed and the evening Adrian Cooke’s body was found?”

  Ken perked up; the question was bound to highlight a single suspect. From the crestfallen looks when Davy nodded his head, he wasn’t the only one who’d thought it would be that easy.

  “S…Sorry. I thought I’d said. All three were in and out of the unit both times. Myers was taking patients back and forth w…when Ellie Rudd died, and on the evening of Dr Cooke’s death he was covering for a porter who’d gone off s…sick. Pitt was on Reilly or thereabouts both times and Dr Kirk was on the unit the evening of Cooke’s death as well.”

  Craig interrupted. “Seeing another patient?”

  Davy made a face. “Same patient, but I did a bit of digging and it also turns out he and S…Sister Gormley have a thing.”

  Liam laughed lecherously. “So the doctor and nurse stories are true, then. Canoodling in the clinical room, kissing in the…”

  Suddenly Nicky looked up from her pad. “Canoodling? How old are you, Liam? That’s a word my granny would have used.”

  Liam gave her a huffy look. “Aye, well, I grew up in the country. We still say things like that.”

  Craig watched from the side of his eye as Nicky re-joined the briefing, studiously avoiding his glance as she did. So that’s how it was going to be; ignoring him hadn’t done the trick so now she was going to freeze him out, no mean feat given that he was her boss.

  “Carry on, Davy. How long has it been going on with Sister Gormley?”

  “Over a year, boss. Apparently Kirk’s going to leave his w…wife for her.”

  “Is that why Gormley forgot to mention that Eddie had called in?”

  Davy looked as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. He moved swiftly to his computer, tapped up a table and then gave Craig a nod. “Probably. S…She’s unaccounted for part of the time he was on the ward.”

  Liam snorted. “Probably having a quickie in the clinical room.” Before Nicky had time to tell him off he added. “Do they use words like quickie in Belfast?”

  Craig was curious about what was on Davy’s table so he walked over to his desk. What he saw made him even more impressed by the analyst. On Davy’s central screen was a colour-coded table that charted everyone who’d been on the ward during both murders according to location and time. The only blanks were against their three suspects’ names. Even Hazel Gormley’s indiscretion was labelled as ‘off Reilly - unaccounted for’.

  Craig pointed at the screen. “Why have you left the blanks against our three possibles?”

  “I had s…something in for them, but I removed it five minutes ago just to demonstrate. S…Shall I put it back?”

  Craig nodded. “Just for a minute. The blanks are a good idea; focuses us on who we need to question.”

  Davy tapped a key and the blank boxes filled with colour and words. Craig nodded him to explain.

  “OK. Dr Kirk was on Newman seeing Mrs Bains during Rudd’s death and he saw her again the evening of Cooke’s. I need to refine those times but they still give him time to kill.”

  “Or be off somewhere with Sister Gormley.”

  Craig pointed to Caleb Pitt’s name.

  “He w…was somewhere in Reilly Suite or the main hospital both times.”

  “Again, we need exact timings. What about the porter, Ferdy Myers?”

  “He was the most mobile. He was on and off the unit all the time. With trollies, taking patients to X-
Ray…”

  Craig shook his head. “During Rudd’s death yes, but not Cooke’s. He wouldn’t have been taking someone to X-Ray in the evening, not unless they were an emergency.” He’d learned something from dating a doctor.

  Ken had been listening quietly but now he spoke. “Trollies? Could that have been Ian Jacobs’ squeaking sound?”

  Davy nodded. “One of the possible I.D.s was rubber wheels.”

  Liam gave a satisfied smile. “It’s Myers then.”

  A series of nods ran round the group until Craig put up a hand to still them.

  “Sorry to rain on everyone’s parade but, let me ask, Davy, does Caleb Pitt use a wheelchair?”

  Davy tapped another key and a photo of Pitt popped onto the screen with a paragraph of text beneath. He’d lost a leg and used a chair, but he also had a prosthetic leg and cane.

  “S…Sometimes but not always, sometimes he uses a cane. But wheelchairs have rubber wheels as well, don’t they?”

  Craig didn’t answer just walked thoughtfully back to his seat. After a moment’s silence he summarised.

  “OK, we have three men who fit the age groups and possible transatlantic background of the man who phoned Maggie. Two are fifty-somethings and fit, one is in his eighties and disabled. Two had access to either a chair or trolley with wheels that could make the sound Ian Jacobs heard. One may have been occupied with Sister Gormley, who so conveniently forgot to mention that Eddie Rudd had been there that night. So basically any of them could have committed both our murders and we need to narrow things down.”

  “Surely the younger ones are more likely, boss? An eighty-year-old’s not likely to have the strength.”

  Craig shook his head. “Never underestimate someone based on their age, Liam.” He nodded at Smith. “Ken tested their strength. Davy, did Pitt have a strong grip when the long-stay patients were assessed?”

  Davy read for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, and he was on the list of residents out and about in the hospital.”