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

by Catriona King

  Carmen rose briskly as he entered the office and he marvelled at the seemingly ungrudging show of respect. Perhaps her counselling session had worked or perhaps something between her and Ken was working even better. When the sister left to collect Caleb Pitt he brought her up to date.

  “One of the military databases will match the print on Cooke eventually, but a good lawyer will argue it could have been left in some innocent way. We need a confession. We haven’t got one from the others so let’s see what we can get from Pitt.”

  There was no point prescribing the interview questions, interviews were living things: silent, meandering or abrupt.

  “Follow my lead and don’t be surprised by what I ask. I have background info that you don’t.”

  A moment later the door was knocked and Caleb Pitt’s wheelchair forced its way in with a bang. Pitt was grey-haired, what was left of it, with muscular arms and shoulders built by years of strong living, kept that way now by pushing a chair. His skin was weathered, but something about its clarity said that he’d had a privileged life. His eloquent first words confirmed it, and that he intended to play games.

  “Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” Hamlet. It suited his sonorous voice. He extended a hand to Craig and strengthened his American accent deliberately. “Caleb Pitt. And you are?”

  Craig shook his hand, gauging its size and strength as he did. Something about the grip said Pitt was a man used to getting his way.

  “Superintendent Craig and this is Constable McGregor.”

  Pitt inclined his head politely towards Carmen and then turned back to Craig. “Well now, ain’t that a strange first name? ‘Superintendent’. Where I come from folks call their kids things like Caleb and George.”

  Craig ignored the jibe, knowing that Pitt was jockeying for supremacy. He had no intention of giving it to him.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr Pitt. This is a formal interview so I’m going to caution you.”

  “I’m going nowhere.”

  “Would you like legal counsel present?”

  Pitt guffawed. “A lawyer? No thanks. Best place for them is in the grave.”

  Even Craig didn’t dislike the legal profession that much.

  As Craig read him his rights Pitt manoeuvred his chair expertly to face the desk, forcing Craig to sit behind it or talk to his back. Carmen positioned herself at the short end so that the three sat so close in the small room that they could feel each other’s breath. Craig deliberately slowed his speech to exert control and the glint in Pitt’s eyes said that he recognised a worthy foe.

  “You’ll be aware of the two recent murders in the unit.”

  “Who could miss your boys all over the place?”

  “You were here on both occasions.”

  “I live here, Mr Craig. You know that.”

  Carmen watched as the men batted words skillfully back and forth. It felt like a warm-up at Wimbledon. Craig leaned back in his chair, increasing the space between them and Carmen watched Pitt lean forward to compensate. The desk halted him halfway.

  “Tell me a little about yourself, Mr Pitt.”

  The old man smiled, showing his teeth. They were large and slanted, like a shark’s. He strengthened his US accent deliberately.

  “Come now, Mr Craig. Let’s not play games. You already know plenty about me I ’spect.”

  Craig smiled coolly. “Humour me.”

  Pitt folded his hands and nodded. “Well now…let me see. I was born in Georgia, that’s in the southern states of America ’case you don’t know. My daddy was a peach farmer and a darned good one too, so I grew up in what people might call comfortable circumstances.” He turned to Carmen and Craig was curious to see what came next. “You should go to Georgia, missy. Pretty little thing like you would be fêted there.”

  Before Craig could intervene Pitt turned back to him and spent the next five minutes running through his early military career. His face darkened when he reached the Vietnam War.

  “Worst hell-hole I’ve ever been in. Godforsaken place and godforsaken folk and we only made their hell worse. Lost my boy Nathan there.”

  He stared into space as if he could still see the horrors, then as abruptly as his face had darkened it twisted into a smile. The contrast was disconcerting.

  “I came home to my wife Edna. Finest woman you ever did see.”

  Craig interrupted sympathetically. “She died.”

  A look of anguish crossed Pitt’s face.

  “And your other son, Joshua.”

  The anguish was replaced by a fury that made Carmen jerk back in her chair. Craig imagined Pitt’s temper unleashed and knew that it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

  “He was murdered!”

  Craig spotted a sore and pressed on it. “That’s not what the police reports say. They say he was found dead.”

  “Murdered by scum.”

  “Cause of death was listed as a drug overdose.”

  Pitt lurched forward so fast that Craig didn’t have time to react. He grabbed Craig’s tie and yanked it, banging his cheek hard against the desk. As Carmen went to intervene, Craig’s eyes signalled no and she realised this was what he’d been trying to provoke. Pitt leaned forward and hissed in his ear.

  “It was a set-up.”

  Craig gasped out his words. “They found the needle in his arm.”

  “My boy didn’t put it there. That damn scum did.”

  As suddenly as the octogenarian had grabbed Craig he released him. Craig jerked upright, loosening his tie and gasping as Carmen spoke.

  “You’ve just assaulted a police officer, Mr Pitt.”

  Pitt smiled coldly. “Ask Superintendent here if he wants to arrest me.”

  She turned to see Craig shake his head. “But, sir…”

  He waved her down and fixed Pitt’s pale eyes with his own. The older man spoke first.

  “Ask your boss why he don’t want to charge me, missy.”

  She glanced at Craig. “Sir?”

  Craig said nothing so Pitt spoke again.

  “I’ll tell you why he won’t charge me. It’s ’cos he wants me so bad for bigger things that he’s aching. But he ain’t got no evidence.” He grinned at Craig, taunting him. “Have you, boy?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he swivelled his chair round expertly and headed for the door. As it opened he waved back over his head.

  “Bye now. Y’all come and find me when you actually have a case.”

  Carmen went to speak but Craig shook his head. When Caleb Pitt’s shadow had faded saying he was far enough away not to hear he grabbed his mobile and phoned the squad.

  “Nicky, get a C.S.I. over to Reilly ward. Just one man and not suited up. I want a set of prints lifted.”

  Carmen stared at the desk where Caleb Pitt had sat. He’d set his left hand flat on the desk when he’d grabbed Craig’s tie with his right. She gawped at her boss.

  “Very clever.”

  Craig smiled and rubbed his neck. “Bloody painful too. He has a hell of a grip.” He gestured at the door. “Would you mind scrounging some coffee? I’ll bring you up to speed when you get back.”

  Five minutes later he started. “Davy got Pitt’s military record. He made Major General in the infantry at thirty-five and his career looked set for great things until he was send to Vietnam.”

  Carmen knew something important was coming.

  “His son Nathan was nineteen when he died.”

  She looked blank and Craig realised she was too young to remember the song. ‘19’ by Paul Hardcastle had been a worldwide hit in 1985. Nineteen was quoted as the average age of American forces in Vietnam, although the US Army said it was actually twenty-two.

  “The Vietnam War lasted twenty years; 200,000 US troops were killed or injured.”

  Carmen shook her head, half in sadness and half because she still didn’t understand where Craig was heading.

  “The ones that didn’t die in combat often ended up Heroin
addicted. Some put addiction rates as high as fifteen percent. Many soldiers stayed out there and were never heard from again.”

  Realisation dawned on her. “But Pitt’s other son Joshua came home.”

  “With a habit. He had Heroin in his system when he died.”

  She nodded. “So the scum Pitt was referring to were drug-dealers. He hates them.”

  Craig nodded.

  “And he killed Rudd and Cooke because they were dealing drugs.”

  Craig shook his head. “Slow down. We might believe that’s what happened but we’ve a way to go to prove it.” He indicated the desk. “Even if his print matches the one Des found on Cooke’s watch, we have no proof as to how it got there.”

  “But if the US Army…”

  Just then the C.S.I. arrived to print the desk so they left the ward, restarting the conversation once they were clear.

  “The most the army will do is confirm that Pitt is who he says he is. We need more, so Davy will be circulating that print to the US and UK police.”

  Carmen still wasn’t sure what he was hoping for but Craig prayed they would have what they needed by the end of the day.

  ***

  The C.C.U. 10 p.m.

  “Sorry for calling you all back in but things are heating up. Davy first, then Liam and Jake.”

  Craig waved his hand in Davy’s general direction and was disappointed by his shaking head.

  “Nothing from the police in either country yet, s…sorry. We’re being delayed by the time difference and the 50 States’ approach. The UK’s just taking its time.”

  Craig rolled his eyes in frustration. “Not your fault.” He thought for a moment. “OK, let’s narrow it down.” Nicky saw him searching for a piece of paper and thrust an A4 sheet into his hand. Craig scribbled something and passed it to Davy.

  “Forget the general approach; go directly to the forces on that list. Tonight please, Davy.”

  Davy read the paper then excused himself to send some e-mails while Craig motioned Liam on.

  “Aye well. You already know we have Weirdy Myers in custody.”

  Ken frowned. “I’m sure that’s not P.C.”

  Liam guffawed and shot Craig a defiant look. “When was anything I did? Well Weirdy or Ferdy, or whatever he’s called, is being held on suspicion of the murders.” He gestured at Craig in a way Ken knew would get him cashiered if he tried it with Major James, his army boss. “Except the boss here doesn’t think that he did it.”

  Craig shook his head. “I didn’t say that. I said my gut’s saying different.”

  “Aye well then, the boss’ innards are saying no.”

  Nicky screwed up her face in disgust.

  “But…” Liam bowed towards her. “…with all due deference to Milady’s delicacy, I think his bowels are wrong.”

  Her look of disgust was joined by a groan from the rest of the group and a ‘get on with it’ glance from Craig.

  “Myers is a fit fifty odds with combat training, mental illness and a history of GBH. He has strong hands and he hated both Rudd and Cooke. He was on the unit during both murders, wheels squeaky trollies and wheelchairs around and smokes menthol cigarettes.” He folded his arms decisively. “I rest my case.”

  Ken was curious. “Why did he hate Rudd and Cooke?”

  “Fancied Rudd and she knocked him back.” He gazed at Carmen and Nicky with spaniel eyes. “You’ve no idea how much that hurts us men.”

  Nicky snorted.

  “And he thought Cooke was a privileged twat, if you’ll excuse my French.”

  Craig raised a warning eyebrow at his language. “That wasn’t in the version of French I learned.”

  He signalled Liam to stand down.

  “OK, everything Liam says it true but I just don’t believe in Ferdinand Myers as a suspect. Either way he’s in custody so let’s park him for now. Ken and Carmen, anything more on Dr Kirk?”

  Davy re-joined the group with a nod at Craig. He liked being the only one who knew what he’d written on the paper, it played to his love of the covert.

  Ken deferred to Carmen.

  “OK. As reported Ken and I interviewed Dr Kirk. He admitted to being on the unit at the time of both deaths, seeing Mrs Bains. He also admitted to meeting Sister Gormley in the clinical room. They’ve been having a romantic relationship for a while.”

  It was Nicky’s turn to interrupt. “Affair. They’ve been having an affair.”

  Carmen shrugged. “They say they love each other and Kirk’s intending to leave his wife and marry her.”

  “He should have done that first then, shouldn’t he?”

  As Nicky glared, daring anyone to object, Craig wondered what she would make of Annette’s new relationship when it came out.

  Carmen was getting frustrated. “Whatever it’s called, it’s what they were doing while Dr Cooke was being killed!”

  “Independent witnesses, Carmen?”

  “That they weren’t on the ward for a while? Yes. Two of the patients on Reilly said they saw them disappearing together in the direction of the clinical room. Said they often did it and everyone knew what was going on.”

  Jake had been silent but now he leaned forward, looking quizzical.

  “Yes, Jake?”

  The sergeant screwed up his face as if uncertain whether he was about to put his foot in it. After all, he’d only been around sporadically during the case so he might have missed something. Craig read his mind.

  “Don’t worry if you think it’s something you should already know. Just ask.”

  “Well, sir. It’s…it’s just…I’ve read all the briefing notes and…isn’t the clinical room in the blind spot between the wards, where Dr Cooke was killed?”

  Craig nodded, seeing where he was going.

  “Then if Dr Kirk and Sister Gormley were in there during Dr Cooke’s murder how could they not have noticed it happening right outside the door? It must have been noisy; Cooke fought hard. And why didn’t Ian Jacobs see either of them when he found Dr Cooke? Also, if Dr Kirk was with Mrs Bains until eleven o’clock on the morning of Ellie Rudd’s death but didn’t leave the unit until eleven-forty, surely he would have seen something if he’d been anywhere near the clinical room with Sister Gormley? Rudd’s body was found around eleven!”

  All good questions but, contrary to the ‘gotcha’ looks on Liam and Carmen’s faces, Craig was sure they would have simple answers.

  “Well done Jake, none of us spotted those anomalies. My guess is that they didn’t use the clinical room on the morning of Rudd’s death because they’d heard that something had happened there. As you say, the body was found at eleven when Dr Kirk was still with his patient, so they could have heard about Rudd and arranged another venue. But why they lied about using the room then is anyone’s guess. On the Monday evening they were already in the clinical room by the time Cooke and his assailant appeared and they possibly didn’t hear anything because they were so engrossed. They must have slipped away after the nurse found Cooke’s body and screamed.”

  He saw Liam about to object and stopped him.

  “However, we’ll check. Carmen, you and Jake do that immediately after the briefing. Take Gormley and Kirk separately and then together; see if they remember seeing or hearing anything. Get their timings nailed down then confirm them with Davy; he has the tapes. I want to know why they lied about being in the clinical room after Rudd was found and where they really were. ”

  He turned to Ken. “Did Dr Kirk have any combat training? Or any reason to hate Cooke or Rudd?”

  Ken shook his head. “We asked about their relationships with the deceased and there was nothing relevant. Carmen asked Dr Kirk about his time in the army and there was no hint of combat; he was a medic the whole time.” He smiled. “I deliberately shook his hand when we arrived and left and his grip was weak. I doubt he’d have been able to strangle a grown man.”

  Carmen glanced at him in admiration and Liam mimicked being sick. That was all they needed, a fu
ll-blown squad romance. His mild flirtation with Nicky was one thing, but if those two were going to start slobbering over each other at work, well, it could drive a man to drink.

  Craig thought for a moment. “OK. Just check what we’ve discussed and if the answers satisfy we can rule Kirk out.” He paused before continuing more slowly. “That just leaves us with Caleb Pitt.”

  An elderly patient doing the killing; it was the option he’d been reluctant to face. Everyone but Carmen gawped at him. Old people were supposed to be gentle and smiling, or at worst grumpy and know it all. They weren’t supposed to have homicidal urges and they definitely weren’t supposed to commit the act!

  A muttered ‘no’ ran round the group but Carmen barely raised an eyebrow at the thought of the octogenarian amputee being their man. What she’d seen of Pitt earlier that day had said he was quite capable of causing someone’s death.

  Craig parked his statement and recounted the challenges of getting the print on Cooke’s watch I.D.ed by the military. Ken updated them on his conversations on the same.

  “The M.O.D. finally ran it but it came up blank. Whoever left that print wasn’t in the British forces.”

  Jake jumped in. “So that rules out Myers and Kirk.”

  Liam shook his head. “Only if we think the print was definitely left by the killer. It could have been left at some other time.”

  Craig nodded in agreement. “And that’s where we hit a brick wall. Even if it matches someone on the US database, all that tells us is that someone who was in the US forces touched Dr Cooke’s watch at some time. We already know we have a member of the US military on the ward; Caleb Pitt.”

  Carmen nodded. “He’s a creepy, aggressive old man.”

  Craig laughed. “Good description. We got his print today and we’ll run it against the one found on Cooke’s watch. I’m sure they’ll match, but that still doesn’t prove that Pitt killed anyone, merely that he touched Cooke at some stage. Cooke was Pitt’s doctor so a barrister will drive a truck through that.”

  Liam interrupted. “What was Pitt’s grip like?”

  Craig rubbed his neck and smiled at Carmen. “Strong enough to strangle a grown man.”