The Broken Shore

by Catriona King

  “Mrs O’Carolan wanted the murder case re-opened, to convict Wasson and put him away, but there was nothing I could do.” Again, really?

  Trainor slipped her hand inside the document case and pulled out another file. It held a series of typed letters much more orderly than the last. Her gaze said this was the last answer Craig was getting and she expected him to be satisfied with it and stop looking elsewhere. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “These are from Bronagh O’Carolan’s eldest son. James. He’s thirty-three now. He was six when she died.”

  “What age were her other children?”

  She glanced at him as if she was confused.

  “You said he was the eldest, what age were the other ones?”

  She dropped her eyes and Craig thought that at least she had the good grace to do that. Her voice was quiet. “Three and one year. Two little girls.”

  On the last word her voice broke. She regained her composure quickly and tapped the pile. “He’s been writing to me since he was at Queens.” She sighed. “Each letter is the same. Blaming me for letting Wasson go and asking for the Mulvenna conviction to be examined.” She shook her head. “Wasson’s dead and it won’t bring his mother back. Why doesn’t he just leave it alone?”

  The question was rhetorical but her tone was a mixture of pleading and despair and Craig knew she was afraid of what might be found if the case was examined again. He framed his next question in such a way that she couldn’t attempt to pull rank. He wanted the mother, not the ACC.

  “Do you believe James O’Carolan had something to do with your daughter’s death?”

  She glanced at him quickly, her mouth ready with a defiant word. What she saw in Craig’s eyes was sympathy for her loss. It disarmed her for a moment and she nodded, then shook her head quickly as if she couldn’t decide whether to answer yes or no.

  Craig saw something else behind her confusion. She was afraid, and… there was guilt as well. The guilt could have been for Lissy, for her being murdered for her career. But the fear? He parked it for future analysis and waited for her reply.

  “I think…perhaps…” She shook her head despairingly, settling on “I don’t know. It’s why I brought the letters for you to see.”

  It wasn’t the only reason, Craig was sure of that. He reached out his hand and she gave him both files. He pushed back his chair and stood, looking down briefly at the top of her head, then he turned and left the room. Leaving her to mourn her daughter alone, without trying to maintain the façade of rank.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What have you got, Liam?”

  Craig thought again then amended his question. “Look, it’s twelve-thirty, do you fancy an early lunch? I’ve just spent an hour with the ACC and I need a break.”

  Liam grinned to himself imagining their exchange. She was a fierce one, right enough, but his money was still on Craig. He said as much.

  “Craig five, ACC Trainor, nil points.”

  Craig smiled at the reference to the Eurovision. “Isn’t that usually Luxembourg? Anyway, lunch?”

  “Aye. That’ll do. I’ll give Andy a bell. He’s off pulling the rape files, he’ll need a break from that. See you there in twenty.”

  Craig knocked off his phone and sat back in his car seat, thinking. He gazed at the Brewster Hotel’s impressive façade, not seeing anything but Lissy Trainor’s young face. It wasn’t much comfort that he was heading in the right direction. It might lead to the Jarvis murder being re-opened and Mulvenna’s conviction being overturned and no-one wanted that, including Jonno Mulvenna. And what comfort would it offer the Jarvis kids? Their mother was dead and if Declan Wasson was the guilty man he was dead as well and well beyond the law. What good would proving it do now?

  He corrected himself. This was about catching Lissy Trainor’s murderer. They mightn’t need to actually reopen Ronni Jarvis’ case, just look as if they were. That might bring the person who’d framed Mulvenna out of the weeds. It was going to get dirty, corruption cases always did, but if someone in MI5 or the force had framed Jonno Mulvenna, no matter what their reasons, then they had to be caught. They might have caused Lissy Trainor’s death, even if they hadn’t killed her with their own hands.

  He glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes until Liam arrived so he lifted his mobile and called the C.C.U.. It was answered by a voice that Craig didn’t recognise.

  “C.C.U..”

  “Hello. It’s Superintendent Craig. Is Nicky there?”

  “No. I mean yes, but she’s gone to buy a sandwich, sir. It’s Jake McLean. Can I help?”

  “Ah, hello, Jake. Sorry, I didn’t recognise your voice. Nice to have you join us. Are you settling in OK?”

  “Yes, sir. Annette’s showing me the ropes.”

  “Good. We’ll get a chance to chat later in the week, but for now could you give Nicky a message for me, please?”

  “Sure.”

  “Tell her I need to find out who Declan Wasson’s handler was in 1983. She’s to use all her diplomacy on this one. They could have been someone in the British Army, MI5 or the police, and no-one of them will want to give her the name.”

  He heard Jake scribbling furiously and gave him second to take it all down.

  “OK?”

  “Fine, sir.”

  “Right. Tell her to call me with any queries. I’m meeting Liam and Andy for lunch then I’ll try to see Jonno Mulvenna again.”

  “The Jonno Mulvenna?”

  Craig was surprised. The Troubles had ended when Jake was still at school.

  “Yes, how do you know about him?”

  “I did Criminology at Uni, sir. One of my assignments was on Terrorists and their reform. Mulvenna’s a successful artist now, isn’t he?”

  “Seems to be.” Craig thought of something. “He has an exhibition in the Morena Gallery on the Lisburn Road tomorrow night. I’m going to see what I can find out. Do you want to come?”

  “That would be great. Like seeing the theory in action. I’ll give Nicky your message.”

  “OK, bye.”

  Craig cut the line, smiling. McLean’s enthusiasm would make him a good addition to the team. He re-dialled, giving the Chief Constable an update on his meeting with the ACC and then headed into the hotel for lunch.

  ***

  Lunch was a quiet affair, with Andy red-eyed and bleary from a morning spent reading dusty files and making a short list of people to interview. Craig updated them on what he knew of Bronagh O’Carolan’s case and Liam shook his head sadly.

  “Six, three and one. My God, that’s young to lose your Mum. Who brought them up?”

  Craig shook his head. “I don’t know. Their Dad I presume. The eldest, James, went to Queens I know that, so he must have done OK.” He turned to Andy. “I know it’s not strictly part of the case, but it would be good to know what happened to the other kids, Andy. And James will definitely need looking at. He’s been writing to Melanie Trainor for years asking her to re-examine Mulvenna’s conviction. I’ve got his letters here.”

  He indicated the two files by his side then turned back to Liam.

  “Liam, do you want to tell us about Conor Ryland? Then Andy can tell us about his list. I’ll update you my meeting with the Chief and John’s toxicology on Lissy, then I’ll come back to the letters.”

  Liam swallowed hastily then talked as he ate. “Aye well. First, I went to that hippy shop, The Magic Box. Weird wasn’t the word for it. It was full of Tarot Cards and incense, all that sort of stuff. Anyway, there’s nothing there. Lissy was fine when she left there on Saturday evening and no-one met up with her after that. No crime, just weirdo central. There’s nothing there with Ryland either, boss. He loved her and they hadn’t split up, it was just a bit of malicious gossip spread by Lissy’s friends. Particularly Mary-Ann Eakin. She seems to have had a real thing about them.”

  He gave them a knowing look and sniffed. “She lied. She wasn’t in Dublin this weekend; she was here, following them. Or rat
her she was following Ryland. He’d arranged to meet Lissy on Sunday night at Portrush Harbour at eight-thirty, but she never turned up. He says plenty of people saw him there. I’ll get uniform to check it out but I’m pretty sure it’ll be true. He said he saw Mary-Ann Eakin following him, so I’m going to have a go at her again.”

  “Jealously? Or love?”

  “No idea, but both have been a motive for murder plenty of times before. I’ll do a spot of cherchez la femme after lunch.”

  “That’s two French expressions in one day, Liam. Is there something you’d like to tell us?”

  Liam guffawed loudly then grinned. “Well spotted, Hercule. Danni’s got me learning it for our camping holiday next year. We’re driving down through France and Italy.”

  Craig laughed. “Keep it up. I can’t wait till you start on the Italian. Andy?”

  He turned to see Andy fighting a losing battle with a plate of spaghetti. He had tomato sauce on his shirt but Craig knew it would be replaced with an identical one after lunch. He shook his head.

  “A morning buried in paper, hey. But at least I’ve got all the files now. I should have a list of possibles by close of play today. Davy’s being a great help.”

  “He always is. I don’t know what we’ll do if he decides to move on.”

  “Here, is that likely, boss? I’ve just managed to break him in and I was hoping to teach him to swear in French.”

  Craig laughed. He thought Davy probably already knew all the swear words there were to know. “I hope he doesn’t go, but he’s very bright and we can’t pay him what he’s worth.” He took a drink and restarted. “OK. First of all, I updated the CC this morning and he’s aware of where this case might lead.”

  “He’s OK with it?”

  “He didn’t exactly do a happy dance, but yes, he’s OK. Just as long as I keep him up to date.”

  Andy dipped a napkin in his water and rubbed at his shirt as Craig talked on. “John got back to me. Lissy Trainor died from a Morphine overdose.”

  Liam gasped. “But I thought she was strangled?”

  “It turns out the strangulation was carried out peri-mortem, to produce the bruising and petechiae, probably to mimic the Jarvis case. She was given a sedative of some sort orally in some ice-cream and cola, about an hour before death, judging by its digestion. Then she was injected with Morphine. A big enough dose to kill her quickly, within five minutes John said, judging by the blood level. She was strangled in those five minutes before death. John said she was probably given the Morphine when she was still asleep from the sedative, so she wouldn’t have known anything.”

  “That’s something at least.”

  Liam shook his head. “That doesn’t work, boss.”

  Craig nodded. He’d spotted John’s rookie mistake as well.

  “She fought him at some stage. She had scratches on her neck and that’s how her nails got broken, remember? She must have woken up while she was being strangled.”

  “You’re right Liam. I spotted that earlier. She woke up while she was being strangled. Poor girl, she must have been terrified.”

  An image of Lissy Trainor struggling flashed through Craig’s mind. He pushed it away.

  “OK. We know she was killed somewhere where there were twigs on the ground and moved less than six hours after death, to be buried vertically in the sand. From Conor Ryland we know she didn’t meet him on Sunday night, so we can assume that she was kidnapped then. Liam, check if her outgoing calls and texts stopped then, just to confirm that she didn’t deliberately stand Ryland up. We know her body was found on Thursday so that leaves us four days from kidnap to discovery with her buried less than six hours after she was killed. What we don’t know is which day she was actually killed. At the moment it could have been anytime between Sunday and say Wednesday night, depending on how deeply she was buried in the sand.”

  “Davy’s working on the tides to see if that will help.”

  “It was definitely set up to mimic Ronni Jarvis’ death, then, boss?”

  Craig nodded. “We can’t rule out that this was just about Mrs Jarvis, but my conversation with the ACC…”

  Andy cut in. “I thought you were leaving that for a while, like you said to the Chief.”

  “I was. She contacted me this morning.” He indicated the piles of letters under his hand. “She wanted to give me these and set me running in the direction of James O’Carolan.”

  He handed Andy the two files.

  “Letters written by Bronagh O’Carolan to ACC Trainor from her rape in ’84 to ’86 when she died, including one posted three hours before she killed herself. The second file contains letters from her eldest son James, asking for the Jarvis case to be re-opened.”

  “On what basis, hey?”

  “On the basis that Bronagh O’Carolan believed that her rapist Declan Wasson should have been put away for Veronica Jarvis’ murder. If he had been then she would never have been raped.”

  “And three children wouldn’t have lost their Mum. “

  Craig nodded as Andy flicked through the piles. “This puts him top of the list for revenge-killing Lissy.”

  “Sadly, you’re right. If not at the top, then near it. But keep an open mind, Andy. This all feels just a bit too neat, especially the way Melanie Trainor basically handed them to me like she’d solved the case.”

  “Sometimes the most obvious things are true, boss.”

  “Yes they are, Liam.”

  “But…?”

  Craig laughed. Liam knew him too well.

  “But, we need to look at the rape victims’ revenge angle, just as we need to look at Ronni Jarvis’ kids and Mary-Ann Eakin. But, I think this is a nasty can of worms and until I get to the bottom of it…”

  “It’ll be burger, chips and a good night’s sleep by the seaside. Happy days!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  By three p.m. Andy had seven women’s names in front of him and a second list of members of their immediate families. He spilt his first list into two columns. Women in whose rapes Declan Wasson was the prime suspect but no-one was charged, and those where they’d managed to get him as far as court, only to have the case thrown out on one flimsy pretext or another. There were two in the second list and five in the first, but it didn’t matter whether they’d got to court or not, Craig was right. Someone had been watching Wasson’s back, someone with a lot of power. He shook his head. There may have been police involvement in framing Jonno Mulvenna, if he was framed, but Wasson had been Teflon coated by someone higher up. It had MI5 and government written all over it.

  He read the women’s names aloud, trying to imagine their pain. Bad enough to be raped and brutalised, but to know who had done it and for them to walk free; how did anyone get past that? He imagined what he would do if it happened to a woman that he loved. He would want to kill to get revenge, but he would have directed it at Wasson, not the family of a police officer, even if they were somehow involved in getting him off. But then that was him and the police were his own, he could only speculate on what other people thought.

  It wasn’t even as if Melanie Trainor had led one of the rape investigations and engineered Wasson going free, she’d led a murder case. Yes, Wasson might have been suspected of Veronica Jarvis’ murder, but without forensics they were on a hiding to nothing in putting him away. He shook his head, convinced that Lissy Trainor could have been murdered as revenge against her Mum, but not that it was revenge for one of Wasson’s subsequent rapes.

  He’d say as much to Craig, but interview them anyway to rule them out. He picked up the phone and called the C.C.U.. Nicky answered cheerfully.

  “Hello, Docklands C.C.U..”

  “Hi Nicky, it’s Andy White here, hey. Is the boy there?”

  Nicky laughed, wondering when Davy would be seen as anything else. “I’ll transfer you now.”

  Davy was sorting through reams of print-outs of Lissy Trainor’s e-mails and calls, arranging them in two neat lines. The phone rang from s
omewhere beneath the papers and he rummaged for it, pushing them to one side in his hurry then staring balefully at the disarray. Now he’d have to start again. The annoyance showed in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Boyso, who hit you with the angry stick? It can’t be Liam; he’s up here making my life hell.”

  Davy laughed then apologised “S...sorry, D.C.I. White. I’ve just knocked my filing system all over the floor.”

  Andy stared at the files in front of him in empathy. “Aye, well, I have another wee burden to give you.”

  “Fire ahead.”

  “You know those rape cases Marc wanted us to look at?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well I’ve got a list of names for you to check. If I send them through could you pull up the summary sheets and e-mail them back to me. Just the summaries, not the whole file.”

  Davy sighed, it would take him hours and he’d arranged to meet Maggie at five. They were going to the flicks to see Asa Butterfield’s new release, Enders Game.

  “W…would tomorrow afternoon be soon enough? It’s just; I’ve a load of other things to do before I leave tonight.”

  Andy heard his pleading tone and laughed.

  “Tomorrow afternoon is fine for most of them, but I’ll be interviewing someone tomorrow morning so it would be helpful if you could send theirs through before then.”

  “S…sure. Which one?”

  “The woman’s name is Bronagh O’Carolan. She was raped in 1984 and she died in 1986.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, it’s a sad case. I need anything you can find on her children as well, especially her eldest son James. And Davy, could you transfer me to Annette?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll get the O’Carolan information to you by close of play. I’ll transfer you now.”

  He mouthed at Annette to pick up the call and turned back to his work. He knelt on the floor to sort out his files and swore under his breath, while Nicky put on the percolator, preparing for a busy few hours.

  “Hello. Annette McElroy.”

  “Hey Annette, how are you?”

  “Grand, sir. It’s lovely and quiet here without Liam, and you can tell him I said that. What can I do for you?”