“Check her alibi, rattle her cage loudly and then forget her, Liam. But she’s to stay in the North. We might need to speak to her again.”
Craig gave them brief updates on Hugh Trainor and his visit to the gallery the night before, conveniently forgetting to mention his encounter with Katy Stevens.
“Jake’s checking who the girl in the charcoal was.” He banged his forehead with the heel of his hand, as if he was trying to knock a memory loose. “I’m certain I’ve seen her face before but I can’t remember where.”
“How about Davy running it through facial recognition software, hey? We used that once in a drugs case and it gave us the perp.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Andy. I’ll call Jake when we’ve finished here.”
Liam interjected. “What’s your feeling about Hugh Trainor, boss? Any chance he killed his daughter?”
“Not a hope.” Craig gave a wry look. “If it had been the ACC that died, then maybe. There’s certainly no love lost between husband and wife. But not Lissy. He adored her, no question. She was the reason he stayed in the marriage.”
“That and his political career.”
Craig shook his head firmly. “No. If anyone wanted him to stay for their career it was Melanie Trainor. He says that she’s basically slept with every powerful man in Northern Ireland, anyone who she thinks might help her career.”
He took a sip of cold espresso then called over the waiter to bring them fresh drinks before carrying on. He stared hard at Liam, challenging him to make a joke of what he said next.
“Hugh Trainor’s been having an affair for three years and he’s going to leave the ACC now and marry the lady in question.”
Liam opened his mouth to make a crack then saw Craig’s look and closed it again, drawing an imaginary zip across his mouth.
“We met the mistress, Darlene McKenna. She was nice, used to be Trainor’s P.A. She confirmed that Trainor was with her the whole weekend that Lissy was killed.”
“That’ll not help his guilty conscience, hey.”
“You’re right.”
“The ACC must have noticed that he was gone, boss.”
Craig shook his head. “No, she didn’t. They lead separate lives. She was at an Association of Chief Police Officers meeting in Manchester and stayed on for the weekend.”
Liam sniffed. “Probably found someone more powerful to sleep with than Northern Ireland could produce.”
“Liam…”
Liam sniffed again and fell silent, but Craig could read his thoughts. Melanie Trainor’s exemplary reputation in the force wasn’t going to last long now.
“Trainor said that the ACC was very strict with Lissy so she turned to him. They were very close.” He saw Andy sit forward to interrupt and shook his head. “Not in a bad way, before you go there, Andy. He seemed like a genuinely loving Dad.”
He added the phrase that he knew would persuade them both that Hugh Trainor hadn’t abused his daughter. “Annette agreed.”
Liam nodded and Andy did as well. Annette’s people sense was excellent. If she thought Hugh Trainor was kosher then he probably was. Craig smiled and threw in another line.
“She liked the mistress as well.”
“Phew, now that’s saying something. Danni thinks all mistresses should be shot at dawn.”
They fell silent for a moment while Craig and Liam remembered Annette’s ordeal five months before when her husband had had an affair. Andy looked at them questioningly but Craig quickly moved on and summed up.
“OK. Liam, chase your witness and show her O’Carolan’s photo. If she can’t I.D. him then get her to do the sketch. We’ll get it out there today with uniform and see if it rings any bells. Set up an I.D. parade for tomorrow, with O’Carolan in the mix please, and get his photo to Davy to see if it fits any open cases.”
“Do you think it will, boss?”
“Nope, but it will cross the ‘T’s. And call O’Carolan on his false alibi please.”
He turned to Andy.
“Sorry, Andy, but it looks like another day of you and Davy sorting through the rape victims and their relatives to see what comes up. Can you get in Lissy’s next door neighbour as well, please? What was her name?”
“Billy Munroe.”
“Fine. Get her in and see if she has anything of use to say. Liam, I need to talk to Melanie Trainor again and get Davy and Jake onto Mulvenna’s sketch of the girl, then I’m meeting the Chief again to brief him.”
Liam gulped down his tea and raised the question that no-one wanted to ask.
“What if Declan Wasson’s victims and their families are a dead end, boss? Who does that leave us with? The Jarvis boys? O’Carolan maybe? Do we throw Mulvenna into the mix for Lissy? He’s fit and strong enough to have done it.”
“Mulvenna’s not our man, although he fits the description of the man your witness saw as well. He has a solid alibi for the time of Lissy’s death.”
“Can we break it?”
Craig thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Have a try, but it seems pretty tight. He was on a residential painting course up in Ballymena.”
“That’s only thirty miles from the beach, he could have slipped back, boss.”
Craig nodded thoughtfully. “Yes he could… and it wouldn’t have taken him long to get there on his motorbike. OK, check it again but my money’s on it not being him.” He stood up to leave, glancing at his watch. “We all know what we’re doing, so let’s get on with it.”
***
Melanie Trainor knelt by the fireplace in her living room and glanced over her shoulder towards the door, shaking her head ruefully at her nerves. There was no-one coming in. No cleaner; she’d been yesterday and wouldn’t be back until Friday. No husband; he was doing important things with important people somewhere else. Hugh was always somewhere else nowadays. It was her fault, she knew that. If she hadn’t made it so obvious that she was marrying him for her career and his money then perhaps they would have had a different life together, and a different story to tell now. Except that she had married him for those reasons and by the time she’d realised she really loved him the words were too difficult to say.
She shook her head, remembering the endless dinners she’d spent networking while he’d watched other couples on the dance-floor. Glancing hopefully at her, only to be met with a shake of her head, and then her back, as she turned towards someone who mattered more. She deserved his apathy now and she knew he would leave her soon. The glue that had held them together was gone.
She stared at the elegant parquet floor and saw a five-year-old Lissy running across it with her feet bound in polishing rags. Squealing as she ran into a slide and Hugh caught her at the other end. Then an older and more elegant version, tiptoeing quickly past as she’d sat at the large table and worked, her papers spread out much further than her study desk. She saw herself, barely glancing up and never smiling as her teenage daughter slipped past.
A harsh sob caught in her throat, catching her unawares. She felt the tears on her cheeks and brushed them away ruthlessly. They were no use to her now. Lissy was gone and no amount of crying would bring her back. But she had to know why. Why had they chosen her to kill, and why bury her in the sand where Ronni Jarvis had been found? Were the deaths linked somehow, or was it just some random sadist who thought he’d copy the case to make them chase their tails?
At least Lissy hadn’t suffered, not in the way Ronni Jarvis had. She’d just gone to sleep and woken up somewhere else. But why would a sadist give her a peaceful death? Why wouldn’t he have raped and beaten her like before? What pleasure had he got from killing her only child?
As she asked herself the questions she lifted the fireside rug and slid back the section of floor beneath it, exposing a small safe. She turned the tumblers quickly to reveal what was inside. Her first answer came as she lifted out a small book. The pleasure hadn’t been in hurting Lissy but in hurting her. Leaving her to live with the knowledge that her child had been ki
lled because of something she’d done. Right or wrong, it didn’t matter. Something she’d done in the past had taken her beautiful daughter’s life.
Guilt overwhelmed her and the tears flowed again as she stared through their fog at the book in her hand. She turned it over, half-smiling at the lurid purple fabric that bound its back. Had people ever really liked that shade? She ran her fingers slowly down the lettering on the front, thinking back to the day she’d bought it in the stationery shop. She smiled as she remembered the twenty-five-year-old she’d been. Already an Inspector and aiming for the top, determined that nothing would get in her way.
But she’d been something else as well then. She’d been in love. Day-dreaming, butterfly-generating love, for the only time in her life. And he’d loved her back. But it had to be their secret, there were too many obstacles to overcome. Romeo and Juliet, but their obstacles were bigger than family on either side.
She turned the small book over and traced the numbers 1983. Her diary. What was written inside was so dangerous that it could have destroyed her life. It had destroyed her lover’s. So why hadn’t she just thrown it on the fire? Why keep it to be found by accident someday? As she turned the first page a photograph fell out and she had her answer. The lovers, smiling and kissing in front of her eyes. Her heart soared and she knew why she hadn’t disposed of it. She was still in love.
***
Craig smiled at the speakerphone as the words came thick and fast from the other end of the line. After a moment of listening he spoke.
“Slow down, Davy. I’m older than you. It takes me a while to process things.”
Davy smiled, knowing that Craig was probably already ten paces ahead, but he took a deep breath and started again.
“Lissy Trainor’s e-mails.”
“OK, what about them?”
“They w…were written in code.”
Craig frowned to himself. What had he uncovered? Had the girl been some sort of spy?
“What do you mean code, Davy? Do you mean a kid’s code or a real encryption?”
“Half-way between the two. She was s…smart. Beyond smart, she was a genius. Most of her e-mails are normal, just the usual ‘what are you doing at the weekend, who’s dating who?’ stuff that you’d expect from a girl her age.”
Craig laughed. Davy sounded like Old Father Time when he was only a few years older than Lissy had been.
“But?”
“Exactly! But her e-mails to one contact were always written in a complex s…substitution code.”
“Can you work it out?”
“Yes. She was good but not as good as me. I’ll have it cracked by the end of the day.”
Craig smiled at his confidence. In anyone else it would have been an arrogant boast but with Davy he knew that it was true. If he said end-of-the-day that meant he’d have cracked it by afternoon tea.
“Who was she writing to?”
“Ah, that’s the other thing. It was someone called Commodus_1, but when I contacted the internet provider, they said the address was a front.”
“Can they get behind it?”
“They’re trying. But they said it was routed through about five servers, across different continents. W…whoever did this knows their stuff.”
Craig paused, thinking. If they found out what the messages said then the I.D. of the sender might give itself away. A thought occurred to him.
“Commodus? Wasn’t he a Roman Emperor? Is there some clue there?”
“What, apart from the fact he w…was a psychopath?”
Davy paused then restarted as realisation dawned. “You mean, does the choice of the name say something about the person who chose it? Probably not, except that he thinks he’s important. Leave it w…with me. I’ll call you back if I find something.” He paused then remembered he had a message for Craig. “Sorry, boss. Before you go, Nicky says Dr Winter’s looking for you.”
The phone clicked off and Craig smiled to himself at Davy’s confidence. Gone was the shy young graduate who’d first joined them. He was a core member of the team now, although if he was right about his urge to be a detective they might lose him soon. He shuddered at the thought and turned back to the pile of paper spread across the interview room desk. He was just re-reading Lissy’s P.M report when the door opened with a bang. Liam strode in and grabbed a seat, sitting down with a smile on his face.
“Well now, guess what I’ve just heard?”
Craig took the bait. “What?”
“Three little words that made me as happy as hell.”
“Don’t tell me, Danni called to say she loves you.”
Liam spluttered and waved the suggestion away but Craig could see him counting the words in his head.
“No. Try again.”
Craig racked his brains for a moment then gave up and nodded him on.
“That’s the man.”
“What?”
“They’re the three words. That’s the man. My witness has only gone and I.D.ed the guy seen talking to Lissy Trainor on the Sunday evening!”
Craig leaned forward so quickly that Liam jerked backwards in shock.
“Who was it?”
His money was on someone other than James O’Carolan, but he was prepared to be proved wrong. The grin on Liam’s face said he was preparing to string out the reveal, but the look on Craig’s said that he’d better not.
“Jonno Mulvenna. I showed her his photo as part of an array and she picked him out. So much for his alibi. Ballymena painting course, my ass.”
Craig shook his head and Liam’s face fell. He would have loved it to be that easy but it was impossible. The witness had said the man was mid-thirties at most, Mulvenna was fifty-eight. He looked good but there was no way he could past for thirty, not even in a very dim light. The penny dropped on Craig quickly.
“You showed her the photo from Mulvenna’s file, didn’t you?”
Liam hesitated for a moment then looked at him like it was a trick question. “Aye… so what?”
“Your witness said the man was no older than thirty. Mulvenna was twenty-eight in that photo but he’s fifty-eight now. And his alibi’s solid as far as we know. You phoned Ballymena yourself. He was never away from the other painters for long enough to get to Portstewart and back. She I.D.ed Mulvenna because you showed her an old photograph.”
Liam shook his head hard then, after a pause, he banged his fist on the desk. “Aw, shit. I knew it was too good to be true.”
But the way Craig was nodding to himself said perhaps not. Craig stood up quickly and headed for the corridor, talking as he walked. Liam loped after him.
“Where are you going?”
“Is your witness still here?”
“Aye. She’s having a cuppa in the canteen until a car comes to take her home.”
Craig stopped and Liam could see his brain racing. “Cancel the car and ask her to come back into the interview room, but don’t say why. I’ll join you there in a minute.”
Craig walked swiftly down the corridor and pushed at the fire-exit door. A minute later he was breathing in sea air. He gazed out at the Atlantic Ocean inhaling deeply. Docklands C.C.U. sat beside the river Lagan and he could see all the way to the Irish Sea when he stood outside, but the air here felt different. Cleaner somehow.
The Atlantic’s waves were high and grey, crashing loudly against the sand as if they were angry with it. The sea wind blew hard against Craig’s face, prickling it with rain and wafting the scent of seaweed and ozone up from the beach. The last of Lissy’s crime-scene tape fluttered in the distance and a solitary police car sat alongside it keeping watch. There was nothing else but the sand and the waves to distract his thoughts. Craig stood there for a moment letting the view clear his head and tried to make sense of what he’d just heard.
It couldn’t have been Mulvenna that Jenna Farrelly had seen but how many men looked exactly the same? So much so that she’d convinced Liam with her I.D.? There were a lot of tall, dark men in Northern Irelan
d but similarity wouldn’t have made her quite that sure. That left them with one possibility. If it wasn’t Jonno Mulvenna that she’d seen, it had to have been someone related to him.
He pulled out his phone and gave Davy the task of finding out, then stared at the sea for five more minutes until Davy called back. Craig nodded as he listened, then cut the call and re-entered the red-brick building. Jenna Farrelly was seated in the interview room with a bemused expression on her face. Craig extended his hand to shake and nodded Liam to sit at the table’s end while he took up position opposite their guest. He knew that how he asked the next questions was important. He didn’t want to sway her but he needed to raise the possibility that she was only half-correct.
“Mrs Farrelly, my name is Superintendent Marc Craig. I’m heading up the investigation into Elizabeth Trainor’s death.”
She shook her head sadly. “Terrible thing. She looked like a nice wee girl. I used to see her on the beach all the time.”
“Yes, it was terrible. “ He paused and lightened his tone. “Chief Inspector Cullen tells me that you often shop on the parade.”
“Yes. The butcher’s. Our Damon loves the sausages they make.” She shot him a wry look. “But before you ask, I’m sure I saw the girl that Sunday. I know because it was my daughter’s birthday and I was admiring the leggings she wore. Elsa wanted a pair so I asked her where she bought them.”
Craig nodded. Good, she was a clear witness and hard to shift. That would help if it ever got to court. He framed his next question carefully, ignoring Liam’s puzzled look.
“You said that Lissy was talking to a man that day?”
She folded her arms defiantly, as if daring him to challenge her. “Yes, she was.”
“Would you mind describing him again for me?”
She sniffed and glanced at Liam, waiting for his nod. Then she started talking in a bored tone.
“As I told Mr Cullen, he was about six-feet-one tall, around thirty with very dark hair and brown eyes. He was good looking. Like that film star out of Pretty Woman. Whatever you call him.”
“Richard Gere?”
The Broken Shore Page 18
