“Annette’s on a week’s study leave, Nicky. Her exam’s tomorrow.”
She winced in sympathy at the thought of exams, glad that she’d left them behind at sixteen. Davy nodded in empathy. He’d only finished studying the year before, when he’d got his masters in computing. He sincerely hoped that he’d never have to do another one, although his tutor was pursuing him to do a doctorate now.
“OK. We have two deaths to sort out. Number one is an obvious murder – the young woman on Friday night.” He updated their findings on the girl’s body and failure to identify her yet, ending with. “Davy, can you make her I.D. your top priority today. We need to let her family know.”
Davy nodded his head vigorously, his long hair falling randomly across his face. “W…will do. Karen’s got a useful programme running and I’ll chase up on that.”
“Good. And Liam, keep going on her clothes and prints please. OK. The second death was a middle-aged male late last night, at 40 Marrion Park, off the Malone Road. First impressions said that it was a suicide. But the time of the gunshot is wrong so I’m not convinced.
Davy, there was a laptop rigged to play a fake gunshot at ten-forty, but John says that he definitely died a couple of hours earlier. The gunshot was guaranteed to bring us to the scene, so someone definitely wanted us to find the body. We can’t rule out that the victim himself wanted the timing altered for some reason. But we also can’t rule out that someone murdered him and wanted us to believe that it was suicide. They may have delayed the shot to give them time to get away.
Can you have a good look at that computer please? Also, Liam, the trail on the house ownership needs to be followed through, and the male victim’s identity, once C.S.I. gives you the prints. Run them through all the usual databases. If there are no hits there, then try further afield.”
“I’ve Jack Harris’ team from High Street giving us a hand on the house-to-house enquiries for the LeRoy and Marrion Park scenes. They’re not busy today.”
Craig nodded. There was a lot of basic leg-work ahead. He stared down at his desk and picked at its edge. Liam could have sworn he saw a blush starting.
“Detective Inspector Julia McNulty is in Belfast on a few days leave.”
Nicky smiled to herself, knowing exactly where she’d be staying.
“And she’s offered us a spare pair of hands for some of those days - if we get snowed under with Annette away. Just bear it in mind.”
He stood up hastily, heading for the door with a look that said he had urgent business elsewhere. Liam was tempted to ask a question just to delay his escape, and then decided not to. He would store the slagging up for another day.
“I’m off to the lab, if you need me.”
Then Craig was out of the office and across to the exit, leaving them smiling at his still-new romance.
***
Hannah wasn’t sure what to do but she knew that she had to do something. She decided to confide in Fiona, in the spirit of a problem shared meant that it was two people’s problem now.
Fiona stared at her open-mouthed, shock spreading further across her face with each sentence Hannah uttered. Hannah listened to the inevitable ‘How could you be so stupid? ‘Why?’ and ‘what made you change your mind?’ But she kept on going and by the time she reached the man’s name Fiona was on the edge of her seat. When she heard it she screamed aloud.
“Oh my God Hannah, you have to tell your Mum. You have to.”
“But how do I tell her where I saw him, without telling her why I was there?”
“Just tell her that you were visiting a friend in Marrion.”
“And just how would I know he was there to buy sex then? There wasn’t a big sign in the window saying ‘Hookers and Johns.’”
“Hookers and Johns? God, where do you hear these things?”
“The movies. Anyway, unless I can tell her that, all I’ve got is that I saw him in Marrion Park on Sunday evening. Big deal.”
Fiona stared at her blankly and shook her head. “What the hell possessed you to sell your body anyway? Just get a boyfriend for God’s sake, like the rest of us. Colin Irwin in the year above likes you, you know that.”
Hannah shook her head shyly. “No boy will want me while I’m still a virgin.”
Fiona’s mouth flew open in surprise. “You’re still a virgin! Honestly? Is that why you were doing it? Anyway, even if you are still one, don’t you think your first time would be better with someone you know and like? Instead of some sleazy geriatric?” She shuddered. “I couldn’t bear the thought of an old man touching me.”
“I don’t think they’re old, old. I think they’re about forty.”
“Forty! That’s ancient! My Dad’s forty!”
Hannah nodded ruefully. “It’s…it was just …if I was going to do it for money, they wouldn’t laugh at me. Colin would laugh at me.”
“No he wouldn’t.” Fiona thought of the young rugby player and nodded, conceding. Hannah was right, he probably would have laughed, and then told his mates. Hannah was still talking.
“And they pay an absolute fortune for…you know…if you haven’t done it before. It’s like it’s a rarity or something.”
“They’re dirty old men, Hannah.” Fiona paused, then continued curiously. “How much?”
“The Madam said ten thousand pounds.”
“What! My God, that would mean you could move out from home.”
“That’s why I was doing it, Fi. I hate him - I really want to get away from him.”
A look of concern shot across Fiona’s face. “Does…does he touch you?”
Hannah stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What?”
“You know…touch you…where he shouldn’t. I’ve heard that sometimes…”
Hannah’s mouth flew open in astonishment. “God no! He’s not like that. He’s just over-protective.”
She realised what she’d said and suddenly understood. Damien Stewart hadn’t done anything awful. He’d just behaved like a father! Maybe a bit too protective sometimes, but that was all. Her mind ran through the hours he spent taking her to riding and ballet over the years, and the birthday presents he’d bought her. He’d put up with her moods and cruel words, endlessly reminding him that he wasn’t their real father. And he’d never said a harsh word in return.
Tears ran down her cheeks again, but this time from remorse. She’d treated him terribly, and nearly sold herself to pay him back. For what? For daring to love her mother, and them.
They lapsed into silence for a minute until Fiona finally spoke. “You have to tell your Mum about this, Hannah. You have to.”
“I can’t. It would kill her.”
“You have to.” Fiona paused, thinking. “Where did you get the name of the agency from anyway?”
Hannah stared at her blankly. “What?”
“The agency, the Madam? How did you know who to contact?”
A look of horror crossed Hannah’s face. “Oh my God!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Hannah’s tears restarted and her friend rushed to comfort her.
“What’s wrong? Tell me, please.”
“Oh Fiona, it was Britt. Britt told me about the agency.”
Fiona’s mouth dropped open in realisation and she stifled a scream.
“She missed coffee at the Lyric and her phone’s dead. Oh God Fi, anything could have happened to her.”
Chapter Eight
“Look. There, Marc.”
Craig stared at their victim’s body, puzzled, as John pointed at the man’s left hand. He was so tired that he could hardly focus, much less see John’s invisible clue.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to tell me. I’m a bit dim this morning.”
“I know how you feel. Natalie insisted on talking about medicine all through breakfast. She might as well have been speaking Chinese for all I took in. I’m exhausted, and the week’s only starting.”
He shrugged, knowing that sympathy was no substitute for sleep
in making them feel better. John took a magnifying glass from his pocket and picked up the dead man’s left hand, leaning in for a closer look.
“Can you see now? Look, there, along the side of the left middle finger.”
Craig peered at it for a moment and then nodded. Now he could see what John meant. The man had a callous at the inner top edge of his left middle finger. He studied his own right hand, it had the same mark. It was faint but unmistakable; it was from where the man had held a pen. He glanced quickly at their victim’s right hand, in case he was ambidextrous. Nothing. Their victim had definitely been left-handed.
But if he was left-handed, then how the hell could he have shot himself in the right temple at a perfect angle. And even if he’d been supple enough to manage it, why bother? Suicides picked the easiest route to achieving their goal. If he’d killed himself he’d have shot through the left temple, not the right.
“Someone staged it.”
John nodded. “Yes, and they went to all the trouble of holding his hand and making him shoot himself, to get the G.S.R. on his hand. Pity they didn’t realise he was left-handed.”
“Either they were in a hell of a hurry or they didn’t know him well enough to have noticed. They guessed at him being right-handed because most people are.”
“No, they weren’t in a hurry. Remember they took the time to stage the gun-shot noise. They just didn’t notice which hand he wrote with. They’re probably right-handed themselves, so they chose it instinctively. Most people would.”
“That begs the question, how well did they know him?”
They lapsed into silence, thinking. Eventually John spoke.
“Emily’s meeting your vicar this afternoon and doing the profiles on the church murder for me. We should have them tomorrow.”
“Could she do some on this one as well?”
“I’m sure she could. I’ll do a forensic autopsy and geographic profile too, as far as I can.” He nodded down at their victim. “Des will have his bloods and prints ready later.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Do you think they’re linked? The cases?”
Craig nodded. He was certain that they were, but he wasn’t sure why. Gut instinct. Two days apart, two miles apart, different methods, different sexes, different ages, but he knew they’d find some evidence to link them. Then both cases would unravel. Until then he’d just have to trust his gut.
***
“We have to tell someone, Hannah. I’ve tried Britt’s phone again and it’s still dead. I called Andrea and she said Britt wasn’t at her lectures Thursday or Friday. And the last time we saw her was Wednesday. We need to let her Dad know.”
Fiona was sitting on the edge of the bed, prodding her dozing friend with her finger. Hannah opened one eye and then the other, fighting the urge to throw up again. She’d only had three hours sleep the night before and it had been tense sleep at that.
When her vision un-blurred she saw Fiona staring at her anxiously. She shook her head to clear her thoughts then nodded. When she spoke it was to agree; with two caveats.
“We need to phone her granny in Dublin and see if she’s heard from her first, and if she hasn’t then we need to check her flat. If she’s not there, I promise you we’ll call the police, even if I have to tell them everything.”
***
“Has Tommy Hill been brought in yet, Liam? And what about McCrae - was Maghaberry his alibi?”
“Aye, McCrae doesn’t qualify for a pass or parole for at least another year. There’s no way he’d even met the girl. Tommy’s cooling his heels in High Street now. I’m sure Jack will be feeding him tea and buns.”
Liam guffawed loudly and Craig smiled. Thank God for him. Even in the worst situations he always managed to find some humour. Although some of it was dubious and his timing wasn’t always great, he stopped the work taking over their lives.
Craig gazed thoughtfully out the window at the pale summer sky. The last thing they needed was to take the work home, to add to any problems they already had. An image of Annette’s tearful face came to mind and he shook his head sadly. One of his team already had more problems than they could deal with.
Liam watched him calmly, letting him think. He knew exactly what was going through his mind. He might play the class clown but he was very far from stupid. And although there was only a few years between them all, except Davy, he felt like the squad’s father in a way. He’d already guessed at what was bothering Annette and called her an hour before.
She’d confided in him readily, grateful to have a shoulder to cry on, although none of them would ever know that. In the meantime, banter was a great thing to hide behind, and it was time for a bit more.
“Here, what really rules Tommy out from murdering the girl is the location, boss.”
Craig turned towards him curiously, giving him the perfect opening.
“He’d never have gone inside a church. Too afraid of being hit by a lightning bolt.”
He laughed loudly and Craig joined in, bringing Nicky’s pretty face peeping around the corner of her desk.
“I bet he hasn’t been in one since God was a boy.”
“He might’ve had to, Liam, given that his ex-wife married a vicar. They would have insisted on Evie’s baby being baptised in church.”
“Ah, now. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Nicky laughed and they both turned at the husky sound. “Imagine Tommy Hill in a suit with all his tattoos. Especially that one on his neck.”
They smiled at the image for a moment, and then Craig pulled them back to work.
“Nicky, I’m heading to High Street to interview Tommy now. They called and want me in court at three, so I’ll head on there after that. Would you mind checking how things are with Evie’s baby and let me know before I see Tommy? She’s living with Evie’s mother and step-father out in Templepatrick.”
Nicky nodded, setting her newly coiffed curls bouncing. The motion had a hypnotic effect on Liam, but then so did everything Nicky did.
“Will do sir, I remember their details. The Reverend Geoffrey Kerr.”
“Here, you’ve got a good memory girl! That was months ago.”
She smiled, pleased, and once again Craig thought the place would fall apart without her. Then he had a thought.
“Nicky, he was the same denomination as the church in LeRoy, wasn’t he?”
She nodded, more slowly this time, one hand flying protectively to her head.
“Could you ask him generally about access to churches? Say that it’s for a paper I’m writing or something.”
“Will do, sir. I’ll call it through to High Street when you get there.”
“It’ll take me ten minutes. It’s a nice day so I’m going to walk - it might wake me up.”
He smiled at her, showing even white teeth set against his year-round tan that darkened every time he saw the sun’s rays. A gift from his Italian mother. Nicky caught her breath slightly, still able to being surprised by his good looks. They forgot about them because he did, but every so often they came into focus. It was just as well he wasn’t vain or there’d be chaos amongst the W.P.Cs.
“Right, does everyone know what they’re focusing on?” He was answered by a series of nods. “Good, then we’ll meet at five for an update.”
***
Monday 2pm
Hannah tapped tentatively on the red-painted door and they stood looking around Wellesley Avenue, waiting for an answer. It was a busy, narrow street full of the high red-brick terraces that the Queen’s University area was peppered with. Students wearing an eclectic fashion mix wandered up and down it sleepily, recovering from hangovers or studying the night before. Their faces were slim and pale, signalling youth and bad food, their vitamins most likely coming from alcohol. Hannah and Fiona fitted right in.
Hannah went to tap again when Fiona reached across her impatiently, banging hard on the low front door. There was no reply so she squinted through the ground floor window and saw a small
shape scurrying quickly across the living room floor.
“God, I think that’s Mitzy!” Britt’s tiny Shih Tzu.
She peered hard through the window for a moment and could just make out the shape of a small white dog. It was cowering in one corner of the living room and whimpering pitifully.
“It is Mitzy.” She turned to Hannah urgently, certain now that something was very wrong. “Britt never leaves her alone for more than a few hours. There’s something wrong Hannah.”
She hammered on the door again, shouting their friend’s name at the top of her voice. “Britt, Britt. Answer the door right now, or I’m calling the police.”
Again, silence.
“God, I used to envy her having a flat all to herself, but not now. There’s no-one to know where she is.”
Hannah stared at the ground, terrified, imagining what could have happened to their friend. And what might have happened to her if she’d entered the house in Marrion Park the night before. How could she have been so stupid?
She shook herself and reached swiftly into her bag for her mobile, hitting ‘999’ and opening the can of worms that they had no option but to open now.
She had no way of knowing the trail it would unravel.
Chapter Nine
Tommy stared around the interview room and, for once, he couldn’t think of a reason he’d been lifted. No, not lifted, ‘invited to help with police enquiries’. He shrugged, bored. It was the same thing.
He waved at the glass wall with a fake smile, knowing someone was watching on the other side. Then he mimed drinking hopefully, and was surprised when a pot of tea and biscuits appeared two minutes later. The Pigs were being friendlier than he’d ever seen them. What was all that about?
He slurped the tea quickly before they changed their minds, biting hard into a digestive and thinking. He’d stayed out of trouble since they’d got Evie’s killer, for two reasons. One, they’d lifted his whole sodding crew and stuck them in Maghaberry. Just for tailing some women, for fuck’s sake.
The Waiting Room (#4 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) Page 8
