TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series)

by Casey Hill

  ‘Yes, he tried to make me jealous. But she was sad, and sick with drugs. It didn’t work. But I went to her flat when he was selling to her. And then she died.’

  ‘And you had nothing to do with her death?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Reilly was starting to get a very, very bad feeling as she watched the conversation between Chris and Nico unfold.

  ‘Did Harry introduce you to Jennifer Armstrong and Naomi Worthington?’

  ‘I never met either of those girls,’ said Nico. ‘Never.’

  Reilly needed Chris to plough through. They needed to get answers to all of her questions, even if, hearing the answers, she was beginning to come over faint.

  ‘Did you kill Harry McMurty? And try to make his murder out to be a suicide?’

  ‘No,’ said Nico. ‘I didn’t. I loved him. For all I knew that he was bad, I still loved him.’

  ‘How did the antimine come into your possession?’

  ‘I took it from his flat,’ said Nico. ‘I went round to his house and discovered him dead. I panicked and shoved it in my pocket, because I didn’t want it to be worse for him. He was many things, but he wasn’t a killer.’ Nico’s sobs began to reverberate through the room. He was both hysterical and relieved to tell someone of what he had suffered. ‘I loved him,’ he cried, ‘but he just used me again and again. Promised to make me a laughing stock. Promised to ruin Hammer and Tongs. And now he’s dead.’

  As Nico continued to sob, Reilly saw that the machinery was printing the results of someone clearly telling the truth.

  But it didn’t matter. She already knew he was telling the truth. But what she didn’t know was what on earth she would do next.

  ‘I knew it,’ said Kennedy. ‘I knew he wasn't our guy.’

  ‘Don’t pat yourself on the back too soon,’ said Chris. ‘We’ve still got a murderer on the loose.’

  ‘This is terrible,’ said Reilly. ‘How could we let this happen?’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Reilly,’ said Chris. ‘We all thought it was him.’

  But deep down, she knew that she had ignored her gut. She had wanted so badly to catch the killer that she had told herself it was Peroni. She had let herself believe it, even when there were pieces of the puzzle that didn’t fit.

  ‘This means we have to go right back to the beginning,’ she said. ‘Everything. We can’t let a single thing undone. O’Brien is going to have my head.’

  ‘He’s made mistakes, too,’ said Kennedy. ‘None of us is perfect.’

  ‘But I should never have gotten so distracted,’ she said, placing her head in her hands.

  ‘It’s been a long day,’ said Chris. ‘Let’s just go home, relax and sleep on it and start again tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘We imprisoned an innocent man,’ said Reilly. ‘How are we supposed to sleep on that?’

  Chapter 43

  On the way home she couldn’t stop thinking about Nico Peroni. She was horrified that he had suffered so much when his biggest crime was to be fallible, to be in love. How much love could blind us, she thought. It blinded Peroni to the fact that Harry would never change, it blinded Grace to the true danger of her situation, and Darren to the monster that his brother really was.

  She wondered if she would ever find herself blinded by love. Up until now, she had seen her lovers clearly, almost too clearly. Like Todd. Passionate, physical, but reserved. Unwilling to give himself up, just like her. At least she saw herself clearly too.

  Peroni could have saved them so much trouble if he had just told the truth in the first place. But he had been so ashamed of his failings, he had been willing to stay silent.

  Why are we so afraid to be human, thought Reilly. Every day, they the worst of human nature, she thought. But to be ashamed of loving someone, even to the point of weakness…. She didn’t know. It was all too hard for her to fathom right now.

  She would go home and take a long hot bath and get an early night, she thought. Tomorrow they would have to begin again. And face O’Brien. She looked at her watch: 6 P.M on a Saturday night. She wouldn’t even look at her caseload, she thought. Her mind needed to recharge.

  At home, she poached herself an egg and had it on toast with some wilted spinach. She would have liked something else, but she truly could not be bothered cooking.

  In the bath, she thought some more about the past week. It had been a very emotional time. Lucy had emailed Reilly and told her that she was dealing with some “delayed grief.”

  Reilly thought that this would probably be a healthy thing, in the end. She had passed on the information she was given to the cops on the task force. They would go and question Darren Keating further. She almost wished she could have spared him more pain, but there was no chance of that. But it may help his case that his brother was clearly a manipulator and an abuser. He had set Darren on a path of crime from which he had never returned.

  She immersed herself in the hot water, relishing the slight sting in her skin. There was nothing left to do there at least. The Gorman family would try to move on, and in a few weeks a case just like it would probably turn up on somebody’s desk. That’s just how things went.

  She wondered if perhaps now that this was behind her, Lucy might give Gary a chance. He had supported her throughout the investigation and given up his personal time to help solve it. He was a good guy, Reilly knew. He had heart, and that was important. Strength, brains and bravery meant nothing without heart.

  Chris had all of those qualities, too, she thought. But what did that have to do with anything? She quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

  She thought again about Peroni’s assertion that he had “lost his restaurant” due to the investigation. But was that really true? Surely his partner - his co-owner, had been keeping things afloat, no matter what was going on with Peroni. What was the other guy’s name again, Tony Ellis – suddenly she sat bolt upright.

  How could they have been so blind? If Peroni was innocent, but so much of the evidence gathered centered round the restaurant, then surely they should have looked into the other partner also. Why hadn’t they? Probably because McMurty and Peroni had distracted them, and Ellis was so shadowy and indistinct, painted as if he wasn’t actually involved at all, but had merely put his name and reputation to the place. Which is exactly why they should have looked into it further. She pulled herself out of the bath in a hurry, water sloshing all over the floor. With a towel wrapped around her she went and booted up her laptop.

  Before she could sit down, her cell phone rang and she answered without thinking or first checking the display.

  ‘Hey, Reilly, it’s me.’

  She flushed despite herself almost as if he would know by just talking to her. ‘Hi …how are you?’

  ‘Great,’ Todd said. ‘I’ve just been thinking about you. Thought it would be nice to hear your voice. And, it is.’

  ‘How is everyone?’ she asked. She tried to ignore the fact that her heart was beating harder. Whether from delight or nervousness, she didn’t know.

  ‘Everyone’s good,’ he said. ‘Dad’s great, we miss you lots.’

  ‘I miss you guys too.’

  There were a few seconds of silence during which she could hear the crackle and jump of the line from across the Atlantic.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘I was thinking of swinging by your neck of the woods sometime soon. Just for a few days. I’ve always wanted to spend some time in Ireland. I thought if you had time, maybe we could catch up?’

  She had a few seconds of shock before she was able to speak. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Great. Nothing’s set in concrete just yet, but it’ll probably be July or August. I just wanted to run it by you.’

  ‘Of course.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but she just couldn’t get the words out. It wasn’t then right time.

  ‘Great. I’d better shoot, I
’ve got to be at the lab soon. But don’t be a stranger OK? I’ll keep you updated about my plans.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  After they had hung up she leaned her head against the cool counter, completely forgetting for a second what she had been in the middle of doing.

  The hour approaches. Despite all my fears, everything has gone to plan. That woman, the cop, has not been on my case again.

  I’ve since found out a little bit about her life. She’s a woman with a tragic past and has turned that tragedy into a nice little career for herself. You would think that it would make her value the important things in life, but it’s just made her completely obsessed with her profession and a rise to the top. She’s one of those women who will ignore everything if it means success. It’s a wonder I didn’t come across her on the dating sights, trawling for a casual fling to fill her lonely nights. I would have taken great joy in ending her. There would have been some irony in that.

  But really, all other joys are petty compared to what will happen tonight.

  I considered a range of ingredients for Constance. I wanted something traditional, something with a little dramatic flair. I considered Tetradotoxin, that substance found in the blue ringed octopus and the puffer fish. But it simply works too quickly.

  Then I thought about arsenic. It’s an illustrious poison, used to kill Napoleon, George 3rd and Simon Bolivar. Undetectable too until someone found an ingenious way to test for it. Also in its favor is that was once used as a cosmetic. It made women’s complexions lustrous and pale. How tempting to kill a woman using a mark of woman’s vanity. But again, too quick, too chemical.

  Aconite was next, but the leaves of this are so toxic that one can die after just touching one. I didn’t want to leave room for any nasty accidents. But the fact that it causes asphyxiation was tempting. How nice for Ruth to know that her baby died in a terror of feeling the breath being sucked from her lungs, her eyes bulging and her tongue swelling from the pressure. But it was simply too dangerous. I didn’t want a Romeo and Juliet scenario.

  Hemlock it was then. That famous poison, used to kill Socrates. Just 100 milligrams, or about eight leaves will kill a person. It’s a terrible death. Paralysis comes over the body slowly, but the mind is left wide awake to experience every second of the death. I plan to tell Constance exactly why she is dying as the hemlock does its work. I will tell her that her mother is a monster, and that it is by Ruth’s own hand that she dies. I want her to die knowing that the world isn’t the perfect place she has been brought up to believe in. I want her pain, but I also want her understanding. Is that so hard? That someone should finally understand me?

  All these years I have been laboring to become the best version of myself. I have tried to overcome the darkness of my upbringing. I am successful, I am smart, I am strong.

  No one knows the real me. It would be nice to tell just one person. I have thought about whispering it in the ears of the dying, but they’ve never been right. Those women are exactly the ones who would see me abandoned and mistreated again, if they could. They see me as weak, as vengeful, when really I am trying to do something good for the world. No child should have to be lonely. No child should have to be blamed for the failings of another.

  But Constance is different. She believes in family, in kindness. If she knew me, I think she would understand me. I think she would forgive me.

  I have made great sacrifices to live this life. Do you think that I didn’t wish for a good woman of my own, a family of my own? But I have dedicated myself to teaching the world its errors. To teaching women, one by one, that they can’t have everything.

  After tonight, Tony Ellis and Danny Prime are no more. It will be a new country, a new name. The man remains the same though. The man and his passions.

  I have decided to enjoy my time with Constance. There are two mac and cheese portions bubbling softly in the oven, one laced with hemlock, one not. A glass of merlot breathes on a table specially set for us both. We will eat an entrée of the lightest, fluffiest duck parfait that you can imagine. Constance deserves the undiluted pleasure of my cooking before she dies.

  I am not expecting anything to go wrong, for there to be any mistakes. But just in case, I have prepared a syringe filled with the liquid I used on McMurty. It would be a great shame to use it, as it would ruin the purity of my plan, but if the need arises, I will.

  There will be nothing to get in the way of my ultimate goal. Ruth Dell will feel my hand reach for her, as she felt it a thousand times when I was a child, when I wanted her comfort.

  But this time, I will be the one ignoring her pain, her need. She will know what it is to feel true pain.

  Reilly had regained her composure a few minutes after Todd’s call. No way could he come here, to Dublin, anytime soon. Although wouldn’t it be best to tell him the news in person? Why? So that he could see her own doubt written all over her face? Yeah, sure, what a great idea.

  But she had been about to do something, had wanted to find out more information about Hammer and Tong’s elusive co-owner.

  She had forgotten his name, so she just searched “Hammer and Tongs”. A few clicks later she hit on a profile of renowned chef Tony Ellis carried out by the Irish Times Food and Wine Review.

  He grew up in London it read, with less than illustrious beginnings. Tony Ellis had been on the street at sixteen. ‘I probably ate from the rubbish bins of restaurants I later worked at,’ he joked. He didn’t elaborate further on his childhood, except to say that he was proud to have made something of himself. He became a premier chef in London, it said, able to whip up all the classics, but more than capable of wowing. About eighteen months ago he’d come to Dublin to oversee the opening of a new restaurant by Nico Peroni. ‘I believe food is like art,’ he said. ‘It has to evolve. It has to keep changing and it has to shock people. If people find it unpleasant at first, then that’s only because their minds haven’t caught up with the times.’ Reilly made a face. How arrogant. This guy had no right to be telling other people what they should like and dislike, or that there was something wrong with them if they didn’t like his food.

  At the end of the piece the interviewer asked if there was anyone special on the scene. He said he was too busy, that his various restaurants kept him working such grueling hours that it was impossible to date.

  But who would be your ideal woman, pressed the interviewer, if you could date. ‘Someone traditional,’ said Ellis. ‘Someone with understated taste, who would raise our children with undivided attention and love.’ Reilly almost threw up. Who was this guy, anyway?

  She scrolled to the bottom of the piece to see a picture of a man who wasn’t looking at the camera, but was studying something to the left. It wasn’t a good photo, but there was no mistaking it. She was looking at the guy from the running group; Danny Prime.

  Chapter 44

  Constance Dell got ready for her evening out with her usual irreverence. She knew it was supposed to be a solemn occasion, but it was also a celebration, yes? Of life. So a bright orange dress was completely appropriate, as were the little cat earrings she donned. Maybe Danny’s mother had liked cats.

  The more she thought about it, the more it seemed a little weird that she was having this remembrance dinner with a guy she barely knew, for a woman she definitely hadn’t know. But life was like that, wasn't it? At least, hers was. Strange things happened to her all the time. She jumped from one thing to the next, trying to learn as much about life as possible. Her mother told her to slow down, to savor things, but she didn’t want to savor things, she wanted to gobble them right up.

  So anyway, this wasn’t a completely out of the blue situation to find herself in. Someone was going to cook her dinner, and they would have a nice time. She probably wouldn’t see much of Danny after this. She had started to date the firefighter and boy, was that an experience. There’s nothing quite like a man who can lift you with one arms. And she
had taken up yoga, which she felt was better for her mind and body. So she just wouldn’t be running as much. It would be a nice way to say goodbye to someone who had helped her.

  She checked the address he’d given her one more time. Baggot Street was in an upmarket area of town. Maybe Danny was rich. Well, it would be nice to get a decent meal. Ruth hadn’t taught Constance to cook so much as to throw things together. She lived on salads, soups and hot chips.

  She threw her coat and headed out. She would be a couple of minutes late but she was sure Danny would understand.

  Reilly cursed as she threw on some clothes. Anything that came to hand. What day was it? Saturday. What was the time? Just before 7 PM. And why did that mean something to her. Think, she told herself as she pulled on a pair of boots.

  And then it struck her like someone had poured cold ice water into her veins. The girl, the pretty red head from the running group. ‘See you Saturday week?’ she had yelled. ‘Eight sharp,’ Danny Prime had replied. ‘You know where Baggot Street is yes?’

  Reilly knew there wasn’t a second to spare.

  The traffic was murder. There was a storm forecast, so of course everyone had figured this was a good time to get on the road. Reilly inched forward, her windscreen wipers going like crazy.

  It was imperative that she get to the restaurant in time. She picked up her phone and dialed Chris. Voicemail. She left a message that she knew she wouldn’t remember later, just garbled explanations and instructions. When she hung up, she tried to dial the nearest garda station, for back up, but her phone died. Low battery. It seemed that these days she just kept on letting herself down.

  Well, it’s just you now, she thought. No time for anything else.

  Chris was at the gym, trying to put some miles between him and his day. If it wasn’t for Kennedy, an innocent man would still be in prison.