Before they got into that Aidan offered the land agent a tea break and summoned Sandi in to sit with him, then he ushered Ryan out to the car park where they could speak without being overheard.
“Well done for getting that out of him, Ryan, but what the hell does it all mean?”
The D.S. drew a hand through his jet-black hair, still without a single grey in his forties and not through dye.
“Well, we now know that Norris, and whoever this mystery S.W.M.B.O.is, bought and maybe even owned the quarry together, probably along with others, and when we turned up in the village Norris was worried we’d discover pollution there. We need to get the Environment Agency to check that there isn’t any.”
“Agreed, although I doubt that Derek Morrow killed himself over a chemical spill. But OK, so given that Norris is obviously subordinate to this S.W.M.B.O. woman it’s likely she’s running things and he just does as he’s told.”
“But what things? The old man obviously thinks everything’s about pollution, but we don’t know that she does. She might know something about Kincaid’s killing and just not have told Norris. I’d say he’d be pretty easy to control if someone set their mind to it.” He kicked a stone at his foot, watching it skitter across the tarmacked car park as he thought. “We need to talk to S.W.M.B.O.”
Aidan stared at him sceptically. “That means Norris giving up her name, and I don’t think he’s there yet. He might see it as a betrayal and clam up again if we even ask. We need to hold him here until Davy gets something off his phone.”
“Do we have grounds?”
The D.C.I. nodded. “We can hold him another few hours for questioning anyway, but he paid the Reynolds girl to lie about a suicide victim so I’ll give the duty solicitor a call and see what kind of charge might apply there if we need longer. Meanwhile, you ask the environment people to go in after the divers have finished. And see where Davy’s got to with the quarry’s ownership as well. Let’s see if we can give this mystery S.W.M.B.O. a name.”
As they were making their calls Liam was in the station’s reception struggling not to laugh down his phone at the butler that he was speaking to, who was informing him in a Jeeves’ accent that, “Lord Cranross has instructed me that all business must be conducted through his family solicitors, Russell, Cuthbert and Mogg. They have offices in Chichester Street in Belfast. Good day.”
It made the D.C.I. wonder something; if the butler spoke like that then what did the Lord himself sound like? He pictured the ventriloquist’s dummy Lord Snooty and was glad it would be Craig and not him finding out.
Liam’s stifled laugh became a full-on guffaw just as Ryan entered reception to call Davy on the landline, having belatedly realised that his mobile was still on the bedside table where he’d left it to charge the night before. It made him wonder, and not for the first time, why, if scientists were clever enough to send a man to the moon, they couldn’t invent a bloody phone that could detect its owner leaving without it and summon them back.
His, “Hi, Liam” became, “bye, Liam” as the deputy headed down the corridor to join Craig in Interview Room Two, giving a cheesy grin through the two-way mirror at Jack Harris as he took his seat opposite Ben Frampton but saying nothing to interrupt his boss’ flow, which wasn’t yet in full flood mode because Craig had only just managed to drag the recalcitrant burglar through the preliminaries of date, name, age and address.
“Right, Mister Frampton, it’s my understanding that you’re in Mahon Prison serving a ten year sentence for burglary, and that you have five years of that term left.”
It didn’t require an answer and Craig didn’t get one, so he filled the silence by tapping the page in front of him on the table. It was Frampton’s prison schedule, and the detective was hoping that if he needed something to incentivise the mane might find a possibility there.
“I can see from your prison schedule that you’re currently taking a lot of drama classes. I take it you’re involved in a prison play?”
There was a pause while Frampton assessed whether he would be giving away any secrets by confirming the assertion. When the decision was no, he offered up, “West Side Story.”
Appropriate given the number of gang members in Mahon perhaps, although was it strictly advisable? Perhaps a show that didn’t involve gang fights and death would have been a better choice, not to mention the challenge to find someone who could hit Maria’s high notes.
As Frampton volunteered that he was a Shark in the production Craig willed his deputy not to crack the obvious, “A toothless one” joke because of the gaps in the man’s lower teeth.
As a diversion he hurried on with, “So you have songs to learn, and that requires you to read. We know Pete McElroy taught you to read so you must have been very grateful to him.”
It prompted a crossing of arms and a tight-lipped, “I was. Still am.”
It was a warning that his loyalty didn’t expire after death, just in case they were hoping that it had.
“So you two were friends.”
The words provoked a suspicious squint.
“But Mister McElroy’s gone now.”
That brought a sneer, “Killed by his pig wife!”
Craig corrected him calmly. “Ex-wife for many years, and you must know that the reason for the divorce was that Pete didn’t treat her well. I’ve checked your record, Ben. You’ve got no history of violence towards either men or women and you’ve got a wife and two daughters who love you at home.”
The arms tightened. “So?”
“Don’t you have an opinion on men who hit women?”
Now the lips were pursing. “Pete was good to me. We were mates.”
Craig’s comebacks started to speed up, making Frampton speak faster too.
“Which means?”
“We never had any argy bargy, so she must have provoked him.”
“Just like the man he shivved in his first prison provoked him.”
The convict leaned forward slightly and Craig could feel his deputy twitching to shove him back. A sideways glance told him not to.
“Yeh, that guy must a pissed Pete off too.”
Craig wasn’t pausing for breath now and it made his deputy smile inwardly; he was trying to make the burglar trip up.
“So Pete was just an angel who taught you how to read.”
“Yeh.”
“You must have been close.”
“We were mates, like I said.”
“So you must have been shocked by his death.”
“No.” Frampton’s eyes widened as he realised what he’d said and he began to backpedal at speed, “Yeh, I mean yeh. Yeh, I was shocked.”
It was his first stumble and the last thing they needed was for him to pick himself up so Craig drove on.
“You said no because you were expecting his death, or half-expecting it. You knew.”
“No, no, that’s not it.”
Frampton looked to Liam for support but all he saw was a cop whose glare said he would like to eat him for lunch.
“Don’t look at him, look at me, Ben. You knew or you suspected that Pete was going to die that night, didn’t you?”
The convict wasn’t even trying to form words now, his eyes darting wildly around the room.
“Because Pete had told you, hadn’t he? He’d planned the whole thing. And he trusted you to help cover it up.”
Craig could feel his deputy’s shock but he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, watching as Ben Frampton’s eyelids flickered and then stretched wide open as he realised that something he’d just said had given Craig an in. Until now the detective had just been shaking his prisoner hard to see what fell out, and finally something had; he’d had his suspicions for days about to Pete’s exact motivation for entering Annette’s house that night but now it was time to confirm.
He was speaking so quickly now Liam hadn’t realised he was capable of it.
“Pete trusted you to help him cover up the planned burglary at his wife’s house,
didn’t he? Maybe you even helped him plan how to break in? Breaking into a cop’s house, do you know how many years that could add to your sentence, Ben? You’ll miss your daughters’ childhoods. Maybe get free just in time to walk one of them up the aisle.”
Frampton’s lean forward became a lurch, and Liam’s hand shot out to hold the burglar back just as his panicked words spat out.
“You can’t do that! I’m doing my time quiet. You can’t blame me for what Pete did!”
Craig didn’t relent; the only sympathy he felt was for Annette.
“We can if you knew about it in advance! We can if you knew he planned to break and enter his wife’s house and possibly kill her. We can if you knew he planned to harm her partner and child. You could be looking at serious charges here, Frampton, and all because Pete was a mate!”
All resistance to Liam’s hold evaporated as the convict shrivelled in his seat like a punctured balloon. Craig paused long enough to let the man’s own thoughts do his work for him, and when he saw Frampton’s once defiant expression change to tearful anxiety he uttered his next words in a slower, more solemn tone.
“You knew that Peter McElroy planned to break into his ex-wife’s house, Mister Frampton, and you didn’t tell the governor or the cops. Keeping that knowledge quiet made you an accessory. Peter McElroy made you an accessory in his crime.”
The burglar’s mouth opened and closed silently as he went on.
“You might have thought that he was your friend, but friends don’t do that. Pete would have known that you’d be looking at an extended sentence if you were caught, but he didn’t care, did he?”
“But he taught me how to read…”
It was said in a shaky voice, as if Frampton was questioning whether Pete had only ever done so in order to use him.
“Is gratitude for that enough reason for you to serve more time away from your family? Is it?”
The burglar shook his head and as the detectives watched his expression became one of pleading, even though he didn’t dare say the words. Craig paused again, but only to regroup; the man was already on the ropes so there was no need to hit him again.
“All right. Here’s what I want from you, Ben, and as long as I get it and you’re prepared to make a signed statement and testify in court if necessary, I’ll send you back to Mahon in time for tea.”
Hope made the prisoner’s eyes brighten.
“No more years?”
“No more years. But only if I get everything from you. If you hold anything back then you’ll be charged.”
One eager nod from the now completely toothless Shark and Craig motioned to his deputy. “If Jack can supply some tea and biscuits we’ll get this all on tape.”
A clatter from behind the mirror said that the sergeant was already on the move and five minutes later they were ready to record.
“OK. Tell us what happened in your own words, Mister Frampton.”
The burglar gripped his mug of tea, rolling it between his hands occasionally as he spoke.
“Pete McElroy was put in my cell in January last year. My last cell mate had been gone months, so I knew someone was coming, but I wasn’t best pleased when I found out it was McElroy because I’d heard that he’d shivved a bloke. But pretty soon we started getting on and he offered to teach me to read. I’d bunked off school a lot when I was a kid so I’d never learned, but I’d wanted to for years so I worked hard.”
Craig raised a finger to halt him. “Liam, check if Pete requested to share with a burglar especially.”
As the D.C.I. scribbled a note to himself his boss nodded their prisoner to continue.
“Pete got depressed a lot. He said he’d fucked-up his life over some girl.”
The affair that had eventually led to Annette requesting a divorce.
“He said he’d lost his wife and kids over it and he got pretty down about that.”
“Did he ever go to see the prison doctor?”
Frampton shook his head hard. “No way. Pete said that was for mugs. He said no quack could tell him more than he already knew. All they would do was shove pills into him and he wasn’t having it. But…”
“Yes?”
“The closer he got to his discharge date the more miserable he got. It was like he felt there was nothing for him on the outside anymore.”
Given that he would’ve been unlikely to ever get a teaching job again, Annette had moved on with Mike and he was estranged from his kids, Craig could understand why.
“They told him in October that they’d be giving him a trial period outside before his real discharge, like they do with lots of us now. He was going to be staying in a hostel over Christmas.” The convict shook his head. “I think the timing really got to him, after all the family Christmases he’d had. Anyway, that’s when he said it to me.”
“Go on.”
Frampton swallowed hard and when his next words emerged they were almost a whisper. “Pete said he was going to top himself.”
Craig wanted to shout with relief; it was what he’d suspected but hadn’t dare voice. Pete McElroy had wanted to die, and he was pretty sure that he knew what his preferred method had been.
But he was still a long way from proving that, so he refocused his attention on the man across the table and watched as Frampton’s small eyes widened, pleading for understanding.
“You’ve gotta understand. Lots of blokes say that inside, especially if they’re missing people. I’ve said it myself sometimes, but you’d never think of really doing it.”
“So you didn’t believe Pete?”
“No. Not at first. But then he kept on about it, talking about how he’d do it. Hang himself, drown himself, throw himself in front of a train-”
Liam cut in.
“Never a less violent method like pills?”
It prompted a shake of the burglar’s head and then a note of pride entered his voice. “Nah. Pete wasn’t that sort of bloke. He was big. Macho. He used to go to the gym every day.”
As befitted an ex-PE teacher.
“If he was gonna go down he was going down hard. That’s just what he was like.” Frampton dropped his eyes to the table. “That’s when he said the other thing. It was about a fortnight before his leave period and I didn’t listen at first because I was busy rehearsing for our Christmas concert, but then he kept saying it again and again.”
“What?”
“That he was going to kill himself when he got out on leave, and he was going to take the bitch who’d put him in prison down when he did.”
Craig murmured the words, “Suicide by cop” and then closed his eyes in relief, hardly even registering his deputy’s astonished, “What?”
It was what he’d been thinking for days and now he had confirmation from the man that Pete had been closest to in his final year. Pete McElroy had committed suicide by cop. The bastard could no longer control Annette in life but he was going to have a damn good go at it in death.
A warning note sounded in Craig’s mind, making him open his eyes again. They needed proof to get Annette off, and on its own a convict’s word wouldn’t be enough.
He sat forward and gazed at Frampton intently, ready for any hint of a lie.
“Tell us exactly what Pete said about how he was going to do it.”
“That was-”
“Don’t tell me that was everything. If you’re not going to get charged then you need to tell us the whole truth.”
The burglar gave a defeated nod. “OK. Pete said his wife was a crack shot and he knew where she kept her gun. He planned to break in, kill her new man, and then go at her, knowing that she’d shoot him to protect herself or her new kid.”
“But what if her gun was locked away?”
“Pete said he knew her password. He’d watched her put it in a safe-box for years and she’d never changed it once. He was planning to take the gun out while she was asleep and leave it beside her, then kill her man and launch himself at her so she’d shoot him dead.”
<
br /> The detectives exchanged a look. Annette’s gun not being locked away that night had just saved Pete a step; he’d been planning to leave it where she could reach it anyway.
“McElroy didn’t want her dead as well?”
The convict shook his head firmly. “No, he was crystal clear on that. He said he wanted her to suffer in prison. He said he wanted the bitch to lose everything just like he had. Her job, her kids’ respect, her freedom. But he definitely wanted her new man dead. Pete used to go on about how she’d bagged herself some posh doctor and was living in luxury while he was rotting away in jail.”
Craig wouldn’t exactly have described Annette’s home décor as luxurious, especially not with a toddler throwing food at the walls, but he understood the point.
“What was Pete going to use to kill her partner?”
“His bare hands. He was planning to strangle him or suffocate him with a pillow. Like I said; Pete was strong.”
McElroy had gone to the house unarmed knowing he wouldn’t have needed a weapon to kill Mike, and that the lack of one would have made things look ten times worse for Annette. And because he’d never planned to leave the house again he hadn’t been concerned about leaving his prints.
But this was still all hearsay. They needed evidence.
“We need something more concrete than this. Did Pete leave a suicide note with you?”
“No.” The burglar shrugged. “And they took all his stuff from the cell, so if it wasn’t in there…”
The way he allowed the words to tail off bothered Liam. Frampton had told them just enough to save his own neck but the D.C.I. knew there was something more.
He signalled to take over the questioning.
“You realise that unless we see proof this is all just bullshit, don’t you? You’ll still be under suspicion and charged. Pete McElroy had no experience of breaking and entering yet he managed to get into that house without breaking the lock or making a sound? There’s no bloody way he did that without someone giving him a masterclass in B&E, and who better to do that than old Benny the Burglar himself? Eh?”
The Depths Page 27
