“All right, so we have got a solid lead now. What do we do next?” Harper asked the team.
Callaghan was looking at the file and had her notepad out. She was writing furiously on it. Harper looked at her asked, “Are you listening, Olivia?”
She raised her hand towards the senior detective to silence him. She scribbled again for a few seconds and then slid the notepad towards Harper.
Logue noticed that Callaghan had written down Donal Keane’s birth date: May second, 1955 (two plus five plus one plus nine plus five plus five equals twenty-seven, two plus seven equals nine). She had drawn a large circle around the number nine. Logue looked over at Callaghan and then a huge smile came on his face.
“Will someone tell me what’s happening?” Harper said in a loud voice.
“You know how the number nine is important to the killer. Every murder in Boston occurs on the third of June and the sixth of December. According to Lea Winerman, the number nine is extremely important in understanding the killer’s psyche. To him, these numbers represent...”
As Callaghan explained to Harper the meaning behind the numbers, Logue went over the file for a third time. Woods had been very thorough. The file contained Keane’s IRS documents, his previous work history, where he was working now and what he was currently doing in his life. It was quite impressive. So far, Woods hadn’t given them any information on something traumatic that might have happened in the killer’s life. Usually, psychotic behavior stemmed from past abusive experiences. Lea hadn’t given them any indication either, which meant that they needed to explore another angle.
“Okay, so I think we need to call to see Donal Keane, do you all think that is the best course of action?” Harper asked his team.
“Maybe, but it could spook him, and he might disappear,” Callaghan responded.
“Possibly... Ray, what do you think?” Harper asked.
“Me… Uhhh… I think… we need to talk to him, it’s the only lead we have.” Logue was still lost in thought and was taken aback that Harper was actually asking him his opinion.
“I agree with Ray. Woods, get us the address of Madison College. We will head out there straight away,” Harper ordered.
Chapter 12: Warning Sign
Tuesday 24th November 2009
Madison College
11:20 AM
The grey Gothic spires of Madison College loomed high overhead as Harper, Callaghan and Logue approached the campus car park. The older structures stood in stark contrast to the modern edifices of steel and glass that faced them as they entered the grounds. The University had developed from a 19th century Catholic Seminary and had become one of the more prestigious third level institutes in South Boston over the past fifty years.
A security guard at the front gate stopped them and Harper flashed his badge to him. The guard took a step back and gave them entrance. The campus was packed full of students moving to and fro like worker ants. Some were more chilled out, sitting in groups on the grass, chatting and studying. A minority were sitting alone under trees, smoking and contemplating their place in the universe. After stopping twice to ask for directions from students who didn’t know what day it was, never mind the location of anything or anybody, the trio managed to navigate their way to the English Department building.
Inside the front door a middle-aged lady was hitting keys on her desktop computer at a rate that put Logue to shame, hitting at least seventy words per minute as she listened to an earphone. Logue was temporarily hypnotized by the rhythm of her fingers tapping on plastic, like Michael Flatley on speed. His trance was shattered by Callaghan’s voice.
“Excuse me, can you please direct me to Professor Donal Keane’s office?”
The receptionist paused for a moment as she took out her earpiece. “Excuse me, what did you say, miss?”
“We’re looking for Professor Keane’s office,” Callaghan repeated.
“Oh, right… Take the stairs at the end of this corridor and it’s the second last door to the left on the first floor. His nameplate is on the door.”
“Thanks,” Callaghan replied.
Having heard the conversation, Logue and Harper walked ahead. As they reached the first floor they followed the receptionist’s directions to Keane’s office. Harper took a breath, fixed his tie and knocked. There was no response. As Harper was preparing to knock again. a voice from across the corridor called out, “Donal is not in today. I think he is in New York at a conference.”
They all turned towards the person who spoke and walked towards his opened office door. In front of them sat a tall and strongly built man in a brown tweed jacket with a purple sweater underneath. His appearance overall was very neat with his thinning hair carefully combed over to the left. His desk was well ordered with two large hardback books to his right and a blank sheet of crisp white paper sitting dead centre in front of him. The office was free of any clutter or decoration except a framed black and white photo on the back wall, which Logue recognized immediately as of the campanile of Trinity College in Dublin.
“May we have a few minutes of your time, if you are not busy?” Harper asked.
The man extended his hand and said, “Sure. I don’t have a lecture for another forty-five minutes. I am Paul Austen, professor of Physics, by the way,” he said cordially.
“Please to meet you, Professor Austen. My name is Sam Harper, and this is Ray Logue and Olivia Callaghan. We are detectives from the Mayfield street Precinct. Isn’t this the English department, shouldn’t you be in the Science department?”
“Yes, it is the English department. My office is being renovated, so they moved me temporarily to this empty office because the assistant English professor just got fired for lewd behavior,” Austen said.
“Oh, I see,” Harper replied.
“Now, how can I help you?” Austen asked.
“We are looking to speak with Professor Donal Keane, but as you said he is away at a conference.”
“Yes, I believe he is due back later tonight, well at least that is what he told me,” Austen said with a smile.
“Okay, we won’t take much of your time. Could you tell us a little about Professor Keane?” Harper asked.
“Yes, sure. Why don’t you all come into my office and take a seat and I will answer any questions you have,” Austen said as he gestured the trio in, closed the door behind them and placed three seats in front of his desk.
“How long have you known Professor Keane?” Harper asked.
As Harper asked the questions, Callaghan took out her notepad. Logue stared around the room and focused on the Trinity College photo.
“Not long, I’m afraid. I have only been based in this office for the last month or so. Before that I may have passed Donal on the campus numerous times, or seen him in the cafeteria. I never really spoke to him. Since I moved here I have got to know him a little. He made me feel very welcome when I arrived and regularly drops in for a chat. I do enjoy chatting with Donal. He is such a charming man and so well read.”
“Have there ever been any complaints against him from the students?” Logue asked.
Harper turned to Logue with a look of scorn.
“No, why… Is he in trouble?” Austen asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No… not at all… I apologise for my colleague’s questioning,” Harper replied.
“On the contrary, he is very popular. The students adore him. Most of the students here try to take his classes but the places get taken up fast,” Austen responded.
“That’s a nice picture of the Trinity College bell tower. Have you ever been to Dublin, Professor Austen?” Logue interrupted Harper’s line of questioning on purpose just to piss him off.
“Ah, you are Irish, Detective Logue. I love Ireland. I’m a great fan of the country and the Rugby team. They won the six nations back in March, the Grand Slam. I was at the game in Cardiff, it was magnificent,” Austen said with a broad smile. “Did you ever play Rugby, Detective Logue, you have the build for it
.”
“No, football… Gaelic football was my game, did you play yourself, Mr. Austen?” Logue asked as Harper stared at him, wondering why they were wasting time talking about sports.
“Oh yes… As a younger man I began playing in Dublin when I was a student at Trinity College back in the late seventies. I was a tighthead prop. When I moved back to Boston I still played, however the sport here was not as popular. I stopped playing about fifteen years ago but I still coach the college Rugby team. The Boston 13s have been set up this year and they are going to compete in the National Rugby League, so things are looking up,” Austen said with a smile.
“What made you decide to go to Trinity College in the first place, have you Irish connections?” Logue asked.
“I think everybody in Boston has some Irish in them.” Austen laughed. “I was offered a two-year post grad there and also at Oxford. I decided that I’d like to live in Ireland. I was always fascinated by it. Such a beautiful place. Dublin at the time was a small, compact and friendly city. I loved it there. I still go back from time to time. In fact, I had a vacation in Connemara last August, it was marvelous. I stayed in Ashford Castle.”
Logue gave an indulgent smile to Professor Austen and then nodded at Harper to continue with his questions.
“I’m glad to hear that you had a… nice vacation, Professor Austen.” Harper coughed. “Now, back to Professor Keane, have you any way we could contact him?”
“Is Donal in trouble?” Austen asked.
Harper looked at Logue and Callaghan to make sure they were onboard with what he was thinking. They didn’t want to spook Keane and if they gave something away in front of Professor Austen, no doubt he would tell him.
Harper turned back towards Professor Austen and said, “No, he’s not in any kind of trouble. We are in the middle of an investigation and someone told us that Professor Keane could help us with it. We just need his advice, that’s all. We merely wanted his input.”
“Oh, okay, I see… I understand… Let me see, I think I have a number for Donal’s cell phone,” Austen said and took out a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully flicking through the pages.
“Here it is.” Austen passed the notebook to Harper who made a note of the phone number.
“Thank you very much, Professor, we won’t take up any more of your time,” Harper said as he got up out of his chair and nodded at Callaghan and Logue to do likewise.
“That’s fine, If I see Donal in the meantime I’ll tell him you called,” Austen said and opened the door.
***
Back at the car park, Harper, Callaghan and Logue planned their next move.
“What the hell was all that meaningless crap about Ireland and Rugby, Logue?” Harper shouted. “And asking was Keane ever in trouble with the students, what kind of a dumb oaf are you?”
“Look, fuck you Harper, you are just one major bloody dose, who the fuck do you think you are? I’ll kick seven colours of shite out of you,” Logue roared and ran at Harper, throwing his full weight against him to pin him against his car as he levelled a blow straight across his jaw.
“Ray, Ray, stop it now, stop it,” Callaghan screamed, landing a kick into the back of Logue’s knee that brought him to the ground.
“You are a crazy mother fucker, Logue, I’m requesting that you are sent back home on the next bloody plane,” Harper said as he wiped the blood off his mouth and got into his car. “Are you coming, Callaghan?”
“No… we’ll get a cab, you go ahead, Sam.”
Chapter 13: The Policy of Truth
Wednesday 25th November 2009
Mayfield Street Precinct
7:00 AM
Harper arrived at his office as usual at 7 am. He took off his heavy wool overcoat and hung it on the back of a chair. In one hand he held a mug of coffee and in the other a copy of the Boston Globe. Taking a seat at his desk he booted up his computer as he sipped the coffee. His jaw ached when he opened his mouth and he caressed it gently with his left hand. He pushed the newspaper to one side and stared at Donal Keane’s cellphone number. Checking the time on his watch he considered calling him. As his hand reached out to grab the receiver the phone rang.
“Hello,” Harper answered.
“Hi Sam,” the female voice replied.
“Hi, Olivia,” Harper said, recognizing her voice immediately.
“Look, I just wanted to ask you to reconsider sending Ray back to Ireland. I really think he can help us.”
“Really, what exactly has he contributed to this investigation so far, Olivia?”
“Well for one, he has identified a potential suspect, Donal Keane. That’s a major contribution in my book.”
“We would have discovered him eventually, with or without Logue.”
“Maybe we would or maybe we wouldn’t.”
“But he is a hot head Olivia, what he did yesterday was out of line, you have to understand that,” Harper lectured.
“Yes… It was unacceptable, but… “
“But what, there are no buts, he hit me across the god damn jaw.”
“Look, Sam, you have to admit… You were kind of asking for it, you have been pushing his buttons since he arrived. Can you just reconsider for me, Sam, please? He is a good guy. He is old school, they do things differently across the pond.”
“All right, all right, I’m doing this for you, Olivia, not for him.”
“Oh, Sam, thanks, I really appreciate this.”
“Don’t tell anybody you talked me around, they might think that I’m getting soft.” Harper laughed.
“Thanks, Sam, you are a pal. I owe you a big Christmas present. By the way, how’s the jaw?”
“It’s friggin’ sore, that guy has some power, but I’ll live.”
“Maybe you should get it looked at.”
“No, it’s fine, are you coming in this morning?”
“Yes, I’ll be in at eight, is it okay if Ray comes in?”
“Sure, but don’t expect us to kiss and make up.”
“It will be like it never happened.”
“Right… I’m just about to call Donal Keane, wish me luck.”
“Sure… I’ll see you soon, bye Sam…. And thanks again.”
When the call to Callaghan ended Harper sat back in his chair, rubbed his jaw and stared at Keane’s number again. He went over in his mind the best approach to make. He didn’t want to spook him. After contemplating matters for a few minutes as he stared out the window he eventually picked up the receiver and made the call. It rang out several times before it was finally answered.
“Hi, this is Professor Donal Keane speaking.”
“Good morning, Professor Keane,” Harper said politely.
“Can I ask who you are?”
“My name is Sam Harper and I am a detective from the Mayfield Street Precinct. I was wondering if you could come down here to have a conversation.”
“A conversation? May I ask what this is about?”
“It’s a case we are having trouble with and your name came up during our discussions as an expert on a matter that may help us unlock important information. We would appreciate if you could come down here. We only require an hour of your time.”
“Can I ask how you got my number?”
“From a work colleague of yours, Professor Paul Austen. We called to your office yesterday, but Paul informed us that you were in New York at a conference.”
“Oh, I see. Well, all right, at what time should I be there?”
“Is five in the afternoon all right for you, Professor?”
“Yes, yes, that is fine I’ll see you then.”
“Thank you, I’ll text you our address, is that okay?”
“Yes, that is fine, goodbye,” Keane said as he hung up.
Harper sat back in his chair and exhaled slowly. The interview with Keane could potentially unlock the entire investigation. It was a chance to find concrete evidence. Harper had a good feeling about this and he wasn’t go
ing to blow it.
***
At a quarter to five Harper was sitting across the conference table from Logue and Callaghan. There was a cool and awkward silence between the two men but both of them attempted to push ahead as if nothing had happened.
Woods was positioned at the top of the table next to the door. He was busily looking over files and gathering paperwork that would help them to interview Keane. He shuffled and sorted papers and then set a few of them aside in a pile as he asked, “Now that he’s coming in, who will interview him?”
“Keane is Irish, and Ray knows the background to the murders in Ireland, so I think Ray should be in there,” Callaghan replied.
“Looks like you have a big fan, Ray.” Woods smiled slyly.
“All right, let’s do that then. Ray and I will do the interview,” Harper said making the final decision.
Harper turned towards Woods and asked, “Do you have any new information on Keane?”
“No, but I can get you more once I listen to the interview.” He paused for a minute and then asked, “I am listening in on the interview, right?”
“Of course, you are. I want you to make notes and then get to work right away. If you feel that something he says seems important, get back to your desk and work on it. You can watch the tape afterwards to catch up,” Harper replied.
“Alrighty then,” Woods said and got up to leave the conference room. As he was exiting a young operative stuck his head around the door jamb and addressed Harper.
“Detective Harper, sir, Donal Keane has just arrived. He is waiting outside your office.”
“Show him to Interview Room Four, we will be there in a few minutes,” Harper replied.
Logue and Harper picked up the documents Woods had prepared for them and headed out.
“Best of luck, you two,” Callaghan said and made her way towards a small office adjacent to the interview room, where Woods and herself could study the video of the interrogation closely.
Nine Lives Page 9
