Murder at the Holiday Home

by David Pearson

  “Well, never mind that. At least we have the laptop now thanks to your efforts, but what happened to your role as observer?” Lyons said, although you could tell by her tone she wasn’t really vexed.

  “Yes, I got a bit carried away, I’m afraid. But at least he didn’t identify me, and as you say, we have the laptop.”

  “Just as well the handbills haven’t been circulated yet. If they had, he would have vanished by now. I’m going to call Sinéad Loughran and ask her to come over and collect this. If she can get whatever prints and trace evidence there is on it this evening, we can give it to John in the morning and he can get to work on it. I’m sure it’s been wiped, but he’ll probably be able to get something from it,” Lyons said.

  “Do you think any of the other lads you met are in any way involved?” Lyons asked Janssen.

  “I don’t think so. I’m not sure how they know him, but I guess these types stick together when they are in a foreign city.”

  “Would you be able to identify them again?” Hays said.

  “Yes. For sure. And we might be able to get their prints, if I went back to that pub and asked the barman for their empty bottles. They were all drinking without glasses,” Janssen said.

  “No, I don’t think so, Luuk. Let’s leave it to us now, if you don’t mind. We appreciate your willingness to help, but we have to be careful with how we obtain evidence. Anyway, you say you don’t think they are involved,” Lyons said.

  “Yes, you are right. Sorry, I was just trying to help.”

  “And you have been a great help so far, Luuk. We wouldn’t have been able to identify Essig without you. And we appreciate that, but best to keep out of it. With a bit of luck, we will be able to get to the bottom of this quickly.”

  Loughran arrived just as Hays and Lyons were finishing their drinks. She took the laptop away saying that she would get to work on it immediately, and that she would be able to hand it over to O’Connor in the morning.

  While Lyons was dealing with Loughran, Hays was on the phone to the station instructing uniformed patrols to step up their activity in the town centre. He also told them to stop any Nissan Micras that they saw being driven by a single male, and interrogate the driver. If there were any uniformed Gardaí over, they were to start house-to-house in the area near the pub where Janssen had met Essig, using the handbills to see if anyone knew of his whereabouts. The manhunt was on.

  * * *

  Hays, Lyons and Janssen had a meal in the hotel, and spent a couple of hours discussing police work in general, and how important links across Europe now were in solving many different types of crime.

  “With cheap air fares, and the internet, it’s very easy for criminals to move around Europe these days. They can commit a serious crime in any European country and be gone within a few hours. It makes things very difficult for us,” Janssen said.

  “Do you have much luck hacking into their systems?” Lyons asked between mouthfuls of roast beef.

  “Yes, we do. Even in Utrecht we have a team of twelve technologists who have some good success, and the phone companies and internet providers are quite a good help too. Then in Amsterdam, at headquarters, there is a much bigger team that deals with a lot of the international stuff. But mostly we only catch the more stupid ones that way. The clever ones are often ahead of us, unfortunately. How do you manage here in Galway?” Janssen said.

  “Garda John O’Connor,” Hays said.

  “What about him?” Janssen replied.

  “That’s it. He’s our techy department. But to be fair, up to very recently, policing in Galway has been done very differently than on the mainland of Europe. Here, we have a lot of small Garda stations located all over the country. The local police know what is going on in their area, and generally keep things well under control. But it is changing. I sit on a Technology Committee for the police, and we have close contact with the UK who are a good bit further ahead than we are. We are slowly getting up to date, but the problem I have is that the people at the very top of our structure don’t really understand technology. They are more used to typewriters and landlines, so it can be a struggle,” Hays said.

  The three continued their chat until the meal was over, and then Hays and Lyons departed for home having arranged for Janssen to meet them in Mill Street at eight o’clock in the morning.

  * * *

  The following day it was all systems go at Mill Street station. Peadar Tobin was on the phone to Lyons giving details of what he had learned from Rami the previous night.

  “That’s great, Peadar. Well done. Have you arranged to see her again?” Lyons said.

  “No, boss. I told her I was just passing through and left it loose. But I could if you wanted me to.”

  “No, leave it for now. But I want you to find out from the boys in Westport exactly where McCutcheon’s other warehouse is. We might be able to arrange a surprise visit and catch him with his pants down – literally!” Lyons said.

  “I see what you mean. Right, I’ll get on to that straight away and let you know.”

  “But, Peadar, be very discreet. Word has a habit of leaking out over these things, and if McCutcheon thinks we’re onto him, he’ll close everything down. He’s no eejit.”

  “Don’t worry, boss. I’m good friends with one or two of the lads from Westport. I’ll make sure it’s kept nice and tight.”

  “Great. Thanks. Talk soon,” Lyons said.

  Sinéad Loughran had brought the stolen PC across to John O’Connor by the time Lyons was off the phone.

  “Hi, Sinéad,” Lyons said, “thanks for bringing that over. Did you get anything off it?”

  “It’s definitely Geller’s. I got her fingerprints off the side of the keyboard. The outside had been wiped, but not very well. Oh, and I noticed there’s an SD card still stuck in it too. Maybe John will be able to get something from that.”

  “That’s great, Sinéad, thanks. What about other dabs?”

  “Just a few smudges I’m afraid, but didn’t Liam Walsh and Mary Costelloe see the victim with it in his possession?”

  “Yes, you’re right, they did. And Liam had the presence of mind to note down the serial number too, so that’s pretty conclusive. Now all we need to do is to find Essig. We’re fairly sure he killed both victims, but we’re not sure exactly why,” Lyons said.

  “Good luck with that. OK, well, if you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be off. Call me anytime, Maureen.”

  “Thanks, Sinéad.”

  As Loughran was leaving the office, Hays loomed up in the doorway.

  “Hi. We’re wanted upstairs. It’s Plunkett, and he doesn’t sound happy!”

  * * *

  “Come,” boomed Chief Superintendent Finbarr Plunkett’s voice from the other side of the door when Lyons knocked. She glanced back at her partner and rolled her eyes to heaven, and then went in.

  Plunkett said nothing as the two entered and approached his desk.

  “Sit,” the man instructed, and the two detectives obeyed silently.

  “What in the name of all that’s wonderful is going on, you two?” Plunkett said.

  “Sorry, sir, what do you mean?” Hays said.

  “Don’t get cute with me, Mick, you know full well what I’m talking about. You seem to have recruited some foreign policeman to do your dirty work for you. You know bloody well any half decent defence barrister will tear the arse out of us for that. What’s going on?” Plunkett said, his face red with rage as he spoke.

  “Look. We have two murders on our hands here, sir. As far as we can ascertain, there is some connection to a gang operating some kind of scam that involves eastern Europe, the Netherlands and even China. Inspector Janssen is from Utrecht which seems to be a hub for them. He came over as an observer, and he’s been very helpful in identifying the man we think killed these two people. So we’re indebted to him for that,” Hays said.

  “I heard he was out doing some undercover work for you. Is that correct, and don’t even
think of bull-shitting me, Mick.”

  “No, sir, that’s not correct.” And Hays went on to explain how Janssen had come by the laptop, but making the story a little more vague than the reality of the situation.

  “So, your most junior officer has basically saved your skin by taking down the serial number. Is that what you’re telling me?” Plunkett said, refusing to be placated.

  “It’s been a team effort, sir,” Lyons said rather tentatively.

  “And what’s been your part in all of this, Inspector Lyons?”

  “As Superintendent Hays said, sir, it’s been a real team effort. Everyone has played an important role. And I think we may have an opportunity to crack open a pretty nasty smuggling and tax avoidance operation that has some local connections too, given the chance,” Lyons said.

  “What do you mean? Don’t you know this fella has full operational control for the region?” Plunkett said, nodding at Hays. “Who’s involved in this scam of yours anyway? And this better be good!”

  “We’re still collecting evidence, sir, but we believe there may be a Westport connection. In fact, we will be applying for a warrant to search premises out there,” Lyons said.

  “Look,” Plunkett said, calming down a little. “You two have a good track record. But whatever you’re up to, you’d better make damn sure it doesn’t end coming back to bite us. If you’re going to make waves all over the bloody west of Ireland with your scams and schemes, it’d better be tight. Tight as a duck’s back-side – and that’s watertight! Do I make myself clear?” Plunkett said.

  “Yes, sir, of course, sir,” Hays said.

  “Good. And I don’t want to hear any more about this Dutchman of yours either. Keep him out of it, OK?”

  “Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?” Hays said.

  “Inspector, you can go. Mick, will you hang on for a minute please?”

  Lyons got up and left the room, knowing that the two men would be talking about her as soon as she was gone, but she had more sense than to try and listen at the door.

  “Was I too hard on her, Mick?” Plunkett asked when Lyons had left.

  “This is a bitch of a case, Finbarr. She’s doing OK on it, and the rest of the team are right behind her. I think she’ll bring it in OK, but it will take a bit more time, and to be honest, there may be some flak flying before it’s all over. Your man in Westport is probably well connected, so when she moves in on him there could be a bit of turbulence. But I’ll be keeping an eye out, don’t worry.”

  “Jaysus, Mick – don’t let her go feral on us. She’s gone out on a limb a few times before, and this bloody thing could have international repercussions. It won’t do either of us any good if we come unstuck.”

  “To be fair, she’s got some very good results in the past. I know her style is all her own, but somehow it all seems to work out in the end,” Hays said.

  “Let’s hope so, Mick, let’s hope so. Be sure to keep me informed, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Will you sort out that warrant for us?”

  “Ah, look after that yourself, Mick. I don’t want to be too close to it in case it all goes pear shaped. That way I can step in and defend you if I haven’t been involved.”

  “OK. I’ll sort it. I’d best get on.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As the efforts of the local Gardaí intensified in Galway, out in Clifden and in Westport, several reported sightings of Dieter Essig came into the control room. Each one had to be followed up, which was time consuming, and generally fruitless. But half way through the afternoon, the Gardaí got a call from a Teresa Birchall, the owner of a small jewellery shop in the heart of the city. Birchall was known to the Gardaí, and not for any good reasons. They suspected that she was fencing stolen property from time to time, but she had been clever enough to avoid prosecution so far, so when they took the call, the Gardaí were a bit surprised.

  Birchall told them that a man had come into the shop just after lunch with some gold to sell. That wasn’t unusual in itself, but this time Teresa felt there was something a bit iffy about the guy, so, pretending that she was not the boss, told the man that she would have to get the merchandise valued by the owner, asking him to call back later.

  They arranged that he would come back after 4 p.m. at which time she would have an offer for him, and she told him it would be the best offer available based on current prices, which seemed to satisfy him. When the man had left the shop, she looked at the handbill that the Gardaí had left there during the morning, and she was reasonably sure that it was the same bloke.

  Flynn and Lyons got together as soon as the call had been logged. There was a lot to arrange.

  “Who’s firearms trained?” Flynn asked.

  “There’s you and me for starters, and I think Sally has permission now too. Ask her, and then arrange for us to draw as many firearms as we have authorized officers. We’ll have to arrange a stake out, and we haven’t much time. Keep Liam and Mary out of it in case he may have seen them at some stage,” Lyons said.

  Flynn left the office to make the arrangements and Lyons called Hays to put him in the picture.

  “Bloody hell, Maureen, be very careful love. If this guy is armed, we can’t have a shoot-out in the middle of town. Anyone could get hurt, and you can just imagine what Plunkett would have to say about that!”

  “Don’t worry, Mick. I have a plan.”

  “God help us all – don’t tell me – he’s going to get Maureened,” Hays said.

  “Something like that. And I’ll try not to kill too many bystanders!”

  * * *

  Birchalls was a small single-fronted shop located in a narrow street off the main shopping area in the centre of Galway. The lane it was on led down to the docks where there was a large car park, so the shop enjoyed a good footfall, though many of the pedestrians passed it by, hurrying back to their vehicles. Nevertheless, it managed a good level of trade for its size, and the owner, Teresa Birchall, was well known and well liked among the business community.

  To the side of the shop there was a very narrow alley that was used for access and storing bins, and the shop had a rear door that opened onto it, although this was only used by the staff.

  The window onto the street was brightly lit with spotlights making the various engagement rings and other glittering jewels sparkle, and there was a good selection of brand named watches for both ladies and gents, as well as a generous tray of Claddagh rings in a number of styles and sizes on display as well.

  Inside the shop, which was quite small, there were a number of slim display cabinets lining the walls, and a serve-over counter with a glass top covering a further selection of trinkets.

  The detectives arrived at the premises at fifteen minutes before four o’clock. They had rather hurriedly withdrawn firearms from the armoury at the station, and Flynn, Fahy and Lyons now each had a SIG Sauer 9mm pistol concealed beneath their jackets.

  The plan was for Flynn to assume the role of the owner of the shop, and to face Dieter Essig across the counter. He would look for an opportunity to surprise the man, and see if he could effect an arrest without using his weapon. Lyons and Fahy would remain outside. Lyons would stand at the corner of the little alleyway, so that she could cover both the main door and the rear exit, just in case. Fahy would pretend to be window shopping, and would observe the goings-on inside the shop through the glass. When Essig arrived, they were both to draw their weapons and keep them discreetly by their side, ready for action if necessary.

  Fortunately, it was a fine afternoon in Galway. There was quite a stiff breeze that whistled down the narrow street, but with high, thin, patchy clouds, there was a good deal of sunshine too, although not much of it penetrated the site of Birchall’s shop, due to the narrowness of the street and the height of the surrounding buildings.

  Essig arrived soon after four o’clock and entered the shop, where another customer was having a new battery fitted to her watch. He waited for Teresa to finish the tas
k, and her conversation with the customer whom she appeared to know, before approaching the counter. The woman left the shop, totally unaware of the drama that was about to unfold.

  “You have my money?” Essig asked Teresa Birchall.

  “Oh, yes. I’ll just get the owner for you, he has valued it now.”

  On cue, Flynn emerged from the back of the shop which was screened off, looking dapper in a suit, shirt and tie, the latter borrowed from a colleague at Mill Street at the last minute.

  “Yes, sir,” I have your merchandise here, just under the counter. Flynn reached below the glass worktop and came up with his pistol pointing straight at Essig.

  Essig was quick. He screamed out loud, and in the split second as Flynn and Birchall were distracted, he whipped out his own gun and pointed it at the shopkeeper.

  “I will shoot her. Believe me, I have nothing to lose. Now put down your weapon and give me the money, and I’ll go. Quick!” he barked.

  Flynn had no intention of doing anything of the kind.

  “If you shoot anyone in here, you will be dead within two seconds. There are armed officers all around this building, and you won’t get away, I promise you,” he said coolly. He had however placed his own gun on the counter in case Essig would shoot the woman in cold blood.

  “Here,” Essig said, waving his weapon at the woman. “You’re with me. Come out!”

  Teresa Birchall was terrified. So much so, that her legs wouldn’t move – she was frozen to the spot with fear.

  Essig leaned across the counter, and keeping the gun pointed at Teresa Birchall’s chest, grabbed her by the hair and started to pull her around the side of the counter.

  Fahy, who had seen the entire performance from her viewpoint on the pavement, decided that it was time for action. Raising her gun to waist level, she crashed in through the shop door shouting, “Down, everyone down!”

  Essig didn’t know which way to turn, but his eyes had gone wild, and the Gardaí realised that he could start shooting at any moment, and could easily kill both Flynn and the shop owner before they could retaliate. But Fahy wasn’t finished yet. Taking careful aim, she fired a single shot into the man’s knee. He dropped like a stone onto the carpeted floor, blood oozing out from a wide wound in his torn trousers. At the same time, the arm in which he was holding his gun came up, and he fired a shot, but it was a futile gesture, as the bullet went harmlessly up into the ceiling tiles.