The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (11 page)

Craig shook his head; something didn’t fit. If you were involved in extorting money from a business why blow it up, unless it was seriously in arrears? And why blow it up with yourself inside? Liam read his mind.

“I agree boss, but they wouldn’t be the first muppets to kill themselves as they planted a bomb.”

Craig ran with the idea. “OK, let’s just say the bomb was planted by whoever was extorting money from Jules Robinson. If it was the UKF and Greer was still aligned with them, then either they employed an idiot to set the charge, or there’s a rival gang running protection in the area.”

He thought of the Russian gang they’d encountered two years earlier and turned quickly to Davy. “Davy, get on to Captain Smith and ask them to widen the bomb signature search to include devices planted by international groups. Liam, get onto Vice and nail down who’s running protection in Smithfield.”

“Will do. OK, so that leaves us with who’s behind door number three; the developers.” Liam ran through the information that Sadie had given him then scanned the group’s faces for ideas. “That’s the one Sadie thinks is the most likely and blowing up the shop would definitely have saved them demolition costs. The company’s called SNI.”

Annette looked thoughtful and Craig motioned her to speak. “Well, it’s just… If you’re a reputable developer then surely you’d try every legal recourse to get the shop before you did something like this? Throw money at the Robinsons; offer to relocate the business, anything but blow people up.”

Craig played devil’s advocate. “And if you’re a disreputable developer?”

Annette bit her lip for a moment and then shook her head. “No, I still don’t get it. If you’re a crooked developer you’d know that the first people we would look at would be you.”

Liam leaned in to interrupt but Annette held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong, Liam, we have to explore all of these avenues but my feeling is that there’s something less obvious going on here.”

“Like what?”

Annette glanced at Craig and he nodded her on to report. She covered the generalities of her visit to the McGovern’s, rushing through the details of three small children clinging to their Mum. Seeing it had been bad enough, she didn’t need to relive the experience. When Craig signalled to interrupt she was grateful.

“I checked. Lucia never met Mrs McGovern at The Belfast Buzz. Lucia left just before she started.”

Annette nodded and turned to the subject Maria McGovern had raised just before she left.

“Barry McGovern was an avid reader, had been ever since he was a boy. We know he was a member of four libraries and his wife showed me his book collection. He only had a few but they were all first editions.”

Craig cut in. “Any particular subject area?”

“History mostly and a few on philosophy. Anyway McGovern belonged to some private internet chat-rooms.”

Liam’s booming voice drowned out her next words. “Oh aye, one of those, was he?”

Nicky wrinkled her nose in distaste and tapped Liam’s hand sharply with her pen. She wanted to throw it at him but she still remembered his howls when she’d done it once before.

Annette frowned and continued. “Rare book internet chat-rooms. McGovern told his wife he’d heard a rumour that Jules Robinson was getting in a rare first edition in last week, so rare that an online bidding war was likely to ensue. He went to Papyrus hoping that he might get a glimpse.”

Craig raked his hair; it gelled with a feeling he’d had. “So this might be about a rare book that some collector wanted. Badly enough to kill for it?”

Annette shrugged. “I don’t know sir, but it’s another theory. Some of those big collectors are nutcases; recluses who have collections worth millions.”

“Granted, but blowing up the shop would have destroyed the book as well. Unless…”

Davy finished Craig’s thoughts. “Unless they s…stole the book and used the explosion to cover the theft.” He let out a long whistle, surprising them. Whistles were Liam’s stock in trade but it seemed he had a competitor.

Craig dragged a white board over then wrote up their theories so far in a list: RUC, developers, protection gangs and now a rare book. He tapped the list for a moment as if he was going to add something and then dismissed the idea as too far left of field. He’d keep it to himself for now. He checked the wall clock and then allocated the tasks.

“OK. Davy, get into the chat-rooms and see what’s there, also, check into the UKF. See how active they are at the moment and whether there’s any word of Sharpy Greer still being involved.”

He turned to Liam. “Vice, Liam.”

“Yes please.”

The retort was so quick that even Craig laughed. “It wasn’t an offer, it was an order. Get onto Aidan Hughes and find out who’s running the girls and drugs in Smithfield; they’ll be running protection as well. Also ask Geoff Hamill about gangs and dig into Jules Robinson’s RUC record. Who had he banged-up, who hated him enough to kill him; you know the form. Go beyond what’s on the page, please. Use your contacts to get the gossip. OK?”

Liam rubbed his hands in glee. It was the perfect excuse for a few beers with his old mates. Craig moved on to Annette.

“Annette, I want you to chase down all the developers involved in Smithfield, the legal and illegal ones, particularly SNI. Find out who’s interested in the area and don’t confine your search to developers based in the UK. There’s foreign money coming into Northern Ireland now and they all want to make a fast buck. When you’ve gathered the information I don’t want you interviewing any of them alone. If Jake’s not back then take Captain Smith with you.”

Craig stopped abruptly, remembering something. He turned towards Liam accusingly. “Where’s my new staff member? You were supposed to get on to Aidan about her.”

Liam’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Here, give me a chance, boss. I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Well, make that your first priority tomorrow please. We’re running short-handed and everyone wants this case done and dusted before the 30th.” He scanned the row of faces then wrapped up. “I’ll take Fintan Delaney and chase victim number five with John. I’m working up something else as well, but it’s too early to discuss it yet.”

Craig glanced at his watch. It was after five o’clock. “OK, for anyone who isn’t heading home the drinks are on me. I’ll see you in The James Bar in five. Everyone else, we’ll brief an hour later tomorrow at nine, just as a Sunday treat.”

Chapter Ten

Dublin Airport. 6.p.m.

The large jet disgorged its load of passengers and Jennifer Weston stayed behind with the other crew to tidy up, gathering the lost mobiles and discarded newspapers for reclaiming or the bin. After an hour she waved goodbye and stepped down from the plane, heading for her hotel and a thirty-six hour turnaround. It was tight but it was all the time she needed, to pay the visit she needed to pay and then disappear without anyone picking up her trail.

Weston tutted to herself as she entered her hotel room; she hated loose ends and right now they had a big one. As she sank into the warm bubble bath she decided on her outfit for the following day. It had to be right to blend in, but not so perfect that it would look out of place. And above all it had to be suitable for a visit to a sick friend.

***

Sunday. 5 a.m.

Craig slipped quietly out of bed and wandered into the living room, his thoughts preoccupied with the case. Katy was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her; a doctor on-call got little enough sleep, even when they were consultants. He stood by the window, staring out at the brightening morning sky. The air was humid, more humid than he remembered Northern Ireland being; the people who dismissed global warming as nonsense were definitely wrong.

Craig glanced back at the tightly shut bedroom door and smiled, tempted to return and disturb his pretty girlfriend’s sleep. But they hadn’t closed their eyes until two o’clock, so wrapped-up in their still new lovemaking that time not spent locked together seemed like a waste. He would let her sleep; her bleep would go off soon enough.

He sat down in his well-worn armchair and sipped thoughtfully at some juice, trying to organise his thoughts about the case. They had plenty of leads to follow, so why did none of them feel quite right? Why not go for the obvious and say that Delaney or a developer did it? Or was he so needful of a puzzle to solve that a quick closure didn’t satisfy him anymore? Perhaps. He started to sift through the things they knew and quickly arrived at the gaps.

Fintan Delaney, the blast’s only survivor had no memory of the event. So what? It was perfectly feasible that Delaney had survived because he was standing farthest away, shielded by bookcases that he couldn’t possibly have designed. Delaney had no history of anything except good works and his family was the same, so why couldn’t he quite believe it? Was he becoming a cynic? Craig smiled as soon he asked himself the question. Becoming? Or was his disbelief his gut’s way of telling him that something didn’t fit?

Then there was the fifth body; who was it and would they ever know? The body had been completely vaporised which meant that they must have been closest to the blast. The bomber? Perhaps they’d get lucky and catch a break from the CCTV, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. He hoped John could extract DNA from the shapeless tissue and made up his mind to check the next day. Craig caught himself; the next day was already here.

He gazed at the sun rising in the distance and thought about John and Natalie, smiling at the party that was to come. It would be amazing, because Natalie was such a livewire and because everyone was so happy for them both. That and the sun, sand, sex and cocktails in Barbados would ensure a good time for everyone. Except… Craig thought about Annette and the fragile state that her marriage was in. Her husband Pete had been unfaithful the summer before, citing the stresses of Annette’s job and her long hours spent at work. Ostensibly she’d forgiven him and they were trying to patch it up, except… Annette’s ambition had trebled since the incident and he could see her becoming more detached. Perhaps the wedding would bring them closer, or perhaps it would only underline what they’d once had and lost.

Craig shook his head and turned to the final thread of the case. Rare books. Davy was working on it now and if there was anything to find he would. But something was niggling at the back of his mind, so far back that he couldn’t see it yet. It was like an intruder lurking in the shadows, always there but never showing their face. Craig shrugged; he’d travelled this road before. The answer would appear when he least expected it and hours spent chasing wouldn’t speed it up.

He hadn’t seen the bedroom door opening or heard Katy’s soft footsteps cross the room, but he felt her warm kiss on the back of his neck. He reached around and pulled her onto his knee, returning the kiss with a passion that he’d never felt before. Yes, he’d been in love with Julia and Camille, they were both fascinating, beautiful women in their different ways, but he loved Katy as well as being in love. It wasn’t her prettiness, although that was substantial, and it wasn’t her ability as a doctor, no matter how impressive it was. He loved her for her kindness and the way that she always put others first; patients, friends, family, him. He’d never liked a woman quite as much as he liked her and as he carried her back to bed, the feeling worried him more than anything had ever worried him before.

***

St Mary’s. 7 a.m.

Morning pale rays of sunlight stretched across the hospital room to touch Fintan Delaney’s small, starched bed. Bright enough to make him visible, but not so bright that they seeped between his lashes and told his confused brain to wake. It would be a pleasant way to waken, before murmured voices in the corridor or the metallic clash of instruments reminded him of where he was. But it wouldn’t be his awakening that day.

Outside in the long, quiet hallway the lights remained dimmed, awaiting the nurses’ handover that would tell the morning routine to start. A young constable guarded the side-room, arm’s folded and perched on a hard plastic chair, determined to be vigilant, as he had been all night. But his unfailing alertness was no match for a professional who said they needed to enter and check a pulse, especially if they showed their I.D.

The white door opened quietly and the young woman slipped inside, scanning the room for the man she’d come to see. As her vision adjusted, Delaney turned fitfully in his sleep until he faced her, his eyes still closed tight. The woman froze for a moment, until he settled into his new position still sleeping and she was safe to approach the bed.

Jennifer Weston gazed at her young lover, wanting to stroke his thick black hair and trace his full mouth with her finger and then her lips. For a moment she hesitated in her task, remembering long, warm nights spent wrapped in his arms and a love that had strengthened by the day. Did he really have to die; did it help them in any way? She already knew the answer. Her feelings for Fintan were strong, but not as strong as for the man who’d groomed her, and what they worked for was stronger than them all.

Before her feelings could prevent what she knew had to be done, she slipped the syringe from her pocket and slid the needle into her lover’s I.V. Delaney’s eyelids flickered and opened and what he saw shocked him then brought the first hint of recognition that he’d felt in days. He gazed into her blue eyes and mouthed a word that only she would understand; Salerno. It confirmed that she’d been justified in her task. Fintan knew everything and soon he would betray them to the police.

Jennifer Weston smiled tearfully at the man she loved and held his hand as he began his departure from this world. Then she scribbled on his chart and turned in the churchlike silence of the morning, to leave the room and the hospital as easily as she came.

***

Docklands. Sunday. 9 a.m.

“OK, this is going to be quick. I’ve had a few thoughts.”

Liam groaned deliberately loudly and it had the desired effect. Craig raised an eyebrow then laughed at his disrespect and the others joined in. All except Davy; he was leaning back in his chair staring at the ceiling, as if it held information that no-one else could see. Craig could hear his brain working from where he sat.

“Penny for them, Davy?”

Annette chipped in, applying her pale pink lipstick discreetly behind a mirror at her desk. Nicky’s bright red gloss wasn’t nearly as discreet.

“I think it’s a pound nowadays.”

Whatever Davy’s thoughts could be bought for he wasn’t ready to share them. He shook his head then leapt from his chair and sauntered across to where Craig sat, with a cockiness that said he was onto something. They’d find out when he was ready.

Craig turned to the small group. “Right, I’ll keep this short and sweet. Liam, get that constable from Vice here today please. I want her in place when Captain Smith arrives tomorrow.” He turned towards Nicky, just in time to catch her mouthing something at Annette.

“Am I going to have to pay for your thoughts as well, Nick?”

Nicky shook her pony-tailed head. “No, I’m a cheap date. I was just wondering if we could commandeer part of Inspector Miller’s floor-space.”

She pointed past Liam’s desk to a small corner of the squad-room that was rarely used. For good reason. It was windowless and cold, even when the rest of the floor was warm.

Craig made a face. “It’s pretty unwelcoming, considering that they’re both coming to help us. Don’t we have anywhere better?”

Nicky swept her arm in an arc, like an estate agent showing a house. “If you can find somewhere else, be my guest. That’s the only space I can see and Inspector Miller might not even let us have that.”

Craig had known Bob Miller for years. He was an amiable looking man whose personality backed up the theory that people’s exterior reflected what lay inside. He was barely five-feet-six inches tall and almost as wide; if the police had had an annual fitness test, Bob would have failed it several hundred donuts ago. His face had a ruddy complexion that said he lived outdoors, which he did; spending each weekend roaming the Glens of Antrim with his dogs and kids, doubtless singing ‘Fa-la-ri’ as he walked. No-one had ever seen Bob lose his temper, or even heard him raise his voice.

Craig smiled reassuringly at Nicky. “Bob will be as good as gold. Give him a call at home today, Nicky. But wait until lunchtime, please. He’ll be up Slemish Mountain this morning.”

Liam squinted at his watch and then at Craig, with a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ expression.

“He leads the local scout troop. They go there every Sunday.”

“All that exercise doesn’t seem to affect his waistline.”

Craig ignored the comment. “If Bob says we can have the space, which he will, then get it sorted today please. Get a couple of desks, chairs…”

Nicky sniffed. “I know what to do, sir.”

“Sorry. Of course you do. Do something to brighten the place up a bit as well, please. Flowers or plants, whatever you like; I’ll pay.”

Craig turned back to the group. “Right. As I said, this will be quick. I’ve been thinking about a few things. First the unidentified fifth person; Davy, can you get on to John and Des and see how quickly they can identify DNA from the tissue they found. “

“There’s likely to be two types, chief. Possibly five if the others bled a lot.”

Craig sighed, knowing it could take a while. “Try anyway, please.” He turned to Liam and Annette. “You two, get Carmen in today and brief her. I want her up to speed ASAP. I’ll see her today or tomorrow, whenever I can. Liam, when you’re chasing the protection rackets today; be careful. We all know who these guys are linked with and how much they hate the police. Annette, do as much of the developers’ search as you can on your desk-top. If you need to be on the street before Captain Smith arrives tomorrow then take Liam with you, please.”

Annette protested loudly. “That’s unreasonable, sir. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

Craig raised an eyebrow as she carried on.

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself and most of them will be no more than fat estate agents.”

Craig raised a hand to quiet her. “But one of them might not be, Annette, if they’ve already blown up a shop.”

Annette was undeterred. “I saved your lives three months ago.” She was referring to a shoot-out on a case when she’d saved both Craig’s and Liam’s lives. She smiled smugly at the memory. “Maybe Liam should have me along for protection.”

Craig stifled a laugh and conceded, but only partly. “I know you can take care of yourself, Annette, but you had a gun then and you’re not carrying this time. In hand-to-hand combat you’re still no match for most men, not unless you’ve learned a martial art in the past few months?”

Annette went to protest then shook her head grudgingly.

“OK then, my order stands. Take someone with you to the interviews.” He swung round to face Liam, catching the end of his grin. “And you needn’t look so smug. Annette saved your life last time. I don’t want you taking risks with the gangs either. Wear your vest please.”

Craig ignored the inevitable groan that followed and carried on. “OK, Liam’s going to bring in our new team member Carmen and then pay a visit to the protection gang. Annette’s going to be here doing background work on the developer, and then she and Liam can pay them a visit.” He stood up. “Davy, Nicky; you both know what you’re doing. I’m going back to the hospital to see Delaney, then I’ll be at the lab if you need me.”

Craig headed for the main doors then stopped as the phone rang on Nicky’s desk. A call this early on a Sunday was never going to be good news.

“Murder Squad. Can I help you?”

The room felt silent as everyone saw the expression on her face. Before Nicky dropped the receiver Craig knew what exactly she was going to say.

“Fintan Delaney’s dead, sir.”

By the word ‘dead’ he was halfway out the door.