The Sect (The Craig Crime Series) (18 page)

****

The Relatives’ Room. Docklands.

“Do you want me to come with you, to tell your parents?”

T.J. and Jake were back where they’d been the day before; in the relatives’ room on Docklands’ second floor. They’d got as far as Dunmurry Lane the previous evening when T.J. had chickened out of telling his folks, instead begging Jake to take him to his flat so that he could get some rest before telling them later that night. Jake had been sceptical of him ever doing it, at least not without some sort of upper on board, but he’d been powerless to force him. T.J. had already I.D.ed his brother; it would have been excessive to involve another relative when Bobby had been eighteen.

He’d been right to be sceptical and less than surprised when T.J. had pitched up at the C.C.U. that day, still wearing the same clothes as the day before. He looked like he’d been up all night, in all senses of the word. But lecturing him would have achieved nothing, so instead Jake offered him coffee and a trip to his folks again, ambivalent about his reply. Part of him was hoping that the young man would say no or go with his liaison officer; he wanted to nip home and check on his gran. Another part was frustrated; something that T.J. had said the day before was niggling him but he couldn’t work out what.

They’d been talking since T.J. had arrived twenty minutes earlier and Jake still didn’t know much more about Bobby McDonagh’s last weeks than he had after his I.D. A teenager confused about his sexuality, who’d acted out by creating trouble before he’d finally accepted that he was gay two years before.

But Bobby’s bad behaviour had been a thing of the past; once he’d come out he’d settled down to work for his A-Levels and was heading to university in the coming year. He’d obviously had some sexual encounters, the post-mortem attested to that, but they’d been a while ago. There was no steady boyfriend and he hadn’t been cruising the local scene; T.J. had made sure of that. All Bobby McDonagh appeared to have done in the past two years was study and help his dad in their garage. He seemed just like any other kid on a gap year, excited about going travelling; so what, if anything, about his current lifestyle had put him at particular risk?

T.J. answered the question with a shake of his head, following it with a sniffed reply.

“As far as I know, nothing. He was just planning his trip to Spain.”

He hadn’t cried so far that day but the thought of telling his parents their younger son was dead suddenly proved too much and tears began streaming down his face.

“I don’t know how to tell them. It will kill my mum. I just hope our Karen can be there when I do. I called her just before I came here.”

“Is she younger or older than you?”

“Older. She’s thirty and more sensible than Bobby and me ever were. She’s a teacher.”

Jake nodded mutely, knowing that any comment would be redundant. It wasn’t the time to discuss the education system.

After another few minutes’ empty conversation he led the way down to reception. As they waited for the liaison officer to take T.J. to his parents, Jake had a sudden thought. He sat on the banquette beside the still sniffing youth.

“T.J., was Bobby still seeing anyone at social services?”

The answer was a shake of the head. Jake’s heart sank slightly; it had been a long shot and he wasn’t even sure what he’d been shooting for, but still… He perked up when T.J.’s expression changed to say he was about to add a caveat.

“Not social services, but he’d been seeing a counsellor for two years. It was someone the social referred him to.”

Jake tried to hide his excitement, partly because it was unseemly and partly because he didn’t quite know what he was excited about; it just felt like a thread that should be pulled.

“Do you have a name?”

“No, but I might be able to get it from mum. If I do I’ll call you later.” He snorted suddenly. “Mind you, what they could tell you is anyone’s guess. Bobby only told people what he wanted them to hear.”

The car arrived, ending their conversation and taking T.J. McDonagh to a place that he really didn’t want to go.

****

4 p.m.

As Craig was scrutinising the report Des had sent through his desk phone rang. It was Katy. He was surprised; she rarely rang him at work and when she did it was always on his mobile.

“Hello, pet. Is something wrong?”

His tone was concerned; hers was briskly professional.

“Hi, Marc. I was thinking about your case and I might know someone who could help. That’s why I’ve phoned you at work. Because…” She giggled, proving that her professional approach was only a veneer. “…it’s official police business.”

He was torn between smiling at her playfulness and panicking that she’d shared details of the case. The words were out before he could stop them.

“You didn’t––”

Her response was indignant. “No, I did not! You know me better than that. I’m calling about someone I met at work; a psychiatrist. She’s worked on some high profile criminal cases and I thought she might be able to help.”

He could have kicked himself; he knew she would never give anyone details of a case. He grovelled furiously as her annoyance turned to hurt.

“I didn’t mean that you would share details. I know you would never do that.”

Silence. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign so he ploughed on, digging himself a deeper trench.

“It’s kind of you, and I may take you up on it, but we’re not quite at that stage. Maybe if you could give me your friend’s name.”

Wrong move.

“So that you can get her checked out! Forget it. She’s a respected psychiatrist; I’m not having you running her through your criminal checks!”

Craig could feel a slammed down phone in his near future so he searched for some mollifying words. “You’re right.” Always a safe bet. “Look, why don’t we discuss it tonight? Dinner at Hadskis?”

It was her new favourite restaurant and he crossed his fingers that it would be enough. Her next words reminded him why he loved her. She rarely lost her temper and when she did it was over in a flash, then she felt so bad about shouting that she worried he was hurt.

“I’m sorry, pet, I overreacted. Of course you must check her out. Her name’s Sofia Emiliani and she’s seconded to St Mary’s psych unit for six months, from the Maudsley in London. I think she’ll come and find you; she asked me where you worked.” She paused and her next words held a promise. “Let’s not go out tonight. Let’s have dinner at my place.”

He wasn’t about to argue.

“Sounds great. I’ll see you at eight?”

They signed off happily; blissfully ignorant of the can of worms Katy had just opened in both of their lives.

****

5 p.m.

“OK everyone, gather round. We’ve a lot to get through and I don’t want to be here all night.”

Liam nudged Andy’s elbow, splashing his coffee across Carmen’s chair. Luckily it was empty or there’d have been hell to pay.

“Aye, aye. The boss has a romantic evening planned.”

Craig raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks for making it everyone’s business, Liam. OK, I know you’ve all been busy, but I’m going to start. I’ve just had some information from the lab. First, the print that Doctor Marsham found. In fact there were two different prints, found on the outer sheets of cling-film. The sizing says that they both belong to men.” Liam went to interrupt but Craig cut him off. “Before you ask, they’re definitely from different men, unless our perp has two right thumbs.

Liam’s mouth snapped shut and his brain went into gear. “Two men could have carried the bodies easily without leaving footprints on the mud.”

“They could. OK, Des and Davy are running the prints now and we’ll hear if they get any hits, but that’s not all Des found. It seems that our three victims had identical stomach contents, ingested three to four hours before death––”

Jake cut in. “Some sort of ritual?”

Craig nodded. “That was my thought. We don’t yet know what the food was; hopefully when we do it will tell us more.” He turned towards Davy. He was scratching again. “I’m sure you can get a cream for that.”

Davy grinned impishly. “Why? Is it bothering you, Chief?”

Craig didn’t rise to the bait. If Davy wanted him to ask why he was scratching he’d be waiting for a very long time.

“Did you get anything on the checks I asked for?”

The analyst kept itching with one hand and tapped his smart-pad with the other. “A lot. It’s coming up on Nicky’s screen now.”

They formed a semicircle around Nicky’s desk, knowing that she would be moaning about the interruption if she were there. A list of five names appeared. Craig gasped.

“All of these fit the parameters I gave you?”

It should have been a statement, because as a question it was a waste of breath; Davy always did his job. He crossed to the screen and lifted a laser pointer, running it down the list as he spoke.

“All five were under twenty-five years old and all were found drowned near Downpatrick in the past s…six months. The most recent was a girl a month ago…”

Craig finished the sentence. “A teenage girl who fell into the River Quoile. Her body washed up near the yacht club, close to the coast.”

Davy nodded. “She had none of the markers of our case. No tattoo, no cling-film and the w…water in her lungs was––”

Liam interjected. “From the river, so everyone assumed that she’d fallen in and drowned?”

Davy nodded. “One of the five drowned while out sailing with his brother––”

Craig shook his head. “Accident. We can rule him out. ”

“Another walked into the sea near Kilclief.”

“Suicide. We can rule them out as well.”

As the others watched, puzzled, Davy erased the two names. It left them with three: two males and one female. Ken was the first to comment.

“Five seems a lot of young drownings in six months.”

Jake shook his head. “We’re an island race so drowning is fairly common. If you raised the age limit you’d get the fishing deaths as well.”

Craig returned to his seat and the others followed. “OK, I have a hunch, but that’s all it is––”

Liam whispered deliberately loudly. “He’s batting ten for ten at the moment.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence but listen before you say yes. OK, my hunch says that if Elena Boraks was the first murder they committed then it was far too slick, so they must have had practice runs that weren’t so smooth and they might tell us something. They may have been careless and left something behind.”

Liam gestured at the board. “These three were the practice?”

“Some of them, perhaps. I’ve asked John to see if the lung and stomach contents of the last girl were saved and if they were to get Des to examine them.” He turned to Davy. “Davy, do the same with the males. I don’t want to waste much time on this. If it gives us something, great, but till then we work the case as usual. OK, let’s go round. Jake, tell me about Bobby McDonagh.”

As Jake ran through their second victim’s early years Craig poured himself a fresh drink, tuning back in on the word ‘trouble’.

“What sort of trouble?”

“He acted out for a while: shoplifting, drinking, the usual stuff. He was referred to a social worker and eventually realised he was gay. Once that happened everything settled down. By all accounts he’d been a normal kid for the past two years, just helping in his dad’s garage and studying for A-Levels. He’d applied to Uni to do Spanish and French, and T.J. said he was getting ready to go on a trip to Spain when he last saw him at the beginning of March.”

His tone said that there was something more.

“And?”

“And it turns out he’d been seeing a social work counsellor for the past two years. T.J.’s phoned me with the name.”

“Good. Let me know what you find out.” He turned to see Ken doodling Carmen’s name. He didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or be glad no-one else seemed to have noticed. Glad won. “Ken, what else did you find out about Elena Boraks?”

The romantic straightened up quickly.

“Well, her father seems to have had no idea what she really did for a living.” He made a face. “Or he didn’t want to know.”

“What about the old abuse scars?”

“It seems that her dear dead mother was responsible for those. She resented Elena’s birth for stopping her having a career as a dancer.” He shook his head. “And as the dad didn’t know Elena was a prostitute he can’t really help us with where she worked.”

Craig tossed up whether to comment on something that had been bothering him or let it pass for the sake of peace. His sense of right won. “OK, good, but can we all stop referring to the girl as a prostitute, hooker or street walker, please; the correct term is sex worker.” He scanned the row of faces. “That goes for everyone, including me. I’ve been as guilty as the rest of you.” He moved on before anyone could comment. “Liam and Andy?”

Liam began reporting, drawling in a perfect imitation of Reggie Boyd.