The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series) (4 page)

Liam heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to the matter in hand.

“So the paper-boy may have seen something or someone else near the house that morning. The timing of Bwye’s routine also means that if he’d gone for his usual run that Thursday there could only have been forty minutes between his return to the house and when Bernadette Ross arrived for work. But Ross didn’t report seeing anyone in the grounds so that means whoever took them either did it the night before or in that forty minute window between seven-forty and eight-thirty. The morning’s unlikely, boss. It’s too tight…”

Julia cut in. “Ross always drives up to the front of the house. They could have left by the back.”

Craig nodded. “They definitely did. There was no blood in the rest of the house. OK, it’s just possible they were taken that morning but the night before would be a surer bet.”

He took a gulp of coffee before setting down his cup.

“Judging from the man’s prints by the door, which I’m sure will match Bwye, his hands were bloody. So if he’d removed the gun he’d have had to wipe the cabinet clean of blood. I don’t go with that, it’s too hard to clean off every speck; Luminol would still have shown something. That cabinet was opened with a key by someone wearing gloves.”

Liam decided to play devil’s advocate. “Unless Bwye removed the gun before he got injured? Maybe he’d been using it to shoot rabbits the day before and left it out.”

“Possible but I still don’t buy it. Let’s work this through. Either the intruder wore gloves and had a key to the cabinet, or they forced Bwye to open the cabinet before he got injured, perhaps by threatening him with some other weapon they’d brought.” The niggle started again and he knew what it was this time. “That brings us back to if they’d brought a weapon why bother with Bwye’s rifle at all, unless as Julia said they wanted to incriminate him which is a stretch. But if they didn’t bring a weapon then how could they have forced a man of Bwye’s size to do anything?”

He thought for a moment then his face broke into a smile. “Someone got hold of the cabinet key beforehand, accessed the rifle before the assault and used it to subdue Bwye.”

Julia gawped as he pushed on.

“Where did Ms Ross say the key was kept?”

“Bwye carried it on his key ring.”

“Then he would have noticed if it had been missing. They must have copied the key sometime before that day and there must be a very short list of people who could have done that. Just Bwye’s wife and daughter, staff and friends visiting the house.”

Liam groaned, picturing the interviews ahead. “It’s not that short.”

Julia ventured another opinion. “Bwye was in the Territorial Army when he was younger so I doubt if he would be easily scared, even by a gun. Perhaps they threatened his wife and Jane to make him cooperate instead?”

Craig nodded. “They’re all possibilities, but that would still have required them to have some sort of weapon, an unarmed man wouldn’t have been a big enough threat. And where has the rifle gone?”

He thought for a moment. “OK, whoever herded everyone into the study it was done before any blood was spilt; there’s nothing in any other room. The wife and daughter would have been terrified, but I still think one of them would have tried to make a run for it. Perhaps they caused some of the damage we found, knocking over whatever was in their way. Alternatively, if they didn’t run it might mean that they knew their assailant and went along with them to play for time.”

He seized the pile of photographs, flicking through them till he found some of the main living room. There were only two shots and nothing looked out of place. Suddenly he realised something; there’d been no sign of fingerprint dust in the main room when they’d arrived at the house. He shot Julia an unhappy look. “Please tell me the C.S.I.s went over the living room.”

Her face fell as she realised what she’d done. “It didn’t look disturbed…everything was happening in the study…I…”

Craig bit his tongue before he said something he regretted. That meant the police and C.S.I.s had been tramping through the Bwye’s main living area for four days. If their assailant
had
touched anything the odds on finding a useful print now were a million to one. They had to try anyway.

“Liam, get onto the scene and get them to tape off that room. Then get the C.S.I.s back over there.”

As Liam left, Julia glanced at Craig with anxious eyes. “How badly have I screwed up?”

He shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing. If Bwye’s the killer and he herded his wife and daughter into the study then we won’t find any but the family’s prints anyway. If there was an outside assailant and one of the Bwyes tried to make a break for it through the main room it’s possible that they disturbed something trying to escape and that the assailant would have had to straighten it up. They might have left a print, or else they wore gloves and didn’t, but they might still have left hair or fibres.” He had another thought. “Has anyone gone over that room with Bernadette Ross?”

She stared at him blankly.

“Ross knows the house, as will any of the housekeeping staff. If anything’s been moved from where it’s usually kept then they’ll notice.”

Julia nodded. She was out of her depth and everyone knew it. Craig rose and smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. This is what people join the Murder Squad to learn. Annette’s coming up tomorrow to help and I’ll ask her to involve you in everything.” He gestured at the file. “May I take this? It would be useful to have the photographs.”

She nodded, thanking God that she’d brought in Docklands as quickly as she had. As Craig reached the door he turned back.

“I meant to ask. Where’s Harrisons’ office nowadays? He and I need a few words.”

****

2 p.m.

“How did they get out?”

Andy twisted round from his crouched position in front of Oliver Bwye’s desk as Liam entered. He’d got a patrol car to drive him back via the chip shop while Craig was sorting out Terry Harrison. He set two vinegar stained bags on the desk and repeated the question.

“What?”

Liam tutted impatiently, gesturing at the study’s oak back door.

“I said how did they exit? The blood trail leads to the back door, but Ross’ statement says it was locked when she arrived that morning with the key still on the inside. How do you explain that, unless they were kidnapped by Houdini?”

Andy grinned. It was obvious. Finally he’d get to make fun of Liam, instead of it being the other way around.

“That’s easy, hey. They had a copy of the key.”

Liam snorted cynically. “So they managed to lock the door from the outside without pushing the key in here onto the floor?” He threw down the gauntlet. “Show me.”

Andy sprang to his feet. “Fine. You stay in here.” He reached for the key and opened the back door, walking outside.

Liam’s “not so fast” brought him to a halt. “You have to leave the key in the lock.”

“But I need it to lock the door.”

“Then find one the same size to leave inside.”

Andy wandered through the study in search of a stand-in. He was about to enter the living room when Liam tutted again.

“The boss put that room out of bounds till the C.S.I.s finish.”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Like they’re going to find anything after four days of us tramping around.”

“They have before.”

Just then Andy spotted a long, steel key, not unlike the one in the back door. It was so similar in fact that he put it to the test. It wasn’t a match but it was good enough to play understudy. He inserted it in the lock and then went outside, carefully pulling the door closed. Liam waited for a few seconds and then bellowed through the oak.

“Get a move on. These chips are getting cold.”

Andy inserted the key, shouting “done” a moment later. Liam checked the door was secured and then peered at the fake key in the lock; it hadn’t moved. Andy was right. Someone had copied the key and locked the back door from the outside, leaving the original still firmly in the lock. It told him something.

“Come back in. We need to talk.”

A moment later they were sitting at Bwye’s desk munching, as Liam laid out his thoughts.

“How many doors are so thick that you could put a key in the outside and not move the key on the inside? Especially a key that length.”

Andy smiled as if he’d been caught out. “You guessed my trick.”

“I guessed that it would only work if the door was so thick that the keys didn’t touch each other. Where did you do it before?”

Andy’s eyes narrowed as he recalled. “Mr Rubens’ office. He was Dean of Discipline at my school and his study door was as thick as he was. We used to break in and nick his canes so he couldn’t punish us.”

Liam guffawed loudly. “Good lad. We used to break our man’s canes in two.” He waved a hand towards the door. “Anyway, that was useful. Now we know that whoever took the Bwyes knew how thick that door was, which means they were familiar with the house. They also had a copy of the key. The one they left behind locks the door and so did the one they took with them.”

Andy nodded. “But who could get close enough to copy the key? There’ve been no reported break-ins.”

“What about Bernadette Ross? She was here every day. And they must have had other staff to look after the grounds; it’s a big place.”

Ross had discovered the crime but that was no indicator of her innocence; she could have arranged to discover it to throw them off the scent. Annette would get the truth out of her.

Andy groaned. “There are two grounds men and a gardener. With Ross and the cook that makes five. We’ll have to re-interview them all.”

Liam gave a slow smile. “Four. The boss is bringing Annette up tomorrow to do Ross.” He glanced at the clock on the study wall and clambered to his feet. “We can puzzle it out over coffee, and I fancy a decent one in town. You’re driving.”

****

Craig followed Julia’s directions to Harrison’s office, girding himself for what he knew would be an angry encounter. D.C.S. Terry ‘Teflon’ Harrison was a vain, snobbish man, more interested in his rank than he’d ever been in solving a case. He’d abused every bit of power that he’d ever held; using it against his subordinates like a weapon, especially his female ones, and more than a hint of lechery tainted his encounters with them. Harrison had been his boss at Docklands until he’d been made superintendent, then Harrison had transferred to Limavady full time, where he’d obstructed Julia’s transfer to Belfast, indirectly resulting in their split. He had an axe to grind with the man and he was in the mood to plant it right between his eyes.

As Craig climbed the last stairs to the seventh floor he saw a familiar face, smiling when he did. Susan Butler, Harrison’s faithful P.A. A woman more sinned against than sinning; whose return to work after she was widowed had unfortunately landed her in Harrison’s grasp. When they’d first met Craig had wondered if she was as controlling as her boss, but as time passed he’d seen that she was just trying to keep a grip on what she could in life because she’d already lost so much.

His smile widened as he strode towards her desk.

“Mrs Butler! It’s lovely to see you again.”

Susan Butler blushed, warming up her beige hair and outfit attractively.

“Superintendent Craig. Hello again.”

“Marc. We’ve known each other too long for titles.”

Her blush deepened and was joined by a smile. “What are you doing in Limavady?” As soon as she asked the question her face fell. “Is it that terrible case at Rocksbury? I knew…know, Diana Bwye. Lovely woman. Always doing things for charity. We raised funds together for Vanquish Cancer.”

It backed up what he’d heard about Diana Bwye and what he already knew about Susan Butler. Something occurred to him and he leaned in, dropping his voice.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to work in Belfast, Mrs Butler? It would be easier than travelling here every day from Antrim.”

Her eyes filled with hope then she glanced warily at the door behind her.

“Who would I work for?”

Craig smiled. He’d heard that Geoff Hamill in Dockland’s Gang Crime Unit was losing his P.A. to retirement and he said as much. Susan Butler’s hopeful look changed to one of eagerness and Craig was pleased that he might be able to help her; if it screwed Teflon as well then so much the better.

“Is D.C.I. Hamill nice?”

Craig nodded at the door. “Compared to your current boss he’s a prince. Shall I have a word?”

She nodded gratefully, afraid to speak in case it hexed the chance, then she turned briskly back to business and lifted her pen.

“Would you like to see D.C.S. Harrison?”

Craig straightened up. “Yes I would. And now.”

She went through the mime of checking Harrison’s availability and then nodded Craig on to knock at the door. It was an unheard of breach of protocol. Normally she would have made him wait five minutes till she’d checked that Harrison wanted to see him, then made him wait a while longer until he’d deemed that Craig had been intimidated enough. Terry Harrison belonged to the Reginald Perrin school of management. “One, two, three, four, make them sweat outside the door. Five, six, seven, eight, always pays to make them wait.”