The Slowest Cut (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Friday. 10 a.m.

“Any joy at the Belfast house, boss?”

Craig stared through his office window at the grey river below. The waves were pointing their edges like fingers, reaching out to touch the hovering gulls. Each wave wore a white glove of surf and they danced as politely as if they were performing a gavotte. Craig knew from the darkening sky that any politeness would soon be gone; the waves would be metres high and lashing at every boat moored in the port. He stared ahead at nothing while Liam waited for his answer.

Liam watched Jake drive expertly down the A24 and admired the Mourne Mountains looming ahead of them through the mist. After a moment he prompted Craig. “Are you still there?”

Craig shook himself from his daydream and focused. “Yes. Sorry, Liam. I was a million miles away. There’s nothing at the house so far, but at least Davy’s got the computers now.”

“Don’t forget their office ones at work.”

“Already lifted.”

Craig paused as something occurred to him. Where were Ian Carragher’s two sons all this time? They’d been remarkably quiet for the past week. More than the relatives of two murdered parents would normally have been. He asked Liam the question.

“Oh, aye, the sons. The eldest one is Ryan and the younger one’s Jonathan. Thirty-four and twenty-three, that’s all I know.”

“Quite an age gap.”

“Aye, well. People will keep on having sex. I suppose Carragher was looking for a mother for them when he met the wife.”

“Where are they?”

“Ryan’s the one who runs Tagine, the Lebanese restaurant on the Ormeau Road. He’s the one Carragher asked to have called on Monday, when the wife died. I talked to him for a minute; seemed normal enough.”

“And the younger boy?”

Just then Liam’s eye was caught by a van selling strawberries by the side of the road and he signalled frantically for Jake to stop. Danni had asked him to get some if they saw a stand. He pulled a note from his pocket and waved at Jake to get out. Craig listened to the background conversation and smiled. He heard the car door open and close and asked his question again.

“Aye, sorry, boss. The younger boy. I couldn’t get hold of him. Went off to school at thirteen, then Uni in London straight after that.”

“To study what?”

“Some sort of history. That’s all Ryan said. He’ll be back for the funerals, whenever they are. Ryan’s organising them.”

“They should be early next week. I’ll check with John if he’s finished with Ian Carragher’s body.”

Craig cast another look at the river, imagining the Irish Sea where Liam was heading. He remembered a phrase from an old melody ‘Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea’, and wondered if the Carragher’s house would have such idyllic views. He pulled himself back to the case.

“Are you still there, Liam?”

“Aye. I’m waiting for Jake to get back with Danni’s groceries. What is it?”

“I’ve been so fixated on the Carragher’s murders that I forgot the most basic thing. Where was it that the Carraghers were working when they met?”

“Some school in Bangor. Davy has all the details. But it closed down years ago, boss, in 2004. It’s a dead end.”

Craig muttered something and then the line went dead. Liam was still staring at the phone when Jake climbed back into the car. Liam gave him a confused look. He couldn’t be sure what he’d heard Craig say, but he thought it had been ‘MGM’…

***

Mai had tossed a coin. Heads Warner, tails Rooney. Rooney lost. Pity. She would have liked to kill the Sorcerer next, but they’d have to make do with his apprentice. They’d use the school again to dump his body. The police were watching it during the day but they wouldn’t waste manpower covering it at night.

She thought for a moment longer then rolled towards her lover and stroked his face, waking him up with a kiss. He opened his eyes one by one, as if reluctant to face another day, then he gazed at Mai, drinking in her beauty as if he’d never noticed it before. He kissed her nose and then her lips, before moving purposefully towards her breasts.

Mai shook her head and laughed. “You always were a morning boy.” She retreated from him gently and sat at the end of the bed, wearing a serious expression. “We need to finish them quickly, before the police get in the way.”

The young man’s voice was pleading. “Can’t we leave them, Mai? We’ve done enough. The police will get Rooney and Warner and then follow the trail. We could go away somewhere and get on with our lives.”

His body tensed as he braced himself for what he knew would follow next but he hadn’t anticipated its strength. Mai’s delicate face contorted until her eyes were wild and red, burning against her twisted muscles and veins. She bared her teeth and stretched her neck until it bulged and then she screamed with every ounce of strength she had. The sound ripped through him, full of anger and hatred, but worst of all was the back-note of pain and loss. She had lost so much. They both had. But he was made of different stuff. Quieter for sure, but stronger as well in a way. The nightmares didn’t torture him now, but they still stole her sleep every night.

He reached across and took her in his arms, young and strong, strong enough for them both. Mai struggled but she couldn’t free herself and eventually he felt her relax and lean in, letting him rock her into a mercifully dreamless sleep. As he watched her eyes close he knew they had to keep going until the end, or she would never find peace.

***

Craig opened his office door so abruptly that Nicky dropped the yoghurt she was eating onto her lap. She watched as it ran across her knee and dripped onto the floor, forming a trail of congealing goo. She swung round, ready to give Craig a lecture about surprising people, but the fire she saw in his eyes made her stop. He’d had an idea, one of his inspired ones, and it didn’t do to break his flow.

Craig strode across to Davy’s desk. “Davy. I need you.”

Davy glanced up at the words and was surprised to find Craig standing in front of him.

“Yes, chief. W…What for?”

“Where’s Annette?”

“With the sketch artist I think. Her w…witness arrived thirty minutes ago.”

“Right.”

He wheeled round to see Nicky heading for the door, holding her dress out like an apron.

“Nicky, where are you off to?”

Nicky thought about swearing and then reconsidered, smiling sweetly instead. “I’m taking my dress for a walk, sir.”

Craig screwed up his face, puzzled. “What? Oh, OK then. When you’ve finished doing that, can you get Annette?”

Nicky stopped mid-step, trying to decide whether to keep walking or call Annette now. She’d need at least ten minutes to wash her dress and dry it with the hand-dryer in the loo, and she knew she’d get no peace until Annette was back in the squad. She sighed, lifted the nearest phone to the sketch artist and asked him to send Annette back upstairs. Then she walked sedately to the ladies toilets, checked that they were empty and then swore at the top of her voice.

Annette pushed through the floor’s double-doors and hurried straight over to Davy and Craig.

“Yes, sir. What did you need me for?

Craig smiled apologetically. She was out of breath. He hadn’t meant to rush her that much, but he was on a roll.

“I need both of you.” He turned to Davy. “The school where the Carragher’s met. Tell me about it.”

He grabbed a chair and motioned Annette to do the same while Davy tapped at his screen.

“Marcheson’s International school. It was outside Bangor, County Down, on the coast halfway between there and Donaghadee. It w…was a boarding school for the children of wealthy couples w…who lived abroad.”

Annette snorted. “You mean a dumping ground for people who should never have had kids. They have them because they want a trophy baby, then once they start to need attention they dump them on nannies or schools. Poor little tots.”

Davy nodded. “Tots are right. By the looks of it, the s…school had a nursery.”

Annette cut in. “Three years old! They dumped their children in a boarding school at three! They should all be sterilized.”

Craig smiled, recognising his mother’s viewpoint in Annette’s words. Mirella Craig was a typical protective Italian Mama; if she had her way both her adult children would still be living at home.

“Go on Davy.”

“The school had classes for three to s…seventeen-year-olds, boys and girls. It looks like they had great facilities; concert hall, gym, pool…”

“Are there any images?”

Davy nodded vigorously, setting his long hair flying around his face. He turned the computer screen towards them and Craig saw screen-shots of an Olympic size swimming pool and three tennis courts. Well-scrubbed children in uniform were pictured laughing and working at their desks.

“Looks idyllic but it’s a bit too perfect for me. Any dirt on it?”

“No. I ran it through all the databases when it first came up. Not a thing.”

“Why did it close down?”

Davy frowned. “Yes, that was a bit s…strange. It closed in 2004.” He tapped his keyboard quickly then nodded. “The school closed for the s…summer in June 2004. In the August it was announced that it w…wasn’t going to re-open and all the kids were going elsewhere.”

“Where? Local schools? There can’t have been too many that could offer the same facilities.”

Davy shook his head. “No, you’re right. Anyway, the school’s still there but it’s a hotel now, called The Down Hartley.”

“Damn!” The vehemence of Craig’s exclamation took the others aback. He explained about the video Aidan Hughes had played, sanitising the worst detail. It wasn’t sanitised enough for Annette.

“Dirty buggers. They should all be shot.”

Craig nodded. “I wish I’d never seen it, to be honest, but if I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have known what I was looking for. I have a hunch that it was filmed in that school, but we’ll never know now. It was bound to have been remodelled when it became a hotel.” His MGM comment to Liam had referred to a film shoot.

Davy shook his head. “Don’t be so quick on that, chief. Give me a minute.”

He waved them away and turned back to his empire, leaving Craig and Annette to make coffee and talk. Annette squirmed for a moment then said the word she hated most in the whole world. Even saying it made her feel like she needed a bath.

“Paedophilia, sir? So you don’t think the Carraghers were just into BDSM?”

Craig shook his head and perched on the edge of Nicky’s desk.

“There’s something very nasty going on here, Annette, and my gut says that the Carraghers were up to their necks in it. It’s more than BDSM with willing partners; you don’t get killed for that. The video of the Chinese girl was locally made; child pornography, with elements of BDSM and torture thrown in, and we know the Carraghers were into BDSM.”

Annette corrected him. “Eileen Carragher was. We have no proof about the husband.”

Craig nodded, conceding. “But it’s unlikely he didn’t know what she was into, and even if he just turned a blind eye he was still culpable. The way they were killed says that this is someone getting revenge.”

“And you think it’s a child they harmed?”

“Possibly. Or someone who loved that child.” He raked his hair. “And then there’s Aurelie.”

“But we’ve no proof she had any links with the Carraghers, or our murder cases, sir. She was found at a party thrown by Edgar Tate.”

Craig nodded. “That’s true, but at the moment I want to explore every option, then we can eliminate them one by one.”

Annette shuddered. “If it’s been going on since the Carraghers met, then that’s twenty years. But Davy said nothing was ever reported at the school.”

“That’s true, but let’s say it was happening there and was never discovered. When the school closed, their perversions didn’t suddenly disappear. They had to find other places to pursue them.” He shook his head and shrugged. “This is all speculation at the moment. Based on a small shoeprint at Eileen Carragher’s scene that’s hinting one of our killers is a Chinese woman, and an old locally made video.”

“You really think the Chinese girl on the tape could be involved in the Carraghers’ deaths?”

“Maybe, or maybe not. That child could be dead and gone and this woman might be someone else entirely, except that I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Davy beckoned them over and Craig kept talking as he walked. “I don’t know, Annette. It’s all speculation at the moment and pretty wild speculation at that. But…” He turned towards Davy. “What have you got for us, Davy?”

Davy was looking pleased with himself. “After you said the s…setting for the video might have been destroyed when the school became a hotel, I thought of something. They w…would have had to get planning permission for the building’s change of use and it was likely the architects would have taken a lot of photos, so…”

“You hacked their database.” Craig tried to look disapproving. “You’re not allowed to do that.”

Davy looked put-out and shook his head. “I didn’t hack it! W...Well, not really. They posted everything on the Cloud. It was just a matter of wriggling through their s…security settings.” Davy gave Craig a defiant look that made Annette laugh. “But I can wait for a warrant if you’d like, chief.” He held his finger above the escape button. “If you really don’t want to look, I can easily erase it now…”

Craig thought for a moment. He just wanted to confirm the video’s setting for his own information. It wasn’t something that they were likely to use in court, if they ever got that far, and by then they’d hopefully have found something else. He nodded, convincing himself. They could get a warrant on some basis if they needed it and visit the architects and hotel in person.

“OK, show me.” He tried to sound disapproving but knew that he was failing. “But Davy, you can’t…”

“I know, but this is urgent. Don’t w…worry. I’ll cover my cyber trail.”

It wasn’t the first time Craig had thought Davy would make a fortune as a crook. He smiled and gestured him on. Davy flicked through screen after screen of renovation images, showing the before and after of the luxury hotel. The architects had done a good job of taking classrooms and making them into bedrooms and ensuites. Craig shook his head, disappointed. There was nothing resembling the setting that he’d seen in the torture video. Finally Davy clicked on a file marked ‘basement’ and Craig held his breath. The room in the video had been dark, almost dingy. It was unfurnished and there’d been bare pipes on the walls. A basement or a garage would fit.