A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (13 page)

Harrison sat down, pulled his trouser legs up in a self-conscious attempt to avoid creasing, and then lounged back in his chair with the entitlement of seniority, beckoning Craig to do the same.

“The garage case. Update me please.”

Craig launched into a ten-minute monologue that the other man didn’t interrupt. He was good listener, except as Harrison listened he stared at him disconcertingly. All of the past D.C.I.s had warned Craig about it. No one could work out if it was the stare of professional assessment, gazing through them into space, or if he was actually taking in every detail of their suit, tie and shoes for future reference.

One had even ventured that he was gay, but the trail of noisy ex-mistresses dismissed that idea very quickly. Whatever it was, it was bloody annoying. Finally, he interrupted and Craig took the opportunity to sip at his now-cold coffee.

“Definite abrasions on the knees you said?”

“Yes sir, from where he fell.”

Harrison looked thoughtful but excited. “Wire marks on both shins?”

Craig nodded yes and the excited look increased. “And nappy cream in several patches sir. Plus Liam’s witness is sure that she saw a young woman.”

“Nappy cream and a young woman? Well, I may be old fashioned, but that shocks even me.”

Craig was getting curious now, why were the wire and abrasions so significant to him? He was about to ask when Harrison continued in a voice that was higher than was comfortable in such a macho world; his gravitas compensated, or overcompensated depending on your cynicism.

“We caught a very nasty case last night near Limavady; you won’t have seen it in the news yet. I believe the BBC has just picked it up this morning.”

“A young woman, found dead and pulled out of the Lower Bann at Portglenone. Suspected rape-murder. Was that it, sir?”

Craig always listened to the radio during his fifteen-minute drive in and Harrison looked grudgingly impressed.

“Yes, yes, but the Chief Constable will be making a further statement today to say–”

He looked down for an instant and Craig thought that he saw genuine sadness crossing his heavy-boned face. He recovered quickly, lifting his head to look at him.

“To say that she was a W.P.C. called Maria Burton.”

Hell. A female police officer raped and murdered, that threw up all sorts of grief, and not only for her immediate family.

“I wanted to tell you for the general awareness of your female officers. But now, with the detail on the garage case, I want to pick your brains.”

Harrison had some good points and one of them was his willingness to listen to his juniors’ opinions. A bad point was re-packaging them as his own. He answered Craig’s questioning look.

“I need you to liaise with Limavady, and the reason is that some of the details of your garage murder seem to match the murder of W.P.C. Burton in Portglenone. Principally the abrasions on her knees and the thin linear cuts across her shins.”

“She had them as well?”

“Yes.”

“Was there any sign of wire? Was she burnt?”

“No to both of those, but then she’d been in the water for at least twenty-four hours when she was found. I’ll ask the C.S.I.s to go back and look more closely at the wire aspect. We have her estranged husband in custody at the moment, answering questions.” He paused and took a deep breath, seeming genuinely moved by what he had to say next.

“We’re hoping for a D.N.A. sample today. There was semen found with W.P.C. Burton.” His use of the word ‘with’ delicately glossing over its exact location.

“Given the similarities I’d like you to liaise with Inspector McNulty on this. Call her today, will you? But watch out, she’s a bit prickly. You know the type, ex-army and still trying to prove herself. So tread softly.”

He lifted the press release from the table and made to get up, hinting that Craig was being dismissed. Sure enough, he turned his back and headed back to his desk, opening the office door as he passed. Craig had a sudden thought.

“Sir, any chance this is the Dissidents?”

Harrison swung round to look at him. He hadn’t taken McNulty’s anti-police idea seriously, but now a D.C.I. was saying it.

He covered his omission slickly. “Of course, Intelligence is already on it. Until we’re certain that the husband did it, we have to cover all bases.”

Craig smiled inwardly. He knew that he’d caught him out and he also knew Harrison would be onto Intelligence as soon as he left the room. Harrison continued speaking as if the question had never been asked.

“Susan will give you a copy of the press release and you’ll get the Chief Constable’s statement on the intranet later today. Brief your female officers to take care just in case. Meanwhile, I’ll draft a release on your garage case and run it by you this afternoon. Where will you be?”

“I’ll contact D.I. McNulty now, and then I’m going to the lab to meet John Winter. I could ask him to speak to the lab in Limavady if that would help?”

“Yes, good, good.”

Every senior officer in the force was in awe of John, as the youngest ever Director of Forensic Pathology for Northern Ireland, and Craig’s life-long friendship with him hadn’t gone unnoticed. It amused them both.

“Yes, do that.”

Then, like a dismissive headmaster, Harrison waved him out and Susan politely handed him a warm press release as he walked past. “It was very nice to see you, D.C.I. Craig,” she said, before cutting eye contact, having already allocated him the attention she felt due for his rank.

She reflected Harrison perfectly and Craig wondered what Nicky said about him? As he walked away, he noticed that the magazine fan had already been restored to its glossy perfection.

When he re-entered the tenth floor, Davy Walsh, their computer analyst, beckoned him over. Davy was a gangly, handsome twenty-something whose height had outgrown his width about six inches ago, and whose floppy Emo hair often had him teased for being a ‘big girl’ in a world of short hair-cuts.

He spoke with an occasional stutter on S and W, making the wind-up merchants deliberately give him the two letters to research. In revenge, Davy cheerfully pointed out the various obscenities that started with both, using them frequently on his tormentors. Especially after a few drinks, when his stutter disappeared completely.

“Liam asked me to run the w...wire through the import/export database, sir. They’ve only made it from 2005, in one firm in Russia – Dashevsky’s. Only one company here imports it – Turners. Liam’s gone to meet them and he s…said he’ll call you later.”

“That’s brilliant. Anything similar on the murder across GB?”

“Nothing yet, but I’m looking. Dr Marsham e-mailed me the info on the hammer and it’s really interesting.”

“How?”

“It’s definitely not a normal hammer. The image and electron microscopy don’t fit anything common. The circumference is too big and the end’s far too pointed. I’m chasing it up now.”

“OK, thanks Davy. Let me know.”

Craig turned and walked past Nicky’s desk into his office. Just then, she bent down to reach something and he saw her new ‘list’ sitting on the corner of her desk. He calmly tipped it into the bin and then entered his office quickly, lifting the phone and hitting the connecting code for Limavady Headquarters.

“Detective Inspector Julia McNulty please – it’s D.C.I. Craig from Docklands.”

Put on hold to the theme of Greensleeves, he turned to the window to watch the lively harbour traffic, wondering again why the police couldn’t pay for decent album music. A sudden tap on his shoulder turned him round, towards the figure of Nicky. She was standing with her arms folded, her ‘list’ dangling from one hand, a raised eyebrow confirming that she’d spotted his sabotage. He smiled in defeat, indicating that she take a seat, just as a female voice came on the line.

“McNulty here, what can I do for you D.C.I. Craig?” Her voice was soft and clear with a mixed Anglo-Irish accent, and its defiant tone was one he recognised in himself every time a senior officer phoned.

He smiled across at Nicky, determined to be collaborative, and started to explain why the D.C.S. thought that they should chat.

She seemed to relax slightly as he talked, giving her the details of the McCandless murder and highlighting the similarities between their cases. In turn, she insisted that she was on top of her murder, that Paul Burton was innocent, and that she’d prove it, just as soon as the D.N.A. came back. Craig countered by saying he’d be even more interested if Burton was innocent as it opened up the possibility of their female suspect linking to both murders.

He completely missed the tension re-entering her voice when he suggested that John liaise with her pathologist. At that point, any facade of her collaborating collapsed, and her defensive tone tipped into rudeness.

“Our path lab is excellent, so we certainly don’t need any assistance from Belfast on that front.”

“I’m offering to liaise, Inspector McNulty. It’s to both our advantages.”

“We already have the advantage.”

He barked back at her, “Oh really? Enlighten me.” In a brusque tone that pulled Nicky upright at the edge of his view. McNulty was obviously still talking, and at some length, and Nicky watched as Craig’s grip on the receiver clenched and whitened, until he finally snapped.

“Detective Inspector McNulty, if Dr Winter and Dr Marsham wish to engage with your labs, then that’s exactly what they’ll do. And if D.C.S. Harrison feels that these two cases are linked, which I’m inclined to agree with, then we will work together to prevent another murder. And believe me; your ego will not prevent it. Is that clear?”

Nicky watched his face redden and she smiled to herself. Craig was scrupulously polite, especially to women, so his phone companion must be a real piece of work. Even so, she knew he’d beat himself up afterwards.

He listened for a few seconds longer before ending the call with an abrupt, “I’ll be in touch, D.I. McNulty.” And Nicky watched him fight the urge to slam the phone down. Instead, he pressed the button sharply to cut the call, then, when he knew she’d gone, he slammed the receiver so hard against its cradle that it bounced onto the floor. He stared down at it as Nicky bent to pick it up, and she waited for the inevitable explosion.

“Of all the rude...for God’s sake...that woman still thinks she’s in the Army, and she’s obviously used to giving orders rather than taking them.” He sat down heavily behind his desk and swivelled his chair to look out the window, gathering himself for a few seconds, before turning back, towards her wide smile. She grabbed a coffee and put it in his hand as he turned.

“Thank God it’s Friday, Nicky. This week’s already gone to hell. That woman’s unbelievable.” She nodded at him sympathetically, like a good P.A.

“What was it about?”

“Our garage case and her riverside case have similarities. The D.C.S. spotted them and he’s right, except she doesn’t want any help. Typical military.”

He suddenly noticed that her hand was empty and smiled. “Where’s your list? Taking pity on me?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am. And I’m being nice to you because your mum’s just called me about Venice and I’m meeting her for coffee next week.”

“You’ll enjoy it. You’re both crazy.” She laughed at him.

“And for that, we’re going to spent at least an hour discussing you.” He knew she was only half-joking.

“What was on today’s list anyway?”

“Not much – just planning the direct appraisals you have to do.” He groaned.

“There are only four. Liam, Annette, Davy and me. They’ll be easy ‘cos we’re all brilliant. The rest of it is just time sheets and expenses you have to approve. There are two case reports for the Public Prosecution Service that need tidied-up, plus a sentencing guideline. An hour will do it all, so how does Monday suit you? You’ve a meeting at 11am but you’re free before that...Well, on paper at least.”

It was a dig at his tendency to arrange his own diary without telling her, making for constant double-booking.

“First thing, does that suit?”

“Yes, fine. Now chill out and I promise I won’t put any more army officers through. And don’t forget you’re due at the lab at three. Alright, sir?”

“I love it when you call me sir with such sincerity. Then I know you’re winding me up. ”

Nicky laughed. He was already berating himself for allowing Julia McNulty to wind him up, so he pictured her as short and fat with a helmet of dark hair and hidden tattoos, and felt better immediately. Then he just felt chauvinistic.

“Can you get the others together for a quick briefing at two please? By the way, what was Liam’s eventual punishment for you doing his expenses?”

“A bottle of my favourite perfume. The perfume, mind you, not the eau de toilette.”

“Good for you, but I think you should have gone for more. He can afford it with that fat expenses cheque coming.”

She smiled and closed the door softly behind her, leaving him with thoughts of two women, both of whom were determined to ruin his weekend.

Chapter Eight

The high-sided van opened and Jessie was led down the steps by a slight W.P.C. She looked at her for a moment, feeling bad about Maria Burton, but her remorse passed as quickly as it came. She’d had to die; three children’s futures were at stake.