A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (15 page)

“The killer needed the phone number. They turned the phone on to get its number.”

“What? No way, boss. Who’d take the time to do that? They could have been seen”

“Someone who didn’t care who saw them. They turned on the phone and got the number, knowing that we’d find the phone. Then she phoned us, calling herself Monica Gibson. Perhaps she couldn’t get the number any other way.”

“Weren’t the cars advertised? Then the number would have been public.”

Annette interjected. “No, they only went up for sale the day before. Joey told me. So the number wouldn’t have been known.”

“She wanted to show off.”

“No. It’s more than arrogance...”

Craig fell quiet, thinking. The killer didn’t care who saw or heard them, or who had their prints. Why? Did they think they’d never get caught, or didn’t they care? But it was more than that, almost as if they actually needed to show their contempt of the police. Again, why? And was ‘Monica Gibson’ working alone, or with a man?

He needed time to work it through, so he nodded at Annette to continue.

“I met with Mrs McCandless again yesterday, and I managed to see Joey separately this morning. That’s why I was a bit late. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Ian McCandless wasn’t having an affair, or at least if he was, he hid it very well. Although where he’d have found the time beats me. He was so regular in his habits.”

She lifted her notebook, flicking to its most recent pages.

“He left his wife to work every day at 8.45am - she was there all day Wednesday, I’ve already checked. Then he visited his mother from 9-12 to help her out and then went to the local chippy, for lunch at one. He worked in the garage in the afternoon or visited a newsagents’ shop he part-owned in Dundonald and helped out there, to give the girl a break. Then he collected his wife at 5pm and spent the evenings at home. He was a real family man.”

“Any grandchildren or babies around the family?”

“No, none yet. His wife nearly choked at the idea of anything dodgy with children, and immediately offered us access to their computers, the house, everything. I’ve someone over there now. He didn’t help out anywhere that he’d come in contact with kids either – no scouts or Boy’s Brigade, no Church or school activities, and the only sport he played was a bit of golf. He was ‘Mr Family-Man’ but we’re doing all the checks anyway.”

“How did she take the questions?”

“Upset but not defensive. She actually said that she understood we had a job to do. She just wants his killer caught.”

“OK, good. Follow up on all that and for any possible connections between Maria Burton and Ian McCandless. What about the son?”

Annette looked at him unhappily. “He’s a different case. His alibi for the time of the murder is weak. He says he was at college in a lecture hall with sixty other students, but conveniently can’t remember who he was sitting beside. So it would take a lot of legwork to confirm that he was there. He owns several hoodies but insists that there’s no way he was anywhere near the garage that afternoon, and he confirmed everything his mum said about his father.” She hesitated for a moment. “He wants to be a communications officer with a charity when he finishes his degree, so...”

“So...?”

Annette looked reluctant to say what came next, looking straight at Liam, as if daring him to be cynical. “He works in a voluntary capacity with the disabled, sir...so I suppose he would have had access to Purecrem...”

Liam sat back triumphantly, “Well, there you go then, he’s our man.”

She rounded on him angrily. “God – I just knew you were going to say that. You’re so bloody predictable, Liam.”

She turned to Craig for support. Even years of working with Liam hadn’t managed to make him cynical – sceptical maybe, but not cynical.

“I’m sure Joey’s telling us the truth, sir. I think he’s just a nice kid. I really believe that the whole family are clean.”

“I know you do, Annette, but if Liam put the C in cynical you put the T in Trusting, so check it out please.”

“But what’s his motive, sir? His mum says they had a really close relationship.”

“Sometimes that’s exactly the motive.”

Craig looked at her kindly. “Look Annette, I’m sure you’ll turn out to be right about Joey.” And he was. He looked challengingly at Liam, who just shrugged. “But we need to rule him out nevertheless.”

She nodded reluctantly, avoiding Liam’s eye but determined to prove him wrong. Their sibling rivalry was getting stronger and Craig could see it.

“Good, well done all of you. Please follow up on everything. Davy, can you run Maria Burton, Michael Adams and Ian McCandless for any connections please? But don’t spend all evening on it. It’s the weekend.”

“It’s fine sir, I can leave the computer running the searches and rig it to alert me on my mobile when it coughs.”

The three forty-something’s looked at each other in amazement, quite sure that he could do it but with no idea how.

“Right, we believe you. Liam, how soon will we have our sketches?”

“Well Ida’s fairly getting through them now. I should get copies to everyone before the end of the day.”

“OK great. Don’t forget to get that W.P.C warning out to all the stations please. If anyone wants me I’ll be at the lab until 3.45.”

He shot a quick look at Nicky and laughed, remembering her ‘list’.

“That’s if Nicky gives me permission.”

Chapter Nine

Craig was on his third cup of John’s strongest espresso and he was feeling more relaxed than he had all week. They were starting to make progress.

“It would be great if you’d speak to the North West labs, John. There are too many co-incidences between these cases for them not to be linked. But watch yourself with McNulty, she’s tricky.”

“She’s a woman – isn’t that part of the job description?”

Craig laughed wryly.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Liam. For God’s sake, don’t say that near Lucia, not unless you want the feminist lobby on your back. By the way, I’m meeting her latest man tonight; apparently he’s not as needy as her usual tortured artists. Plays piano with the L.C.O.”

“Your mum will love that. But can you really cope with two musicians in the family? Just think of all that artistic temperament flying around.”

Craig shrugged, smiling. The new man probably wouldn’t last anyway. Lucia’s men usually had a shelf-life of six months before it dawned on her that they weren’t ‘compatible’.

“Where’s Des? He called me earlier so I thought he’d be here.”

“He’s back at the hospital, it’s a long labour. First baby – that’s at least thirty-six hours of being sworn at.”

“Tell him Davy’s narrowed the weapon down to a captive bolt-gun. They use them for killing cattle. A Russian manufacturer makes the wire. There are only three users in Northern Ireland – two government departments, both accounted for, and a farmer up near Limavady. Liam’s on his way there now.”

“Is he visiting D.I. McNulty as well?”

“Yep, and if anyone can handle her, Liam can. The sperm is an interesting twist, isn’t it? Des thinks that it could have been frozen.”

“OK, I can see that happening. But how did they acquire it, to freeze it in the first place?”

“Pass. Limavady have the husband in custody.”

“I know. I just spoke to Trevor Cromie, their pathologist. The husband’s D.N.A. is a match, so they should get answers very soon. Are you in at the weekend?”

Craig nodded. “And every day until this is solved. Maria Burton is making the brass very nervous indeed.”

*** 

The D.N.A. report was sitting in front of Julia. She tapped a cigarette repeatedly on her desk, staring at the pink sheet, as if the semen’s owner would suddenly become a different man. But it was Paul Burton’s, no question about it. It was definitely his dead semen inside his dead wife’s body.

She knew that as soon as the D.C.S. heard about it, he’d want Burton charged, and she also knew that he’d be wrong.

D.N.A. or no D.N.A. there was no way that Paul Burton had done this. He was a wobbling blancmange of a man, without the balls or the venom to commit murder, except by games console.

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly by Gerry banging hard on her door. She waved him in and was instantly glad that she had. The triumphant smile on his face meant he had something to make her happy, he knew better than to smile at her today otherwise.

“What? Tell me.”

“The computer game’s timings and sat-nav back up Burton’s alibi. The big slug was online gaming from 9am –5.30pm yesterday, in Templepatrick. He obviously has no work to go to.” There was a slight note of envy in his voice and Julia looked at him reprovingly, so he moved on quickly.

“Anyway, basically there’s no way he could have got from Templepatrick to Portglenone, killed her and then got back home in time. The on-line activity was constant and his sat-nav didn’t move. He’s not our man.”

She punched the air in victory. But it was short lived. There was still the D.N.A. She slumped back in her chair, beckoning him to sit.

“That still leaves us with his semen. How did it get there? He said he hadn’t seen her for weeks.”

Just then, the half-open office door was rapped so loudly that the frame shook. And the doorway filled with the shape of an extremely tall, extremely broad man, so tall that he barely cleared the door. He was sandy haired and so pale that Julia had to try hard not to stare. But she did, and Liam Cullen stared right back.

Liam had come to Limavady prepared to do battle with a butch, overweight harridan, so the slim, pretty redhead in front of him was a pleasant surprise. And gave him enough ammunition to wind up the boss for months to come.

Julia had never seen anything quite like Liam, and then he spoke, and his voice matched the rest of him, booming and echoing its way around her small wooden-floored office.

“Inspector McNulty, I’m Inspector Liam Cullen.”

He thrust his large hand out so fast that it skimmed Gerry’s ear, but Gerry grinned up at him anyway.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Big Whitey. How the hell are you, Liam?”

Liam focused on him for a second. Then he recognised the now Detective Sergeant as a young P.C. who’d trailed around after him for two years when he was in uniform.

“Ach, Gerry lad, I didn’t recognise you. Sure, you’re nearly grown up. How are you?”

“Grand, grand. Married with two wee ones now. You?”

“Aye, one and one in the oven.”

Julia watched the exchange, amused. It was exactly the interaction she’d have if she met one of her junior officers now, not that that was ever going to happen in Limavady. It made her feel lonely suddenly and she was genuinely reluctant to interrupt their ‘love-in’, but she still wanted to know what a Belfast D.I. was doing on her patch.

“Well, gentlemen, sorry to break up ‘old home week’. And while it’s always a joy to have a visitor from the big smoke, to what do we owe this honour, Inspector Cullen?”

The frosty tone of her last few words reminded Liam of Craig’s description of her ‘attitude’. Pretty and all as she was, she had a sarcastic mouth on her. So he ignored the question just long enough to disconcert her, while Gerry watched and waited, smiling. Liam in action was a sight to behold.

Liam used the pause to look very slowly and deliberately around Julia’s small office. It was like some private detective’s hideaway from a Raymond Chandler novel, with wooden floors and scratched walls; Belfast definitely had the better deal on facilities. But he couldn’t have cared less about the facilities, his silence was working. He could sense her frustration building, and he could use her on-edge.

Finally, he answered her question, dryly.

“And lovely to meet you too, Inspector McNulty. I understand that D.C.I. Craig has already spoken to you about the similarities between your murder case and ours?” Adding, just to put her back in her box. “At the explicit request of D.C.S. Harrison.”

She seethed inwardly at the closing of the upper ranks and his alignment with them. “Yes, he has, and I told him exactly what I’ll tell you – we don’t need any help from Belfast.”

Her pursed lips and newly folded arms reminded Liam of Annette in a snit, they must learn it at the ‘Wimmin’s group’. He ignored her and ploughed on, while Gerry watched Julia’s face, knowing that she’d met her match, and not knowing which side to cheer for.

“Oh, so you don’t need any help, do you not? So can you explain the hand and knee abrasions and the shin cuts? And the dead sperm with the husband’s D.N.A.? And the unusual wire and hammer? Go ahead then, I’d love to hear it, because we’re not proud in Belfast – we’ll take all the help that we can get.”

Julia looked up at Liam with such venom that Gerry thought he saw a glint of real hatred in her eyes. Then she rose to her feet and stood facing him, the silence thick with unspoken expletives, neither of them giving an inch. Finally, ‘Gerry the peacemaker’ broke the quiet.

“Do you have anything that explains the forensics then, Liam?”

Julia’s glared at him for ‘fraternising with the enemy’ and he knew that her retribution later would be fierce.