A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (9 page)

For seconds that dragged like minutes she leaned against the post, eyes closed, until the ringing passed and her sweat dried. Then she opened her eyes, to see the traffic still running, and her taxi driver still sitting at the kerb, counting his fares. It was over for another while, but Jessie knew that she needed to hurry now, if she hoped to complete her task.

She moved as quickly as her high-heels allowed, joining the short queue into one of Belfast’s roughest clubs. Her hand was stamped with dye, and then she was waved-on into the darkness. Rhythmic shadows from the strobes crossed the faces of the young, and not so young, and she prayed that her extra medication would prevent the seizure that the lights could provoke.

It was like walking into a safari; the females huddled to one side, the males prowling and watching. She knew that she had to act quickly, so she looked around desperately, searching for only one thing, couples. Especially couples where the man faced the door deliberately, so that his eyes could wander over each new female entrant, without his clinging girlfriend seeing his betrayal. It didn’t take her long to find him.

He was tall with short dark hair and a strong jaw, handsome in a half-pretty way, but overly groomed and self-aware. He admired his refection frequently in the glass beside him, and cast around constantly for an upgrade from the slim brunette hanging from his neck. Perfect! An arrogant prick with a possessive girlfriend – just what she needed.

The girl around his neck sensed something and looked around hostilely, searching for someone, but unsure exactly who. Just any woman who would steal her prize.

Jessie walked quickly to the D.J., whispering in his ear, and gifting him a long enough look at her breasts to ensure that he finally nodded and moved to the discs by his side. He selected one in particular and she moved back to the floor, ready for her performance.

She caught the eye of the half-pretty man with a silent promise and began to dance, slowly and sensuously. She ignored any looks but his, feeling the music, with its soft French words, promising sex and creating heat. Her hands wandered down her body, touching her breasts and thighs, her eyes closed.

She could feel the room watching her, and she half-opened her mouth and then her eyes, ignoring the crowd of staring men and fixing only on her target. She beckoned gently towards him, seeing him and only him. Ignoring his companion, dismissing her as totally unimportant, and prepared to do whatever damage it took to get her where she needed to be tonight.

His eyes wandered over her body, a smile touching his lips. His pupils dilated in the darkness, and he moved towards her, pushing the obstacle in front of him to one side. He crossed to the centre of the floor touching her hair, kissing her lips, stroking her thighs. Moving in time to the music, pulsing and soaring, his arousal forcing her to see him. He was strong and hard, and involuntary responses came from her body. This wasn’t the plan but could add to the plan. Jessie returned his pressure firmly, with the full length of her body, oblivious to the other shapes starting to move beside them.

She half-opened her eyes and was rewarded by the sight of his old companion standing beside them. There was fury in her eyes as she grabbed at his arm, only to be pushed away in response. Time to perform.

Jessie turned to the girl in mock anger. “Can’t you take a hint? He’s with me now.” Then, for added effect. “Piss off!”

She dismissed her sneeringly and seized her new lover’s face in her hands, kissing him deeply with a sensuality that she thought she’d forgotten. Then, just as she’d hoped, the other woman grabbed her arm and Jessie spun her round viciously, pushing her hard across the floor. It was working.

The floor emptied and bouncers stood watching with folded arms, while calls of “Cat-fight, Cat-fight,” echoed around the room. Jessie saw the girl coming at her again, so she shrugged off her dance partner and threw herself at her assailant. She’d seen women fighting on television so she knew exactly what to do to be arrested, and that was her only aim tonight.

She moved slowly to the edge of the floor, with the girl following as she’d planned. She reached for Jessie’s hair and Jessie stepped forward to let her, falling deliberately to her knees beside a small table. Gripping its edge as if to help herself up, she seized a half-full beer glass, tossing the beer on the floor and breaking its edge against the table. Then, with an almighty effort, she got to her feet and ran towards her adversary, skewering and twisting the broken glass firmly into the girl’s bare upper arm. She knew exactly where to cut without hitting a major vessel – this girl wasn’t her enemy – she was just the means to an end.

Blood spurted onto the floor and the dark-haired girl fell to her knees, startled, her eyes locked onto her own blood in fascinated horror. Jessie went for broke and stalked the floor with the bloody glass, holding the bouncers at bay. She swore and threatened them with its broken edge for what seemed like an endless time, giving her audience a free show. Until eventually she was grabbed from behind in an arm-lock and she dropped the glass, feeling the tight restriction of a police cuff around her thin wrists.

She smiled inwardly to herself, while outwardly her spitting wildcat entertained the crowd as they watched her exit. None of them aware that her real game was just beginning.

***

“Maria Burton was only 24. Joined up last year.”

“And now this happens.”

“It mightn’t be anything to do with the job, Ma’am. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I really hope it
was
personal. The last thing we need is some nutter out there randomly targeting female officers. I’ve got the intelligence boys checking the usual suspects just in case.”

Gerry paused for a second. “Was she married?”

Julia nodded and took a deep, comforting drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke into a long white funnel in the night air. They were standing in the brick alcove outside the station’s back door, full of hardened smokers whatever the weather. The fresh-faced Detective Sergeant beside her tutted slowly, with deliberate exaggeration.

“That’ll kill you, Ma’am.”

“For God’s sake, spare me the lecture Gerry. Everyone dies sometime.”

“Aye, that’s so.”

His soft Derry drawl dragged the last word into a song and she smiled. She loved any accent but her own, especially the soft ones.

“But not at thirty-five, Ma’am.”

He shook his head disapprovingly and she dropped her spent cigarette, deftly crushing it with her foot. He had ‘Ma’am-ed’ it to death.

She sighed heavily. “All right, you win. God, but there’s nothing as boring as a reformed smoker.”

He smiled in victory, careful that she didn’t see. You could only take the piss so far with the D.I.

“What else do we know about her?”

“Separated six months ago – and just got her decree nisi. She told her sergeant she’d married too young.”

“Never a right time, is there? Have uniform brought the husband in yet?”

“For identification?”

“For a suspect. You know fine well most of these turn out to be someone they know. The bogey man in the bushes is an urban myth Gerry, no matter what the press say.”

Julia groaned, reminded of the media briefing she had coming. If Maggie Clarke was there, she’d focus on her. There were good journalists, and there were hacks. Maggie was one of the good guys, giving unbiased reporting in her column for the Derry Telegraph. The others could go to hell.

“Anything back from forensics yet?”

“They found semen, so that’s good news. The bad news is that all the sperm were dead.”

“Isn’t that to be expected in the water?”

“Not the intrauterine ones, and they’re dead too. Still, they’re running it for matches, known offenders.”

“And the husband?”

“And the husband, Ma’am.”

He was about to say something but thought again and shrugged. Julia saw the gesture and knew what was coming, so she thought she might as well ‘bring it on’.

“Go on then, say what you’re thinking.”

“Aye, well, it’s just...aren’t we being a teeny bit cynical Ma’am? Not all ex-husbands are axe murderers.”

She turned to look directly at him, ready to whip out a sarcastic remark, but the genuine naivety in his eyes reminded her that there were still some nice guys. She bit back the comment, turning to go. Then, unable to resist the last word, threw “you haven’t met my ex then” over her shoulder.

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it made her feel better, and the boss always made the closing speech. Rule number one.

***

“Name?”

“Kate Rogers.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Jessie really couldn’t believe it. It had worked. She was actually being booked. Tonight she’d be in a cell, and she’d act up so much that tomorrow a Judge would have to remand her. And there was only one place to remand women in Northern Ireland. Wharf House. Exactly where she wanted to be.

Chapter Six

Julia couldn’t sleep, so at six am she’d decided that she might as well be paid for her insomnia, instead of lying in bed alone. So here she was, knackered, and standing in the hallway of headquarters dying for a cig. She reached into her bag for the comforting shape of the small box. Wondering again, why no one had started a religion where the deity was a giant cigarette, the answer to all troubles. She’d definitely join it. Hell, she’d be a Priestess!

Her mobile would have to substitute until she got outside, so she flicked it open and pressed ‘Gerry’. It was answered within four rings, and not for the first time she felt like a complete loser for having her three quick-dial numbers as Gerry, the Chinese takeaway and her mum. She really needed to get out more.

“Hi chief, what can I do you for so early?”

“Is Burton ready for interview yet?”

“Give me a break, it’s eight o clock! I’m still at home and no-one human is even awake yet, except you ex-army types. But I’ve got some good news for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Burton’s denying everything, so that’ll give you something to get your teeth into.”

Julia perked up immediately – she loved a challenge.

There was no one around to tut at her, so she lit a cigarette just before she left the building. Defiantly blowing smoke through her nostrils like a dragon, just as she opened the door. The tut came anyway, by telephone.

“You’ve just lit a cig, haven’t you? I can hear you.”

“Yep, and you’re not here to tell me off.” She blew more smoke into the receiver in a ‘fuck-you’ exhalation. Pity it was soundless.

“And I’m going to have another one after this, so that’ll give you about ten minutes to meet me upstairs with the reports. The D.C.S. wants me at ten; to get the press off his back, so let’s get Burton down for eleven. We need something definite on this today Gerry. And you do want to see your wife and kids tonight, now don’t you?”

***

“Joey McCandless said the debt collectors were always calling them. Poor woman – at least that’ll stop now.”

“Will it? Won’t she inherit his debts?”

“No, not on the garage, he’d sewn it up tightly in his name. And the house insurance will leave her pretty well off.” Annette caught Liam’s quick look.

“No! Not enough to justify bumping him off. God, but you’re cynical, Cullen.” Liam winked at her and grinned.

“I keep telling Danni I’m worth killing, but she says not to tempt her. By the way, my witness is a complete star and she’s coming in to give us a sketch. She’s described four people at the garage that day, plus McCandless. Three men and a woman.”

“A woman – are you sure?”

“Yep, I’m sure. She saw a small woman. She even described her hair and face – despite her wearing a hoody. She caught a good look from the front.”

So the boss was right, their likeliest killer was a small woman and Liam had probably already spoken to her. It certainly fitted with the trip-wire. And the fact she’d killed him in clear daylight meant that, either she thought she was flameproof and would never be caught, or she didn’t much care if she was. And that was much worse. People who thought they’d nothing to lose were always much more dangerous.

Craig heard them talking and wandered out of his office, pulling up a chair.

“The description certainly fits Liam, but how reliable is your little lady?”

“Sharp as they come, boss. I tried to test her memory about general things and she told me to stop being cheeky, and then calculated the seven-times-table in her head while she was pouring the tea. And you want to see the notebook she keeps! It’s full of details about people coming and going. She watches the whole street from her window.”

Craig nodded at the thought of his own mum. She was only sixty-nine but he could imagine her running rings round some cheeky young copper in ten years’ time. She’d eat them alive if they underestimated her. Annette smiled at the thought of Liam perched like the Jolly Green Giant in a world of doilies and chintz. She’d pay money to see that photograph. At least he’d spent his afternoon more pleasantly than they had. Mrs McCandless silence would live with her for a long time, that and the way Joey had wiped the tears from his cheeks as he talked about his dad.