Shadow Sins (DCI Wilson Book 2) (22 page)

“But you weren’t a participant.”

“That’s the reason I cannot comment on the proceedings,” Devlin looked at his legal adviser who nodded.

“Was Father Gilroy found guilty?”

“No comment,” Devlin said quickly.

“Chief Inspector,” the Solicitor cut in before Wilson could continue. “Monsignor Devlin has been accused of impeding a police investigation. What relevance has a clerical enquiry undertaken at some time in the past got to the charge currently under investigation?”

“We’re beginning to put a picture together,” Wilson started. “I am more convinced than ever that your client was responsible for removing materials relevant to my investigation into the death of Father Gilroy from the residence at St. Cormac’s. The reason these materials were removed, and I think subsequently destroyed, was that they would have provided me with evidence that Father Gilroy was involved in paedophilic activities. Since the beginning of this investigation, I have been searching for a motive for Father Gilroy’s murder. The removal and possible destruction of those materials may have been responsible for inhibiting me from identifying the murderer in time to prevent the subsequent murder of Father Reilly. The clerical enquiry might have established that Father Gilroy was indeed a paedophile. In that case, it should have been reported to the relevant civil authorities. However, we can find no mention of Father Gilroy on any of our databases. Consequently, I am led to believe that his guilt has been covered up and that in order to ensure that the cover-up was not blown the materials at the residence had to be removed.”

The Solicitor smiled and played with his pen. “I am sure I do not have to point out that your hypothesis is based on very little evidence. Firstly, you have no idea of the result of the clerical enquiry. Secondly, you have so far failed to provide any proof that my client removed even a sheet of paper from the residence at St. Cormac’s. It is entirely possible that a person or persons unknown may have gained access to the residence on hearing of Father Gilroy’s death. Without evidence, your hypothesis is simply your version of events. Other versions might also be feasible.”

Wilson felt that he had gone as far as he could but didn’t want to finish on a down note. “We are still examining CCTV footage of the area surrounding St. Cormac’s. I’m hopeful that we’ll find some evidence of your client’s part in sanitising Father Gilroy’s home.”

“Are we done here?” the Solicitor said presaging a response by screwing the cap onto his pen.

“One final question,” Wilson said. “Monsignor Devlin,” he laid a heavy emphasis on the word Monsignor.  “During your ordination, do you take any vows against lying?”

Devlin smiled. “No, lying is part of the human condition. However, I did take an oath to protect Our Holy Mother the Church.”

“DC McElvaney, please close the proceedings,” Wilson said. “We’re done here for the moment.” He turned to the Solicitor. “The Monsignor is still under charge and is not to leave Belfast.”

Moira checked her watch and went into her closing rigmarole. She switched off the recorder and removed two cassettes. She handed one to Wilson who passed it immediately to the Solicitor. The second she put into her own pocket.

CHAPTER 46

The team assembled at exactly five o’clock. There was a certain level of tension in the air mainly due to the appearance of CI Harrison. While the members of the team stood in a half circle around Wilson, Harrison had taken a chair and sat at the rear of the group.

“Okay, first let me welcome CI Harrison to our little gathering,” Wilson nodded at the fat figure lounging at the back of the group. “I’m sure that we’re all looking forward to his incisive interventions. We’re beginning to make some progress.”

Moira smiled at McIver and Davidson, who returned the smile. Wilson was more upbeat than at any time in the current investigation.

Wilson continued. “Moira and I have just interviewed Monsignor Devlin again. Moira run us through the main points of the interview.”

Moira coughed and began her report on what they had learned during the Devlin interview.

“So,” Wilson said when she had finished.  “We have a possible motive for Father Gilroy’s murder and some conjecture regarding the murder of Father Reilly. Gilroy was accused of abusing children at some point in the past.”

Ronald McIver raised his hand.

“Yes, Ronald,” Wilson said.

“I’ve tracked Gilroy in the Province until 1997. Then he disappeared. We think that he went to Canada but I’m still waiting for confirmation from the RCMP.”

“Good work,” Wilson said. “We have a date. So the abuse was probably detected in or before 1997. The Church held a clerical enquiry that showed Gilroy was abusing children. He was packed off to Canada and the whole matter was hushed up. Then, for some reason, he shows up in Ulster again.”

McIver raised his hand again.

“Ronald.”

“He’s been back nine months.”

“So for some reason he’s been returned to sender,” Wilson said. “It’s possible he blotted his copybook in Canada. Ronald, I want you to follow up that line. What parish was he in when he was sent off to Canada?”

“Dungannon, in County Tyrone,” McIver said quickly.

“Peter, that’s your line of enquiry. I want you to liaise with the locals, but I want you to find out what they know about Gilroy. Find some of the parishioners from the 1990’s and see if they thought that something was going down.” He turned and tapped the photo that Moira had extracted from the CCTV footage of the Glen Road. “The homeless man is looking better all the time. Let’s suppose he was one of the abused children, or maybe he was the father of an abused child. Get me names, people, especially children, who moved on in suspicious circumstances. We need to find this guy, and we need to find him quickly. Moira and I hit four homeless missions in the city this morning, but so far we’ve drawn a blank. Despite that we’re on a roll. I want all the information we’ve gained today written up and collated. Harry, I want you to go over the witness statements again. Concentrate on the statements we got from St. Cormac’s. We all know that paedophiles cannot be cured so it’s a pretty good bet that Gilroy was still active. Evidence, we need evidence. If there’s nothing in the statements, re-interview the parishioners.” Wilson looked beyond the semi-circle surrounding him. “CI Harrison anything to add?”

Harrison ignored him.

“We have him in our sights. Let’s just hope that we get him before he does any more damage.”

“He’s getting close.” Harrison sat back in the chair and watched Jennings’ face.

The DCC was in deep thought. So Gilroy was a paedophile who’d been protected by the Church. It was no wonder that Bishop Carey was wetting himself. Covering up the activities of a paedophile was a dangerous business. Like drug addicts and drunks, paedophiles were notoriously devious. They could convince the best psychologists that they had reformed but the naked truth was that they re-offended in more than ninety per cent of cases. So covering up was pointless. You were always running ahead trying to cover-up the cover-up only for the person you’re covering up for to pervert the whole scheme. Maybe someone less talented than Wilson might have missed the thread, but the die was now cast. Whether they caught the man who had murdered Gilroy and the other priest or not, Wilson would go on the trail of the cover-up, and Jennings could see from Carey’s demeanour that the buck would stop with him. His Lodge brother was almost beyond help. He had tried with Harrison, Graham and the two idiots from Professional Standards but Wilson had managed to screw up the plan to get rid of him. Jennings’ only hope was that Wilson was running out of luck. He looked across at Harrison. The man lounged like some giant sloth in his chair. The only thing to recommend the man was his loyalty. There was no way he could ensure Harrison’s promotion to Superintendent. That would have to wait until he had ascended to the top office in the Force.

Harrison continued to watch the DCC. The silence in the room was of the pregnant variety, but he didn’t dare enter into the vacuum. He would have to wait the DCC out.

“You failed,’ Jennings said finally. “You’ve all failed. I have surrounded myself with incompetents. I wanted this investigation to fail but instead you tell me it’s on the cusp of a success. You may go.”

Harrison slowly rose from his chair. He knew better than to try and defend himself.  His promotion was now in the toilet, and he was as dedicated as his mentor to getting even with DCI Ian Wilson.

CI Harrison had been brooding in his office since his return from PSNI Headquarters. There had to be some stratagem, which would pull this particular chestnut out of the fire, but he was damned if he could come up with it. He decided that he had enough for the day. Perhaps a drink on the way home would click on some light bulb in his head and he would be able to redeem himself. He passed the Duty Sergeant and his crew without comment. Once outside the Station, he stopped to look around. There were several decent pubs in the surroundings, but most of them would have clients from the Station.

“Chief Inspector.”

Harrison looked up at the young woman who had hailed him from across the street. He had no idea who she was and equally no idea as to why she should know him. She crossed the road and stood before him.

“Chief Inspector Harrison, sorry for intruding. I’m Maggie Cummerford, crime reported on the Chronicle. We met at the press conference earlier this week.”

“Eh, yes,” Harrison had no recollection of them meeting. The woman appeared to be too young to be a crime reporter. She was wearing a leather jacket over blue jeans and she had one of those fancy satchels over her shoulder.

“I was intrigued by your presentation at the conference. The whole idea of a serial killer preying on catholic priests is fascinating. The public are lapping it up.”

Harrison drew himself up to his full height. “I developed that line of enquiry myself.” Appearing in the newspapers was always good publicity. It could even help in his bid for promotion.

“I would love to discuss how you came up with the priest killer theory. Maybe we could have a drink together?”

“I was just thinking of having a quick drink on the way home.  What about Lavery’s Bar?”

“I love it,” Maggie Cummerford said.

Moira had been sitting in her car when Harrison had exited the Station. She sat watching him as he scanned the street and was about to start the motor when she saw a young woman hail him from across the road. Her hand stalled on the key. She watched the two have a conversation before Harrison led the woman away in the direction of his car. Moira didn’t like Harrison. There was something creepy about the guy. She wondered what he had to do with a woman who was obviously less than half his age. She watched as Harrison led the young woman to his car and opened the passenger door for her. Moira made an instant decision that she would follow the couple. Harrison turned left onto the Shankill Road, crossed the Westlink and turned right onto Muirfield. Moira kept two cars between herself and Harrison’s BMW 3 series. Harrison turned left at Bruce and almost immediately right onto the Dublin Road. Moira nearly missed the last turn but she saw him turn just in time. She watched as he pulled into a vacant parking space in Bradbury Place. She waited in an area reserved for loading and watched as Harrison and the young woman left the car and entered Lavery’s Bar. She looked around for a suitable parking space, but none was available. She removed the plasticated sign with ‘Police on Duty’ stencilled on it and placed it under the windscreen. She left the car and entered Lavery’s Bar.

Harrison and his companion were seated in the Back Bar and had taken a table in one of the corners. Moira stood just inside the door of the Back Bar and out of sight of the couple. There was no question of getting close to overhear their conversation. Although the bar was well populated with the after-work drinking crowd, Moira could not take the risk of Harrison recognising her. It would be too much of a coincidence to run across her in a bar so far off their normal beat. She removed her mobile phone from her pocket and using two men at the bar for cover, she took several photos of Harrison and his friend in deep conversation. Then she slipped quietly from the bar. She would have liked to discover what Harrison and his companion were up to. It may have absolutely nothing to do with the PSNI or Harrison’s position. Or maybe it could have everything to do with both. Whatever it was the body language in Lavery’s Bar was conspiratorial. As she opened the driver’s side of her car, she wondered what the hell Harrison was up to.

CHAPTER 47

Wilson and Kate had both managed to get home before seven in the evening. Kate had stopped at the local butcher, and they were sitting at the dining table in front of filet steak with pepper sauce and salad.

“I ran into one of your people today,” Wilson said as his knife slid through a perfect medium-rare steak.

“Did you ever hear that shop talk could spoil a perfectly good dinner?” Kate held out her glass for a refill from the bottle of Saint Emilion she bought to complement the steak. ‘I spent a large part of the day with one of my clients who is accused of being the major supplier of heroin in the city, and I think that I’ve managed to destroy the prosecutions case. I’m not feeling entirely happy with myself right now.”

“That’s what you do,” Wilson filled her glass and then his own. “It’s not what you are. It’s up to the prosecution to get their case right.”

“I know,” she sipped her wine. It tasted of wild cherries. She wanted to be transposed out of Belfast and into the French countryside. Her mother wanted her to take a holiday in the villa in Antibes and at this particular moment, she could toss her work for a few weeks of sunshine and forgetfulness. “No shop talk.”

Wilson watched her as she ate. She looked tired. He understood. They were in two ends of the same business, and he was aware that the people they normally dealt with had the ability to drain the life from you. Aside from their colleagues, the only people they had contact with were criminals. If you asked the majority of people, whether they were acquainted with a criminal, they would probably be abhorred. Yet, they probably sat beside a banker at church who had siphoned off thousands from the accounts of the poor. Or their family members were involved in small time fiddles well beyond the law. But that didn’t count. The problem for Wilson and Kate was that they dealt with the real criminals. The murderers, pimps, people traffickers, paedophiles and drug lords had a chromosome missing. They were the psychopaths and the sociopaths, and they had the ability to get to you. They got their jollies by preying on the weaknesses of others.

“Your mother got home okay?” Wilson asked.

“Nice try,” Kate smiled. “If all we’ve got to talk about is our sordid working lives and my mother then we need to get out more.”

“Maybe we should take up golf?” Wilson returned Kate’s smile.

“We’re too young or should I say I’m too young,” she cut into a piece of steak. “Which of my colleagues did you run across today and in what context?”

Wilson named the solicitor who had accompanied Monsignor Devlin.

“He’s heavy duty,” Kate said as she placed a morsel of steak in her mouth.

“As are you, darling. And both of you have been retained by the Catholic Church. Somebody is running very scared.”

“Something tells me we are about to enter conflict of interest territory,” Kate said holding out her glass again. “Perhaps I shouldn’t remember this conversation.”

“One of our dead priests was a paedophile,” Wilson poured them both some more wine. “They knew fifteen years ago but they decided to cover it up. They got him out of the country but were probably forced to take him back when he had been cured.” He saw her raise her eyebrows. “I know,” he said. “They don’t get cured. Anyway, it could end up in court if we get enough evidence of the cover-up.”

“The Catholic Church has deposited a rather large retainer into my account,” she pointed at the food on the table. “We’re probably eating and drinking some of it right now. If you are going to put someone in the dock for covering up a crime, for God’s sake make sure that you have them bang to rights. I don’t need another case where I get a shit off because the evidence is faulty or tainted.”

“I promise,” he raised his glass in a toast. “To the Catholic Church.”

She smiled and clinked glasses with him. “I love you, Wilson.”

“Likewise, McCann.”

As they finished their toast, Wilson’s mobile rang.

“I do not believe this,” Kate said.

Wilson shrugged his shoulders.

“Answer the damn thing it could just have easily been mine,” Kate said.

Wilson glanced at the caller ID. He didn’t know it. “DCI Wilson,” he said.

“It’s Colin from the Central Mission. I might have something for you.”

“Good man,” Wilson said quickly.

“One of the regulars thinks that he has an idea of who the man in the photo might be. He’s not totally sure but I thought that you might like to speak with him.”

“Where is he now?” Wilson asked.

“At the Mission. He’s checked in for the evening.”

“We’ll be right there. And thanks. It’s appreciated.”

“Maybe one day you’ll do something for me,” Colin said.

“I know I’m going to regret this, but if you call on me, I’m going to do my best for you.”

“I’ll have our man standing by when you arrive.”

Wilson clicked off his mobile and stood up. “Sorry, we have a lead on our prime suspect.”

Kate waved her glass in the air. “You’re not driving and I could use a nice long bath.”

Wilson pressed Moira speed dial number. “You capable of driving?” he said without introducing himself.

“Yes,” she said her voice distorted by a mouthful of food.

“Pick me up immediately.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“You know where I live?”

“Sort of.”

He gave her the address and pressed the red button on his phone.

“I could get jealous of that girl,” Kate said.