Shadow Sins (DCI Wilson Book 2) (3 page)

CHAPTER 7

As soon as Wilson walked in the door of the Station, he knew that something was wrong. He had been passing through the very same door for more than six years but never had the feeling of things being not quite right as he did that day. One thing he knew for sure was that the feeling had nothing to do with the dead body in the burnt-out church. He was about to turn right in the direction of the large room housing the Murder Squad when he caught the eye of the Duty Sergeant. The movement of the Duty Sergeant’s head stopped him in his tracks, and he moved quickly to the desk.

“Mornin’ Boss,” the Duty Sergeant said. “The DCC is waiting for you in the Chief Super’s office. Trouble at the Mill.”

“Any idea what?” Wilson asked.

“Very hush hush, way beyond my pay grade. But lots of shit has obviously hit a very big fan. You best get on up there before the air in here gets too heavy to breath.”

Just what you need on a Monday morning , Wilson thought as he moved to the lift, a large dose of Deputy Chief Constable Roy Jennings.  The DCC and he had been classmates when the entered the Police College and while he had concentrated on catching criminals, Jennings had followed the political route with the consequence that Jennings was now three steps higher on the career ladder than Wilson. It would be putting it mildly to say that they didn’t get on. Wilson was well aware that Jennings would prefer if he could find some other employment. They hadn’t met professionally since the Dungrey business but because of Kate’s profession they were forced to run into each other socially. Jennings made it a matter of principle to ignore his subordinate on such occasions.

The lift stopped on the top floor, and Wilson made his way along the corridor to the Office of Chief Superintendent Donald Spence, the big boss of the Station. The Chief Super’s Secretary looked up as soon as Wilson entered and nodded towards the door of her boss’ office. “They’re waiting for you,” she said.

The faces of the two men in the office told Wilson that his antenna for trouble was in good working order.  Both men looked like their favourite dog had just departed the planet.

“Good Morning Donald, Roy,” Wilson said as he closed the office door behind him. He smiled as he saw Jennings wince at the use of his fist name.

‘Morning Ian,” Spence replied. “Please take a seat.”

“So,” Wilson said as he dropped his bulk into a chair facing Spence’s desk. “Whose dog died?”

“Your attempt at levity is quite out of place,” Jennings said from the corner of the room.  He was pacing back and forth in front of a window overlooking the street.

“Just wondering what I’ve done wrong,” Wilson smiled at Spence.  The two men were not only colleagues but also friends.

“Strangely enough this is one of those occasions when my presence here does not indicate that you have managed to drop us in the shit,” Jennings said. He nodded at Spence.

“We have a little problem,” Spence said. “ There was a call out last night for a sexual assault. A young lady was attacked in her flat. She knew her attacker and identified him to the attending officers. The man she identified as her attacker was Joe Worthington.”

Wilson was almost speechless. “Our Joe Worthington. Superintendent Joseph Worthington.”

“The very man,” Spence continued. “The young lady is a female officer in the PSNI. It appears, and I stress it appears, that Joe sexually assaulted a junior officer. The lady in question has made an official complaint and the DCC has had no option but to suspend Joe pending an investigation.”

“Ironic isn’t it,” Jennings said from the window. “For years, you have been working your way through the female personnel of the Force without a peep. Now we risk losing a senior officer because of a single indiscretion. Some people have all the luck.”

Wilson ignored the barbed remark.  The truth was that more than one senior officer had forced his attentions on his junior female colleagues. While he had indeed had sexual relations with more than one of his female colleagues, it had always been consensual. “Has anyone spoken to Joe yet?”

“That’s where you come in,” Spence said. “We want you to carry out the investigation. At least to establish the sequence of events.”

“What about Professional Standards?” Wilson asked.

“We may go there but right now the complaint is sexual assault which is a criminal offence and must be investigated as such.”

Jennings resumed his pacing. “This situation must be contained. The reputation of the Force is at stake. I have some severe reservations about putting an investigation of this sensitivity into your hands, but the Chief Superintendent has convinced me that your reputation is such that your fellow officers would be satisfied with whatever conclusions you reach.” Jennings glanced at his watch. It was evident that he had given enough of his precious time to this matter.

“This news will go around the Station like wildfire,” Wilson said.

“I’m sure it already has.” Spence was well aware of the impact the arrest of a Superintendent would have on his Station.

“What about the body in the burned-out church?” Wilson asked. “Time is vital in following that one up.”

“Who’s handing it?” Spence asked.

“This is an operational matter that does not require my attention,” Jennings said looking at his watch again. “I must get back to HQ I have an important meeting with the Chief Constable. I don’t need to stress that I want this investigation to be thorough but sensitive. Do not screw up, Wilson.” He strode to the door and left.

“That man is a complete asshole,” Wilson said as the door was closing.

Spence smiled. “I think he might just have heard you but he would never admit it. Losing Joe is a major blow. I’ve looked at the preliminary complaint and to be honest I think that he’s fucked. When she didn’t comply with his requests, he tried to convince her by giving her a couple of punches. Whichever way the investigation goes he’s finished.”

“We’ve got to try to keep the poor bastard out of prison,” Wilson said. “What the hell was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t that’s the point. I asked Jennings to appoint you as temporary Superintendent but he wouldn’t hear of it. As long as he remains as DCC, you’re going to stay where you are.”

“If I’m lucky,” Wilson smiled. “It’s been three months since George died, and I’m still without a sergeant. What about Harry?”

“The bugger can’t pass the sergeant’s exam and you know the way the pen pushers are. For the moment, Harry isn’t in the frame.”

“The poor sod spent the day at the burned out church and he did a bloody good job. He’s just bugger all use with book learning. “

“Discussion over. Joe is in the interview room on the first floor. Since you’re now in charge of this case, I suggest you interview him. He’s already been charged with sexual assault. The female officer in question is Colette Doogan.” He tossed a tan folder on the desk in front of Wilson. “That’s her file. The optimum solution is that she drops the whole matter, and we can get rid of Joe quietly. That’s what Jennings wants so we’re going to have to work towards that solution. “I think it would be a good idea if McElvaney interviewed her.“

“What about the burned-out church and the dead body?” Wilson asked.

“Later,” the Chief Superintendent said.

CHAPTER 8

Instead of going directly to the interview room on the first floor, Wilson went to the Murder Squad room situated on the ground floor. His full complement of staff were already at their desks. Harry Graham rose immediately to meet him as he entered. The other members of the Murder Squad, DCs Eric Taylor, Ronald McIver, Moira McElvaney and Peter Davidson looked up from their desks and nodded.

“Morning Boss,” Harry said. “The autopsy is at 11:00 at the Royal if you want to attend.”

“You go,” Wilson said and saw the satisfaction in Harry’s face. He wanted to be at the centre of the new enquiry.

“Bad news on the search warrant. We won’t have it until this afternoon.”

“OK, put a visit to the Gilroy house into your agenda for three o’clock this afternoon. We’ll go together.” Wilson looked over at the other desks. “Briefing on the Gilroy business in thirty minutes. Get the photos set up on the whiteboards.”

“I’m on it, Boss,” Harry said enthusiastically.

“Peter,” Wilson said and Davidson looked up immediately from his desk.

“Yes, Boss,” Davidson said.

“I want to know everything about church burnings in the Province. Trawl through the records and get me something by this evening. Add it to the board and be ready to say a few words at tomorrows briefing.”

“You got it, Boss,” Davidson said.

“Moira, in my office now.”

“Boss,” she said immediately rising from her desk and moving towards the small office that Wilson inhabited at the side of the larger room that housed the entire squad.

“Do you need me, Boss?” Harry asked expectantly.

“No, you know what you have to do. I want you to concentrate on the dead body in the church. I want to know for certain whether it’s Gilroy.”

Wilson followed Detective Constable Moira McElvaney into his office and hard as he tried to could not restrain himself from checking out her fine ass. The DC was the latest recruit to his squad. She was also the sole woman and the only Catholic in the Murder Squad that had initially been a source of disquiet for Wilson. However, she had proven herself to be a more than competent addition to the squad.

Wilson flopped into his chair and tossed Colette Doogan’s tan file on the desk before motioning Moira towards the chair opposite him. When Moira had arrived in the squad, Wilson’s office had looked like a bomb site with files and miscellaneous papers stacked in great heaps around his office. After one of his enforced breaks to move house, he had returned to the office to find that everything had been filed away neatly. He was still trying to get used to the new level of neatness in his surroundings.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m sorry I turned up for work’ look on your face, Boss,” Moira said as she took the seat facing Wilson. “Tough weekend?”

“The opposite,” Wilson tilted his chair back. “Ideal weekend followed by a descent into crap.”

Moira smiled. She had noticed a change in Wilson since he had moved in with Kate McCann. He was a lot more chilled out. “I saw the piece on the news last night about the church and the body. They caught you and Harry on the footage.”

“That’s only murder. What I’m talking about is real crap and I’m about to drop you right into the middle of it.”

Moira’s brow furrowed. This was old Wilson not the new chilled out version.

“Our esteemed leader Superintendent Joe Worthington is in an interview room on the first floor,” Wilson leaned forward in his chair. “Apparently, he forced himself into the flat of a young female officer last evening and demanded sex. When she didn’t comply, he decided to force the issue.” He pointed at the dossier on his desk. “That’s the personnel file on Colette Doogan, the female officer in question.”

“And?” Moira asked.

“I’ve just been up with the Chief Super and DCC Jennings. They’ve put me in charge of looking into the complaint.”

“I thought that Professional Standards did that sort of stuff.”

“They should but this is being kept very quiet for the moment. Which is pretty damn stupid because by lunchtime every copper in the Station is going to know about it and by late evening, every copper in Belfast will have some version of the story.  In the meantime, you and I are going to have a bash at making this thing go away and making DCC Jennings’ day. Now you’ve got that ‘I’m sorry I turned up at work to-day’ look.” He smiled.  “Welcome to the crap club. And you’ll be comforted to know that you were asked for by name.” He pushed the file to her side of the desk.

“Light reading for the moment but I want you talking to her personally before the morning is out. I want to know everything that happened last night. She was discharged from hospital and she’s at home right now. Ask her to come in. Book the soft interview room. If she brings her solicitor along, you’re going to have your work cut out.”

Moira pulled the file towards her. “During your visit to the top floor was there a discussion on what a satisfactory outcome might be.”

“You’ll go far in this business,” Wilson said. ‘The desired outcome is that the whole affair goes away. Whatever happens, Joe is finished. He’s been suspended pending a full investigation of the complaint against him. They’ll put him on medical leave for a while and then he’ll be obliged to seek early retirement.  It might be in the Constable Doogan’s best interest to withdraw her complaint given that Joe is finished anyway.”

Moira picked up the file. “No promises. I’ll get to this after the briefing from Harry.”

CHAPTER 9

Wilson sat through Graham’s briefing on the body in the church, but his mind was on his upcoming interview of Worthington. He decided not to go straight to the interview room. While the corpse at Saint Cormac’s might not be Jennings’ or Spence’s priority, as Head of the Murder Squad, it was his. So Joe Worthington would have an extra hour to stew in his juices.

Graham wound up the briefing by announcing that he was on his way to the autopsy and that as soon as there was any additional information it would be in the Murder Book and on the whiteboard. 

“Thanks, Harry,” Wilson said as soon as Graham had finished. “I have nothing more to add except that I interviewed a Monsignor Devlin at the scene. He’s a member of the Bishop’s staff, and he was smoothness personified. I got the impression that he was there to make sure that we didn’t walk on anyone’s toes. He made bloody damn sure that we didn’t get into Gilroy’s house to collect the DNA sample. That makes me wonder why. We’ll have a warrant by early afternoon so Harry and I will give the place a quick going over. If the body turns out to be the missing priest, forensics will have a shot at the house.” Wilson turned to Eric Taylor. “Eric, CCTV. I didn’t notice anything around the church, but I want you to check it out. Look for any cameras in the surrounding streets. One last thing, Peter, I want you to run up a profile on this Monsignor character. I want to know what there is to know on him.” He winked at Moira. “I’m going to be AWOL for an hour or two so let’s get to our assigned tasks until Harry gets back from the Royal with news of the autopsy.”

Wilson walked alongside Moira as he exited the room. “Have you arranged to interview Constable Doogan?”

‘I’ve booked the soft room and she’s on her way in now,” she replied.

“We rendezvous at lunch to compare notes.”

Superintendent Joseph Worthington holding his head in his hands at a small table in the interview room. A tape recorder had been set up on the table, but Wilson had no intention of using it. This interview was going to be strictly off the record.

“Hello Joe,” Wilson said as he entered the interview room. He was carrying two styrofoam cups of coffee.

“You took your fuckin’ time,” Worthington said removing his hands from his head and placing them on the table. “I’ve been in this stinking room for five hours, and you haven’t had the decency to get this shit over with.”

Wilson stared into Worthington’s sunken eyes. His normally pale face was even paler than usual, and it was apparent from his dishevelled appearance that he hadn’t slept. “I’m not happy with this either,” he said taking the seat facing Worthington. He placed one of the Styrofoam cups in front of Worthington and sipped from the second one before putting it on the table. They were alone in the room. Normally, a constable would be stationed at the door but that had been dispensed with.

Worthington picked up the cup and sipped the coffee without comment. “I laughed when they told me Jennings had put you in charge of investigating that tart’s complaint. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black. You know the local joke about you, Ian. A guy says to his wife who’s a constable ‘I hear Wilson has fucked every female officer in your station except one’. And the wife replies ‘it must that stuck-up bitch in records.’” Worthington laughed spraying brown droplets of coffee from his mouth. “It’s kind of ironic they send you of all people to look into a sexual complaint against me.”

“Sometimes a joke is just that, Joe,” Wilson said quietly. “I’ve had my fair share of female constables but they’ve all been willing participants. But enough about my reputation. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“Fuck you,” Worthington said spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. “You’re whiter than the driven snow because they all leapt on you. Well unfortunately some people who don’t have your physical endowments or who weren’t big time rugby players have to use alternative charms.”

Wilson drank from his coffee and watched his former boss over the rim of his cup. Worthington was not only tired and overwrought. He was scared.

“We’re going nowhere with this attitude, Joe, “ Wilson said. “I’m only doing my job so let’s get the aggression out of the way.”

Worthington took a deep breath and stared at the top of the table. “Look here, Ian. We’re colleagues who’ve worked together for the past two years. I’ve covered your arse with the boys upstairs on more than one occasion. So I pushed it a little with Doogan. There’s no capital crime here. Nothing happened. She freaked out and called it in as a sexual assault. I never laid a hand on the bitch.”

Wilson drained his coffee before crushing the cup and tossing it into a wastebasket. “How come you went around to her flat?”

“That little tart Doogan has been teasing my prick for the past two weeks. You know flicking her tongue, rubbing herself on me. So last night I went around to her flat with a bottle of wine so that we could have a drink together. She let me in and we started on the wine then all of a sudden it went pear shaped. She started shouting at me to get out. So off I went only to have some of the boys come around at five o’clock this morning to bring me to the Station.”

Wilson sighed. “I was with Spence and the DCC this morning. Things don’t look too rosy right now. It doesn’t look good a senior officer demanding sexual favours from a constable.”

“Christ, Jennings is such a bloody puritan. He’s going to hang me out to dry,” sweat had broken out on Worthington’s bald pate. “Am I going to get out of this, Ian?”

“Not with your job,” Wilson said and watched Worthington wince. “The objective is to make sure that you don’t do time and that the whole business is kept as quiet as possible.”

Worthington’s head sank lower. He was aging before Wilson’s eyes.

“So that’s what you’re about,” his face took on a look of disdain. “You’re after my job.”

“We both know that’s not true because we’re both aware that Roy Jennings will never promote me. They’ve already decided that you’re out. What we need to do is make sure to limit the damage. And if we’re going to do that then you have to tell me the real story.”

Worthington lifted up his head. “I went around to her flat with the bottle of wine like I said. She let me in and we had a glass of wine together. I thought that it was time to move things forward so I moved to fondle her breast. She pulled back but I just kept going. That’s when all hell broke loose. Then I got out of there as fast as I could.” Worthington’s lips made a quick smirk as he finished.

That was the ‘tell’, Wilson thought. He had interviewed enough people to know that he was getting the sanitised version of events. He had just been lied to and the smirk was an involuntary reaction on Worthington’s part that the lie had been sufficiently well told to be accepted.

“Does your wife know anything about your situation here?” Wilson asked.

Worthington reddened. “No. And I want your assurance that she won’t hear anything about it.”

“She won’t from me,” Wilson said. “One of my officers is interviewing Constable Doogan as we speak. I want you to hang on here until I have the result of the interview, and after that we’ll talk again. And, Joe, if you’ve told me the truth then I’ll stand by you. But if you’ve lied to me, I’ll cut you loose and whoever wants can have you.”

At the door to the interview room, Wilson turned and saw that Worthington returned to holding his head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

Sometimes Moira McElvaney didn’t like being ‘the’ female detective constable. It wasn’t that the rest of the squad looked in her direction whenever the word ‘tea’ was mentioned. She had made it pretty clear from the start that she wasn’t the gofor. What annoyed her was that every time there was a woman in the frame, she was called upon to show the feminine side of the Belfast Murder Squad. The Worthington case wasn’t in her line of work. The Super hadn’t killed anybody and she realised that she would be walking on eggshells dealing with a case that involved her boss’s boss. It was therefore with a certain amount of trepidation that she pushed open the door of the ‘soft’ interrogation room. The concept of ‘soft’ interrogation was an innovation of the more gentle kind of policing that regional police forces like the PSNI were now promoting.  Unlike the normal interrogation room with its stark furniture of wooden table and chairs, the ‘soft’ room had four easy chair distributed around a low coffee table. The atmosphere was more suburban living room overlaid with IKEA chic. A Nespresso machine stood on a small table at the back of the room.

Police Constable Colette Doogan and her solicitor were already installed in two of the easy chairs. Neither rose to greet Moira as she entered.

Moira sat in one of the easy chairs, removed a small tape recorder from her pocket and placed it on the low table in front of her.

“My name is Detective Constable Moira McElvaney,” she said noting the slight hesitancy in her voice. She would hate to admit it but she was feeling a lot more uncomfortable than she had either anticipated or would like to admit. She decided she was going to have to pull herself together if she was going to perform. “I’m going to switch on the tape recorder to make sure I have an accurate record of our conversation.” She pressed the record button and looked at the two women seated across from her. The bruises on Colette Doogan’s face had already turned a nasty bluish colour and Moira noticed two cuts near her puffed left eye. It didn’t look good. She was a pretty girl who at that time looked a lot better in her file photograph that she did in the flesh. Her dark hair was unkempt and she was wearing a lumpy pullover and a pair of faded Levi jeans. Clearly she was not overweight and if dressed to fit would have a relatively good body. In contrast, the woman who sat beside her in a two-piece black suit with a notepad open before her was substantially overweight. The solicitor’s brown hair was pulled back from her face and tied in a bun at the back of her head. She wore a white blouse and her stomach seemed to be trying to escape from the constraints of her jacket.

              Moira was still unsure of how she was going to play it. There were two possibilities. She could come over all professional or she could display compassion for a fellow female. She decided that it would be better to begin by being professional.

“Could you say your names for the tape please?” Moira asked since neither woman had spoken a word since she entered the room.

“Colette Doogan,” the voice was so low that it was barely discernible.

“Georgina Hamilton,” the solicitor said.

“I’ve looked at the file and I’ve read the statement that you made to the attending officers last night,” Moira opened the buff-coloured file in front of her. “I’d like to take an official statement that I’ll have typed up and you can sign before you leave. Is that OK with you?“

“Yes,” there was a little more strength in Doogan’s voice. She took a sideways glance at Hamilton who nodded her assent.  She cleared her throat before starting to speak. “I was at home in my flat last night watching a film on TV when the doorbell rang. I answered, and it was Superintendent Worthington. He asked could he come in. I was hesitant about admitting him.” She paused for a moment as though thinking. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let him in because I could smell drink on his breath.”

“Nothing was your fault,” Hamilton said quickly.

A smile flitted across Doogan’s lips. “He was carrying a brown paper bag shaped like a bottle, you know like the ones they put wine bottles into at the off-licence. He opened the bag and produced a bottle of wine and unscrewed the top. He offered me a drink.” She paused for a moment. “ I didn’t want to but I thought it best to go along and get him out as quickly as possible. We sat down and clinked glasses. I was so nervous that I couldn’t speak. He started telling me how beautiful I was and how he fancied me from the first day he met me. I didn’t know how to respond. I was just trying to finish up the drink and get him out of there as quickly as possible. Then he started telling me that his wife was a frigid old bitch that wouldn’t give him sex. That’s when I started to get worried and suggested that he leave. He said something like ‘I’m not leaving until I get what I came for’. He grabbed hold of my breast, and I pulled away. I shouted ‘No’ like we’d been told at the anti-rape course.” A tear crept out of the corner of Colette Doogan’s bruised eye. “That seemed to set him off. ‘Another frigid bitch’ he muttered and punched me hard in the side of the head. I was dazed, and he started pulling at my clothes. He had his penis out of his trousers, but it was flaccid. I fought him off as best I could, and I got a few more punches for my trouble.” She lifted her pullover and displayed bruises to her left-side ribs. “I made it into the bathroom and managed to get the door locked. Then I phoned 911 and waited for the police to arrive.”

“Can I get you some water?” Moira said.

“No, thanks,” Doogan wiped a tear from her eye. “I just want to go home.”

Moira leaned forward and turned the tape recorder off. “I’ll have your statement typed up and you can sign it before you leave.” She stood up and went outside to arrange the typing of the statement. When she returned, Doogan’s and Hamilton’s heads were close together, and they were in deep conversation. The conversation stopped as soon as Moira re-entered the room.

“Just a few questions,” Moira said in her gentlest voice as she retook her seat. “Did you ever give any encouragement to Superintendent Worthington?”