The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (3 page)

Craig spoke first. “It’s a photo-frame.”

The others peered at the image and acknowledged that he was right.

“Who the hell puts a photograph inside a bomb? You’d have to hate someone a lot to blow up their picture.”

Craig shook his head. “Or the opposite. You could be saying ‘I did this for you’. If you hated someone you’d make them the victim of the bomb, not use the bomb to celebrate them. We’ll find out for sure when we see who was in the photo.” He turned to Des. “Was there anything that could have been a picture found nearby, Des?”

Des shrugged. “That was all they sent through. You’ll have to ask the army.”

Craig leapt to his feet, beckoning Liam to do the same. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Chapter Three

5 p.m.

Katy Stevens wrinkled her forehead at the dress in front of her, struggling hard not to show her dismay. It was a blancmange of yellow taffeta, with yards of frills down one side. Natalie Ingrams watched her best friend’s face through a lens of excitement.

“Isn’t it gorgeous? You’ll be carrying a posy of Poinciana as well; they’re the flower of the island. It’s almost identical to my dress, except mine is white of course.”

She grinned broadly and danced around the room, holding Katy’s bridesmaid’s dress in front of her. When Natalie slowed down, Katy took a deep breath and motioned her best friend to take a seat; rifling through her medical training to find the section headed ‘breaking bad news’. She prayed that she was equal to the task. If she wasn’t then she’d be spending Natalie’s wedding dressed as a giant fruit.

“It’s… lovely, Natalie. Very pretty. But…”

Natalie’s face fell and Katy felt instantly guilty. She fought her need to confess that she was trying to change Natalie’s mind because the dress was hideous, and convinced herself that it was impractical instead. She could beat herself up for the lie later.

“It’s just… I checked the temperature on the island, so that I knew what to pack, and it’s going to be in the eighties for the whole two weeks. If you wear taffeta, you’re going to be par-boiled.” She produced the piéce de resistance. “You’ll be bright red in all your photos!”

Katy convinced herself that it was for the greater good. The wedding photos would haunt Natalie for years, not to mention making her look like a giant grapefruit. Natalie’s small face fell further as she considered, then her expression brightened and Katy could see logic beginning to trump desire.

“Eighty degrees? Are you sure?”

Katy nodded, setting her blond waves flying. “Positive, I wanted to know what sun factor to bring.”

Natalie pondered for a moment longer and Katy could see every thought reflected on her face. She interjected cautiously.

“Have you paid for the dresses yet?”

Natalie shook her head. “No. They’re off the peg. On approval for a week, from that bridal shop in the city-centre. You know, the one called ‘Never leave me.’ ”

Katy nodded. She knew the shop and from what she’d seen of the dresses it sold, it would be more a case of ‘Bye-bye’ than ‘Never leave me’ for most bridegrooms. She reached into her U.N. peacekeeper’s toolkit and made a tentative suggestion.

“What if…”

Natalie blue eyes swivelled round like a hawk. “What if what?”

“Well… the ceremony’s being held on the beach. Yes?”

Natalie nodded suspiciously. “Yes… so?”

“So it’s going to be absolutely roasting and do you really want to spend the happiest day of your life feeling like a cooked chicken?”

“But…”

Katy pushed on. “Because I know a shop where we can find something absolutely perfect for you. Light and floaty, a dress that will suit you to a tee.” And one for her too, she hoped.

Natalie’s tone was sceptical; she’d trailed round a dozen shops already. “Really?”

Katy fixed an earnest expression on her face, keeping an image of Craig gazing admiringly at her in her bridesmaid’s dress firmly in her sights.

“Yes, really. It’s called ‘Forever Bridal’; I know the lady who runs it and she’s lovely. Look, what do you have to lose? ‘Never leave me’ is going nowhere so you always have that option. Let’s just go and have a look. If you don’t like any of the dresses then you’ve lost nothing.”

Natalie considered the suggestion and finally uttered a grudging “Well…”

It was the opening Katy needed. She phoned ‘Forever Bridal’ to book an appointment, praying that it had both their sizes in stock.

***

Gresham Street, Smithfield. 5.30 p.m.

Craig stood in the doorway of the erstwhile bookshop and scanned the debris in silence. All that was left of ‘Papyrus’ was a heap of paper and wood partially swept into one corner by the army forensics team, and the remnants of shattered shelving gripping the walls for dear life.

The bookshop had been small; cosy, Craig imagined the owner had called it, with leaded-glass windows onto Gresham Street and a musty old-book smell that had survived the blast. He could just make out the remnants of a wooden banquette on one side, where prospective buyers would have been encouraged to sit and browse amidst the dusty quiet. Shreds of dark-red leather lay in the corner revealing the banquette’s past covering, and shards of smooth brown wood lay everywhere, its joists and grooves saying that it had once formed bookshelves that stood tall and strong, supporting the written word. It was the sort of shop that Craig loved and had often longed for, as a place to spend the endless hours waiting while girlfriends shopped in town.

Liam watched his boss, smiling quietly and reading his thoughts. He’d longed for a place to hide when Danni dragged him into the city-centre too, but his ideal venue had beer on tap and a football match on the box. He broke the shrine’s silence reluctantly, but one of them had to or they’d be there all night.

“They fairly hammered it, didn’t they?”

Craig dragged his eyes away from an aged leather-bound volume with barely three pages left inside, wondering whose first effort it had been. He stared at Liam in the fading afternoon light.

“The shop might have been incidental. A casualty of war.”

Liam glanced at him curiously. “You mean they were after the people? I thought you said earlier…”

Craig nodded, remembering what he’d said. “I’ve reconsidered. If you just want to destroy a building, you do it when it’s empty. This was aimed at someone or something in the shop.”

Liam’s curiosity turned to puzzle. “But if it’s one man you’re after, why kill everyone else in the process? Bit indiscriminate, wasn’t it?”

Craig glanced up sharply. “Good point. One man could have been taken out anywhere; at home or perhaps even shot in the street. It would have been a lot less messy than this. You know what that means?”

Liam didn’t know but decided on a well-worn bluff. “Aye.” The word implied knowledge without the need to elaborate.

“It means that either they were after more than one person who was in the shop, or there was something in the shop that they wanted to destroy as well. They were after both man and thing.”

Craig’s assertion was greeted with a sceptical snort.

“Who kills for a pile of old books? A mad librarian?”

Craig gave a small smile. “I know it sounds unlikely, but books can be very valuable, Liam. There was one sold in the ’90s for thirty million dollars; a 15th Century Da Vinci Codex. Collectors will pay a lot.”

Liam gave a low whistle. “More money than sense.”

Craig continued his train of thought. “Maybe they would even pay to stop a book falling into someone else’s hands.” He considered for a moment and then shrugged. “This is all speculation until Davy and Des give us more.”

Craig took the single step down from Papyrus’ doorway and began to move slowly around the room, stopping occasionally to peer at some small pile at his feet. Liam did the same without any idea what he was looking for, holding his nose to block out the smell of burnt wood and flesh.

Suddenly a shape appeared from the gloom at the back of the shop. Liam stepped back quickly, his hand reaching instinctively for his gun. Craig waved him down. The shape was a light-green suited bomb disposal officer, searching for the final remnants of whatever had caused the blast.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet us.” Craig noted the man’s rank and added. “Captain…?”

“Smith. But it’s Kenneth, Ken, please.”

Smith shook Craig’s hand then removed the mask obscuring his face. The face that appeared was in its early thirties; its grin said that the man found something amusing. He nodded towards Liam, making his blond fringe flop across his brow.

“Your mate’s a bit jumpy, isn’t he?”

Craig smiled and introduced Liam, adding. “He’s seen a few too many bombs in his time.”

Smith grinned again and shook Liam’s hand. “Veteran of the Troubles, then. Brilliant experience for bomb disposal. I missed all that.”

Liam gave a wry smile. “Your miss was your mercy, lad. They were grim times.” He nodded towards the back of the room. “Bomb planted back there, was it?”

Smith nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. It packed quite a punch. Simple design; basic Semtex and a timer. For some reason they used an old pocket watch for that; it’s pretty bashed up but it did the trick. Anyone nearby was a goner.”

Craig interjected. “One man wasn’t.”

Smith nodded. “Yes, we’re not quite sure how Delaney escaped. “ He kicked some shards of wood at his feet. “The bookshelves might have saved him, we’re not sure yet. My boss is trying to get hold of the floor plan to work out the logistics.”

“So are we.” Craig glanced around the shop. “Can you talk us through what you’ve got so far?”

Smith nodded eagerly and walked towards the front door. “Give me a minute to get out of this clobber and I’ll be with you.”

One minute later he re-appeared, clad in khaki trousers and T-shirt. He was lean and fit with the year round tan of the well-travelled; although in Smith’s case Craig was certain he’d holidayed in Iraq and Afghanistan, not Barbados and the South of France. Smith’s blond hair was as long as regulations would allow and Craig could just make-out a small hole in his earlobe, where an earring was worn on his days off. He smiled to himself, knowing the young officer was just his younger sister’s type, not that Lucia was ever likely to meet him.

“Right then.”

Smith’s crisp English tones focused them on their task and they walked slowly towards the back of the shop. He hunkered down, pointing at a pile of glass and dust beside the back wall, close to what was left of a small doorway. Craig joined him while Liam decided to take their word for it. Hunkering down with his bad back might mean that he wouldn’t straighten up again for a week.

The bomb disposal officer lifted a pen from his trouser pocket and spread the dust, revealing a clear area underneath.

“You’ll notice that the floor around here and most of the walls have been damaged, but this area is clear. That’s because it’s where the bomb was sitting. The blast went up and out from the centre, leaving the area directly beneath it clear.” He nodded at the doorway behind them. “That door led to the loo and staff-room. They’ve been wrecked but not quite as badly as the shop itself, so we reckon that door was closed when things kicked off. There was no-one in there but if there had been they might have survived as well.”

Craig interrupted. “Dr Marsham, our Head of Forensic Science, said there was some sort of frame found in the bomb debris.”

Smith nodded so hard Liam thought his fringe was going to concuss him. His voice echoed its excitement.

“Yes. It’s brilliant. We think it’s made of titanium, really rare and really hard, that’s why it survived the blast semi-intact. It has scrollwork down the sides and a glass front. That splintered in the heat of course, but there were remnants of a photograph underneath.”

Craig cut in urgently. “Titanium? Who makes a photo-frame out of that? Unless they wanted it to survive the blast because whatever it held was important. Could you make out an image? Where are the frame and photo now?”

“At our labs. It’ll take the tech people a while to work out what it was. ”

Craig’s voice was stern. “It needs to be in our labs. Have the frame remnants sent over to Dr Marsham please. And whatever’s left of the watch.”

Liam knew a battle for ownership of the forensics was about to begin. He’d done this dance with the military before. He attempted a joke to lighten the mood. “I’ve heard of nail bombs, but never one with a photo and an old watch.”

No-one laughed. Instead Smith leapt to his feet and for one minute Liam thought he was going to salute. Instead he snapped out. “Yes, sir. Right away. I’ll speak to Major James.”

Craig waved the younger man down. “When we’ve left will be time enough. It’s just important that we don’t lose the evidence. You understand.”

Smith exhaled noisily, relieved that he wasn’t in trouble. “Yes, sir.”

Smith spent the next ten minutes moving slowly around the room, pointing out scorch marks and wood and paper debris that Craig knew represented thousands of pounds of valuable books. Every so often they paused at an area of red and pictured the dead body that had lain there, or the detached body part that had caused a smear. Finally the tour was finished and the three men emerged onto Gresham Street. Smith stretched out his hand to shake.

“I’ll speak to Major James immediately, sir.”

“That will be fine, Captain. Now, go and enjoy whatever’s left of your evening and we’ll try to do the same.”

As Smith climbed into the waiting armoured car Liam squinted at Craig. “Did you mean that about us going to enjoy our evening? ’Cos if you did, I could just get home in time to watch the footie and you could head to your folks early.”

Craig thought of his mother Mirella’s three-line whip for Friday night family dinner, happy to defer the experience for a while. She’d moved it to Thursday this week because Katy was coming with him for the first time and she was on-call for most of the weekend. Craig knew an evening of scrutiny lay ahead of them and he was eager to defer it as long as he could.

Craig smiled at Liam, knowing that they had opposing agendas. “No, I didn’t mean it. We’re heading for St Mary’s to interview our survivor.”

Liam shook his head in defeat, knowing that another hour of questioning lay ahead before home. He just hoped that Danni remembered to tape the match.