by Dave Duggan
I opened the book and saw a younger Larry Mahon, in shorts and bush shirt, enclosed by the buttress of a giant rain-forest tree, a spray of red and white survey markers under his right arm and his left palm raised towards me, saying ‘back off’.
‘That was some time ago. Me, caught red-handed in an act of deforestation. When Todd Anderson was killed, I was back there, about 15 kilometres from that exact spot, engineering roads for a children’s camp and hill resort. Passing through KL, I caught the retrospective exhibition of the photographer, who took that image all those years before. She’s a smart woman. Yeh, she caught me rightly. Trousers down, you might say. All that confusion and anger. See the forest enclosing me? And my survey sticks? All those trees are gone. My handiwork. No, I didn’t have a relationship with Todd Anderson. I am sporadically heterosexual. No, I did not organise to have him killed, while I gave myself an alibi by being away. You’ll have to do better than that, detective. Would you like to see another photograph? One I now know has you in it.’
He led me toward the window that overlooked the walk-way towards the central square of the Craft Village, but instead of taking in a view of the sturdy beams and buddleia be-decked walls outside his flat, he pointed me at a framed photograph beside the window, warmly illuminated by a fine spotlight. A thin black frame held a copy of a newspaper photo, slightly blurred by enlargement, but it had not been retouched, so it presented reality in all its spare staginess. A wooden bier. A coffin, draped in a tricolour. Three figures in combat jackets and balaclavas, in spread-legged stances, small arms held above them in resolute two-handed grips, facing the camera and now facing me.
‘The big man, on the left, died a few years ago. In his bed. I went to his wake. The other two are still alive. You’re the small lad in the middle. That’s Dessie Crossan to your right, yes?’
I neither confirmed nor denied that.
‘And my brother Gerald is in the box. See the crowd, behind you? They’re close, obviously, but also far removed. Miles away. I wasn’t even there.’
‘It was the first time I used that gun.’
‘But not the last?’
‘No.’
‘You would use it again? That, or one like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s why I have the photo on the wall. I wouldn’t. Use that gun. Or any other.’
‘No one can say that.’
‘A gun put Gerald where he is now. In the box, there. In the ground, up in the cemetery, now. In the after-life, a pool of darkness on the other side of light, bookended by the before-life we never know. A short life story.’
I thought about my mother. All that river talk. The body in the box. The water rising. I wasn’t looking for Todd Anderson’s killer. I was looking for the dead.
‘And a long, long death story,’ I said.
That made Larry Mahon laugh.
‘The detective, as philosopher, eh?’ he said.
‘Mythologist.’
‘More tea?’
‘No.’
‘More questions?’
‘No. And yes. But not here and now.’
TWENTY SIX
Hetherington grew impatient. With me. With the Todd Anderson case. He had more questions. He wanted more and better answers. Hammy gave him the platform from which to ask them, though Hetherington was clear he had no desire to share any platform with me.
‘I offered my opinion, sir, as to why I thought it was inappropriate that DS Slevin should join us at this time, but given that he is here, it allows us to put some questions to him. If I may, sir?’
It was no surprise that Hetherington didn’t want me there. The surprise came earlier, when Sharon prompted me with a pointed finger and a clear message. I thought I had been fully set adrift.
‘MR9. Hammy wants you. Now.’
Five adults is just about the limit of the small meeting room Hammy had allocated. He was pacing. Karolina and Josh were in chairs by the window, where a broken blind limped across a view of the side wall of the Technical College next door. Hetherington, by means of his recent moves up the ladder and the boost that gave to his self-esteem, managed to capture the focus of the room by sitting on a high-stool he’d lifted from the coffee nest beside MR9. All the other furniture was stacked against a wall as if the decorators were expected any minute. I stood by the door, not planning to stay very long.
‘You may certainly put some questions. But not before you give me some answers. Have you got that gun?’
‘No, I …’
‘Have you connected the hair tissue with the victim?’
‘I was …’
‘That’s another “no”. Do you have at least one suspect?’
‘No.’
‘Any motives?’
‘No.’
‘Any leads?’
‘No, but if …’
‘Let’s keep with the “call and response”, though the odd “yes” would make a nice change.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Nice try, Hetherington. Nice try. But not the full pakora,’ said Hammy.
I hugged the door-frame, ready to reach for the handle and be the first out of the room when the boss cleared it. Hammy began pacing again, more briskly now, five steps to the left, swivel on the heel, five to the right, pause, turn, five left once more, then repeat. Each time he came towards Josh and Karolina they lifted their feet further and further off the floor. If his pacing continued much longer, their knees would be at their chins.
‘I gathered us here this morning, because I need to crunch down on this Todd Anderson case. It’s been eleven months or so now, up in the air like some kind of birthday balloon no one loves anymore. We need to bust it or let it fly off to the outer edges of our universe with all the other flyaway balloons we can’t tether. So, Hetherington, with your full team gathered around you, give me the three-line pitch for the successful closing of this case.’
There was a pause, as Hetherington scanned his tablet. Josh made to open a window above him, but Hammy strode towards him and he folded himself into Karolina and brought his knees up to his ears. I bowed my head and smiled to think how good the job could be at times.
‘Now would you please be so kind, DC Hetherington, before these two climb on top of each other and we have to separate them with a pail of boiling water, like me Da used to do when the dogs in the street got too amorous.’
Karolina and Josh extricated themselves from each other, replanted their feet on the ground and blushed like harbour beacons in a fog.
Hetherington was resolute.
‘This is a complex and intractable case, sir. Despite strenuous efforts by numerous officers and teams – and I’ve only had oversight of the Todd Anderson case for a short period – no untrammelled leads have been found.’
‘“Untrammelled”. That’s good. Too “Oxford Shorter” for Josh and Karolina here, but straight out of Slevin’s primer on obfuscation. Eh, Slevin? Whadya think? You taught him well, eh?’
‘Sir.’
‘Homo Monosyllabus, it is then. Could you do something for me, DC Hetherington? Would you mind unravelling some of that trammelling, like a good man?’
‘Sir, perhaps … certain matters I have before me …’
‘Spit it out, boy. You’re not on Crime Hour, where you have to build a false sense of suspense. We’re the cops, remember. We only do the answers, not the drama.’
‘As I said, sir, I’m unhappy that DS Slevin is attending, as some of these matters relate to him.’
‘Not at all a surprise to me, Hetherington. Not at all a surprise. Josh, get up there and open a couple of windows, will you? I was round at me Ma’s last night and enjoyed one of her finest wazwans – pungent qeema, a splendid rogan josh, rista, kofta, piles of biryani, delicately tuned yoghurt. I expect it will find expression low down in the digestive tract anytime now.’
‘Grade A, sir. Best silage this side of the Glenshane Pass.’
I held my breadth and Hetherington breathed steadily and held my gaze. Furiously.
Hammy was smiling, fully in control of his material and of us. He knew where he wanted to go with this meeting. He was prepared to let Hetherington decide the packaging, but not the content.
‘Now, that we’ve managed to clear the air – thank you for your alert action, Karolina – please put your questions to DS Slevin.’
‘Perhaps it would be best if, well, some of this material is sensitive and, I feel … junior officers, such as Josh and Karolina …’
If Hetherington kept going like this, I would have nothing to fear. He’d already alienated himself from his boss and now he was insulting his colleagues by openly admitting he was keeping things from them. Josh and Karolina made no move to leave and Hammy didn’t want to take any of the pressure out of the room. I added my own ginger to the spicy mix by opening the door slightly and stepping aside.
‘Good man, Slevin. Ever helpful to your old pal, Hetherington here. But, no, we won’t be letting any more wind out of the room and neither will we be letting our highly-esteemed new cadre exit either. We’re all in this together, as the bankers keep telling us when the economy collapses at their instigation. Shut the door, Edmund. The air in here is too refined for the bloodless ghouls around the corner there.’
Hammy smiled when I recognised his ‘round the corner’ reference. Just past MR9, at the start of the abutting corridor were ML1 to ML5, where representatives from Internal Security had their labyrinth.
‘Now, Hetherington, your questions. And no hesitations. Let’s keep the old TV thing going. Courtroom drama, please. Ask the questions directly. And, Slevin, straight answers, if you can possibly manage that. And you two, no notes, no tittle-tattle afterwards. This is the grown-up version of the game. We’re way past the watershed. Proceed.’
Hetherington was still unsure, but couldn’t back out now. He took a moment and then spoke directly to me, keeping his eyes fixed on mine.
‘Do you know the crime scene technician Mervyn Campbell?’
‘Yes,’ I played along.
‘Did you meet him at the canteen in Maydown?’
‘Yes. He supported my work when I solved the case of the drunk murdered behind the electricity sub-station.’
‘Bravo!’ said Hammy. ‘Bravo! See that, you two? Let us not speculate about what DS Goss might say about who solved that case. Continue.’
‘You didn’t meet with him on any other matter?’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t discuss the Todd Anderson case?’
‘Of course we did. In general terms. “What are are you working on now?” sort of thing.’
‘Exemplary. Top of the class, Slevin,’ said Hammy, with a brief round of applause. Nothing was real anymore. He was taking us into the fantasy of a role-playing exercise at the training college. It was Hammy’s play, an exercise in theatre, looking and sounding good, but as empty as an irrigation ditch in a drought.
Hetherington consulted his tablet.
‘And when you met Mervyn Campbell, in January, did you meet with anyone else at Maydown?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you take Sharon’s car and not one of the pool vehicles?’
Karolina and Josh leaned forward at this. Another layer of office politics seemed to be growing across this cesspit, a skein of illicit romance, perhaps. They liked the smell of it. Hetherington ploughed on.
‘And why would you be meeting Mervyn Campbell when the case you worked with DS Goss was well and truly solved and closed by then?’
I took some pleasure in how much more confident Hetherington had become. He now had three questions running with me and no matter in which order I took them he could still feint a cross question onto the one I’d ducked.
‘Yes. The case was solved. I found the key clue, the blood-soaked towel, the item that closed the case …’
‘Don’t lay it on on too thick,’ Hammy warned.
‘… and I had some final follow-up, some administrative notes to go over with Campbell.’
‘I am looking at footage here,’ said Hetherington, browsing his tablet, ‘which shows you in the canteen with Mervyn Campbell …’
‘I had the lobster. Mervyn had the surf and turf. Prawns on a bed of carrigeen moss, adorning his sirloin.’
Josh enjoyed that one, coming in with ‘Good man, Mervyn’ and Karolina mouthed a protective warning at him.
‘Then I have footage of you climbing into the small red car you came in, some forty-five minutes later. It can’t have taken you three quarters of an hour to get from the canteen to the car-park.’
‘Toilet run, I imagine. The lobster was dodgy. I should have known. It looked more cerise than pink.’
‘So, you went to Maydown, in a civilian car, not your own, and you met a technician allegedly to discuss a case already closed and then went missing for almost an hour. Why do I think all of this points to you being at Maydown for some reason other than the reason stated?’
‘I don’t know why you think what you think. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I had lunch with Mervyn, went to the loo, had a laugh with others, admired the scenery and left as planned. Mission accomplished. Oh, and the mystery car. Sharon’s. I was having trouble getting a vehicle from the pool and she kindly offered me the use of her personal vehicle. I was grateful to her, of course, and bought her a pineapple the next day, in thanks.’
Hammy stopped pacing and moved to stand beside Hetherington. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he said,
‘You have to understand what you’re dealing with here, Kenneth. Slevin is well used to being interrogated. He can bat away with you like this for hours in a tiresome game of Pac-Man. Remember that? Too young? Computer game. Two paddles. Pock pock. Back. Forward. You see, he knows he’s going nowhere and so he’ll sit tight. He throws you information, stuff you already have and is of no real use to you, and all the while you’re wondering where you want to get to and what you and your paramour might have for the tea.’
‘I’m trying to assist DC Hetherington as best I can, sir,’ I said. ‘However, I’m glad Josh and Karolina are present to hear your remarks, as they give a succinct description of the to and fro of an interrogation. This really is a very good, role-play training event. You should perhaps have made that clear at the start, though it adds to the depth of the training, letting it emerge as it goes along.’
‘This is no game, Slevin and you know it,’ said Hetherington. ‘This is you covering your tracks, just when the truth is about to come out.’
‘Put it to him, Kenneth,’ said Hammy. ‘If you’ve got something – is it the hair or is it the gun? – put it to him.’
‘I … I know what you were doing in Maydown. Yes, you met Mervyn Campbell, but it wasn’t solely on the case of the drunk behind the electricity sub-station. You talked about the Todd Anderson case …’
‘Of course we did. Mervyn asked, as you would expect, if we were making any progress. I asked him if he had any thoughts on it. That makes sense. He’s a very experienced police technical officer. He regretted he couldn’t offer me anything, beyond saying that his steak was excellent. His prawns did look a lot better than my lobster, on reflection.’
We all knew the bill of fare at the Maydown canteen did not extend to that level of fine dining. Josh couldn’t hold himself any longer.
‘Between your Ma’s vindaloo, sir and DS Slevin’s lobster, we’re certainly getting great training in international cuisine.’
‘Stick to the chips, peas and gravy, you,’ admonished Hammy. ‘Now Hetherington, unless you have any more questions you’d like
to ask, perhaps we could get back to some real police work?’
‘One more, sir. Thank you, sir. DS Slevin, when did you remove the murder weapon from the archive of the case of the murder of Police Constable Edwin Norris?’
‘I did not remove …’
‘I put it to you that you went to Maydown, that day in January, intending to return the gun to the Norris case archive, but failed to do so. Is that not what happened, DS Slevin?’
I let that sit in the air between us for as long as possible. This was good news for me and added the rich aroma of flounder to the spicy digestive and fetid perspiration smells already filling the small room.
‘You’ve lost me, Hetherington. You’re saying I took a gun into Maydown, to put it back into an archive box, then, for some reason, I didn’t, so I took it out again.’
‘And where do you think the gun is now, DC Hetherington?’ asked Hammy.
‘DS Slevin has it.’
Right on cue, Karolina spoke up.
‘Sir, I am so sorry, is this a training exercise or a, eh … real interrogation? This gun and Police Constable … Norris. Are we connecting this with the killing of Todd Anderson?’
I kept my eyes lowered, because if she caught my gaze she might see me signalling ‘thank you’ and thus know that I was guilty, even if neither of us could be sure guilty of what.
‘Well,’ added Hammy. ‘Is that what we’re saying, Kenneth? Is that what you want to put to DS Slevin?’
All eyes were on Hetherington. He was under investigation, not me. If I had almost admired him earlier, I didn’t pity him now. I now knew he hadn’t a clue about the gun involved. The fact that I didn’t know either was worrying, so I decided to give things one last twist.
‘DC Hetherington has made similar wild assertions before, sir. I fear the stress of handling major criminal investigations, such as the Todd Anderson killing, may be too much for him, at this stage in his career, and I suggest, sir, with respect, that you and I were ill-advised to have placed so much responsibility on such young shoulders, as we did in this …’
‘Spare me the offal, Slevin. Don’t you think the room smells rank enough at present without adding your sanctimonious shite to the affluent?’