Det Annie Macpherson 02 - Programmed To Kill

by Speake, Barbara Fagan

  In the car on the way to work, he smiled, thinking how oblivious Monica was to his plans. It was all going well, apart from Brian. He was always the weakest of them. Now he’d managed to get himself killed. Of course, he’d known about Brian’s tastes and wondered how much the police were aware of them. It would take the investigation in a certain direction. What he didn’t know was how Brian was killed. Today he’d planned to talk to Harry Conlon, the police chief and express his concerns and ask for an update on the case. He would also ask for the funeral details, since he intended to represent Westford, in an official capacity.

  As soon as he was in the office, he asked Sheila to get the police chief on the phone.

  Ever efficient, Sheila made a note of the request. ‘Would you like some coffee, first, Mr Mayor?’

  ‘Of course,’ Lansdowne replied as he unlocked his office door.

  He placed the briefcase on the desk and retrieved his two cellphones. He checked the personal one. No message, so he knew that they were still on for lunch. He slipped it back into his briefcase and kept out his work one. A minute later there was a tap on the door.

  ‘Sheila, you spoil me,’ he said, taking the embossed mug from her.

  ‘Shall I leave you a few minutes to drink your coffee or do you want me to get the chief now?’ Sheila stood by the desk, almost to attention.

  ‘Try now, thanks.’ Lansdowne leaned back hard in his newly acquired black leather chair, eager for the call. It was only a moment’s wait. ‘Harry, how are you?’ he said, swivelling the chair sideways and tapping his pen on the desk.

  ‘Fine, Mr Mayor, how can I help?’ the police chief replied in a clipped tone.

  Lansdowne smirked, knowing the chief didn’t like his friendly manner towards him. Tough. ‘Terrible business about Father Bannister. Years ago, my wife and I were parishioners. Always struck me as very caring; took his pastoral role seriously. How’s the investigation going? We wouldn’t want his parishioners to be concerned about attending church, thinking a murderer is on the loose, would we?’

  ‘I don’t think the parishioners have anything to worry about. Captain Franconi updated me this morning. We’re following up a number of leads. The attack appears to have been targeted. So far, we aren’t concerned about a serial killer, if that’s what you’re thinking. Of course, it’s still early days and several lines of inquiry have yet to be followed up.’

  Lansdowne sensed that Harry Conlon knew far more than he was revealing, so decided to probe further. ‘What makes you use the term targeted? Are you saying he was targeted because he was a priest?’

  ‘I’m not prepared to say any more at the moment,’ the chief replied before changing tack. ‘I’m intending to go to the funeral to show how seriously we’re taking the matter. How about you?’

  ‘Of course I’ll be there, both in an official role and as a former parishioner. I expect the bishop will conduct the Mass. Has anyone asked him?’

  ‘Captain Franconi spoke to Bishop O’Brien when he broke the news to him. The bishop said then that he wanted to officiate.’

  ‘Good, that’ll help reassure people. I expect you’ll get back to me with any developments in the case. After all, it’s high profile for both of us. In the meantime, my office will write to the family with our condolences.’ The two men discussed other matters on their joint agendas before Lansdowne put the phone down.

  *****

  Three hours later, Lansdowne approached the table where his friend, Patrick Mearns was already seated. The small, family owned restaurant was known for its food and its discretion. The owners never courted publicity and were always happy to have the mayor as a lunch guest. In turn, he sent other customers their way. Mearns was no stranger to the place either, often sealing deals over the steak speciality. The waiter took their orders promptly and the two men were left to have a private conversation.

  ‘Any information on how Brian died?’ Mearns asked.

  ‘Spoke to Chief Conlon this morning and he wasn’t giving anything away. I couldn’t sound too interested, except as an issue of law and order. I also said I was a former parishioner, but that was as far back as I was prepared to go. I’ll attend the funeral in an official capacity. I might get a word with the mother or catch one of the investigators. I expect they’ll go to see who’s there.’

  Mearns took a gulp of wine. ‘You don’t think he’ll turn up, do you?’

  ‘That’s up to him but he can’t be that stupid. Besides, how do we know he did it? After all, Brian had a few other hobbies that the good parishioners would frown upon if they knew. Not only that, his predilections were dangerous, if they ever got found out. So, there could be another explanation all together. We might be getting ourselves upset over nothing, if that’s the case.’

  Mearns picked up his glass again. ‘Matt, do you really think that? I mean, that we’ve nothing to worry about?’

  ‘Sure, it’s possible,’ Lansdowne shrugged his shoulders. ‘In fact, it’s probable. If something was going to happen, it would’ve happened before now.’ Lansdowne was trying to keep his voice steady. Last thing he wanted to do was spook Patrick. He had to remain nonchalant about the whole thing.

  Mearns reached into his top pocket. ‘Maybe you’re right, but just in case, I have a business card here to discuss. Might be worth a couple of grand to us, to make sure.’

  An hour later, the two men parted, one with a retainer payment in his wallet, the other feeling invincible.

  Chapter 17

  Once they were back at the station, Annie and Ellison had individual tasks to complete. Bronski wasn’t at his desk. One of the other detectives said he’d gone out an hour ago, saying he’d be back before the end of the shift. Annie was anxious to catch up with him before the end of the day, to check if there was anything he wanted her to do on the Hardman case. Annie wrote up as much of the day’s interviews as she could before she dialled the number left by Detective Baxter. He answered promptly and Annie introduced herself.

  ‘How can I help you, Detective?’ Baxter asked.

  ‘There are three things, sir. Firstly, our forensic technician is searching Father Bannister’s laptop and we are awaiting the report back from him. Obviously if there’s anything useful, we’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thanks, Detective, that would be helpful. What’s the second?’

  ‘We found several photographs in his room. They look innocent enough, but you may recognise the children. I’d guess them to be under the age of ten or so. Strangely enough, we also found a couple of photographs under his pillow. The two of them were taped on to a single card. They’re of a young man and woman, probably in their late teens, early twenties. The photos look years old. We showed all of the photographs to his mother, but she didn’t recognise any as family, suggesting they could be photos parishioners had given him. We’ve made copies to send to you.’ Annie paused in case he wanted to come in.

  ‘Good. We have quite a database of photos so we can look for any matches. Sometimes they start out as very innocent photographs, especially at the grooming stage. I’m afraid lots of the photos in our collection aren’t as innocent. The ages of the ones you found under the pillow, though, sound old for the offences we’re looking at. Late teens you said?’

  ‘That’s right and they do contrast with the others.’ Annie realised that this was a part of police work she’d find difficult, especially in a dedicated team that only did that kind of work. She wondered how long it took before those detectives got burned out, especially those with families themselves. Still it was crucial police work.

  ‘And the third?’

  ‘Today we interviewed Tony Amato. His son was an altar boy until Amato made a complaint about Father Bannister.’

  ‘Did it sound like there was any substance to it?’ Baxter cut in.

  ‘He said that the
priest had asked his son to stay on after Mass and that he got concerned so went to pick his son up himself, got waylaid in traffic and entered the vestry to find Father Bannister with his arm around the boy and his trousers unzipped.’

  ‘Sounds familiar,’ Baxter commented, the tone of his voice almost resigned.

  Annie finished the story, including the actions of Tony Amato.

  When she finished, Baxter came in again. ‘Is Amato a suspect in your view, Detective?’

  ‘Obviously we can’t rule him out. Frankly though, having witnessed the injuries during the autopsy, I can’t see it myself. Let’s say we’re keeping an open mind. Amato was a concerned father, but a murderer? That might be a stretch.’

  ‘I understand that fathers are an amazingly protective species, not that I have personal experience. Not sure I could do this job if I was one myself.’

  ‘No sir. There are some advantages to not having your own kids in our line of work.’

  They talked for another few minutes and Annie discussed some of the autopsy results. Baxter offered to send the team their information on Bannister, in case anything was helpful to the murder inquiry. Bannister was a minor player compared to some of the others the specialist team was investigating. ‘I’d be interested in the bishop’s comments,’ Detective Baxter added, before they ended the conversation.

  Annie made some notes in the file about the telephone call and then rang the bishop’s office. An appointment was made for the following afternoon. Annie looked over her notes again from the day and transferred information into the file. Midway through, she needed some coffee. It was way past five o’clock. Annie went over to Ellison who was concentrating on his computer. ‘Want some coffee?’ she offered.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ellison replied, stretching his arms and stifling a yawn.

  As Annie approached the kitchen, her phone rang. She hurried back. ‘Yes, sir, that’s fine. Progress then … OK. Thanks for letting me know.’ Annie put the phone down.

  Ellison glanced over.

  ‘Bronski’s not coming back tonight. He’s only just finished with the prosecutor about the Hardman case and it sounds like they’ve worked out all the indictable offences. He’s said he’ll fill me in tomorrow with the details.’

  ‘Good. Let’s hope there’s not much more for you to do on that case so you can concentrate on this one. I’ve run everyone through the computer that we’ve interviewed. The worst I found was a parking ticket.’

  ‘Let me guess – Amato?’

  ‘No, one of the elderly sisters.’

  Annie laughed. ‘I thought those two sounded decidedly shifty. Nothing from the cars in the parking lot?’

  ‘No, they all check out to the residents of the seminary or to one of the parishioners. Nothing new from the further interviews Cunningham and Jacobs did, nor the patrol officers talking to neighbours. Seems like our attacker came and went without making an impression on anyone, unless Heaviley’s team come up with something.’

  ‘Something will turn up. The murderer had to have left some evidence behind, no matter how careful he was. Anyway, I better get the coffees I promised.’ As Annie entered the kitchen, her cellphone rang.

  ‘Hi Charlie.’

  ‘Hi, how’re things?’

  ‘Busy. I’m still at work. Where are you?’

  ‘At the hospital. There was a case conference to discuss Angie’s progress. It turned out better than I’d anticipated. They think she might be home pretty soon. She’ll still need rehab but she can do it as a day patient.’

  ‘That’s great news, Charlie. How was Angela about it? I mean about returning to the house?’ Annie asked as she put coffee and milk in each of the cups.

  ‘She seemed OK. Next week, I can start bringing her home for an hour or two a few times a week, so we’ll know more then. Oh, you’ll never guess who arrived earlier – Dennis Cullen. He’s with her now; that’s why I stepped out. I’ve got to get off soon anyway. Dennis has come up from Rhode Island and is staying in a local motel, so will keep her company for a while longer tonight. They seem to be getting along.’

  ‘That’s good. I liked him when we met. He seemed quite devoted to her, even though he’s her ex-husband. He’s certainly taken more interest in her condition than her soon to be second ex-husband.’

  ‘Yeah. I can’t believe George Goodman has never even been in touch with me to ask how she’s doing. Only his lawyer calls, trying to find out if she wants to contest anything in the divorce, as if that’s all she has to think about.’

  ‘Don’t let it upset you, Charlie. She’ll be better off divorced from him.’

  ‘I know. Dennis, on the other hand, is planning to stay a couple of days so that will take some of the pressure off me. Anyway, will I see you tomorrow night?’

  ‘I hope so. Not sure what we’ve got on yet, but hopefully. Have a good evening and I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ said Annie, ending the call.

  Ellison came in the kitchen, as she was pouring. ‘The captain’s back. Want to update him with me?’

  Twenty minutes later, Franconi thanked them for the briefing. ‘Go home, get some rest. Let’s hope we’ve got more to go on tomorrow. Who knows, now that the press release has gone out, someone may come forward who saw something.’ He picked up his own case and shut his lights off as the three of them left the room.

  ‘So, what’re you up to?’ Ellison asked as the two detectives returned to their desks.

  ‘No plans, except food and a long soak in the bath,’ Annie replied.

  ‘Not seeing Hegarty?’

  ‘Not tonight.’

  ‘Then why don’t we do one of those things together?’ Ellison asked.

  Annie laughed. ‘OK, let’s go and get something to eat.’

  Ellison shut down his computer. ‘You disappoint me, Detective. I’d have opted to share the second one.’

  Chapter 18

  Mearns unlocked the door to his ground floor apartment – his bachelor pad. Who needed a wife to spoil things? No, this was his and his alone, to do in it whatever he wanted and he craved plenty to satisfy his tastes. He was amused over lunch when Matthew had spoken of Brian’s predilections. Good thing his old friend Matt didn’t know about his. That was what safes were for, after all. As always, he went into the bedroom first. Mirrors lined one side of the room and a large screen TV sat on the opposite wall. He could watch and perform at the same time. Mearns sighed, disappointed that nothing was scheduled for tonight. He loosened his tie and changed into a polo shirt and jeans.

  Walking into the kitchen, he flicked on the coffee maker. After the sumptuous lunch, there was no need for dinner: some cheese, olives, a couple of glasses of wine and some coffee would suffice. Thinking back to the meeting with the private detective, he felt satisfied. The guy was reliable and had been a mainstay in the years he was practising criminal law. From time to time, he’d used him again while at Atkinson and Mearns. The guy agreed the brief and accepted the initial retainer. The meeting took longer than planned, as they got reminiscing about old cases and had a couple of beers. Still, everything was set in motion now, so it had been time well spent.

  As he poured his first glass of wine, his intercom buzzed. Instinctively Mearns glanced at his watch –nearly nine p.m. Had he forgotten an appointment? Suddenly, he started to feel in the mood, mellowed by the alcohol. ‘Hello,’ he answered.

  ‘Mr Mearns, Patrick Mearns?’ the man requested.

  ‘Yes, who is it?’ he asked, not recognising the voice from the intercom as one of his regulars.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you sir, at this hour, but we have been working flat out all day in these two apartment complexes. I’m an engineer from BCConn Alarms. We seem to have had an erratic fault in several of the apartments and we’re trying to get to the root of the problem. I’ve done all the
apartments in this building now, except yours. I appreciate you must’ve been working late as we called a couple of times. If I could check yours, sir, I could wipe the slate clean. Won’t take five minutes, I promise.’

  Mearns glanced across at his control panel: BCConn Alarms. Why not? He buzzed the intercom and waited by the door until he heard the knock. There was something vaguely familiar about the engineer, he thought, as he let him in. ‘Want some coffee? It’s freshly made.’

  ‘Sure – black, no sugar.’ The engineer went straight to the control panel and removed the screws to release the cover before disabling the system, seconds before Mearns came back into the hallway.

  It wasn’t until Mearns passed the man the drink that he registered the latex gloves and shoe coverings. In that split second, he regretted his stupidity. Instinctively, he reached for his eyes as the hot coffee hit his face. His hands never made it. Instead, the engineer whipped them around his back and forced him to the ground. Mearns didn’t have time to shout. With a knee in his back and winded from the drop to the floor, he couldn’t even begin to resist as he heard the sound of tape being pulled out and felt the tightening sensation as it was wound around his wrists. Seconds later, he was abruptly rolled on to his front. He could only watch helplessly as the man pinned him down with a knee on his chest. Patrick Mearns was desperately trying to breathe. His chest felt like it was going to cave in with the weight of the man on top of him.