by Derek Fee
‘None expected.’ Moira passed over the money.
‘I’ve already been interviewed by your lot.’ Hazel deposited the cash in the till. ‘I saw no one coming from that direction.’
‘You have no CCTV?’
‘No, love; they keep talking about it and it’s getting cheaper, but we have no trouble with break-ins.’
‘Have you spoken with any of the other staff or patrons about the incident?’
‘Are you joking, love? We talked about nothing else for a week.’
‘And did anything new occur to you?’
‘Not really. Well one thing: your lot were going on about CCTV all the time but sometimes we have people flying drones around here. Maybe someone was flying a drone that day. Sometimes they come in here for a cup of tea and a scone when they’re finished.’
‘Anything else?’
‘That’s it, love.’
‘Thanks.’ Moira took her coffee and went to a table beside a window that looked out towards Carrickfergus across the lough. There was nothing in the murder book about drones flying in the area. It was always possible that those interviewed had mentioned it and it hadn’t been followed up. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t worth following up now.
CHAPTER FOUR
The first thing Wilson did when he entered the apartment was to take off the holster and put it and the gun on the top shelf of the bookcase. If he had a lock box in the apartment, he might have stowed the gun there, but his aversion to firearms was so great that he had never kept a gun at home before. The statistics were clear: the existence of a gun in a home increases the odds of death for all the inhabitants. He did his best to conceal the gun by pushing it to the rear of the shelf.
‘What the hell is that?’
He turned to see his partner, Stephanie Reid, standing in the living room. ‘You’re home early.’
‘No deflection. What’s a gun doing on the top shelf of the bookcase? I thought we were both agreed about no guns here.’ She stopped for a second. ‘Oh my God, it’s that assassination attempt that Jack told you about isn’t it? Tell me and hold nothing back.’
He poured himself a Jameson. ‘It’s nothing. There was a staff meeting today and the chief super mentioned that I should carry a gun until this assassination story proves to be a hoax.’
‘And if it’s not a hoax?’
‘I’m sure it is.’
‘Jack isn’t so sure and I trust him to have your back more than some of your fellow officers.’
He wasn’t about to argue with that. He sipped his own drink. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Nothing for the moment. I thought, given that the weather is so nice, we should eat out tonight.’ She nodded at the shelf. ‘I suppose that thing will have to go with us as well.’
‘I promised Davis.’ He took a larger sip. ‘But only until the assassination threat blows over.’
‘Are you and I living on the same planet? If I knew someone was out to kill me, I wouldn’t be sitting around with my thumb up my ass. I’d be getting out of Dodge. You don’t get paid enough to have someone want to kill you. What have you done to deserve someone putting a hit on you?’
‘I have no idea.’ He hoped she would buy the lie.
‘I got a call from the hospital in LA today. I think they’re getting a little fed up waiting for me. So why not go in tomorrow and hand in your resignation, and when they ask why, tell them that being dead doesn’t appeal to you. Then give Jennings the two fingers. We could be on the next flight to LA.’
He walked over and went to put his arms around her. She pushed him away. Her eyes had a film of water on them. ‘Not right now, Ian. Twenty minutes ago I was looking forward to having a nice dinner in the open air with the man I love. Now I’m afraid to sit outside because someone might walk over and shoot you while you’re eating your steak.’
‘You’re getting yourself all wound up over nothing.’
She pointed at the gun on the shelf. ‘That is not nothing. It wouldn’t be here unless you were in danger. What have you got yourself into? Does this have something to do with the attack on Davidson?’
‘I don’t know what it’s about.’ He hated making up impromptu excuses. Once you start lying, the lies just continue to flow. One lie is bolstered by another and then another. She was concerned and he understood that. But running away to LA wasn’t the answer. He already knew in his heart and soul what the answer was, but he didn’t want to accept it. He might sit and wait for something to happen, which was giving the power to the hitman, or he might turn the tables and get the hitman first. ‘Give me a couple of days to sort this out. If it doesn’t resolve itself, I’ll do as you say.’
‘Promise?’ She leaned into him and let him hug her.
‘I promise.’ He kissed her on the lips. His father had told him never to make a promise he couldn’t keep, and he was afraid that he had just broken that rule. He’d enjoyed his sojourn in Santa Monica and he might live there someday. Right now, however, he had work to do in Belfast.
Instead of going out, they had eaten what was in the fridge and drank too much wine. It had changed the atmosphere. They’d tumbled into bed and made love several times until they both drifted away. Wilson woke about three o’clock. Reid was fast asleep beside him. He climbed out of bed and went into the living room. He called Jack Duane’s number on his mobile phone. It went to voicemail. ‘We need to talk.’ He closed the phone and went back to bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rory Browne was dining alone in the Mourne Seafood Bar on Bank Street. It gave him space to think. He’d been single for a year and had no desire to get back into the scene. Since arriving in Belfast, he’d had over twenty sexual encounters. He’d enjoyed most of them at the time, but they left him feeling empty afterwards. He wanted to be monogamous for a change but needed time to sort himself out before starting a relationship. He would soon be thirty and his sexual awakening had come late. He had tried to hide his sexuality, but now it was out in the open he didn’t give a damn. If people weren’t ready to accept him for who he was, it was their problem. It pissed him off though that he lived in the only place in the United Kingdom that still clung to traditional views on social issues like gay marriage and abortion. It was time for Northern Ireland to join the twenty-first century. But that wasn’t about to happen when, politically, the place was still mired in the seventeenth century and the word ‘no’ still featured prominently in most of the political rhetoric.
He enjoyed his meal and then took a table outside to finish his wine. It was a warm evening and although the outside area was the realm of the smokers, he found a quiet corner facing Kelly’s Cellars. Irish music poured out of the bar and he found his humour lightening. He thought back to his conversation with the boss. He needed to grow up regarding Moira McElvaney. He didn’t resent her. It was more that he envied her, sensing she was more talented in the job than he was. Everyone realised there was a close relationship between her and Wilson. He didn’t think there was anything sexual in their relationship, although there might have been at one point. Wilson’s reputation with women travelled before him, but he had seen nothing to suggest anything was going on with her. As he poured the remnants of his half-bottle into his glass, he saw a regular from the Belfast gay scene exiting the bar opposite alone. The man’s name was Charles Heavey.
Heavey glanced around. Noticing Browne, he walked across the road and sat down, uninvited, on an empty stool. ‘Didn’t know this was your local.’
‘It’s not. I just had a meal in Mourne’s and I finished up out here.’ Browne nodded at the empty bottle on the table. Heavey was camp enough to make it noticeable. He was in his early fifties, had a square face that was falling to fat and a full head of well-coiffed grey hair. He was attractive in a mature way and not at all Browne’s type.
‘I haven’t seen you around lately. Have you dropped out?’ Heavey asked.
‘Sort of.’
‘Going steady?’
‘Not really.
’
‘Looking for a bit of excitement?’
‘Not at all. Just finishing my wine and heading home.’
‘You used to be friendly with Vincent Carmody or ‘Fab Vinny’ as he calls himself, didn’t you?’
‘I used to be.’
‘Have you seen him lately?’
‘Thankfully no.’
‘Yes, Vincent is an acquired taste. He can be quite a handful.’
Browne didn’t like to be reminded of his affair with Carmody. He downed his drink and went to stand up. Heavey put his hand on Browne’s arm and drew a sharp look in response. ‘Can we just talk for a few more minutes, no ulterior motives?’
Browne nodded and sat.
‘It’s just that Vinny appears to have dropped out as well. I was wondering whether you two had dropped out together.’
‘No, Vincent and I are through.’
‘Vinny has been my go-to man in the past. And he’s disappeared.’
‘Maybe he’s gone on holiday.’
‘And maybe he’s not. The last time I saw him he wouldn’t have had the price of a bus ticket to Portrush never mind a long holiday.’
‘Where are we going with this?’
‘You’re a police officer.’
‘Yes.’
‘What if something has happened to Vinny?’
‘What sort of something?’
‘Something bad.’
‘Go to Musgrave Street and lodge a missing person’s report.’
‘I heard that you’re a detective.’
‘I am.’
‘Can’t you lodge a missing person’s report?’
‘No. Look, Vincent is hardly Mister Reliable. Don’t you think you’re being alarmist?’
‘Maybe, but I doubt it. Vinny isn’t the only one of my contacts that’s gone missing.’
‘Did you or someone else lodge a missing person’s report for that person?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing, there hasn’t been a word from the police since.’
Browne took out his notebook and pen. ‘Give me his name.’
‘Roger Whyte, that’s spelled W-h-y-t-e.’
Browne put the book away. ‘I’ll look into it.’ He rose.
‘And Vinny?’
‘Later. I know how to find you.’
Browne walked off towards Royal Avenue. There was a downside to being a police officer. He couldn’t count the number of times some friend of his parents had called round for a cup of tea only to explain that they had received a speeding fine the previous day and ask could he do anything about it. His standard answer was that the best thing to do was to pay the fine and take the points on their licence. There was no way that he would investigate a missing person. There was a whole squad of people in Musgrave Street whose job that was. Let them deal with it.
CHAPTER SIX
Wilson woke early and slipped out of bed. Reid was still fast asleep. Outside, the sun was already up and it promised to be another scorching day in a summer full of scorching days. He slipped on his jogging gear and beat the well-worn path along the Lagan to the Titanic Centre and back. He smelled coffee as soon as he returned home and after checking in with a ‘Good Morning’ he headed to the shower, taking care to bring his mobile phone. He checked his messages, nothing from Jack.
Reid had breakfast on the table by the time he emerged from the bedroom singing about ‘what a lucky guy he was’.
‘How can you be so bloody cheery?’ Reid sipped her coffee. ‘I’ve just downed a couple of painkillers. If your head isn’t hurting, I’d advise seeing a doctor.’
He removed the cup from her hand and laid it on the table, then took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Okay, doctor, what do you think?’
‘I think you should tell me why you’re contacting Jack in the middle of the night.’ The microwave pinged, she removed two croissants and handed one to Wilson. ‘I’m not up to facing eggs this morning. What’s with Jack?’
‘He started this whole assassination business, now he’s gone dark, although Davis tells me that he’s in town.’
‘Is their affair still going on? That must be a record for Jack.’
‘I have to say, Davis looks well on it.’
‘I hope you’re not trying to make me jealous. Jack is always coming on to me you know.’ She finished eating her croissant, drank her coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher. She picked up a packet of headache tablets. ‘I have a heavy day and I might need these. What did we agree: three days, or was it two?’
‘I thought it was as soon as possible.’
‘I think you should spend at least part of today drafting your resignation letter.’ She swept out of the room before he could answer.
He took his cup and sat on the couch, which stood in front of a picture window through which there was a vista over the city. He didn’t have to wonder whether she meant to accept the offer of the job in LA. He had three days to resolve the assassination threat or she would insist that he tender his resignation. Either way, in just a few days, he would be forced to lose one of the two things he loved most. He didn’t know whether he could live without either one. Why the hell hadn’t Duane called him back?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wilson smiled when he entered the squad room and saw that Moira was barring Duane from entering his office.
‘Who is this character?’ Moira said as Wilson approached. ‘He walks into the squad room as though he owns the place and makes a beeline for your office.’
‘DS Moira McElvaney meet DCI Jack Duane of the Garda Síochána,’ Wilson said. ‘Or some element thereof.’
Duane was beaming from ear to ear. ‘I think I’m in love.’
Moira stood aside.
‘Where did you find this firebrand?’ Duane continued. ‘Is that hair real? How can I get to know her better? Is she married?’
Moira walked away.
Wilson opened the door to his office, ushered Duane in and closed the door behind him.
‘Glad to see you took the advice on the gun.’ Duane sat in the visitor’s chair.
‘It’s that obvious?’ Wilson sat.
‘To the practised eye.’
‘You obviously got my message.’
‘At a most inconvenient time, but we won’t go into that. Seriously though, where did you find her?’
‘She was in the squad but then went away for a while. She’s one of the best detectives I’ve worked with.’
‘I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her. The name of the guy who’s after you is Philly Brennan, and this isn’t his first dance by any manner of means. Philly has kept Dublin’s undertakers in business for years.’
‘Do you have any idea where he is now?’
‘Of course. He’s in a parked car about fifty yards down the road from the entrance to this station.’
‘Don’t shit me, Jack.’
‘I shit you not. I’ve been on him for the past couple of days. Apparently, he’s had a busy schedule, but now you’ve arrived at the top of the list.’
Wilson stood up.
Duane stood to block his exit. ‘Where are you off to, hoss?’
‘I’m going out there to get the bastard.’
‘No you’re not. He’s parked legally and he’s probably paid his parking tickets as well. There’s no weapon in his car, but there’ll be one nearby, probably in another car parked somewhere close. You have no earthly reason to go near him other than to tip him off that you know what he’s about. It won’t stop him trying to complete the contract. He’ll just be a lot more careful about how he does it.’
Wilson retook his seat. ‘Reid has given me three days to solve this problem, or she wants me to resign from the PSNI and go to America with her. I can’t wait around for this guy to decide when he’d like to kill me. If he doesn’t act soon, I will. I don’t want to lose Reid and I don’t want to give up my job.’
‘Let’s make a plan then. Philly is still above groun
d and free because he’s cautious, which means he won’t be easily pushed into what they call precipitate action.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘The impetus for action has to come from somewhere he trusts. I have some ideas in that direction. The problem is that Philly is no ordinary hitman. If we can manage to force his hand, there’s no guarantee that you’re coming out of this alive.’
‘That’s the risk we’ll have to take.’
‘It’s the risk you’ll have to take. You’re the target. Philly will do whatever it takes to kill you. He’s the equivalent of your King Rat, Mad Dog and the Shankill Butchers. Have you forgotten what such characters are like? They don’t just kill to pay the bills, they enjoy what they do. We’ve had eighteen murders so far in the south and there’s still a list of intended victims out there.’
‘So, what do we do?’
‘I’ll make some calls and we’ll see how we can screw up Philly’s agenda. In the meantime, you find somewhere that’s the perfect killing ground for a man with an AK-47 and a Smith & Wesson Magnum.’
‘Thanks, Jack.’
‘Don’t thank me yet, Ian. You realise that there won’t be an arrest here. This ends with either you or Philly zipped up in a plastic bag.’
Moira watched the two men in the office. She had no idea exactly what they were discussing, but it was something serious. Like Duane, she had noticed the bulge under Wilson’s left arm. She had only ever seen him wearing his gun when there was an operation underway. A detective superintendent of the PSNI and a Garda DCI with their heads together spelled trouble for someone. Wilson had briefed her on the cases under investigation when she had rejoined the squad. She saw nothing that would require a firearm intervention. Sammy Rice had disappeared, probably never to be seen again, and few people in Belfast would lament the fact. She hadn’t yet crossed swords with the current crop of criminals but knew they were mainly former soldiers and so-called reformed paramilitaries. She’d reviewed the profiles of Davie Best and his pal Eddie Hills. They dressed and behaved like businessmen but had ruthlessly culled the old Rice and McGreary gangs. They appeared to have the EQ of an amoeba. She took a longer look at Duane. He had the look of a hard man. She’d seen his type before. Seeing that Duane was preparing to leave, she returned to her search for drone clubs in East Belfast. It was a shot in the dark, but sometimes they were the best shots of all. She sensed someone behind her and pivoted to see Duane looming over her.