Alice agreed fully with their analysis. She too had made her own very personal relationship with restorative justice. Day on day, she painstakingly and patiently worked with young offenders and those who hadn’t yet made the step into what counted as criminal activity. She was constantly patrolling the borders between what was seen as breaking the law and the idea of social harm, much of which was totally accepted as the just desserts of those from poor and minority communities. The system clearly identified theft as a punishable crime against society but poverty as entirely a matter of individual failure. The preventative approach to creating a less harmful community with those at risk of becoming caught into the criminal system, now occupied the bulk of her time. With the young people already labelled as offenders, Alice carefully facilitated dialogue between those who were viewed as being wronged, and the wrongdoer. She liked the logic of taking the hurts out of the shadows and helping all parties to look for mutually agreeable ways to heal the damage.
In her own experience, she had been forced to confront the life realities of the young man who had caused her father’s death. She had moved from rage at the consequences of his anger and disaffection to a realisation that unequal structures were the root of the problem and that if we are not actively against injustice, we are contributing to its persistence. Not all of her family agreed and dealing with their collective hurt was an ongoing story. Her sister Sam got it, but her mother and older brother Red were unsympathetic, albeit for very different reasons.
Now, back in DePRec after her Christmas vacation, she had no inkling just how relevant her life experience was about to become.
8
Mairéad Walsh greeted Alice on her return with a warm embrace and good wishes for the New Year. She was embarked on a fully dramatised version of her own holidays when departmental head, Professor Jackson Bell, appeared. He seemed agitated and, without any niceties, he brusquely demanded if there had been any phone call from Helen Breen to explain her absence from an important meeting he had scheduled for first thing that morning. Mairéad said there had been no call and phoned across to the other office to check that nothing had been received there. It was now nearly nine thirty.
“I have checked her office,” he blustered, “but the door is firmly locked. This is not at all like her … she was the one I was sure could always be relied upon.”
His level of distress in response to a missed meeting seemed a little extreme, Alice thought, but she put this down to the pressures of the return to work after quite a long break. He had a plan and it was being thwarted and Bell did not appear to her to be one who coped well with losing control.
He instructed Mairéad to try Dr Breen’s mobile phone and her home number and to let him know what the outcome was and then he swept out of the room. A vision of a diva in a black-and-white silent movie crossed Alice’s mind.
Mairéad rolled her eyes, puckered her brow and her mouth in an expression of exaggerated concentration and assumed her position behind her desk. Alice withdrew to her own inside office space and left her to it.
On loudspeaker, Breen’s phone could be heard going directly to the answering service and Mairéad left a terse message asking her to contact DePRec immediately. While Alice made a list of the day’s tasks, she heard Mairéad speaking to someone and then placing a call to Jackson Bell.
Alice couldn’t help but listen.
“Professor Bell, there is no response from the mobile phone and her mother’s Filipino carer says that they haven’t seen her since before Christmas. Apparently she told them she was going away on holiday for the entire break so they had no expectation of her being there.” Mairéad paused to listen to Bell’s reply. “Well, perhaps she mistook the first day of term or had a delayed return flight,” she offered without conviction. “I’m afraid I can’t be of any more help really … unless you want me to get the caretaker to open her office – although I’m not sure what use that might be.” Bell was obviously making some further suggestions as Mairéad uttered the occasional, “Hmm” and “OK” and finally “Well, yes, Professor, I will check what happens to her class at eleven. She may just have been held up this morning and for some reason been unable to get in touch.”
The call ended and Mairéad could be heard loudly addressing her computer timetable and noting the location of Breen’s mid-morning lecture.
Helen Breen did not appear in DePRec that day nor was any message received to explain her absence. Her class was given unexpected library time and a promise from Bell that the time would be made up for them in the future.
The caretaker came with a passkey to open the corner office and reported back to Mairéad that the room was empty. College security were able to establish that Helen Breen had not been in the building since the penultimate day of term when she had scanned out at nine thirty-six, after she had covered Jackson Bell’s evening duty. A replacement law tutor was called in to cover Helen Breen’s remaining classes until the mystery of her whereabouts could be solved. As the situation became more widely known about within the department, speculation grew as to the possible explanation but despite numerous fanciful theories there was no definitive answer. By the end of the day the mystery remained unresolved.
On that evening in early January there was a storm of unforeseen proportions. Strong winds and high tides in coastal areas caused substantial structural damage. In the dockland area of Belfast there were power outages that lasted over two days in some cases and these caused considerable disruption to those without a secondary energy source. Restaurants and supermarkets lost frozen produce and those dependent on electrical heating systems had a few very chilly nights. The morning after the storm struck, radio broadcasts told those who were not working in essential services to stay at home and allow emergency crews time to get power lines repaired unimpeded. This was later extended to two days when the extent of the damage became apparent and the storm lingered and delayed repairs getting under way.
Alice had settled in the bohemian Botanic area of Belfast and had discovered the nearby Lagan Towpath not too far from her new home. This was an eleven-mile continuous pathway along river and canal banks and passing through meadows, wetlands and wooded areas. It was almost completely flat and not too busy if you chose the time carefully. Alice did the round trip most days in just under two hours and liked best to start when dawn was breaking and running companions were scarce. After the worst of the storm, on her riverside run she encountered two fallen trees and several places where the river was unusually high. She had received a very early text telling her that DePRec would remain closed for two days and was glad to be heading back to her cosy rooms for the rest of the day and the one that followed.
Only a small number of staff appeared for work in Belfast City College and they had been called in to repair minor problems caused by water and wind damage. As instructed, the entire DePRec staff remained at home.
Then, on the Wednesday evening, Jackson Bell received a call at home from the College President asking him to come in to help with a matter of some urgency. By this stage it was after nine o’clock and the aftermath of the storm was mostly cleared away. The return to work was scheduled for Thursday and it was baffling why he might be needed in the college this evening. He responded rapidly to the most unusual request with a heavy sense of foreboding.
9
A short distance from DePRec, in the Marine Biology section of the Centre for Maritime Studies, a substantial number of specimens of small and larger sea plants and animals were stored in a series of large chest freezers. These were placed like squat sentinels along one side of a first-floor corridor. Unsightly and antiquated, they jarred with the carefully refurbished surroundings of the listed building. Nonetheless they were priceless to the marine biologists who had been amassing them for decades and had yet to find the funding source that would allow them to create a more eye-pleasing form of storage and display. In their previous college accommodation there had been a generator system that automatically kicked in
when there was a power failure that placed their treasured collection at any risk. The stylishly regenerated Shipbuilding Offices had not as yet installed such an emergency back-up system.
On the night of the storm a power interruption had caused some defrosting to occur and some leakage to take place from the ageing freezers onto the highly polished wooden floors. Subsequently, on the two days that followed, those charged with the salvage operation were initially concerned only with avoiding water damage and were under orders to keep the fridges closed so as not to accelerate the defrosting process. This seemed to be effective except in the case of one container where, although the power was restored on the afternoon of the second day of exceptional closure, the contents appeared to have become too voluminous to fit. The lid refused to close tightly and seepage of some rather putrid water continued. It was as if through the melting process the contents of this particular freezer had swollen and a call was made to a staff member from Marine Biology to come into the College and advise on how best to cope with this anomaly.
Dr Sam Carter finally arrived late on the Wednesday afternoon and was puzzled by what she found. The inventory for that freezer suggested that the contents should not have altered so radically in the time that the power was off with the freezer unopened. A closer inspection revealed that the specimens in the freezer had been disturbed and beneath the legitimate marine-life samples something entirely out of place had been secreted. Without investigating too closely, Sam Carter had been so alarmed by what she saw that she had phoned the College President directly. He in turn had placed a call to the local police. From there, events had taken on a shocking momentum all of their own in which Jackson Bell now found himself embroiled.
10
Arriving in the lift from the basement car park to the ground floor, Jackson Bell greeted the night porter who was already installed at his station to the side of the reception area. It was clear that he was expected and Bell headed to the seating area outside the President’s office and waited to be admitted. There was a hum of serious voices from within that made it abundantly clear that something very grave had occurred. He felt profoundly uneasy about how he might be found to be implicated. Driving towards the Titanic Quarter, Bell had racked his brain for what might be the “matter of some urgency” that required his presence at such a late hour. The President was not known for creating unnecessary dramas. In fact, he was more inclined to let things sort themselves out without his becoming directly involved.
Bell had become overwhelmed by that familiar anxiety related to secrets being discovered, long hidden shames being finally pulled irrevocably out into the open. As he parked in the underground car park he reassured himself that he had broken no law. His covert identity was entirely because of his personal circumstances and a legacy of past times when attitudes and laws were less liberal. This call, despite its unusual timing could only be a professional matter. More than likely something relating to a member of the DePRec staff. Maybe a complaint about a tutor or some allegation related to the recent exams. He would wait until the real reason was disclosed before jumping to conclusions. His reputation was flawless, he reflected. There was no need to get into a state … and yet what was so serious that it couldn’t wait until after two days of exceptional closure?
While he scanned the possible reasons for this unusual summons, the door to the President’s office opened and Lorna, Professor Thompson’s PA, emerged. “They are ready for you now, Jackson,” she said and the gravity of her voice and demeanour did nothing to calm Bell’s sense of dread.
She led the way into the President’s spacious office and took her place at the large table used for monthly senior staff meetings. It was clear from the array of paper in front of her that Lorna had been making a record of the discussion that preceded his admittance.
The large office was brightly lit and in addition to the President there were three other people around the table – one middle-aged woman and two men, one of whom was considerably younger than the other. They were all focused on Jackson as he entered the room and the younger man was also evidently taking notes on the proceedings. Although they were not in uniform, Jackson was sure these were police officers and his level of tension rose a notch.
Unsmiling, Giles Thompson signalled to Bell to take a free seat at the table and thanked him for coming in at short notice and at an unusual hour.
“Let me introduce you to our visitors, Jackson,” he intoned. “This is Detective Inspector Caroline Paton and her associates, Detective Sergeant William Burrows and Detective Constable Ian McVeigh.”
Jackson nodded to all three in turn as he settled himself in the vacant seat that Thompson had indicated to him.
“Professor Bell is the Head of the Department of Peace and Reconciliation Studies here in the College. He has been in that position for the past ten or eleven years and is a valued member of my senior management team.”
These words reassured Jackson. They were not the precursor of any difficult situation where he was to be found culpable and he felt himself regain his confidence and turn his attention to hearing what was really at the root of this gathering.
At a signal from the senior detective, Thompson was given the go-ahead to outline the situation that had brought these representatives of the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) to the college on a grim January night.
“So, Jackson, let me begin by giving you the short version of this dreadful story. I am aware it is late and there is potentially a long night ahead.” Thompson’s voice was care-laden and it suggested that he had already decided that this matter, whatever it was, would have dire consequences. He sighed and continued. “As you are well aware we are just finishing two days of exceptional closure brought about by the recent storm. Our concern these past two days was to secure the building and not bring staff or students out in a potentially dangerous situation. In any case,” he reassured himself, “we were following guidance issued by local authorities.”
The tendency to affirm that the college was above reproach was ingrained in the President. Maybe it was an integral part of the job, Jackson mused.
“Anyway,” Thompson continued, “that all worked out well and the small amounts of storm damage we suffered were easily dealt with by our own caretaking and maintenance staff. That is except for an incident that materialised in the Centre for Maritime Studies – the Marine Biology Department to be precise.” He paused as if deeply disturbed by consideration of this mysterious event.
“Are you familiar with the Marine Biology Department, Professor Bell?” the Detective Inspector asked.
Her gaze was penetrating and Jackson immediately revised his feeling of being out of the woods. He coughed in a manner that he was sure indicated he was anxious and probably a deserving subject of suspicion.
“There is not a great deal of overlap between our disciplines, but we have had some collaboration on the subject of joint fishing interests across the different regions of the British Isles …” he hesitated and added, “or as some might prefer, Britain and Ireland.” There was never a time, he had learned, when it was a good idea to ignore the local sensitivities about the naming of things. Some in the North took great exception to the twenty-six counties of the Irish Republic being referred to as British and so it was best to use terminology that included everyone’s preferences. To be inclusive in Northern Ireland often meant naming places or political agreements several times over to suit all tastes.
“Do you often have occasion to visit the Shipbuilding Offices building, Professor?”
Jackson realised that her question had related to the place rather than the academic area and he felt he had judged his response badly.
“I rarely have occasion to go there but I have attended functions there in my senior-management capacity. The building is a fine example of regeneration done well, in my opinion. DePRec would have had an interest in advising about how to ensure that the remaking of the old building was as cross-community as possible.” He was
floundering in his attempts to answer her query and conscious of the hollow, evasive sound of his response.
Detective Inspector Paton did not look altogether satisfied but nodded to Thompson to continue his narrative.
“So anyway, this afternoon, while maintenance were dealing with some water leakage from the freezers in Marine Biology, they had difficulty with securing the contents of one container and called a member of Marine Biology staff to come into college to advise them. They were rightly cautious about damage occurring to the specimens.” He paused, perhaps so that the efficiency of the staff might be properly recognised and his listeners would have time to reflect the praise back to his own excellent management. “Dr Carter arrived on the scene and in her attempt to refit the freezer contents back into place she discovered that it had been tampered with and something had been added that made it impossible to close properly.”
Aware that his every response was being carefully observed, Jackson tried to show that he was following assiduously without having any idea what he was about to be told.
“There is no easy way to say this, Jackson,” Thompson said with total gravity. “Dr Carter’s exploration revealed that a body had been secreted in the freezer beneath the marine biology specimens. The head was tightly wrapped in black plastic bags and Dr Carter rightly did not interfere with the remains in any way.”
Murder In The Academy : A chilling murder mystery set in Belfast (Alice Fox Murder Mysteries Book 1) Page 3