Murder In The Academy : A chilling murder mystery set in Belfast (Alice Fox Murder Mysteries Book 1)

by Maggie Feeley

  The second sheet provided similar details of those who had been working in the Maritime Studies Centre on the same evening. None of those listed had any links to DePRec that Burrows could identify but he would check thoroughly for any overlap.

  The third sheet in Gillespie’s folder gave the contact details of the security staff that had been on duty that evening. He reported that he had talked to both of them and they had not observed anything out of the ordinary on the Thursday evening. It was the final session of evening classes and there was some revelry amongst the students but nothing that merited being recorded on the digital incident sheet. The cleaning staff had arrived in the evening as usual at nine forty-five and again neither security guard had noticed anything untoward. The guy in Maritime Studies Centre had been called to the front door to deal with a noisy incident but he was only away from his post for five minutes during which time everything was quiet aside from the usual cleaning and maintenance activity.

  Gillespie had personally reviewed visual data from all cameras in both buildings between six on the Thursday evening until six the following evening. He had sent copies of these files to the email address provided by DI Paton so that they could be further scrutinised by the police. His own review had shown a number of facts that he thought would be of interest. At this point he activated the monitor on the desk where they sat and loaded an image of the car park adjacent to the operations office. The date confirmed the date and time in December.

  Gillespie moved the image to another angle in the car park and indicated a Mazda car that was still parked there at eleven-thirty and five o’clock next morning. This was identified as the vehicle registered on the system to Dr Helen Breen. The sensors, activated the following morning at shortly after eight, showed the same car being opened by a male person and driven from the car park. An image of the driver was recorded at the exit barrier and replicated in the folder. It matched the logged ID picture of the Student Representative, Liam Doyle. Cameras in the post room to monitor access to mail showed that Doyle swiped in just before eight, went to the post room on the ground floor and then directly to the car park.

  Burrows felt the familiar lift that accompanies a breakthrough in an investigation. Several people in their interviews had mentioned Liam Doyle as linked to Helen Breen. There had been implications of a sexual liaison and a closer-than-might-be-expected relationship between a senior lecturer and a student representative. He would pass this on directly to Caroline Patton this evening.

  Burrows listened as Gillespie talked him through some other reports and demonstrated how to access other material on the visual data files. He would get someone onto a thorough review of the video footage first thing tomorrow before going to DePRec to conduct the final interviews there. The interview with Doyle would be best kept until Caroline was done with the Press Conference. He would begin with Mairéad Walsh who had indicated she was available from eight-thirty, and then he would talk to Jackson Bell and Janet Hartnett. By that stage he hoped that Caroline would be there to interview Doyle with him. Two heads were definitely better than one in that instance. As he headed for home he noted that the time on the Albert Clock was ten twenty-five. He would just check in with Caroline Paton and then call it a day.

  26

  On Friday morning Alice Fox ran along the Lagan towpath with greater vigour than usual. The rhythmical movement and breathing stilled the chatter in her head and restored her sense of composure. After a shower and breakfast she got on her bike and headed for EXIT where she had arranged to meet Hugo and plan the forthcoming term’s activities for the group. The feedback from their paper at the conference that had seemed high on her agenda had slipped a little, overtaken by the murder of Helen Breen and the concerns of Ralph Wilson to which she was giving some attention.

  Belfast seemed to be ill at ease this morning. The day was dank and bitterly cold and around the university area students huddled into their winter attire and moved quickly towards the shelter of campus buildings. This was no climate for hanging around and chatting in the open air. Drivers too seemed inclined to irritation with one and other and Alice took heed and did what she could to protect her vulnerable status as a cyclist.

  Cycling through the Village area towards west Belfast, the dilapidation in some quarters seemed to overshadow signs of development and regeneration. Alice realised that she was projecting her own unsettled feelings onto the entire environment and worked hard to shift her attitude into a more positive place before she arrived at EXIT.

  Hugo opened the familiar red door and welcomed her with a concerned smile. “I’ve just heard the ten o’clock news about events in DePRec. Are you alright, Alice?”

  She wheeled her bike past him, stored it in a recess beyond the de-stress zone and turned to face him.

  “Well, it has been a quite shocking turn of events really. You can imagine what the atmosphere is like in the college with everyone being interviewed by the police and the unrestrained speculation of some who are getting high on the drama.”

  She followed him to his office and allowed herself to settle into the battered armchair facing his desk. He started to make her a coffee without needing to establish her preferences. Alice felt herself ease into the reassuring sense of belonging in this place.

  “It’s a strange melding of two worlds for me. I’m having to work hard to establish a new equilibrium that takes account of having a murder inquiry added to my list of daily distractions. It’s hard to completely ignore old patterns when you are so up close to what is happening.” She lapsed into silent consideration as Hugo watched and waited. She shook her head as if to dislodge a bothersome insect. “What did they say at the press conference?”

  “Oh, they named the victim as Dr Helen Breen and said they were conducting a murder investigation that centered around the Belfast City College, and they named DePRec in particular, where she had worked. They said the inquiry had begun on Wednesday evening after the body was located in the Titanic Quarter. A journalist asked them if it was true that the body was found in a freezer in the Maritime Studies Centre. The woman detective who did most of the talking refused to give any detail of where the remains were found – you know – ‘for operational reasons’ or some such phrase. She asked for consideration to be given to Breen’s family and for anyone with any information to come forward. I suppose it’s early days if she was only located on Wednesday evening.”

  Something in Hugo’s matter-of-fact tone and attitude reminded Alice that violent death was a more familiar topic in Northern Ireland than in many other places. In the past there was nearly always the question of a political motive associated with violent death. She wondered how policing had changed for DI Caroline Paton and her colleagues since the Troubles had ended and crime had become more to do with ordinary, everyday social conflicts. And in terms of their work in EXIT, did the context of a murder make any difference to the nature of reparation and justice?

  “I can see that you have a lot on your mind, Alice,” Hugo gently cut into her rapidly spiralling train of thought. “Would you like to postpone this planning session?”

  She realised that she had been totally distracted to the point that when he spoke she was surprised to find there was someone else in the room. She mustered all her powers of concentration and met his questioning look straight on with her determined response.

  “I would not, Hugo. We have a lot to talk about. I want to hear about your break and I definitely want to tell you about the conference and the reception that our paper received. I am even more enthusiastic than I was before about being aware of social harm in the work we do. The group are absolutely right that only one set of people are expected to make reparation and their own harm is rendered invisible by current structures.” She realised she was gabbling and reined herself in. “And before all that I want you to bring me up to date about how everyone is in the group. I hope there were no crises over the Christmas spell. I know it can be the worst time for many people. Then we have a plan t
o make for the next few months.” She smiled convincingly to show him that she was able to pull it all together. “Where will we start, Hugo? Just as well we have the whole day.” She stood up. “First of all let me wish you a happy New Year,” and she moved around the desk and hugged him enthusiastically.

  27

  Despite a disturbed night with the new baby, Ian McVeigh was leaving his home not long after eight o’clock on Friday morning. He had made sure that his appearance communicated competence and authority in an understated manner. Nothing too flashy, just quiet tasteful clothes and excellent grooming. Sally had wolf-whistled when he came into the kitchen to say goodbye and he knew he had hit the right note. He liked to get a chance to take charge of some aspects of an investigation and Paton and Burrows had grown to trust him. He was meticulous in his attention to recording findings and his instincts were sound. Although it didn’t show too much, he was quietly ambitious about his future in the force.

  Ian had called Hillsborough Police Station the previous evening and explained that he would be in the village on Friday morning as part of the investigation into Helen Breen’s murder.

  The night duty sergeant had been very affable. “I wondered how long it would be before we heard from you guys,” he had quipped. “There’s quite a stir in the village already since the news began to leak out. Once the press gets a hold of the details I’d say we’ll get a bit of spillover attention here. Of course it goes without saying that we’ll be happy to support your inquiry any way we can.”

  Ian made a mental note to check with DI Paton about involving the local force in some house-to-house calls. The familiar trusted face often gathered more useful information than the stranger could.

  He had asked for any help they could offer in terms of background knowledge on Helen Breen as a local resident and any known relationships she had in the area. He explained that the following morning he would be bringing some forensic people to look at her house and car if it was available and that he would call at the local station before meeting the lab guys at Breen’s house at ten. The sergeant said he would get a local patrol car to drop past that evening and see what was to be seen from outside. It would take a day or so to pull a report together for them but he would set the wheels in motion straight away. He would also leave a note in the station log so the daytime squad knew to expect him.

  McVeigh took the rural Hillhall Road out of Belfast towards Lisburn in the hope of avoiding the morning motorway traffic. He wasn’t long on the road, singing happily to Cool FM, when Burrows phoned to update him on developments. He could expect the car to be at Breen’s house as they had CCTV of Liam Doyle driving it there on the Friday morning after Breen’s killing. That was quite the turn-up! Doyle was moving centre-picture now alongside Wilson and the pace of the inquiry was picking up. The ‘boss’ was gathering information on Doyle and she and Burrows would interview him together later on Friday morning.

  “You and the lab boys can check for any signs of Doyle in Breen’s house or the locality,” Burrows continued. “Gather up any laptops, mobiles or interesting paperwork and ask the local force to check back on their CCTV for the period before and after the Thursday when we now know she was killed.”

  “Bill, what do you think about asking the locals to do some house-to-house?”

  “Good idea. I’ll get the boss to set that up with her counterpart in Hillsborough. Best to follow the procedures. Good thinking, Ian. See you back at the Barracks this afternoon. Things are finally beginning to take off, I think.”

  Burrow’s quiet excitement was infectious and Ian braced himself to give his part of the picture his best effort. He switched off the radio. Bill’s call had totally re-engaged him and he wanted to give it his full focus.

  There was a bit of traffic mayhem in Lisburn and it was nearly nine when Ian pulled into the car park in front of Hillsborough Police Station. The surroundings were very different to the Belfast stations. Unlike the often run down urban settings, this was an affluent leafy suburb. Ian was impressed by the size of the houses round about. Even the new build near the station consisted of enormous detached houses with big gardens and double garages. It was a radically different work environment to the one he was used to in Belfast City Centre.

  The difference wasn’t only outside. Hillsborough Station had an impressively comfortable reception area that obviously catered to its more genteel victims of crime.

  The duty sergeant showed Ian into a small room off the reception area and gave him an envelope that had been left for him by the night staff. “That’s a short account of the patrol car officer’s observations of the property and the vehicle parked outside. The fuller report is in hand.” He settled himself on the edge of the table and motioned to Ian to take a seat. “The old Manse is on the southern side of the village and relatively discreet from other dwellings. Your victim didn’t show much interest in integrating into the community here. Quite the opposite actually.” It was clear that Helen Breen had not scored many points for social interaction. “There is a recent development of about eight town houses near Breen’s place, but they are all facing away from her. I’d be surprised if there was any contact.”

  “We are very grateful for any local knowledge you can share with us that is pertinent to the case.” Ian wasn’t sure that what was forthcoming was fact or local fiction but either way it would have some bearing on the victim profile and he needed to pay close attention.

  The local man appeared to be intent on giving Ian a thorough cultural briefing. “We make it our business to know our community well, DC McVeigh. We have ongoing security issues here because of the Big House.”

  Ian nodded to show he was up to speed with the local territory and policing priorities.

  “Our chaps on the ground know more about local residents and their frequent visitors than they would ever imagine.” He raised his eyebrows and looked meaningfully over the top of his glasses. “We need to know if anybody at all who spends time in the Village is a potential security risk. We may need to do background checks on people visiting locally to ensure that they are not just positioning themselves to carry out a terrorist attack in the future.”

  His pause here seemed to be for dramatic effect and Ian kept his face open but expressionless.

  “If someone, like Dr Breen for example, has unusual habits that are legal between consenting adults and pose no security threat, then we cease to be interested and people are free to do as they wish in the privacy of their own homes. Nevertheless, we remain vigilant and well-informed.” He grinned smugly and Ian refrained from any response. “We don’t broadcast that our surveillance is as thorough as it is, but it may be that in this instance our observations of Dr Breen may be of some interest to your inquiry.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. We would be more than grateful for any information you can share about Helen Breen and particularly her recent visitors. We believe that a young man called Liam Doyle may be on that list and any details you have about him would be much appreciated.” He handed the sergeant a card that had the email contact details for the detection team and his own mobile number.

  The local man stood up to his full height, indicating that he was finished for the moment and Ian rose too, glad to be able to head off and meet his colleagues outside Breen’s house.

  “I will have an extra word with the person who is preparing that report for you, DC McVeigh.” He nodded conspiratorially. “I hope we will be able to provide you with something of use to your investigation.”

  Hillsborough village centre took in a steep hill with tasteful small shops, pubs and restaurants on either side. At the top, off to the right, was the entrance to the Castle – an attractive soft sandstone building behind high railings and with sentry boxes at the gate. With a population of less than four thousand and some fine Georgian architecture, Hillsborough was a well-regarded place to live. The Castle, known locally as ‘the Big House’, was the Queen’s residence in Northern Ireland and there was the sense amongst quite
a number of the residents that they were courtiers just waiting to be called to the royal presence. A terrace of three houses in the village square had their doors painted consecutively red, white and blue. In the North, this clearly articulated the political identity of the area to all with eyes to see.

  The main road followed the castle wall and just a few minutes further along this treelined road Ian drew into a short driveway that led to the Old Manse. He could see Breen’s Mazda parked outside the house which stood well apart from any other places of residence in the immediate area, facing the stone wall and forested grounds around the Castle. As the local sergeant had said, there was indeed a small new development to the rear but the houses faced away from the Old Manse and there was no shared access road.

  It was clear, even from the outside, that Helen Breen had bought this fine old property on the outskirts of the village and tastefully renovated it to be her escape from all those who would relish a glimpse of her private life. She had definitively ensured that her personal life was exactly that.

  As he was a little early, he decided to write up some notes from his meeting with the station sergeant. He had definitely been saying that Helen Breen had visitors whose sexual interests were somewhat unusual and that was a significant element to add into the victim profile. The envelope he had handed over contained details of the vehicle parked, unmoved, outside the house since Friday 20 December. Local patrols had noted that the house seemed uninhabited over the holiday period but this was not seen as unusual since so many local people travelled abroad for Christmas.