Alice agreed and called a waiter and placed their order.
Without further delay Paton moved very directly to the subject of the case of Helen Breen.
“We will have time to reverse, I hope, and go through all the social niceties when this case is solved but for now can we cut straight to the chase? I’m assuming trust and confidentiality is a given, so I’ll give you a quick summary of where we are and I’d really appreciate your perspective as an outsider/insider so to speak.”
“I’m good with that as long as we can eat at the same time!” Alice was fully alert and suddenly ravenous.
Paton spoke quietly but with assurance. “Right so … Dr Helen Breen was killed in her DePRec office on Thursday night of the 19th December. Professor Bell had asked her to cover as evening duty manager as he was busy elsewhere. Breen’s passkey was used to check out of the building at nine thirty-six but there is no video evidence of Breen leaving and her car remained in the underground car park all night. Bell received an email from her account that same evening after ten saying she would not be in the following day as she was needed to care for her mother and would work from there. Liam Doyle received a message around the same time asking him to collect her car keys from his post box and drive her car to her home in Hillsborough where he needed to admit an IT technician who would be removing equipment for repair. Doyle seems to be the only one who actually knew where Breen really lived. Her official address was her mother’s – and her childhood home. We can now assume that Helen Breen was already dead when these two messages were sent.”
“How did Doyle think she would get to her home without a car?” Alice mused.
“I don’t think he did that kind of lateral thinking. He was besotted and just pleased to be involved in some aspect of her life no matter how menial.”
She paused as the food arrived and an array of steaming dishes was placed in the centre of the table for sharing. The waiter explained the contents of each dish and left them to it.
They filled their plates and Caroline continued with the contents of her mouth only partially eaten. Neither woman was concerned with the finer points of dining etiquette.
“According to Doyle, and the security footage from the college confirms this, he collected the car and drove it to Hillsborough. A nondescript man, driving an unmarked white van and wearing a baseball cap duly collected a laptop, and possibly a mobile phone and some other items. Several hours later when Breen did not arrive and did not respond to his text messages Doyle got a bus to Lisburn and then another one back to west Belfast. He did not hear from her again despite having made several attempts to contact her. Again his phone records verify this.”
“So someone very carefully arranged that Helen Breen was not missed until all her electronic devices were safely removed – and they staged things so that possibly nothing would be discovered until the holiday period was over. Devious and fairly well executed by the sound of things.”
Caroline continued. “We can see on college security footage that two people presenting as cleaners transported something that might either be a cleaning cart or shredding bin from the DePRec building to the Maritime Studies Centre in and around eleven o’clock that evening. Two of the regular cleaners were phoned by someone purporting to come from the cleaning company and told they were not needed that night and so their replacements were able to blend in unnoticed with the rest of the squad. There was no docking of the original cleaners’ pay so the message evidently had nothing to do with their employers.” She refilled her plate and paused long enough in her account for Alice to comment.
“Someone has a fine understanding of the security and cleaning procedures in the college. I suppose these services are all privatised, which makes tracking individuals very difficult. The same challenges already existed in the States before I headed back to college. I guess we exported our precarious service industry model to the rest of the world. Nothing to be proud of there!”
“You are spot on, Alice. We are dealing with an experienced strategist here who went to considerable lengths to cover their tracks and delay discovery of the body of Helen Breen. I quipped to the guys earlier that it sounded as if we were dealing with a killer who had staff but maybe there is something to be teased out further in that.”
They both were silent for a few moments, digesting the parameters of this possibility.
“I am sure you are building up quite the victim profile on Helen Breen,” Alice mused. “What I was wondering earlier when you called me was what significance might DePRec and its work have in this case?”
Caroline was suddenly a fraction more alert. This was just the kind of sideways perspective that she had been hoping for from Alice Fox.
“Talk to me, Alice,” she urged and sipped thoughtfully at her glass of white wine. “What were you thinking about in that regard?”
“Well, I am very conscious of the constant underlying politics that is part of the social fabric here. From my first day in Belfast I have been struck by the way that individuals and communities are defined by their different cultural identity. It’s often unremarked but ever-present, in the background of so many aspects of everyday life … even on the walls, as Jackson Bell’s photographic recording of political murals describes. I suppose when you have been here long enough, like anywhere I guess, you don’t see that stuff as clearly any more.”
“Yes, indeed. It just becomes like slightly tasteless wallpaper,” Caroline mused.
Earlier when she had been thinking over the details of Helen Breen’s killing, Alice had arrived at the conclusion that DePRec must be a significant part of the murder. Otherwise why not simply kill her elsewhere where a less elaborate cover-up was required?
“Since it was set up all those years ago,” she said, “DePRec taps into the underbelly of all those political aspects of Northern Ireland life in a whole range of ways … like my own work in West Belfast with the EXIT group just to cite a small, recent example. In our research and local involvement of course we become privy to community knowledge …” She hesitated slightly and then continued. “And we learn community secrets as well that are subject to our ethical guidelines about anonymity, confidentiality and protection of research subjects from harm. But here in the North the subject of such research relationships has an interest value beyond most normal research environments. I mean that there are people here, maybe more so in the past, who deal in secrets and will go to great lengths to capture them.”
A light bulb went on full strength in Caroline Paton’s mind and she clutched the table edge firmly with the fingers of the hand not holding her wineglass.
Alice noted the surge provoked in the detective’s energy level and persisted resolutely with her line of thinking. She felt that she was edging closer to something important. “I met the founder of DePRec, Tara Donnelly, at a conference in Dublin before Christmas. In fact, I realise now it was exactly during the period when Helen Breen was murdered. I got onto quite friendly terms with her because of our common research interests but also primarily because of her history in DePRec. She told me a little about why she left the project to which she was so deeply committed and her story involved reference to very murky influences and pressures. They were not paramilitary in nature but part of the state machinery to get inside the communities that were of interest to them. She didn’t tell me much really but I could see that she had been frightened off. I guess she doesn’t know me well enough yet to open up fully, but I could see that whatever happened has kept her away from her family and northern friends unless they visit her south of the border. Anyway, I suppose what I am trying to say is that from my culturally distanced perspective, I can see that DePRec has always been open to being used and exploited …” here she became even more serious, “and people who move in those undercover circles are not opposed to making their point persuasively, maybe violently, when they feel they have to. Might there be something in what you are looking for that relates to DePRec the organisation as well as to individu
als within it?”
Caroline poured more wine and looked intently at Alice. “You have really helped me with that steer, Alice. Now I need to carefully think through a whole new set of connections so I am going to go home now and work through some of the possibilities here.” She paused for thought. “I wonder if Tara Donnelly would talk to me. I’m guessing she has a bigger story to tell and maybe if she knew she would have a sympathetic ear she would be more inclined to meet with me. Would you be happy to explain the situation to her and see what she comes back with?”
“Perhaps she would talk to both of us,” Alice ventured, lifting the last of the sauce from her plate with her finger and licking it appreciatively. “It’s too late to phone now but I could email her and see what she says. I’m guessing you would have to travel if you want to meet her face to face.”
“OK. See what response an email gets and you can call and let me know. We can take it from there.” She waved at the debris left after their meal. She gave Alice a playful, apologetic look. “You must promise me we’ll do this again and reprise the earlier conversation we skipped and even have some sweet course and coffee! I’d love to hear more about what led to you finishing up in Belfast when you had the world to choose from.”
“I give you my solemn word I am up for that,” said Alice with a laugh.
They split the bill and outside Paton hailed a passing taxi and Alice walked home past the softly lit Gothic and Tudor style buildings of Queens University. She felt a real connection to this area now and realised how lucky she was to have selected such a perfect place for herself from such a great distance away. Not too many streets off in several other directions and life could have been much less pleasant.
Alice sent off a carefully worded email message to Tara, asking her to call as soon as she could and began to do her end-of-the-day routine. She planned to run in the morning and then head west to prepare for a forthcoming martial arts session with the EXIT group. She would use the opportunity to call with Liam Doyle as well and see what she could discover there.
As she was checking the front door, her phone rang. She thought it might be her sister Sam who would just be getting home from work in Lowell – however, Tara Donnelly’s soft northern voice was instantly recognisable.
As Alice had intended, Tara was intrigued by her email message and couldn’t wait until morning to find out what it was all about. They talked for nearly an hour and ended by making an arrangement to meet in a hotel just south of the border at three o’clock the following afternoon. Alice had vouched for Caroline Paton’s reliability and knew she was right in her judgment.
When she eventually said goodnight to Tara, Alice texted the detective with details of the suggested meeting. Caroline confirmed immediately and they agreed to meet at two o’clock next day when Caroline would drive them both to the Ballymascanlon Hotel, just over the border in the Irish Republic. The trip should take an hour each way, at the most.
It was almost midnight when Alice finally switched off her bedside light and focused very hard on emptying her mind so that there might be some hope of sleep.
39
The Murder Squad began their Saturday with an eight o’clock breakfast meeting that was charged by copious quantities of carbohydrates and coffee. They had all done some follow-up thinking on the previous evening’s meeting and had lists that would keep them busy for the day. Paton told them about her conversation with Alice Fox and the plans to talk to Tara Donnelly that afternoon. They agreed on the division of labour for the day. Caroline would collate and analyse all outstanding reports: the forensics from Helen Breen’s office and the Marine Biology Centre, the forensics from Hillsborough and the report prepared by the uniformed officer who had reviewed all the CCTV footage. She would go back to the college security footage from Thursday 19th December and talk to the cleaning firm to check if it was possible to find out who exactly had taken the place of the cleaners given the evening off. Ian would focus on uncovering the story behind the photo of Janet Baldwin, the original case in which Mr Baldwin might be implicated and any available info on Professor Janet Hartnett. Burrows would tie up loose ends in relation to Wilson, Doyle, and Bell as well as contacting Frank Breen and delving a little deeper into the school-time relationships of Breen and Baldwin.
They scheduled a review meeting for six that evening and Caroline said she realised that they had been full on since Wednesday evening and hoped they might get a few hours’ family time that evening. She was good at sensing when the prospect of a small break might energise an investigation at risk of hemorrhaging vital stamina. She knew a few hours could feel like a holiday when you have had little respite for several days and she observed the proof in the renewed enthusiasm generated in the room.
“So let’s just agree where we want to be by this evening … and then onwards and upwards!”
Bright and early Alice Fox was on her bicycle heading across town towards the EXIT premises. She knew that on a weekend she could spend some time alone there with her thoughts and at the same time do some martial-arts training and prep for her session with the group next week. Tae Kwon Do had been a passion of Alice’s since she discovered it as a police cadet. She liked the controlled dance-like quality of the set moves and the emphasis on blocking attack rather than aggressing an opponent. The complex series of punches and high kicks was exhilarating to perform and as a police officer had allowed her to be calm and effective in unarmed combat.
This morning as she did some heavy-bag training she relished her clear head and the ease with which her high kicks made contact with the weight of her target. She was light-footed and precise in her movement that in its advanced application had a very controlled quality. She wanted to share this type of confidence and self-reliance with the young members of the group. Most of them had some experience of street violence for which they were ill prepared. Her work with young people at risk in the US had shown her that the discipline required to develop skill in a martial art actually helped avoid violence. The holistic nature of Tae Kwon Do, based on ancient Korean values of peacefulness and rationality had captured Alice’s respect all those years ago. It allowed the embodiment of the goals of a peaceful society and fitted harmoniously alongside the discussions about social justice that she and Hugo had instigated with the group. They had talked enough about self-protection. She was sure that now was the right time to introduce some physical action.
After over an hour of highly physical activity she showered and headed around the corner to Liam Doyle’s house where she wanted to check out how he had survived his ordeal of the previous day.
She knocked the door and heard the old lady call out, ‘It’s open. Come in if you’re good-looking.’
The effort left Mrs Doyle coughing strenuously and as she entered the small living room Alice responded immediately to the hand signal that she knew meant that she needed a drink of water. Once calm was restored Alice reminded the woman who it was had made free and easy with her kitchen.
“I know who you are,” she laughed somewhat scathingly. “I’m not as doolally as I look. You were here with Hugo yesterday. The peelers let Liam home last night but he is in poor spirits. He got me up this morning and then went back to his room. You’ll find him in the front room upstairs.” She pointed to the stairs and then leaned her head back on the winged chair and closed her eyes.
Feeling a bit like a burglar, Alice made her way up the narrow stairs. The door of the front bedroom was slightly open and she tapped it and pushed it open. Liam Doyle was sitting at a small desk facing the window, which overlooked the cul de sac. His head was in his hands and a curtain of red hair covered his face.
“Sorry for barging in,” said Alice. “I was round in EXIT doing some training and wondered how you survived yesterday’s experience in the police station.”
He turned his chair to face her and motioned for her to sit on the neatly made single bed, the only available place in the cramped room. He looked as if he had been crying and Alice f
elt a surge of sympathy.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble you’ve had, Liam, including the loss of someone that you cared deeply for.”
He stared at her as if expecting there to be a sting coming after the kind words. When none came he relaxed a little and sighed heavily. “Well, I feel so confused, Alice. I think I have been a very stupid person but that doesn’t make the feelings of grief and loss any less.” His eyes filled with tears that he attempted to blink away. “And then to be a suspect on top of that is just shocking. It dawned on me as I was being questioned that I was probably being played not just by Helen, who clearly didn’t have any genuine feelings for me … but by someone else … some spook who killed her and then emailed both Bell and me. In the case of Bell it was to gain time but I was implicated in an altogether different way. I guess they knew that with my background I’d be the cops first choice as a suspect.”
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” Alice encouraged him gently. “I think that you may unwittingly have some information that will help identify who did this. Why would someone want Helen Breen dead and be prepared to incriminate you in the whole affair? Where is the sense in that, Liam?”
Liam Doyle shook his head slowly from side to side and sighed repeatedly. “Of course I am racking my brain constantly, trying to remember anything that might answer that question. It’s not helped by the fact that I was so besotted that I wasn’t using my critical faculties very often when I was around Helen. I feel now that I was mesmerised by her … like under a spell that stopped me seeing what was happening around me. How come others all saw her as one kind of person and I saw a completely different reality?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be too hard on myself if I were you, Liam. Often we see what someone wants us to see and Helen Breen had picked you as someone that she liked to have around and she made sure that you saw a flattering version of her.” Alice chose her words carefully so as not to add fuel to Doyle’s self-deprecation.
Murder In The Academy : A chilling murder mystery set in Belfast (Alice Fox Murder Mysteries Book 1) Page 20