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

by Maggie Feeley

  Alice and Caroline waited respectfully as Tara got to the end of her story.

  “I handed in my notice and moved south where I was lucky to find another post before too long. I knew that to keep my family safe I needed to be of no further use or interest to this man or others like him. I have never set foot in Northern Ireland since that time and I can only assume that the State found another source of information who was more compliant than I could be.” She sipped her now cold coffee and pushed the remains of her sandwich away from her across the plate. Then she looked up at her two companions and smiled. “It’s a surprising relief to have said all that out loud! I think I’ll have another cup of coffee and stop talking now.”

  Alice caught the waiter’s eye and ordered three more coffees. She was watching Caroline Paton process what she had heard. Her expression was one of resolute determination.

  “Thank you, Tara. You have given me more information than I expected and I think I know where it may take me next in solving this case. I have one last thing to ask you. Eleven years later, would you recognise this man now, if you saw a picture of him?”

  “I still have bad dreams about him. He is still fresh in my mind so I’m sure I would.”

  “Good. I hope I will get back to you soon with some images. Maybe later this evening. And, again, let me say that you need not be named or involved in any way in the working out of this case. You have my word on that. Now let’s have some hot coffee … and maybe a little bit of cake.” She raised an eyebrow playfully at the two women and called the waiter again to bring a selection of cakes.

  Alice admired Paton’s firm but gentle approach and was relieved that her promise to Tara had been well founded. She could see where this case was headed and it would take all Paton’s wiles to bring it to a safe resolution.

  They said goodbye to Tara in the car park and headed off in their different directions, knowing that there would be more contact in the next day or so.

  Caroline asked Alice if she had driven in Ireland yet and she said she had a rental car during her stay in Wicklow at Christmas.

  “Great. You drive and I’ll get in touch with the chaps back at the Barracks.” She tossed the keys to Alice and took her place in the passenger seat. “No point in letting any more grass grow under our feet now, is there?”

  It was after four now and the landscape around the border looked more menacing than it had done in the winter sun. Alice had a sense of needing to get past Ravensdale as quickly as possible and was relieved when they were past the looming dark of the forest, back in the North and heading for home.

  41

  As he drove to the head of DePRec’s home, Bill Burrows considered his earlier video call with the murder victim’s brother, Frank Breen. As he had predicted, Frank had been more focused when he was receiving a call from the police station than from his mother’s house and within her hearing. Burrows had questioned Frank Breen closely about his classmate Janet Baldwin and her close friends during her final few years at school. Frank had remembered the names of several men with whom the young Janet had been close and a woman that he associated with being her best friend. Without much difficulty Bill had tracked down June Carson, who still lived locally, and he had arranged to call with her later in the afternoon. When he had explained that he was looking into events back in their school days, she had promised to look out any old photos by the time he got there. He hoped to have that trail followed to its conclusion by the time they were in their evening meeting.

  Burrows rang Jackson Bell’s doorbell just after two o’clock and the man himself answered it almost immediately. The sergeant apologised for the unannounced intrusion and asked if he might have some of his time to clarify a few issues.

  Bell showed him through to his study at the back of the house and offered refreshments. Numerous familiar images of murals from around the city were framed and hung on one wall of the room. The other walls were shelved and filled with books and a large desk faced the window into a small garden. There was no sign out there that any member of the Bell family had green fingers. Passing through the rest of the house, Burrows had been struck by how barren and comfortless it appeared. A few dismal framed biblical quotations were all that might count as décor. There were neither mirrors nor any of the usual trappings of home like a television or sound system or even family photographs. Bell’s study was cozy by comparison.

  “How is your investigation progressing, Detective Sergeant?” The question was hesitant and seemed posed almost casually rather than out of any real interest in the response.

  Bell was less impressive away from his role as the person in charge in DePRec. He seemed deflated and vulnerable in a way that Burrows couldn’t fathom.

  “I’m glad you asked,” said Burrows courteously. “I have a few further questions I’d like to ask you, Professor. We have made some progress in our inquiries and I have been wondering if by any chance you have thought of any outstanding issues that you have so far neglected to tell us and that might be relevant to Helen Breen’s murder.”

  At this suggestion Bell looked taken aback but Bill continued calmly.

  “These may be DePRec matters or issues to do with your relationship with the deceased and that might have some bearing on why she was killed.” The detective extended an open palm towards the professor, inviting him to respond.

  Bell was clearly accomplished at maintaining protracted silence but Burrows was not inclined to repeat or reframe the question. He waited. He had Breen’s photograph of Bell in a local gay bar in his inside pocket and was happy to use it as a prompt if need be.

  “If you are referring to staff gossip about my being in a sexual relationship with Dr Breen, then I can assure you that is all unfounded.” Bell’s nostrils flared and he pressed his lips together in exasperation. “It is difficult for some people to understand why one might admire and appreciate a colleague without having some carnally primed motivation. I assure you, Detective Sergeant, there was no such impetus between Dr Breen and myself. I have a wife and daughter whose stability is important to me, and I would protect them vigorously from any slight to my or their reputation.”

  As a family man Burrows identified with the urge to protect and he framed his next question cautiously. “Professor Bell, has anyone ever suggested to you that they might threaten to disturb the peace and stability of your family by disclosing something they would find unpalatable?”

  Bell blanched visibly and hung his head.

  His breathing became laboured and his hands were interlocked in front of him as if he had begun to pray.

  “I ask you this, Professor, out of no desire to distress or harass you in any way. It may be that our discussion need never go any further than this room and the Murder Squad detectives. I make no promises but we are aware that the motive for this killing goes beyond workplace rivalries and we need to know what might have provoked someone to kill Helen Breen.”

  Again there was a long, silent pause. Burrows touched the photo in his inside pocket and decided to wait a few moments further. He met Bell’s frightened gaze and wondered how such a clever man could have got himself into such a position in this day and age. OK, Northern Ireland was not the most liberal place in the world to be gay but there was equality legislation and substantial protection against discrimination. Bell’s fear of losing his family was clearly an enormous factor in his closeted behaviour and Burrows empathised with the torturous dilemma in which he found himself.

  “If I tell you, Detective Sergeant, I will need some promise of protection.” He met Burrows’ eyes as he made this suggestion.

  Burrows balked at the idea. Time to toughen up, he thought.

  “I understand that you may be wary of talking openly, Professor, but this is a murder inquiry. Your life choices are your own business but if they have violent consequences then they become a matter of police concern. My job is to discover who murdered Helen Breen and I suggest that if you have information pertaining to that matter that you tel
l me now and allow me to get on with my job.” He was not as indignant as he sounded but knew it was time to push this man across his threshold of reticence.

  “Of course you are right, Detective Sergeant. I am being small-minded. Forgive me.” He inhaled deeply and looked directly at the detective. “For over ten years now, I have been the informant of an MI5 agent working out of Holywood Barracks.”

  Burrows felt a jolt as he heard this but he kept his expression calm and nodded slightly to urge Bell forwards with his revelation.

  “I know him only as Alan, although I am sure that is not his real name. He persuaded me that gathering and passing on intelligence that would safeguard the fragile Northern Ireland peace would be a noble act. I was never totally convinced of that approach although as a Quaker peace has always been something I value.”

  Bell inspected his still tightly clasped hands. He looked up and met Burrows carefully controlled facial expression.

  “In actual fact, the night before Helen Breen was killed he told me he no longer required my services. I had always been a reluctant participant and passed on as little data as possible to him. Anyway, he told me he had recruited a replacement that he hoped would be more compliant than I had been. I don’t recall his exact words but it was something strange to do with old friends being more reliable than strangers. He reminded me of my ongoing duty of confidentiality unless I wished to experience unpleasant consequences.”

  Bell appeared somewhat relieved by this admission as if he had complied with Burrows’ demand and could now be left in peace. For his part, Bill considered how to follow this unexpected revelation and uncover the piece of the picture that was still not forthcoming.

  “How were you persuaded to take on this role, Professor Bell? As you say you were disinclined to do so.” Bill already knew the answer but needed to track back to Helen Breen and her place in all of this. He thought of what Caroline would do in his place and moved forward one cautious step at a time. Again he watched as Bell struggled with exorcising his deeply buried demons.

  “Well, what can I say? This man, Alan, was surprisingly well informed about many matters that one might have assumed to be private.” He began his explanation with an air of wretchedness. “He constantly amazed … or maybe more accurately alarmed me about his knowledge of the internal business of DePRec.”

  He hesitated momentarily and tears welled in his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell as he suppressed the sobs that rose from within his rigid body. He seemed shocked to find himself crying and wiped awkwardly at his streaming eyes with his ironed white handkerchief. Finally, after some minutes during which Burrows stayed perfectly still, he met the policeman’s insistent gaze and realised there was no way back from his position.

  “OK,” he relented. “He had information about my private life that he knew I really would not wish to be publicly known … in particular, I would not wish it to be known by my wife and family for whom it would be both painful and traumatising.”

  Bill waited quietly while Jackson Bell found the words to describe his personal shame.

  “You see, Detective, as well as being a husband and a father, I am also a homosexual.” He said this desolately as if it were his burden rather than any personal choice. “I have often mused that I am at once a reluctant family man, a reluctant gay man and I was also a very reluctant informant and betrayer of my academic ethics. Despite my pious exterior, DS Burrows, I am a tarnished being with little inner peace.” He stopped then and nodded slowly and repeatedly at the truth he had just uttered.

  Burrows withdrew the compromising photograph of Bell that Helen Breen had stored and handed it to him. “Did Dr Breen know about your sexuality, Professor?”

  Bell considered the image before him and looked blankly at Burrows.

  “I don’t understand. What is this? I have never seen this photograph.” Bell appeared genuinely at a loss.

  “When we visited her home in Hillsborough, the photo was found in Helen Breen’s files. It was with other items featuring colleagues in compromising situations that we must assume she kept in case they became of use to her. We have to consider that someone may have killed her because she threatened to expose them in a manner that they found particularly objectionable.”

  “Well, I am deeply surprised by this.” He waved the photograph dismissively and returned it to Burrows. “Helen Breen was the only person who knew of my propensities but it was not an issue for her. I was assured of her loyalty and in almost a decade that confidence never faltered. I can’t imagine why she would have such a collection of items and I am not sure that I want to damage my memory of her by speculating about that. She was never anything to me but a most devoted colleague.” Bell’s face was crumpled and he looked like the antithesis of his normally controlled self.

  At the sound of the front door closing Bell became even further agitated. “My wife and daughter have returned from Bible study.” He went to the open door of the study and looked from Burrows along the entrance hall towards the incoming women.

  The Detective Sergeant decided to grant Bell a reprieve for the moment and trust that these matters could be returned to if that became necessary. He rose to leave and Bell nodded in gratitude for the detective’s discretion.

  “Thank you for your help in these matters, Professor Bell,” Burrows announced rather formally as he carefully replaced the photo in his inside jacket pocket. “We will be in touch next week to update you about our progress.”

  As Bell showed him out Bill caught a glimpse of mother and daughter standing in the kitchen unwrapping some dishes of food obviously destined for the evening meal. They were strangely old-fashioned in their sombre dress and both had thick waist-length plaited hair, the beauty of which almost stopped Burrows in his tracks.

  42

  By the time it reached six thirty on Saturday afternoon the three members of the Murder Squad team were well and truly ready to share their new findings with each other. Mountains had been crossed and they were weary and excited at the same time. Caroline had surpassed herself and ordered in pizzas for a Saturday treat. She had also evidently cleared out the staff canteen of all chocolate produce and an array of carbonated drinks. A copy of the still picture from the 80s porn video was affixed to the evidence board and each team member was looking protective about the pile of notes before them on the table. Burrows sat at the ready with an array of whiteboard markers.

  “So I don’t know about you guys but that felt like a long day,” said Caroline. “Let’s get on top of what we’ve got. If it’s OK I’d like to start … just be sure to leave me some pizza!”

  She began with her morning review of the outstanding forensic and CCTV analyses reports. Aside from a few fabric threads and human hairs that had transferred from the remains, there had been little to glean from the forensics on the freezer in Marine Biology where Helen Breen’s body had lain throughout the Christmas holiday period. The maintenance staff and the staff member who investigated the problem with closing the freezer had sufficiently contaminated the rest of the scene to render it quite useless in terms of evidence. Inside, the wrappings on the head of the victim had been standard institutional issue and there were no prints or useful markings that might help identify those who had placed the remains there. All Helen Breen’s clothing and hair samples retrieved from the garments had been bagged and stored for further crosschecking should a suspect be identified. She reminded them that images were available on the shared drive. The immediate area around the freezers was also included in the initial forensic sweep but revealed nothing other than evidence that a rigorous cleaning had taken place. Paton told them to bear in mind that what was significant was that the moving and positioning of the body was almost certainly the work of two people passing as cleaners. They were not remarkable in any way to the security guard, nor clearly visible on the CCTV footage. For now they would assume that the two replacement cleaners had done that job but they had not necessarily been the murderers. The almost meticulous
erasure of the signs of killing in Breen’s office was in contrast to the stubborn brutality of the murder. That appeared to be the single-minded work of one person according to the autopsy findings. These facts suggested a murderer who was supported by a follow-up team who covered the killer’s tracks and delayed the discovery of the corpse for several weeks. She asked them to bear in mind the organisational structure that would be needed to implement such a murder strategy.