The Sect (The Craig Crime Series)

by Catriona King

  “To the Friday after Easter. April tenth.”

  He thudded into his chair. “It can’t be! It’s too soon.”

  She glanced at Jake and they nodded in unison. “I’m sorry, but it is, sir. Greer’s defence team pushed for it because their senior barrister has major surgery scheduled. Apparently it can’t be moved so the judge gave in.”

  “More like they wanted to catch us on the hop.”

  This was just what he needed; three dead bodies and an appeal coming that could last for weeks. He chastised himself immediately. He wasn’t the only one involved; John would be tied up on the forensic side and Liam would be called to give evidence as well. The others watched his expression change from incredulity to rage and then settle on a closed eyed shrug. When Craig reopened his eyes he was resigned.

  “OK, take me through it again from the top.”

  ****

  Mike Augustus stared at the body on the table and then across it at his boss. John’s expression was as quizzical as his own. The boy’s body was perfect, or as perfect as a dead body could be. No scars, no needle marks and no anal tears; no signs of a struggle, past abuse or abrasions anywhere, apart from the manacle marks on his limbs. If they hadn’t known that the lad had been drowned they would have thought that he was asleep.

  John pushed a strand of hair off the youth’s thin face, speaking into the microphone as he did.

  “Fair-skinned, Caucasian youth of slim build. Aged between sixteen and twenty years. Eyes blue, hair dark blond. No obvious injuries except ankle and wrist abrasions. Tattoo on his right inner arm.” He paused, shaking his head and turning off the mike. “I wonder what his story was.”

  Mike glanced up from the corpse, his face the picture of innocence, as if the horrors they saw every day never touched him. He looked so much younger than his forty-one years that he made John, only three years his senior, feel like an old man.

  “You mean how did he meet his killer?”

  That wasn’t what John had meant but he claimed it just the same. “That and what was his life like? With the others we at least have some clue to their lifestyle, but this boy…”

  As his voice tailed off he knew they were both thinking the same thing; this boy looks just like I did when I was young. No sign of drugs or sex, or anything really; a bit thin but otherwise just a regular healthy teenager who someone must have noticed had gone. Neither of them said the words because to have done so would have implied that their other victims had somehow deserved their deaths, and that wasn’t true or what they meant. Nothing warranted what had been done to these three and everyone deserved someone mourning them somewhere.

  What they actually meant was that the boy seemed low risk, as if his lifestyle couldn’t have exposed him to any threat. It was judgemental and the scientist in both men dismissed it immediately, but it was more than judgemental; they couldn’t have been more wrong.

  ****

  When Craig entered John’s office two hours later it was with an apology on his lips.

  “Sorry. I got caught up on the Greer appeal. Anything useful on the P.M.?”

  John pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk, watching as Craig read it with widening eyes. He glanced up from the page.

  “Nothing?”

  John shook his head. “Nothing except drowning, a bleach wash and the same tattoo on his right arm. Not a mark on him apart from the restraints, and no sign of drugs, sex or alcohol; although his tox-screen isn’t through yet. This kid looks like a boy scout.”

  Craig shook his head immediately. “He wasn’t or he wouldn’t be dead. His lifestyle just isn’t visible.”

  John frowned. “You’re talking as if this is a judgement killer.”

  Craig grimaced; it was the first time the idea had been vocalised but it was spot on. Liam had mooted disapproval as a motive but it had taken John to crystallise the idea.

  “I suppose I am.” He paused and then spoke more firmly. “Yes. I am. That’s exactly what I think. I think that this is someone who judged our victims and found them lacking somehow, so he sentenced them to death.”

  “He?”

  “Or they. I’d be surprised if this was a woman, but you’re right, there’s nothing to rule that out.”

  He fell silent for a moment and John stayed silent too, knowing that Craig’s quiet was the prelude to an exposé not a request for comment. The two men sat, one listening to the wall clock tick and wondering what to cook for dinner that night, the other organising his thoughts on the case. John was just on the point of choosing curry when Craig spoke again.

  “Let’s say…” He stopped, letting the ticks fill the room, then he restarted, more energetically than before. “Let’s say that each of our victims was living a lifestyle that was somehow less than ideal in the killer’s eyes.”

  John interrupted, all thoughts of cooking gone. “The girl was a sex worker and drug addict…”

  “The first boy might have been gay and the second one…”

  There was silence while both of them stared at the walls.

  John spoke first. “The second boy did something that didn’t leave marks.”

  “Not on him anyway. OK, let’s say that our John Doe number two had committed some evil; murder, rape, whatever, none of which would have marked him, but would still have ruined his victim’s life.”

  “So why didn’t they leave a signpost to his crime like they did with the first two? The first boy had the choke pear left behind and the girl’s track marks were already obvious.”

  Craig shook his head. “Perhaps there’s another dimension to the judgement that we don’t yet understand.”

  “Like what?”

  Craig stared into space as something else occurred to him. “Their youth is important somehow.”

  “Young enough to be redeemable?”

  Craig nodded furiously. “Yes! Perhaps our killer thought they were still young enough to repent and when they didn’t he judged them guilty and executed them.”

  John puffed up his cheeks and blew out the air in a long whistle.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I think it sounds like something from the Old Testament, or a bad movie.”

  Craig’s face fell and he slumped back in his chair. “What then?”

  John shook his head. “Do you really think none of them would have repented? Even to save their lives?”

  “So what’s the answer?”

  “I don’t know, but I think that until we identify the victims it will be impossible to say.”

  His words were absolute but he gave a caveating smile. It said ‘maybe your theory isn’t complete crap’. He’d seen Craig be right too many times to dismiss anything that he said, but they needed proof.

  Craig shrugged, taking the hint. “You’re right. We have days of routine enquiries ahead. But don’t dismiss the theory; it could still turn out to be right.”

  John nodded. “It could. Or this could just turn out to be some nutter with a cling-film fetish.”

  Chapter Five

  Craig’s apartment, Stranmillis. 9 p.m.

  Katy watched as Craig picked at the dinner she’d prepared, occasionally lifting a few grains of rice to his mouth and then staring into space for minutes, before repeating the action, with his fork similarly bereft of food. After ten minutes of the same routine she whisked away his plate, hopeful of a howl of protest; instead all that came was a vague ‘that was lovely’ and another blank stare into space.

  She had a theory and she decided to test it. A moment’s rustling at the fridge resulted in two bowls being placed on the table. Hers contained ice-cream, Craig’s contained a fridge magnet photo of his family taken when they were kids. As his spoon hit the bowl the thud of metal against plastic made him glance down and then look up at her with a wry smile. She seized the eye contact as an opening.

  “The case or your family? Which one is worrying you?”

  They were the only things that ever really worried him. He nodded at
the magnet; she’d guessed it right. She decided to hazard another one.

  “Lucia?”

  He nodded. “Lucia.”

  It was the first focused word that he’d said in twenty minutes and as he considered his next one Katy replaced the magnet with some ice-cream. He waited for too long so she moved things on.

  “What’s wrong with Lucia?”

  Craig shrugged. “Nothing. Yet. It’s what she’s planning to do that’s the problem.”

  It took her another five minutes to drag out the story and less than a second for her to picture Mirella’s hysteria and work out what needed to be done. She brewed some coffee and ushered him across to the couch, folding her legs up under her.

  “OK. It’s fair to say that Lucia is as stubborn as you, yes?”

  He made a face. “I’m not stubborn, just decisive.”

  Katy rolled her eyes, remembering times when she’d tried to change his mind.

  “Well, if you’re decisive, Lucia’s equally so. Agreed?”

  He nodded.

  “So any attempt to talk her out of going to Syria will fail.”

  He nodded again, with a glum expression.

  “It’s simple then. Just don’t try.”

  His glum look changed to a frown. “Oh, that’s very helpful. I’ll just let her go and get killed then watch Mum cry for the next ten years, will I?”

  She tutted gently. “Don’t be sarcastic, pet. What I meant was that if you say no to Lucia she’ll get even more determined to go, so you don’t say no, you divert her instead.”

  “With what? A road sign?”

  He marched over to retrieve the cafetière as Katy sighed.

  “There’s that sarcasm again.” She waited till he’d sat back down to restart. “Think. What does Lucia want more than anything?”

  “To save the world.”

  She shook her head, infuriating him again. To Craig it seemed she was taking perverse pleasure in winding him up.

  “She wants love. For all her feminism Lucia wants a boyfriend; you know how miserable she’s been since she and Richard split up. She’s lonely. But if we can find her a nice man she might just want to stay here and continue with the charity work that she normally does.”

  It was on the tip of Craig’s tongue to object when he realised that she might be right. Lucia had been miserable since Richard’s punishing concert schedule had made them call it a day six months before. Since then she’d marched for Save the Whale, run a marathon for Save the Badger, and now she was going three thousand miles away to save every human being that she could. All noble causes but only the last one might get her killed.

  He shook his head. “If you say that to her she’ll eat you alive.”

  “Then I won’t say it.”

  He leaned over to give her a kiss. When it ended his glum expression returned. Katy smiled.

  “Nice to see that kissing me cheered you up so much.”

  Craig sighed. “It’s not that, pet, and I’m sure you’re right, Lucia is lonely. But how do we find an eligible man in the next few weeks? Everyone I know is already paired off.”

  Her smile widened to a grin. “That’s where Natalie and I come in. Leave it to us. We’ll organise a party and invite every man in the health service, if you’ll promise to invite every unmarried man in the police.”

  ****

  The C.C.U. Thursday 26th March, 11 a.m.

  Craig glared at the conference call spider on his desk and shook his head.

  “I can’t believe your lawyers said that!”

  Yemi Idowu’s strong voice echoed around the office, his angry tone matching Craig’s. “Neither can I, but they did. Yesterday afternoon.”

  “So because all Greer’s murders were committed in Northern Ireland, they want to just bow out of the appeal? How can they do that when she confessed at Heathrow during a joint operation with The Met?”

  Jake went to say something but Annette shook her head, glancing at Craig cautiously. The discussion was really pushing his buttons.

  He swallowed hard, trying not to rip the head off his long-time friend.

  “I’m sorry, Yemi. I know it’s not your doing.”

  “Or the Super’s. He’s bloody furious. He says they’ll damage the relationship between The Met and the PSNI. It was a joint op and everyone knew it.”

  Craig sighed heavily. “But your arm of the case was Alik Ershov and he’s dead, and Joanne Greer didn’t commit any crime on English soil so I suppose your lawyers have a––”

  “Bollocks! It all happened in the UK.”

  The line fell silent so Annette coughed quietly for attention. Craig nodded her on and she leaned instinctively towards the spider, even though its microphone picked up everything in the room.

  “Hello, sir, it’s Inspector McElroy here.” It wouldn’t be soon. She’d be returning to her maiden name Eakin ASAP.

  Yemi’s voice held a smile. “Hello, Annette. I’m looking forward to meeting you; Marc’s always singing your praises.”

  She blushed and carried on. “We’ll be over tomorrow evening, sir, but I was just wondering something. How, if Ershov wore a wire supplied by The Met and the tape was transcribed by The Met, can The Met’s lawyers now abandon the appeal? You were involved at the moment of Greer’s arrest at Heathrow so surely you’d have to testify about the tape and arrest at least?”

  They all heard Yemi thump the desk.

  “Exactly! That’s what we’re arguing about with the solicitors. They want us just to send a written statement but I believe there’s merit in me being there to speak in court.” His voice hardened as he said the words, as if he’d made a decision. “Oh bugger it, Marc. I’m going to court whether they like it or not. Someone besides you has to testify about Greer’s demeanour and actions that day. She knew exactly what she was doing when she confessed to Ershov, even if he did give her a bit of encouragement.”

  Craig smiled, remembering Yemi’s performances in court from when he’d been at The Met. He would have the jury eating out of his hand.

  “Can you swing it with Chandak?”

  “It’s what he already wants so he’ll enjoy telling the lawyers where to stick their advice. If we’re lucky he might even come over for the trial.”

  Craig pictured the ebullient brummie superintendent and smiled. Rajiv Chandak was extrovert enough in normal conversation so his court performance would be a treat. A warning buzz signalled that their call was ending so Yemi wound it up.

  “Time to go. I’ll see you all after Easter. I’ll come over on the Thursday morning so we’ll have time to brief. Goodbye, Annette. Jake.”

  As his voice faded away Craig turned to the others for comment. Jake shook his head.

  “He’ll be lucky if he’s allowed to come, sir. Lawyers can exert a lot of pressure.”

  Craig nodded, knowing that he was right, but Annette was more optimistic.

  “We’ll have the transcripts ready to go anyway. I’m hopeful that he’ll get here.”

  Craig glanced at the clock. “It’s almost noon, Jake, you need to leave.”

  Jake sighed like a man who would rather be signalling traffic than going where he had to be that afternoon. As he rose Craig followed.

  “I’ll see you at the church at three.”

  Annette touched the young sergeant’s elbow. “I’ll be there too, Jake. Now go; your granny will be wondering where you are.”

  When he’d left Craig held up the percolator and Annette accepted the offer of coffee gratefully. She re-opened the file in front of her assuming that they would be talking about Greer, only to be surprised when Craig shook his head.

  “How are you, Annette?”

  She stared at him, puzzled by the concern in his eyes. Then she remembered that her decree nisi was just through and to the outside world ending a marriage of twenty years seemed like a big deal. It would have been a big deal if she’d still loved Pete, but the moment he’d pushed her to the floor and stamped on her hand, whatever love she�
��d had left after his affair had been snuffed out.

  The suddenness of its demise had surprised her. She’d loved Peter James McElroy for twenty years, really loved him. Through the early years of financial struggle, laughing into the night over beans on toast and a bottle of Liebfraumilch, through the joy of having Amy and Jordan and watching them grow into caring, bright teens. She’d loved every minute of it and wouldn’t wish it away for the world, but…

  When had her love begun to die? It hadn’t been through habit or boredom, or the apathy that had infected many of her friends’ marriages. She’d been too sensible to let things like that destroy their bond, and besides, she’d never expected that the first romantic flush wouldn’t be replaced by something else. Something quieter, warmer; a comfortable semi-detached of a life instead of the glamour of the honeymoon suite.

  No, none of that had killed her love. Its erosion had started when Pete had decided he didn’t like the semi quite as much as her and had gone in search of excitement elsewhere. Another woman; it was such a cliché that she was embarrassed to admit it even to herself. But that was exactly what had happened. His childish selfishness had created a crack in their life and another woman had crawled her way in. The fact that she was the same age as her hadn’t diminished her pain at all, although Pete had seemed to believe that it should. I didn’t go for a younger model, Annette, she was middle-aged like you so what’s all the fuss about? Such sensitivity.

  Even then she’d tried to forgive and forget, for a whole year, but one crack had become one hundred and finally she’d been the one who wanted to leave. Perhaps things could still have been salvaged if her loving husband hadn’t used violence to try to regain control, but a broken hand had sealed their nuptial fate forever, landing her in the E.D. and him on remand in Magilligan; somewhere a jury would hopefully consign him to for a further two years.

  Annette shook herself, realising that she hadn’t responded to Craig’s question. She smiled kindly at him, as if he needed the care more than her.