The Rule Book

by Kitchin , Rob

  ‘Martin, long time no see. How’s it going?’ McEvoy extended a hand.

  ‘I’m surviving, Colm.’ Cleary pushed himself forward and shook McEvoy’s hand warmly. ‘Don’t tell me you’re in charge of this rabble?’

  ‘For my sins,’ McEvoy said. ‘I’m Detective Superintendent Colm McEvoy,’ he introduced himself to the woman.

  ‘Clara Russell,’ the woman replied in a clipped accent, ‘health and safety officer for the university.’

  ‘They made you a detective superintendent,’ Cleary said, doubt in his voice. ‘They must have been desperate, Colm.’

  It was always difficult to tell whether Cleary was joking or not. McEvoy’s policy had always been to think that the cantankerous old sod was speaking the truth dressed up in jest. The only way to deal with it was to reciprocate the compliment. ‘Not as desperate as when they made you one, Martin.’

  ‘You insolent young pup!’ Cleary stated, an amused edge to his voice. ‘I was sorry to hear about Maggie, Colm,’ he said, changing his tone. ‘Cancer’s a terrible thing. A terrible thing,’ he repeated. ‘Colm’s wife recently passed away,’ Cleary explained to Clara Russell.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Clara said, without sounding it.

  ‘It’s okay,’ McEvoy said. ‘We just take one day at a time. So, Martin,’ he said, becoming more businesslike, ‘you have anything that’s gonna help us solve this murder? Any CCTV?’

  ‘Only bit we have on this side is inside this place.’ Cleary jerked his thumb towards the seminary building. ‘The north campus is pretty well kitted out at this stage, but I’m still trying to convince the stupid buggers to install it on the south campus too. Same problem as ever. Money.’

  ‘So you have no footage of the grounds? The entrances in and out?’

  ‘No. Though he could have got in and out over one of the walls easy enough. The perimeter must be a couple of miles long and it’s all fields and the canal on this side.’

  ‘How about any of your team? Did they see anything?’

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Campus like this, there are people wandering around all the time. Quite a few people walk round the circuit here in the evening; getting a bit of exercise. We shut the library gates around ten o’clock, the main gates at eleven. Plus there are guests staying in campus accommodation and seminarians who live on site.’

  ‘So he could have easily come and gone without anyone seeing him?’

  ‘He could have walked out the front bloody gates and we’d not have a record of it,’ Cleary said, a touch of anger in his voice.

  ‘Jesus. Right, okay.’ McEvoy spotted Cheryl Deale and her team walking down the path towards the crime scene. Just as there was a new investigative team, there was a new crime scene team. A lawyer would have a field day if he knew the same team had processed both sites. Any evidence could have been carried from one site to the other. It didn’t matter that they wore disposable, protective gear, there was a hint of doubt, and that was enough to open a chink in the prosecution’s case.

  Charlie Deegan had broken off holding court with the local guards and was heading to meet them. ‘Look, Martin, can you work with the locals to keep this site secured? Maybe pacify everyone being detained while we take statements?’

  ‘No bother. You have a madman on your hands, Colm. We saw the body.’ He nodded at Clara. ‘Anything you need just give me a call.’

  McEvoy met Charlie Deegan at the crucifix.

  ‘My lot have arrived,’ Deegan explained. ‘I’m going to bring them up here so they can see what they’re dealing with, then I’ll get them set up. I’ve spoken with Meanbag and Bacon Roll and a couple of their lads. I mean Superintendent Meaney and Sergeant Bacon,’ he corrected himself. ‘Sorry about that,’ he continued disingenuously.

  McEvoy did his best not to roll his eyes. Deegan wasn’t sorry in the slightest. He was letting McEvoy know what he thought of the locals, which wasn’t a lot. He’d obviously decided that none of them were going to be of any use in building his career.

  ‘Keep an eye out for Elaine Jones,’ McEvoy instructed, letting Deegan’s insubordination slide. ‘She should be here by now.’

  ‘Will do.’ Deegan set off back to the car park to meet his DSs.

  McEvoy shook his head and strolled down the yew tree laneway. Up ahead he could see Cheryl Deale and her two team members getting suited up.

  ‘How’re things?’ he asked the team in general.

  ‘Somebody’s already fucked things up,’ Cheryl Deale replied, agitated, not bothering with any pleasantries. The paper suit covered her slight frame and hair, just her face showing. Her eyes were bright blue above a small button nose. She held a camera in one hand; a video recorder hung round her neck.

  ‘What?’ McEvoy said, confused. ‘No one’s been near the body.’

  ‘No, but people have been tromping all over its path. Can you see here?’ She pointed into the low undergrowth. ‘This is where he was dragged in.’ She turned and pointed at the entrance to the avenue. ‘He was probably killed down near that crucifix, pulled in under the trees, across onto the path, along it towards the cemetery,’ she traced the route with her finger, ‘and then back out the other side and into this hollow.’

  ‘So he was dumped here?’ McEvoy asked.

  ‘Do you want the sarcastic answer to that?’ Cheryl said caustically. ‘I’ve just told you, he was dragged down the path.’

  ‘Jesus, Cheryl, calm down.’ McEvoy knew she was feisty, bullish even, but he thought her reaction was a little over the top. His hand instinctively played with the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. ‘Is it going to make a difference?’

  ‘Of course, it’s going to make a difference,’ she snapped. ‘Any bloody material is going to be contaminated.’

  ‘Well, how about the body?’ McEvoy asked calmly.

  ‘Give us a chance, we’ve only just got here. The body might have been stripped here – a lot more private than out on the path. We might pick up something.’

  ‘Is there any chance we can get the bag off his head so we can identify him?’ McEvoy added. ‘We need to get started. We need to catch this bastard before he kills number three.’

  ‘As soon as we get a clean route in, we’ll do that,’ Deale said, calming a little. ‘The pathologist should be here shortly.’ She moved away to one of the bags of equipment.

  One of her two colleagues, the taller of the two men, sidled over to McEvoy. ‘She’s only in this mood because she hates Charlie Deegan,’ he whispered. ‘Anything goes wrong it’s our fault, otherwise he claims all the credit. He’s shafted us a few times.’

  ‘Brendan,’ Cheryl interrupted sharply, ‘can you trace back the route of the body, tape it off, and see if you can find anything.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ the man said, pulling a tight smile at McEvoy. He plucked a role of blue and white tape from a bag and started to follow the edge of the yew trees, searching for the body’s path.

  McEvoy stood to one side and watched Cheryl Deale and her other colleague start to work. Behind him he could hear Charlie Deegan and his three DSs approach. His mobile rang again.

  ‘McEvoy.’

  ‘Dermot Brady hasn’t been out of our sight since yesterday,’ Plunkett said, ‘except for when he was in his apartment.’

  ‘So he couldn’t have killed our man here then,’ McEvoy replied.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it. Not unless he managed to sneak out,’ Plunkett answered. ‘I’d say he’s off the hook.’

  ‘Seems that way.’

  ‘Should we keep a team on him?’ Plunkett asked. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘What?’ McEvoy asked, his mind wandering. ‘No, no. There’s no need. We know where he was. Look, I’d better get off. Keep in touch, okay?’ McEvoy ended the call.

  He turned his attention back to Cheryl Deale.

  ‘Haven’t you got anything better to be doing,’ she asked, looking up, ‘than watch us?’

  Colm felt his face start to redden. ‘I’ll … I’l
l just go and see if Elaine Jones has arrived yet,’ he said, embarrassed, feeling like a spare part.

  Cheryl Deale stood with her feet wide apart, well away from the body, and leant over the victim’s head. She cut one of the handles of the plastic bag with a scalpel and took hold of the corners and eased it back over the man’s blue-grey face and slightly greying hair. Pulling it free she dropped it into a clear bag held open by one of her assistants.

  The man’s eyes stared up at them, wide and vacant rather than surprised. His lips were slightly parted, the bottom of his top teeth just visible. His forehead was grazed, grit still embedded in the wounds. There were two pinch marks at the top of his nose where his glasses usually rested. Deale shuffled her feet back a little and stood clear of the body.

  McEvoy waved Martin Cleary forward from where he waited a few yards away with Charlie Deegan. He took a couple of steps and leaned towards the body, his hands shoved deep in tweed suit pockets.

  ‘David Hennessey,’ he growled. ‘Worked in the politics department. I used to see him around. Liked a pint and a bit of a flutter, but nice enough man.’ He leant back and looked at McEvoy. ‘Don’t know what he could have done to have deserved this, poor bastard.’

  ‘Probably nothing,’ McEvoy replied. ‘Probably just another random victim. Do you know where he lives? Anything about him?’

  ‘I doubt it’s random, Colm,’ Cleary said. ‘Too much thought has gone into this. The place, the time, the way the body is painted. It’s lots of things, but it ain’t random.’

  McEvoy pursed his lips, thinking about what Cleary had said. The man might have retired, and he might be a cantankerous old git, but he’d a lot of experience to draw upon.

  ‘Personnel will be your best place to start,’ Cleary continued. ‘They’ll have a file with his personal details in. Maybe a staff photo you can use.’

  McEvoy nodded and turned to where Deegan stood. ‘Charlie, you’d better …’

  ‘… go and see what personnel have got,’ Deegan finished quickly, clearly frustrated that McEvoy was in charge of things. ‘I’m on it.’ He started to head briskly back towards the car park.

  ‘Right, well, I guess I’d better leave you to it,’ McEvoy said, unsure what to say. He took one last look at the body and started to trail after Deegan, Martin Cleary in tow.

  ‘This is a bad business, Colm,’ Cleary said. ‘A bad business.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you need to watch that Deegan. He’s only interested in glory. He’ll be running his case, not yours. He’d dump you in the shit without hesitation if he thought he could fill your shoes.’

  ‘I know that as well.’

  ‘Just so long as you do, Colm. Just so long as you do. You’ve enough to be worrying about without watching your back. You need your people in here, not just his.’

  McEvoy nodded, but didn’t respond.

  From behind them Cheryl Deale shouted out. ‘Sir.’

  McEvoy looked over his shoulder. She was waving for him to come back.

  He set off, Cleary staying where he was, waiting to see if it was worth the effort of returning.

  Cheryl Deale held a small plastic bag using a pair tweezers. ‘It’s a second note,’ she explained. ‘It was placed in his mouth in what looks like a sandwich bag.’

  ‘Can you see what it says,’ McEvoy asked, moving towards her.

  She held the bag up level to her face. The bag had slightly unfolded but was still creased and there was condensation inside. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I need to flatten it out.’

  ‘Just pull the bag tight,’ McEvoy suggested.

  ‘The condensation might ruin the note.’

  ‘Can we take the note out and put it in a new bag?’ he sug-gested.

  ‘I guess.’ Cheryl nodded. ‘Brendan, I’m going to need two evidence bags – one for the note and one for the bag.’

  Brendan reached into a box and handed her a second pair of tweezers.

  Gently Cheryl pulled the note free and dropped it into a bag held by him. She then put the sandwich bag into another bag. She took back the bag with the note in, handing the tweezers to Brendan. She peered through the clear plastic and read aloud.

  The Rules

  Chapter Two A: Motive D

  “Murderers know, to varying degrees, that they are constructing a world of their making, a world different to that of their fellow citizens. They are driven by an imperative to act on their deviant desires. Many hold some notion that they have the right to play out their fantasies, or envisage themselves on a mission for God or some other entity that conveys on them the right to torture and kill. Yet others believe that their victims deserved the terrible crimes done unto them.”

  2a. Have no reason to kill beyond murder. The motive should be death itself. Nothing else.

  2b. Do not let sex, money, religion or power cloud things. Pathology will be your downfall.

  Master rule: Do it because you can, not because you have to.

  ‘That’s all it says,’ she finished.

  ‘All the same, sounds like he has it all worked out,’ Cleary said, having walked back to the group when it was clear McEvoy was not going to re-join him. ‘He understands the nature of motive; that the most difficult crime to solve is a motiveless one.’

  ‘Can you get a copy made as soon as possible,’ McEvoy instructed, ignoring Cleary. ‘Give one copy to Deegan, the other to Barney Plunkett. Tell Barney to see if he can locate the quote. Is it the same source as before or a new one? And if you find anything else let me know. I want to nail this bastard. And we are going to nail him.’ McEvoy sucked in a breath and pumped it back out through his nose.

  ‘I’ll do it straight away,’ Cheryl said. ‘Then we’re going to do a wider sweep and also process where he left the cards. We’re then

  heading back to the lab. I’ll ring you the moment we get anything.’

  ‘He thinks he’s being clever,’ McEvoy continued, ‘but the perfect serial killer is the one who kills and no one even knows it’s happening. People just disappear and are never found. He’s leaving us notes and he’s leaving us the bodies, which means he’s leaving us evidence. We just need to make sense of it.’

  McEvoy stood outside an old manor house and sucked deeply on his plastic cigarette. A sign stating ‘Personnel Office’ was pinned over a doorway. He watched Martin Cleary walk off towards the front gates and pulled his mobile from his pocket.

  ‘Barney, it’s Colm. Can you go through the centre’s records and see if a David Hennessey has ever been through the place. Also check with Janine Smyth.’

  ‘Who’s David Hennessey?’

  ‘The second victim. He worked here in the university in the politics department. Martin Cleary has just identified him. I want to know if there are any links between the victims.’

  ‘You think there is a link?’ Plunkett asked sceptically.

  ‘I’ve no idea, but if there is then that’s an opening. Look, I’d better be going. I need to catch up with the team here.’

  ‘Is it going okay? Deegan behaving himself?’

  ‘I’ll talk to you later, Barney.’ McEvoy disconnected the call and opened the door. Through an opening to the right he found a door marked reception. He knocked and entered. A woman in her forties was sitting behind her desk. A man wearing a garda uniform was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. The two other desks in the office were empty.

  The woman spoke. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I was looking for an officer,’ McEvoy stated. ‘DI Charlie Deegan?’

  ‘And you are?’ the guard asked.

  ‘Detective Superintendent McEvoy. I’m the investigating officer for the murder up beyond.’ He gestured to his right. ‘I wanted to know what he found out about David Hennessey.’

  ‘He left a couple of minutes ago, Sir,’ the guard said, standing up straighter. ‘He went off with the head of personnel – Carl Fahy – to Dr Hennessey’s office. DI Deegan wanted me to stay here with Margare
t while she searched through some files.’

  McEvoy nodded. ‘I think I’ll catch them up. Can you tell me where Dr Hennessey’s office is?’

  McEvoy strode from the manor house and took a diagonal path leading towards the seminary buildings and the church. A couple of hours in and he was already feeling like a spare part. A tetchy spare part. Bishop was pulling strings but it was his investigation. Now things seemed to have drifted. Deegan was doing his own thing and he had no idea where the incident room was. He was running around on his own trying to catch up. He needed to either get hold of things and take charge or get off site and let them get on with it. He knew which Deegan would prefer. Deegan wanted this for himself. He’d run his own separate investigation competing, rather than collaborating, to catch the killer.

  He slowed to a stop and pulled out his mobile, calling up Deegan’s number. ‘Charlie,’ he barked into the phone. ‘It’s McEvoy. Where the hell are you?

  ‘I’m over on the other campus checking out the dead guy’s office,’ Deegan replied coolly.

  ‘Did you not think to call to update me? That I might want to see the office as well? I need to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ Deegan said.

  McEvoy could hear a muffled apology and a door close.

  ‘I was just trying to find out more about him,’ Deegan continued, exasperation clear in his voice. ‘The head of personnel offered to bring me over, so I came.’

  ‘And what’s the story on David Hennessey?’ McEvoy continued. ‘Does he have any family? Do we have any more details on him?’ He watched two garda cars drive past him heading slowly back towards the main gate.