Liam interrupted, much to Davy’s annoyance. “I’ll tell you more on him in a minute.”
Annette joined in, competing. “And me too, on the McGoverns.”
Craig waved them down and turned back to Davy. He was frowning. “W…When you two are reporting I’m going to interrupt every two minutes and see how you like it!”
The culprits grinned apologetically and he carried on. “I checked and S…Sarah Robinson only worked in the shop Monday to W…Wednesday each week, that’s why she wasn’t there when it blew up.”
Craig nodded. The bombers may or may not have known that; either way Sadie Robinson’s had had a narrow escape. Davy continued.
“Fintan Delaney. Twenty years old, s…studying P.P.E. at Queen’s. There are no terrorist, gang or political connections in his family anywhere. He hasn’t been involved in any marches, riots or s…student protests. He hasn’t even attended political debates.”
Craig interrupted. “Isn’t that a bit unusual for a politics student?”
“That’s exactly w…what I thought so I phoned around some of his class mates. They all said that Fintan was a nice guy who preferred to spend his free time working for the church.”
“Which church?”
“Catholic mainly, but he also did some work for the Ecumenical Missions, working with Methodists and Presbyterians. His parents are members of an ecumenical congregation and Fintan went to an integrated school. There doesn’t s…seem to be any bigotry or affiliation with republican causes. Quite the opposite, both parents canvassed for Alliance at the last election.”
Liam let out a low whistle and Davy turned sharply. “Do you have s…something that you’d like to say, Liam?”
Liam’s freckled face took on a look of saintly innocence. “Who me? I would never interrupt.”
Davy rolled his eyes. “Oh go on, spit it out.”
“I was just going to say that Delaney seems to be an example of the post-Troubles generation who don’t want to repeat their parent’s mistakes. They bend over backwards to integrate.”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“I didn’t say that it was a bad thing. Actually it’s a very good thing and it was just an observation.” Liam’s voice became huffy. “I can say things without being sarcastic you know.”
Craig smiled. “Only occasionally. Carry on Davy.”
“W…Well, the only other things about Delaney are that he’s a member of a book-club, so it’s very possible that he was just in the shop to browse. He also took a trip to Pakistan last year.”
“To do what?”
“Charity work. He was there for six weeks helping to rebuild a village.”
Craig nodded. Lucia had done something similar in Chile when she was a student but not from any sense of religion, more for humanitarianism.
“OK. That’s great, Davy. Everyone top up your coffee then we’ll move on to Liam and Annette.”
As they were refreshing their drinks another thought hit Craig. “Davy, did Delaney have a girlfriend?”
Davy looked blank for a moment and Liam jumped in. “You know, a girlfriend, those nice soft things that keep you warm on a winter’s night.”
The remark was greeted by howls of indignation from Annette and a caustic “you make us sound like duvets” from Nicky. Craig waved the impending furore into silence and turned back to Davy. He was nodding.
“Yes he did. At school, a girl called Hanna Weir. They split up before Delaney went to Queen’s.”
Craig nodded. “Check her out. And Nicky, tell Delaney’s parents that I still need to speak to them; we keep missing each other. OK Liam, you have the floor, and everyone else, feel free to interrupt him at any time.”
Liam pretended to be offended but spoilt it with a grin. He launched into a description of Sadie Robinson’s garden gnomes that made them all laugh. As the laughter subsided he described her accepting approach to her husband’s death.
“I’ve seen it before but every time I see it, it impresses me. Some people have a real faith in what comes next.”
Annette nodded thoughtfully. “I saw patients like that when I was a nurse. They would be given terrible news and accept it with a nod, and they were always so nice. I asked one lady who’d been told she had only six months to live how she could be so calm. She just smiled and said that there was something better after this. ”
Liam shrugged his shoulders “Well whatever it is, Sadie believes it, and she made great cake as well.” He laughed, breaking the solemn mood, and went on to outline Sadie Robinson’s theories about her husband’s death. “There were three pretty good reasons to target Jules Robinson, if that’s who the bombers were aiming for. He was in the way of a property developer, he was paying protection money and we don’t know if he’d come up short on that, although his wife said she didn’t think so. And last but not least he was an ex-cop. RUC no less, not the most popular police force in the world and I say that being a past member of it.”
Davy chipped in. “Bet that didn’t help its popularity.”
Liam made a wounded face. “I’m hurt that you could say a thing like that, lad.”
Craig watched as Davy blushed and tried to backpedal, stammering that it had only been a joke. After a few seconds Liam let out a loud guffaw, chalking a one-all score in the air.
“That’ll teach you to play with the big boys.”
Craig shook his head and waved Liam on.
“Aye, anyway. We have three possible motives to check out for Jules. Mrs Robinson thought the RUC link was the least likely. They’d never had threats from any direction, although given the fact it was a bomb that killed him we can’t rule it out.”
Craig interjected. “Which could in itself be a double bluff.”
“Right. It pays to have a warped mind in this job.” Liam pushed another biscuit into his mouth and chewed loudly for a moment before continuing. “So that leaves us with the protection racket. We need to pursue that, especially now that bits of Sharpy Greer have been found in the wreckage.”
Craig shook his head; something didn’t fit. If you were involved in extorting money from a business why blow it up, unless it was seriously in arrears? And why blow it up with yourself inside? Liam read his mind.
“I agree boss, but they wouldn’t be the first muppets to kill themselves as they planted a bomb.”
Craig ran with the idea. “OK, let’s just say the bomb was planted by whoever was extorting money from Jules Robinson. If it was the UKF and Greer was still aligned with them, then either they employed an idiot to set the charge, or there’s a rival gang running protection in the area.”
He thought of the Russian gang they’d encountered two years earlier and turned quickly to Davy. “Davy, get on to Captain Smith and ask them to widen the bomb signature search to include devices planted by international groups. Liam, get onto Vice and nail down who’s running protection in Smithfield.”
“Will do. OK, so that leaves us with who’s behind door number three; the developers.” Liam ran through the information that Sadie had given him then scanned the group’s faces for ideas. “That’s the one Sadie thinks is the most likely and blowing up the shop would definitely have saved them demolition costs. The company’s called SNI.”
Annette looked thoughtful and Craig motioned her to speak. “Well, it’s just… If you’re a reputable developer then surely you’d try every legal recourse to get the shop before you did something like this? Throw money at the Robinsons; offer to relocate the business, anything but blow people up.”
Craig played devil’s advocate. “And if you’re a disreputable developer?”
Annette bit her lip for a moment and then shook her head. “No, I still don’t get it. If you’re a crooked developer you’d know that the first people we would look at would be you.”
Liam leaned in to interrupt but Annette held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong, Liam, we have to explore all of these avenues but my feeling is that th
ere’s something less obvious going on here.”
“Like what?”
Annette glanced at Craig and he nodded her on to report. She covered the generalities of her visit to the McGovern’s, rushing through the details of three small children clinging to their Mum. Seeing it had been bad enough, she didn’t need to relive the experience. When Craig signalled to interrupt she was grateful.
“I checked. Lucia never met Mrs McGovern at The Belfast Buzz. Lucia left just before she started.”
Annette nodded and turned to the subject Maria McGovern had raised just before she left.
“Barry McGovern was an avid reader, had been ever since he was a boy. We know he was a member of four libraries and his wife showed me his book collection. He only had a few but they were all first editions.”
Craig cut in. “Any particular subject area?”
“History mostly and a few on philosophy. Anyway McGovern belonged to some private internet chat-rooms.”
Liam’s booming voice drowned out her next words. “Oh aye, one of those, was he?”
Nicky wrinkled her nose in distaste and tapped Liam’s hand sharply with her pen. She wanted to throw it at him but she still remembered his howls when she’d done it once before.
Annette frowned and continued. “Rare book internet chat-rooms. McGovern told his wife he’d heard a rumour that Jules Robinson was getting in a rare first edition in last week, so rare that an online bidding war was likely to ensue. He went to Papyrus hoping that he might get a glimpse.”
Craig raked his hair; it gelled with a feeling he’d had. “So this might be about a rare book that some collector wanted. Badly enough to kill for it?”
Annette shrugged. “I don’t know sir, but it’s another theory. Some of those big collectors are nutcases; recluses who have collections worth millions.”
“Granted, but blowing up the shop would have destroyed the book as well. Unless…”
Davy finished Craig’s thoughts. “Unless they s…stole the book and used the explosion to cover the theft.” He let out a long whistle, surprising them. Whistles were Liam’s stock in trade but it seemed he had a competitor.
Craig dragged a white board over then wrote up their theories so far in a list: RUC, developers, protection gangs and now a rare book. He tapped the list for a moment as if he was going to add something and then dismissed the idea as too far left of field. He’d keep it to himself for now. He checked the wall clock and then allocated the tasks.
“OK. Davy, get into the chat-rooms and see what’s there, also, check into the UKF. See how active they are at the moment and whether there’s any word of Sharpy Greer still being involved.”
He turned to Liam. “Vice, Liam.”
“Yes please.”
The retort was so quick that even Craig laughed. “It wasn’t an offer, it was an order. Get onto Aidan Hughes and find out who’s running the girls and drugs in Smithfield; they’ll be running protection as well. Also ask Geoff Hamill about gangs and dig into Jules Robinson’s RUC record. Who had he banged-up, who hated him enough to kill him; you know the form. Go beyond what’s on the page, please. Use your contacts to get the gossip. OK?”
Liam rubbed his hands in glee. It was the perfect excuse for a few beers with his old mates. Craig moved on to Annette.
“Annette, I want you to chase down all the developers involved in Smithfield, the legal and illegal ones, particularly SNI. Find out who’s interested in the area and don’t confine your search to developers based in the UK. There’s foreign money coming into Northern Ireland now and they all want to make a fast buck. When you’ve gathered the information I don’t want you interviewing any of them alone. If Jake’s not back then take Captain Smith with you.”
Craig stopped abruptly, remembering something. He turned towards Liam accusingly. “Where’s my new staff member? You were supposed to get on to Aidan about her.”
Liam’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Here, give me a chance, boss. I’ve been a bit busy.”
“Well, make that your first priority tomorrow please. We’re running short-handed and everyone wants this case done and dusted before the 30th.” He scanned the row of faces then wrapped up. “I’ll take Fintan Delaney and chase victim number five with John. I’m working up something else as well, but it’s too early to discuss it yet.”
Craig glanced at his watch. It was after five o’clock. “OK, for anyone who isn’t heading home the drinks are on me. I’ll see you in The James Bar in five. Everyone else, we’ll brief an hour later tomorrow at nine, just as a Sunday treat.”
Chapter Ten
Dublin Airport. 6.p.m.
The large jet disgorged its load of passengers and Jennifer Weston stayed behind with the other crew to tidy up, gathering the lost mobiles and discarded newspapers for reclaiming or the bin. After an hour she waved goodbye and stepped down from the plane, heading for her hotel and a thirty-six hour turnaround. It was tight but it was all the time she needed, to pay the visit she needed to pay and then disappear without anyone picking up her trail.
Weston tutted to herself as she entered her hotel room; she hated loose ends and right now they had a big one. As she sank into the warm bubble bath she decided on her outfit for the following day. It had to be right to blend in, but not so perfect that it would look out of place. And above all it had to be suitable for a visit to a sick friend.
***
Sunday. 5 a.m.
Craig slipped quietly out of bed and wandered into the living room, his thoughts preoccupied with the case. Katy was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her; a doctor on-call got little enough sleep, even when they were consultants. He stood by the window, staring out at the brightening morning sky. The air was humid, more humid than he remembered Northern Ireland being; the people who dismissed global warming as nonsense were definitely wrong.
Craig glanced back at the tightly shut bedroom door and smiled, tempted to return and disturb his pretty girlfriend’s sleep. But they hadn’t closed their eyes until two o’clock, so wrapped-up in their still new lovemaking that time not spent locked together seemed like a waste. He would let her sleep; her bleep would go off soon enough.
He sat down in his well-worn armchair and sipped thoughtfully at some juice, trying to organise his thoughts about the case. They had plenty of leads to follow, so why did none of them feel quite right? Why not go for the obvious and say that Delaney or a developer did it? Or was he so needful of a puzzle to solve that a quick closure didn’t satisfy him anymore? Perhaps. He started to sift through the things they knew and quickly arrived at the gaps.
Fintan Delaney, the blast’s only survivor had no memory of the event. So what? It was perfectly feasible that Delaney had survived because he was standing farthest away, shielded by bookcases that he couldn’t possibly have designed. Delaney had no history of anything except good works and his family was the same, so why couldn’t he quite believe it? Was he becoming a cynic? Craig smiled as soon he asked himself the question. Becoming? Or was his disbelief his gut’s way of telling him that something didn’t fit?
Then there was the fifth body; who was it and would they ever know? The body had been completely vaporised which meant that they must have been closest to the blast. The bomber? Perhaps they’d get lucky and catch a break from the CCTV, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. He hoped John could extract DNA from the shapeless tissue and made up his mind to check the next day. Craig caught himself; the next day was already here.
He gazed at the sun rising in the distance and thought about John and Natalie, smiling at the party that was to come. It would be amazing, because Natalie was such a livewire and because everyone was so happy for them both. That and the sun, sand, sex and cocktails in Barbados would ensure a good time for everyone. Except… Craig thought about Annette and the fragile state that her marriage was in. Her husband Pete had been unfaithful the summer before, citing the stresses of Annette’s job and her long hours spent at work. Ostensibly she’d forgiven him and they
were trying to patch it up, except… Annette’s ambition had trebled since the incident and he could see her becoming more detached. Perhaps the wedding would bring them closer, or perhaps it would only underline what they’d once had and lost.
Craig shook his head and turned to the final thread of the case. Rare books. Davy was working on it now and if there was anything to find he would. But something was niggling at the back of his mind, so far back that he couldn’t see it yet. It was like an intruder lurking in the shadows, always there but never showing their face. Craig shrugged; he’d travelled this road before. The answer would appear when he least expected it and hours spent chasing wouldn’t speed it up.
He hadn’t seen the bedroom door opening or heard Katy’s soft footsteps cross the room, but he felt her warm kiss on the back of his neck. He reached around and pulled her onto his knee, returning the kiss with a passion that he’d never felt before. Yes, he’d been in love with Julia and Camille, they were both fascinating, beautiful women in their different ways, but he loved Katy as well as being in love. It wasn’t her prettiness, although that was substantial, and it wasn’t her ability as a doctor, no matter how impressive it was. He loved her for her kindness and the way that she always put others first; patients, friends, family, him. He’d never liked a woman quite as much as he liked her and as he carried her back to bed, the feeling worried him more than anything had ever worried him before.
***
St Mary’s. 7 a.m.
Morning pale rays of sunlight stretched across the hospital room to touch Fintan Delaney’s small, starched bed. Bright enough to make him visible, but not so bright that they seeped between his lashes and told his confused brain to wake. It would be a pleasant way to waken, before murmured voices in the corridor or the metallic clash of instruments reminded him of where he was. But it wouldn’t be his awakening that day.
The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) Page 10