Rain Dogs

by Adrian McKinty

  ‘Phone call for you, Inspector Duffy!’ Mr Underhill yelled from back down in the courtyard.

  ‘Coming!’ I yelled back.

  ‘OK, lads, you can take her away,’ I said, reaching the bottom of the steps.

  I walked into the caretaker’s cottage and picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

  ‘What’s the story, Duffy?’ Chief Inspector McArthur asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, sir.’

  ‘Aye it’s me, Duffy. Several of your men have just showed up at the Coast Road Hotel and prevented everyone from checking out.’

  ‘Those are my orders, sir.’

  ‘What’s going on, Duffy?’

  ‘Sir, do you remember that journalist we encountered the other night? Actually, you might not have met her, she was with the delegation?’

  ‘I remember her. What’s she done?’

  ‘She’s apparently killed herself.’

  ‘Killed herself?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Jumped from the top of the keep in Carrick Castle.’

  ‘Oh my God! … Killed herself … And you’re sure it’s not a murder?’

  ‘If it was a murder there’s only one possible suspect and we’re taking him into custody … but none of us in CID think it was a murder at this stage of the investigation.’

  ‘Why only one suspect?’

  ‘No one else could have got out of the building and we’ve just searched the place thoroughly.’

  ‘Suicide, though, Duffy. She seemed pretty happy to me. I said hello to her after you left. Women are an enigma though, aren’t they? Impulsive. Always bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. Hormones. Menstrual cycles. That kind of thing.’

  ‘Possibly, sir, but this particular suicide had the air of planning and premeditation about it.’

  ‘Did you talk to her the other night, Duffy?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What were you talking about?’

  ‘Nothing really.’

  ‘Did you ask her out, Duffy? The truth …’

  ‘I gave her my number but she never called it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Perfectly sure.’

  ‘Thank God for that! An added complication we don’t need.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘All right, so I understand why you have to question the delegation. It can’t be dodged. Not if we want to avoid a bollocking from the coroner, but can you make it sharpish, Duffy? Hardly their fault that a journalist staying in their hotel decides to kill herself.’

  ‘No, sir. Unless they’re implicated somehow.’

  ‘How could they be? You’re not suggesting it was an assisted suicide or anything like that?’

  ‘Well, obviously we can’t rule anything out, sir. But at least at this stage of the inquiry I think they’re probably in the clear. I’m going to check the CCTV footage personally; so far it looks like she decided to stay behind in one of the dungeons after the castle closed for the night. She hid from the caretaker until after dark, made her way to the top of the keep and then jumped off.’

  ‘No accomplice because the accomplice couldn’t have got out?’

  ‘That’s exactly right, sir. There was a portcullis and a locked front gate preventing any egress from the castle, and if he couldn’t get out then he’s still here. And he’s not still here. We’ve done several searches and I’m confident he’s not anywhere in the castle.’

  ‘It’s a big place, that Carrickfergus Castle.’

  ‘Not that big in terms of your actual hiding places. We’ve searched it from top to bottom several times. And I had Sergeant Mulvenny come out with his K9 teams. Nothing.’

  He breathed out heavily in relief. ‘So unless something turns up it’s an ordinary suicide.’

  ‘Looks like it, sir.’

  ‘Excellent Duffy … You’re a dedicated copper, wish I could say that for all the peelers in my … uhm, well, best leave that thought unsaid. I’ll let you get back to work. Like I say, don’t keep the delegation waiting. Question them, get statements, but make sure they all get their flights and aren’t inconvenienced. The last thing I want today is a phone call from the Chief Constable, or God save us, the Secretary of State.’

  ‘Understood, sir.’

  I walked WPC Warren back outside the castle gate with me.

  ‘Listen Warren, just to be on the bloody safe side I’m going to have Mulvenny come back here with his dogs one last time. He won’t like it, but I want to be one hundred per cent sure. That shoe thing has unnerved me. Until Mulvenny gives you the all-clear, you’re to stay here, OK? No one in or out, apart from cops or coroner’s men with IDs.’

  ‘OK, sir.’

  ‘Do you mind staying? It’s a cold morning.’

  ‘It’s over-time for me, sir, so there’s that.’

  ‘Good job. OK, Constable Stewart, back to the hotel for us.’

  7: INTERVIEWING THE FINNS

  We drove back to the hotel and I found McCrabban and Lawson. I told them about the shoe and Warren’s opinion of the matter, and neither of them seemed particularly worried by this new piece of evidence. But I still made the phone call to Mulvenny and asked him to have one more look through the building just to be on the safe side. I thought he’d be furious, but he said his dogs loved a bit of a run in the snow.

  McCrabban and Lawson had taken statements from all the guests on the top floor, none of whom had anything to contribute to the case.

  They had also taken statements from Miss Jones, who didn’t remember seeing Lily after the visit to the castle. Mr Ek recalled seeing Lily at the castle, but didn’t remember seeing her at dinner that night in the hotel. Laakso had a similar recollection. ‘Stefan and Nicolas were no help at all,’ Lawson said.

  ‘Why’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘Because they’ve already left. Went home yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Before the castle trip?’

  ‘Yes. Just after breakfast.’

  ‘Sent home for playing silly buggers with Mr Laakso’s wallet, I’ll bet. Well, that’s them off the hook. I’ll want to interview Ek and Laakso again, separately,’ I said.

  ‘I think they’re packing now. They’re in a rush. They’ve got planes to catch,’ Crabbie said.

  ‘Nevertheless. We’ve got a coroner to answer to down the line.’

  Laakso first in the upstairs bar. Me talking. Lawson and Crabbie observing.

  ‘When did you last see Miss Bigelow?’

  ‘I don’t remember. I think she went with us to the castle.’

  ‘Did you notice if she slipped away from the group?’

  ‘I did not notice that. But I would not blame her for doing so. I would have got away if I could. My knees on those stairs! I think they forget that I am 64 years old!’

  ‘After the visit to the castle, you did what?’

  ‘We made our own way back to the hotel. I walked along the seafront, returned to the hotel, had dinner and went to bed.’

  ‘Were there any functions you had to go to last night?’

  ‘No. Thank God. Last night was a free evening. I had my food, if it can be described as food, as early as possible, and went to my room.’

  ‘And did you notice Miss Bigelow in the hotel last night?’

  Laakso shook his weary head. ‘I would not have noticed if Diego Maradona had been demonstrating football trick shots in the dining room. I was utterly exhausted. These trips are getting beyond me.’

  ‘Did you notice anything strange about Miss Bigelow’s behaviour? Any strange questions? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  He shook his head. I tried a few other lines of enquiry, but it was no good, Laakso had apparently no information about Miss Bigelow’s whereabouts or mental state.

  Mr Ek had the same story. He remembered Lily joining them for the visit to the old Courtaulds factory but she hadn’t made much of an impression there, or elsewhere, on the delegation’s visit to Northern Ireland.

  ‘She didn’t interview you about the trip?’ I
asked.

  ‘She asked a few questions on the first day of our visit here, but as the trip went on she grew less interested, I think,’ he said.

  ‘Why was that?’ I asked.

  ‘I do not know. Either she had information enough to make her story or she knew that there was no story to make.’

  ‘Anything strange, or out of the ordinary, about her behaviour?’ Crabbie asked.

  Ek shrugged. ‘I was looking after Mr Laakso. I wasn’t paying attention to a British newspaper reporter,’ he said.

  ‘A very pretty female newspaper reporter,’ I said.

  ‘Even a pretty female one,’ Ek said. ‘My role here was to look after the concerns of Mr Laakso and the two young Mr Lennätins, not to worry about the state of mind of young English reporters.’

  ‘Of course, but you would have noticed if she was crying or anything like that, surely?’ I said.

  ‘Why would I have noticed that?’ he asked, a little irritated. He looked at his watch to hurry me along, which made me want to hurry even less.

  ‘Sir, we are trying to determine why a young lady may have committed suicide,’ I said.

  ‘We have no idea why she committed suicide. Why don’t you ask her boyfriend?’

  ‘What boyfriend?’ I asked.

  ‘Young ladies like that always have boyfriends.’

  ‘So you admit that you noticed her looks,’ I said.

  He sighed. ‘Do you think I could get a drink if this is going to take much longer?’ he said.

  Aye, how about a pint of answer-my-fucking-questions, you in-a-hurry Swedish-Finnish fuck, I thought. ‘Tea, coffee?’ I asked.

  ‘How about a brandy?’ he said.

  ‘Get him a double. And the same for me, and for you and McCrabban, if you want,’ I said to Lawson. McCrabban shook his head and Lawson came from the bar with a couple of doubles.

  ‘I got cognac,’ Lawson said, unsure if he had done the right thing.

  ‘Very good,’ Ek said, and drank with satisfaction.

  He leaned forward and patted me on the knee. ‘She was pretty. So what? Pretty girls die every day. Prettier girls than this one.’

  ‘Well, yes …’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lawson asked.

  ‘In Leningrad once, I saw a room full of dead girls. Beautiful girls. Fifteen, twenty of them. All dead.’

  ‘When was this?’ Lawson asked, aghast.

  ‘’42, or perhaps ’43. Most of the school had been evacuated before our advance. Why had these ones stayed? Had they missed the truck? Had they not been given the information? We didn’t know.’

  ‘Who killed them?’ Lawson said.

  Ek shrugged. ‘The Commissars? The SS?’

  ‘If I could bring you back to Miss Bigelow …’

  ‘I do remember something. You should always give your interview subjects a little brandy. It makes everything flow.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. What do you remember?’

  ‘She asked several questions during the factory visit.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘She asked the civil servants about the asbestos roof. She wondered if it was a safe work environment,’ Ek said.

  ‘I’ve been in that old factory, it’s not a safe work environment,’ I said, with a smile.

  Ek nodded. ‘It was an entirely unsuitable place for what we have in mind,’ he said. ‘That was obvious to everyone.’

  ‘Did she have her notebook with her when she was asking these questions?’ I asked.

  Ek shrugged. ‘I do not remember,’ he said, absently.

  ‘And when did you see her last?’

  ‘I think at the castle. But I was not paying attention to her. It was raining and cold. None of us had umbrellas. The fools running the trip had not thought to get us umbrellas. I was worried for Mr Laakso. I was glad when he got back to the hotel. I did not notice if Miss Bigelow was with us or not.’

  ‘You made your own way back to the hotel yesterday?’

  ‘Yes. We could spend as much time in the castle as we wanted after the formal tour, but I did not think it was so interesting a place, so I came back to the hotel. Mr Laakso does not like me to help him as I am a little bit older than he, so I went briskly to the hotel to wait for him and make sure he arrived safely. He arrived shortly afterwards.’

  ‘And Miss Bigelow?’

  ‘I did not see her.’

  ‘At dinner last night?’

  ‘I did not eat dinner last night. They have been stuffing our faces this whole time. I went to bed. I would have swum if this hotel had a swimming pool, or if the beach was not so filthy.’

  ‘A little chilly for swimming,’ Lawson said.

  Mr Ek laughed. ‘Who are you talking to? You are talking to Finns!’

  ‘In the castle, did Miss Bigelow seem distracted, or sad, or unhappy in any way?’ McCrabban asked.

  ‘Who knows? Who knows what is going on in anyone’s heart? Not you. Not I. She was quiet. Ask her boyfriend, perhaps he will tell you about her mood, if he can.’

  ‘Your English is very good,’ I said.

  ‘So it should be, after two decades in America. But my accent is not so good. A little hard to understand, yes?’

  ‘Your accent is fine.’

  He looked at his watch. And now I did want to hurry, what with him being so cooperative and everything.

  ‘After the castle visit, did the group have any more functions planned? Was Miss Bigelow’s absence remarked upon?’

  ‘We had a late breakfast with the Northern Ireland Better Business Bureau this morning at ten. In my opinion they need a better Better Business Bureau. Those men know nothing about business. Anyway, Miss Bigelow did not attend this function for obvious reasons.’

  We asked him a few more questions, but it was clear that the colourful Mr Ek couldn’t help us, either with Lily’s whereabouts or her state of mind.

  I looked at Crabbie and Lawson, but they had nothing to add.

  ‘Detective Lawson will take your contact details in Finland but after that you’re free to go,’ I said. I looked at my watch. ‘And I think you’ll still make your flight and your connections.’

  Ek nodded, stood and shook my hand. ‘This was an illomened visit from the beginning. I knew it would be a waste of time, I am just sorry that it ended in such a way. Please pass on my condolences to the young lady’s family. From all of us,’ he said.

  ‘I will,’ I said. Just as Ek was leaving, Tony McIlroy came into the conference room. He was bleary-eyed and harassed-looking. He made a bee-line for me.

  ‘Sean, mate, you’ve got to let my clients go. If they miss their connections they’ll be stuck in the UK for another night,’ Tony said.

  ‘No “hello”?’ I asked, somewhat irritated by the brusqueness of his manner. He wasn’t my senior any more. He wasn’t anybody’s senior any more. He was nothing.

  ‘Sorry. Hello, Sean. Look, what’s going on here?’

  ‘Lily Bigelow, the journalist with the deleg–’

  ‘Aye, I know all that, but why are you interviewing my clients? They have planes to catch. They’re important people, Sean!’ he said, raising his voice.

  ‘It’s a slow process, Tony. You know what it’s like.’

  ‘What process? She bloody killed herself, didn’t she? That’s what everyone’s saying.’

  ‘That’s for the coroner to decide. Our job is to gather the evidence. All the evidence, and that means interviewing your clients, which, you’ll be happy to know, we have just wrapped up.’

  Tony sighed with relief. ‘So they’re off to get their flights?’

  ‘They’re off to get their flights.’

  ‘Thank God for that! Laakso’s people in Helsinki have been calling me all morning! Jesus,’ he said.

  Tony suddenly seemed to notice McCrabban and Lawson for the first time. His cheeks reddened. He had embarrassed himself in front of them.

  How the mighty had fallen, I thought. There but for the grace of God and a
girl from MI5 go I …That’s what happens to ex-policemen. Grubbing around for your weekly pay cheque, kowtowing to the clients, eating shit sandwiches left and right. The private sector my arse.

  ‘Uhm, I suppose I’d better go and help them out to the airport,’ Tony said.

  I shook his hand. ‘Yeah, mate, I’ll see you around.’

  ‘See Lawson, you think it’s all quoits on the deck, wanking to Readers’ Wives and U2 “music” blaring all day long, but that’s the private sector for you: grim. See Tony’s face? Harassed. You’re better with us,’ I said, when Tony was out the door with his clients.

  ‘Sir, I never thought about leaving. I–’

  ‘Yeah, don’t think about leaving. Think about Lily Bigelow’s shoe, or Lily Bigelow’s notebook, or why Sergeant Dalziel has a giant rubber cock in the bottom drawer of his desk.’

  ‘Why does S–’

  ‘Cos I put it there. Now, get back to work.’

  We interviewed the remaining hotel guests and the manager, but no one had seen Lily come back the previous evening and no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary about her behaviour.

  I called up the Financial Times and got Lily’s next of kin from Personnel. Unfortunately, it was a complicated business. Her parents had divorced. Her mother had emigrated to South Africa and her father was living in Norwich. She had a flat-mate but the flat-mate was on holiday. I called up the local peelers and they found her father on the electoral roll. I explained the situation and the Norfolk Constabulary said that considering the nature of the news they would call on Mr Bigelow in person. If Lily’s father was up for it I asked them to ask him about her mental health and to call me back with the details. Presumably they had nothing else to do in Norwich, because they said that they would send out a ‘team of detectives’ and something called ‘grief counsellors’ and get back to me later in the day.

  ‘She liked a wee glass of wine with her dinner. She sat by herself, sometimes reading a book,’ Kevin, the manager, said, leading us up to her room.

  ‘Did she seem depressed at all?’ I asked.

  Kevin nodded. ‘There was a sadness about her, sitting by herself with her wine. She was very pretty. Such a shame. Boyfriend trouble, more than likely.’

  ‘She told you that?’ I asked.