Annette wasn’t appeased. “That was my decision, not yours.”
Part of her annoyance was because she knew that he was right. Tricking Cecilia Guthrie into something might have alienated her, not to mention adding to her grief. After a moment spent driving and thinking, she muttered an apology in a low voice.
“Sorry, Reggie. You were right. I might have burnt our boats.”
The veteran smiled and said nothing. Just punched in Guthrie’s office address into the sat-nav, then gazed out the window considering the merits of Viking funerals.
****
While Annette and Reggie were interviewing one wife, Craig and Liam were on their way to interview another, although even with the best will in the world they doubted that they would get Sarah Jamison to talk. Her appearance at the front door of the Jamisons’ imposing home on Belfast’s Malone Road, accompanied by a slim woman whose grey suit said that she definitely wasn’t the maid, didn’t exactly raise their spirits. They fell even further when Sarah Jamison introduced her companion.
“This is my solicitor, Genevieve Cherry. Partner at Cherry and Moss.”
And Ronald Lewiston’s boss. Craig wondered how the legal peacock enjoyed that. In his experience men like Lewiston could just about cope with having a superior who was a wrinkled grey-haired man; a young woman who part owned the firm would be absolutely beyond the pale. As the thoughts ran through his head he extended a hand to the solicitor.
“Superintendent Craig.”
Now, in a world where people used every asset they possessed to their advantage at work, Craig had always prided himself that he never did. He used his brain and knowledge of course, but he considered that to be justified given that he’d studied hard for his degree and promotions. And at times he used his physical prowess; to run, leap on a suspect or even disable them when they were threatening someone’s life. But again, he’d spent years at the track and gym, sweating and suffering for his muscles, so in a sense he’d earned his strength as well and he thought that its use was fair enough. But the one asset he’d been given that he had never used, or certainly never at work, was his looks. There he very definitely drew the line.
Even if he were to accept that he was good-looking, something that when commented on he denied as being subjective, in his opinion good looks were just a genetic accident. A collision of his parents’ chromosomes and the random recombination of DNA. He hadn’t earned them and he’d never worked at them, so it seemed like cheating to utilise them anywhere, and especially at work.
Liam knew this, but instead of lauding Craig’s integrity he’d always thought that he was insane. If he’d been gifted dark hair, tanned skin and regular features, instead of a face made of dough and a head full of sandy scrub, he’d have worked it ruthlessly anywhere and everywhere, especially when he was a thoughtless young buck. So it was with some surprise and not a little smirking that he watched Craig begin to charm the solicitor.
At first the Crossgar man thought that he was imagining things: the smile held a second too long, the gaze into her eyes, the slight softening of the voice. But when Craig shortened his normal two feet personal distance to step into the house’s vestibule and shake her hand from only six inches away, Liam thought ‘you dirty dog’ and watched intently to see what happened next. The first thing that happened was that Genevieve Cherry stepped back, but not very far. It was Craig’s cue to carry on.
“I realise that Mr Lewiston is acting for Mr Jamison, but would it be possible to ask Mrs Jamison a few brief questions?”
Liam could have sworn that Craig’s eyes had twinkled on the last few words. Whatever he’d done the solicitor was looking very flushed.
“Yes. I mean, no. That is…why? What could my client possibly tell you?”
Craig smiled again and slipped past her so he was a foot further into the hall, leaving space for Liam to join them.
“You’ll be aware that we’re trying to rule Mr Jamison out of our enquiries.”
Sarah Jamison couldn’t let it pass.
“My husband didn’t murder anyone! He’s never hurt anyone in his life.”
Not with his fists anyway.
Craig turned slowly towards her and Liam watched, fascinated, as Genevieve Cherry looked suddenly put out. Professionally or personally? She stepped between Craig and her client immediately.
“Deal with me, please, Superintendent.”
Certainly. Craig gazed down at her, unblinking, his intensity having a disconcerting effect on the solicitor’s composure.
“As you know, Ms Cherry, Mr Jamison is helping us on a murder inquiry.”
Cherry gathered herself enough to retort. “And as Mrs Jamison said, that’s ridiculous! Richard Jamison is a businessman of some standing in Northern Ireland-”
Craig interrupted her with a hand held up in peace. He angled it slightly so that with one movement it could have easily brushed her hair. “And we agree that he is innocent of any part in the murder we’re investigating. That’s partly what we’ve come to tell your client.”
Cherry looked surprised. “So you’re not going to charge him with murder?”
“No.”
Liam whistled mentally, admiring his nerve. If Jamison turned out to be their killer now then Craig would be in deep shit.
“But we are interested in his business connections with the deceased, so all we need is a little cooperation and then hopefully both of your clients will be able to resume their trip.”
If they couldn’t pin some fraud on the male Jamison that was. He turned back to Sarah Jamison with a wider smile. His mother said it was his best feature and that he didn’t do it half often enough.
“Where were you going again? The Dominican Republic wasn’t it?”
She considered for a moment, wondering if confirming their destination could incriminate her husband somehow. At a slight nod from the solicitor she decided that it was OK to speak.
“It was DR. Yes.”
“And you’re emigrating I hear.”
The shock in her eyes said that it was the first she’d heard of the move.
“No. We’re returning in three weeks.”
Craig smiled again, moving slightly closer to both women to discomfort them and hopefully prevent Cherry from cutting his questioning short.
“Ah, then perhaps your husband planned to buy the return tickets when you were already there.”
While Craig was playing lothario, Liam slipped from the hall into the kitchen, checking for signs of the house being closed-up or readied for sale. There were none; if anything the freezer had enough food in it for a year. If the Jamisons had been skipping the country the businessman definitely hadn’t informed his wife. Genevieve Cherry suddenly noticed that he’d gone.
“Where is the other officer?”
Just then Liam re-appeared with a sheet of kitchen towel held to his nose. Craig improvised.
“Nose bleeds. He gets them all the time.”
He smiled again, this time bending down to brush a fleck from the solicitor’s collar to distract her. He felt old swinger creepy and wondered how people could flirt to get what they wanted in life. It just made him feel like he needed a shower.
“You had a piece of fluff.” She blushed dark red. “I just have one last question.” He turned quickly back to Sarah Jamison before the solicitor could object. “What business does your husband have with Dominic Guthrie?”
Sarah Jamison’s expression was puzzled but not defensive, and he knew immediately that her answer wouldn’t tell them anything of note.
“Dominic’s father Raph and Richard knew each other well. They were friends from university. When Raph died Dominic took over our accounts.”
Craig did a double take. Our?
“Do you run the business with your husband?”
She looked faintly embarrassed, as if she’d been caught in a boast that she couldn’t back up. “Well no, not together. But I know all about Richard’s business.”
He doubted it very
much. She hadn’t even known that she was emigrating. But it didn’t matter; they would soon be deep in both men’s files.
When he was satisfied that Sarah Jamison could tell them nothing more Craig stepped back, reinstating his normal personal space and packing his Casanova’s tool-kit away, hopefully for some considerable time. He bid the two women a polite “Good day” then ushered Liam swiftly out to the car.
Neither man spoke until they were halfway back to Docklands, then Liam could keep quiet no longer. As he opened his mouth Craig got in first.
“Not a word, Chief Inspector.”
Liam’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Ach, go on, boss. Just a few.”
Craig sighed. “Oh, go on then. But only if it means you won’t say anything in the office.”
Liam considered his options. Rip the ass out of the boss now with no audience, but at least it would be fun, or try it in the office with Craig denying everything and no-one believing that he would have flirted to get his questions asked. He plumped for now reluctantly and had at it.
“You’re a big sleaze. You know that, don’t you?”
Craig’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “What did I do? I was just being polite.”
Liam snorted rudely. “Get out of it! You played that solicitor off against the wife like a pro. I bet there was a cat fight after you left.”
Craig gave a sceptical grunt. “You underestimate women and severely overestimate me.”
“I’m not doing either. I’m just asking you to acknowledge that basically we’re all just animals and in the animal kingdom you’re a stud.”
Craig almost choked.
Liam warmed to the analogy. “In fact, if you were a bull on our dairy farm, we’d have put you out to breed every year.”
As they entered the C.C.U.’s dark garage Liam was certain that he saw Craig blush. He definitely gave a noisy shudder.
“I felt like some seedy bloke in a nightclub. One of those ones with a mullet.”
Liam grinned, picturing the scene. “I can just see you tempting the laydeez to ‘get on down’ to a bit of Barry White.” He guffawed. “You never know; if you’d tried a bit harder you might have scored.”
Craig winced. “I was sure that solicitor was going to slap me over the fluff. I’m still cringing about it.”
“Greater good, boss. It got us what we needed.”
They were still laughing about the encounter when they arrived on the tenth floor and Davy raced across to interrupt.
“We think w…we’ve found a link between Jamison and Guthrie yesterday.”
Craig’s eyebrows shot up. “That was quick. Have you accessed their computers already?”
Davy stared blankly at him. “What?” Then he realised what Craig had meant and shook his head. “No. Annette’s at Guthrie’s office now, and Jamison’s s…stuff has just got here. We haven’t looked at it yet.”
“So how come you’ve-”
“Guthrie’s smart-phone. The phone provider hacked it for us and the last map location he checked was for Jamison’s office.”
“So? He probably goes there to see him all the time. Jamison’s an important client.”
Davy smiled triumphantly and shook his dark hair. “At one-thirty yesterday? Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? S…So Andy checked Guthrie’s desk diary for me.”
Craig shook his head. They were never this lucky. “You’re not telling me that he’d actually listed a meeting with Jamison then?”
“Nah. If only. But he had put in ‘Lunch two p.m. - The RAJ’.”
“So what? He had an Indian meal.”
Davy stepped back and gave Ash his cue.
“There’s only one Indian restaurant called The Raj in Belfast.”
“You checked?”
The analyst shook his head. “Didn’t need to. My parents run Smita so I know all their competitors by name.”
He’d just named the best Indian Restaurant in town. Craig knew exactly where they were going for their next team meal. Ash was still speaking.
“But I checked as well, just to be sure. Either way Guthrie didn’t have lunch there, or not under his own name anyway. ”
He turned back to working a baby wipe between the keys of his computer with a diligence that Craig wished they would all apply to their work. He frowned, unsure if the find meant anything.
“So that leaves us with Guthrie having lunch somewhere that doesn’t exist on the day that he died.”
Davy shook his head. “Not lunch, or if it was it was a late one. I think ‘lunch’ was Guthrie’s concession to s…secrecy, and if The RAJ wasn’t the venue then maybe it was the person that he met-”
As he finished Craig raced into his office and pulled up a file on his PC, punching the air when he saw that he was right. He emerged to find them exactly where he’d left them.
“RAJ. Richard Arnold Jamison. Guthrie was meeting Jamison at two o’clock yesterday. And at his office. That’s why the map was on his phone.”
Liam was perplexed. “So why the secrecy? If he was Jamison’s accountant he must have met him all the time. It was perfectly legitimate.”
Craig smiled. “Unless for some reason Jamison had asked him to keep this particular meeting quiet.”
“Some dodgy reason.”
“Probably. Andy or Annette should be able to tell us. There are four of them rifling through Guthrie’s files now.”
He stopped abruptly, looking at the clock. It was after nine! OK, they were on-call, but it was late even for that.
“Right, call it a night, everyone. Davy, tell the others to knock off but I want everyone back working at eight a.m. sharp.”
He turned towards the exit with Liam in hot pursuit.
“You off home?”
Craig shot him a sceptical glance. “I’m off to the James to commune with a pint. I need to think. You can come if you promise to be quiet.”
And he couldn’t even blame naiveté for his false hope.
Chapter Five
Sunday. 9 a.m.
Sunday started slowly, the whole team sluggish from the late night before. Craig was sluggish as well, although his had more to do with four pints and a whisky chaser at the James, with Liam matching him drink for drink and talking all the way through.
After an hour spent communing with the Lagan he emerged from his office in search of Nicky She was gazing at Ash, whose hair looked a different shade of blue than it had the night before.
“Nicky, get Annette for me, please, and put her on speakerphone.”
She dialled still staring at the analyst, so to put her out of her misery Craig walked over to Ash’s desk, which he was busily spraying with polish and rubbing with a cloth.
“If you’re that keen on cleaning, I’ve an apartment that could do with some help.”
Liam shook his head. “Don’t do it, son. You’d need a rope tied around your waist to make sure you were found again.”
Craig shot him a look then asked the analyst what he’d actually come over to ask.
“Either my eyes have gone or your hair’s a different colour this morning. Which is it?”
Ash grinned, while Liam leaned in, trying to see the change.
“It’s the same colour it was, boss.”
“What would you know? You’re blue-green colour blind.”
Ash held up a hand to still the debate. “I dyed it purple last night. Nice, eh?”
They were saved from lying by Annette voice’s emerging from Nicky’s phone. Craig cut straight to his planned question.
“Anything on Guthrie’s whereabouts on Friday yet?”
“Yes and no. His wife said he usually took the bus to the office, but he took the car on Friday because he had a meeting and it was too far to walk. That sounds like it was still local but a bit of a trek.”
“Like the Titanic Quarter.”
“It would make sense.”
There was a rustling in the background.
“Is that Reggie?”
“
Yes. He’s going through Guthrie’s desk diary, but there’s nothing more so far. Andy’s booting up the computer now.”
“Before you do that, ask Reggie to see if there’s an address or phone number section at the back of the diary.”
More rustling and then a masculine “Yes”.
“Are they all work numbers?”
Reggie leaned towards the phone, flicking through the pages. “Some look more like family and friends. There’s a Jane Guthrie-”
Davy shouted across the room. “That’s his mum.”
“And a Finn Guthrie.”
“One of his kids.”
Craig cut into the exchange. “OK, go to the R section. Is there anyone there called Raj?”
After a moment the sergeant answered “Yes. It’s strange though; it’s written in capitals. All the others are in normal font.”
Craig brushed past his confusion. “Read out the number.” He turned back to Davy. “Dial it as he does.”
After a brief delay an answerphone answered in what was undeniably Richard Jamison’s sonorous voice. There was no doubt about it; Richard Jamison was RAJ and Dominic Guthrie had gone to meet him on Friday at two o’clock.
After a request for them to check the exact time Guthrie had left his office that day and when he’d last spoken to his P.A., Craig signed off and turned to Liam with a knowing look.
“This is the dodgy business Jamison was avoiding talking about, and it looks like he and Guthrie were in it together.”
Liam frowned. “So why was Guthrie killed? He was just the accountant. Surely anyone who was pissed off that Jamison was dodgy would have bumped him off instead.”
“Or framed him for Guthrie’s murder and stopped his planned emigration. If it worked out the way they’d planned that could bring Jamison an even harsher punishment. Thirty years in jail.”
But why was the question. What had Richard Jamison done that could have generated such hostility? They would only get the answer to that when they knew the details of his dodgy deals.
The Talion Code Page 17