The Coercion Key

by Catriona King

  The old man sighed heavily and waved them into the small living room, then took up position behind his wife’s chair. Angela McCafferty looked even more fatigued than she had the day before and it was hard not to see the tell-tale signs of tears. Annette vowed to make the visit quick.

  “Mr and Mrs McCafferty, when I was here yesterday I couldn’t help but notice something.”

  “What?”

  Niall McCafferty’s voice was flat and its undertone said ‘hurry up and get out’.

  Annette walked over to a small bookcase set on one side of the room, where they’d erected a make-shift shrine to their son. It had photographs of Jonathan growing up arranged in a semi-circle, with a young boy’s knick-knacks sitting in front. The photos stopped at the age of around twenty. Annette presumed that was the point where McCafferty senior had lost control of his son.

  Annette withdrew a plastic glove from her handbag and put it on then she lifted the small object she’d noticed there the day before. As she held it up Jake gasped. It was a key made in a gothic design.

  “Could I ask you, Mr McCafferty, did your son give you this?”

  Angela McCafferty struggled to her feet and reached out to retrieve the key. Annette held onto it tightly.

  “Did he, Mrs McCafferty?”

  “No. It was found amongst his effects. Amelia didn’t want it so I asked for it as a little reminder of him.”

  Annette turned the key over, inspecting it, then she withdrew the USB that lay inside. Angela McCafferty gawped at it.

  “What’s that?”

  Annette smiled, certain that the woman wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a memory stick.

  “It’s a computer stick that contains information. With your permission I’d like our forensic lab to take a look at it. It will be returned to you.”

  “You promise? Only I want it to remember Jonathan by.”

  Annette nodded firmly. “I promise. But we must examine it. It might be important in explaining why your son died.”

  The elderly woman nodded and Annette saw that she was close to tears. She put the key quickly into an evidence bag, ready to be dropped off at the lab on their way back to the squad.

  ***

  Liam left the Warner’s slim, modern house wearing a faux-grave expression, by the time he’d reached his aging Ford it had changed to one of incredulity. He let out a long whistle. There wasn’t much that shocked a hoary old cop like him but Erica Warner had just managed it. Maybe he was getting old, like Davy and Jake were always joking or maybe even he had more morals than modern society possessed.

  He was turning the car engine over and wondering how the others would react to his newly acquired information when his mobile rang. It was Craig.

  “What’s up?”

  Craig smiled at Liam’s lack of preamble. Good. He didn’t have time to waste on ‘how’s the weather?’ Niceties were reserved for conversations with girlfriends, and not even that in his life nowadays.

  “Meet me at the offices of Linton and Roche, Liam. We’re interviewing Victoria Linton’s P.A. in half an hour.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you there.”

  The line clicked off and that was it. No bye-bye or cheerio, no ‘what’s it about?’ or ‘what’s her name?’ Just the Vulcanesque shorthand that had developed between them over the years. Logical and efficient. All that was missing was the ‘live long and prosper’ hand gesture and they would be the perfect Kirk and politically incorrect Spock.

  Twenty minutes later Spock and Kirk were sitting in a café opposite Victoria Linton’s elegant chambers, drinking coffee. They were early and even if they hadn’t been, Natasha Nunes had extended her coffee-break to run some errands, leaving them with twenty minutes to kill.

  Craig finished his scone and went to the counter to order a fresh round of drinks, scanning the room carefully on his way back. Any man in the café could be their mystery caller and try to end one of their lives. Or would he? Would killing first hand be as easy as coercing someone to kill themselves, or pressing a button on a computer game and watching a monster fall to the ground? Killing by proxy was easy: distant, clean and quick, without any of the blood-letting, air-gasping reality of death. Killing close-up was quite another thing.

  The waitress brought their fresh coffees just as Craig sat down again. Liam dropped the last corner of a pastry into his mouth and took a slurp, starting to talk before he swallowed as he always did.

  “I was going to keep this for the briefing but it’s no good, I have to tell you what I found out about Nelson Warner.”

  Craig could see Liam was bursting to impart whatever juicy titbit he’d learned. He was tempted to torture him by changing the subject, but his curiosity kicked in and he waved him on.

  “Aye well, you know those pervs who were killed in February?”

  He was referring to a headmistress called Eileen Carragher and her husband, who they met on their last multiple murder case. They fully deserved Liam’s lack of sympathy; they’d both been child killers. Craig nodded him on.

  “Well, if you think they were pervy you want to hear what old Warner was up to.”

  Craig wasn’t certain that he did while he was eating, but Liam was on a roll.

  “He only had a girlfriend he lived with during the week in the Belfast flat and a wife at home in Randalstown! And the wife knew all about the mistress!”

  Craig barely blinked. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of wives being more tolerant than they ought to be. He wondered if that was all Liam was going to say.

  “But here’s the best bit. He had a second family as well.”

  “With the mistress?”

  “NO! That’s it. With a third woman in Antrim. They had three small kids together. His kids with the wife are grown-up and gone.”

  Craig gave a wry smile. “Perhaps he liked children.”

  “Liked children, my ass. He just didn’t believe in contraception.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The wife told me, open as you like. Says they belong to some weird church.”

  Craig laughed. “St Polygamy’s, presumably.”

  Liam missed the joke completely. “I don’t know what you call it, but the thing is, they all know about each other! And the wife was fine with all the other women, just as long as Warner paid the bills.”

  “At least he kept the petrol costs down.”

  Liam screwed up his face in confusion. “What?”

  Craig took out a pen and drew a map on his napkin to show Belfast, Antrim and Randalstown, joining the dots.

  “They live within twenty odd miles of each other.”

  Liam grinned down at the napkin. “The Bermuda Triangle.”

  “The lust triangle you mean.”

  They were still laughing a minute later when Craig’s phone rang. He glanced at it quickly. The number was withheld. He gestured Liam into silence and answered it warily. Five seconds later he smiled and said ‘fine’ then he stood up to leave.

  “The P.A.?”

  “Yes. She’s waiting for us.”

  Spock and Kirk headed back to work, more enlightened about Nelson Warner’s mating habits than they’d ever wanted to be.

  ***

  The C.C.U. 11.50 a.m.

  Davy stared at his screen, exasperated, trying to make sense of the numbers in front of him. They had four numbers from the suicide notes and Des had three keys now, out of what they had to assume would be four. Victoria Linton’s, Nelson Warner’s and Jonathan McCafferty’s, spotted in his parent’s shrine to their son by Annette’s eagle eye. That only left Diana Rogan’s key to find.

  The keys were identical in every way, including the fact that they each concealed a USB within. Each USB so far had held the same thing: a single file containing the words ‘I am depressed and have nothing to live for’ and a number. The numbers were all different and Davy was staring at them now, trying to work out how they were linked. They had to link in some way because the deaths did, but how?<
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  He read the numbers over again; 111012, 740150, 501760 and 070645. He ran them through the computer for important dates in their victims’ lives: passport and national insurance numbers, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, even the dates that they’d first started work, but there was nothing. Social and world events, anniversaries of national significance, even the phases of the moon didn’t yield anything useful. He was down to trying star signs when the others trudged in for the briefing.

  Craig wandered over to Nicky’s desk and deposited a box of cakes then he saw Davy beckoning him across.

  “What have you found, Davy?”

  Davy scratched his head and then the fresh stubble on his chin. It looked like he was attempting to grow a goatee without much success.

  “Not a lot. Annette found the third key, but I’ll let her tell you about that. Des gave me the four s…sets of numbers, but there’s no link between them that I can find. I’m running them for a Fibonacci s…sequence but I’m not holding out much hope.”

  Craig smiled, wondering what Liam would do when Davy tried to explain that.

  “OK. Leave it until after the briefing. There are some cakes there if you’d like one.”

  Craig grabbed a chair and sat down beckoning the others to join him. Jake and Annette were deep in discussion at their desks and Liam was rifling through the cakes even though he’d eaten one less than an hour before. When they were all seated Craig started.

  “OK. We’re going to begin with Liam on Nelson Warner, then Annette and Jake, then I’ll take Victoria Linton’s P.A. and Davy will bring us up to speed on the search side.”

  He nodded Liam on and listened while he recounted the scandalous lifestyle of Nelson Warner, pillar of the community. The team’s expressions ranged from shock from Jake and Nicky, through Davy’s amusement and finally to boredom with Annette. Craig smiled at her questioningly.

  “When you’ve heard about one pervy middle-aged man, you’ve heard about them all, sir. Frankly I’m starting to be shocked when a Northern Irish man isn’t up to something shady.”

  Liam was indignant. “Here, do you mind! I’m not pervy and neither is the boss.”

  Annette sniffed. “We’ve only your word for that, Liam.” Then she realised what she’d said and grimaced at Craig. “Sorry, sir.”

  Craig laughed. “Don’t worry; I’ve been called a lot worse. The interesting thing about Nelson Warner isn’t his lifestyle but why his wife put up with it.”

  Annette sniffed again. “Because she’s weird as well.”

  “Maybe. She’s certainly religious and it seems to be part of their church’s doctrine. The next question is, for a man who never seemed to be without a woman, how come Warner was alone on the evening of his suicide?”

  Liam answered him. “That’s my next port of call, boss. I’m going to see the mistress this afternoon.”

  “Good. Annette can go with you.”

  “Aw, hell. I was hoping for a laugh.”

  Annette arched an eyebrow. “And the rest, I bet.”

  Craig cut short their exchange. “Annette, tell me about the third key please.”

  Davy chuckled. “What a cool name for a computer game. ‘The Third Key’. I must design one.”

  Craig smiled. “I want royalties for the name when you do. Annette?”

  “Jake and I went to see Jonathan McCafferty’s wife Amelia this morning, and I can tell you there was no love lost there. There was a big age gap between them.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “She’s twenty-five to his forty-five, but that still didn’t stop him having affairs.”

  “Some men are like dogs in heat.”

  Everyone turned towards Nicky’s husky voice and she suddenly realised that she’d said her thoughts out loud. She blushed furiously. “I’m only saying… I didn’t mean any of you…” Finally she gave up and folded her arms defiantly. “Well, they are!”

  Everyone gave her deadpan looks, just long enough to make her squirm. Craig was the first to laugh.

  “You’re right, Nicky, some men are, but we couldn’t let that one pass.” He waved Annette on.

  “Amelia McCafferty was very pretty but not very bright. That was my opinion anyway. Jake, what did you think?”

  Jake was flicking through his notebook and he answered without looking up. “A pretty plank. As in ‘thick as two short ones’.”

  Craig laughed again, not sure whether to rein them all in or not. Their off-hand humour was worse than usual today. It was probably a way of letting off steam, given that they were all under threat, but if anyone from outside heard it wouldn’t go down well. He decided to say something.

  “Listen, everyone. While all the comments are very amusing, can I ask you not to say them in front of outside teams, please? They’ll think we’re running a comedy club in here.”

  Liam nodded sagely. “Aye. Me and the boss are the only ones allowed to make cracks from now on. Rank has to have some privileges.”

  At that Craig gave up trying to control them and Annette continued her report. “Amelia McCafferty hated her husband and she was quite open about it. She said she really doesn’t care that he’s dead, just as long as she gets his money.”

  “Did she give you his key or did you find it there?”

  Annette widened her eyes questioningly then glared at Davy. He shrugged apologetically, knowing that he’d stolen her thunder.

  “She gave it to her in-laws. She didn’t realise what it was.”

  “Or that it was made of platinum, I suspect.”

  “No. Anyway, I thought I’d seen it at his parents’ the day before, sitting beside some pictures of Jonathan when he was a boy, so I went back and retrieved it as evidence.”

  Craig nodded. “Good. I know Des has looked at it and Davy has the files now. We’ll come back to that in a minute. First I’m going to update you on Diana Rogan. I went back to the house and her husband let me look in the bedroom.” He shook his head sadly. “That’s where she killed herself. Her husband hasn’t set foot in the room since. He’s been sleeping on the couch.”

  He paused for a moment remembering Conor Rogan’s pain then went on. “There was nothing significant in the bedroom but Diana Rogan was found wearing her suit, even though she hadn’t gone in to work that day.”

  Annette gave a weak smile. “She wanted them to think that everything was normal as they left that morning, when she was really planning to kill herself. She didn’t want to spoil their day… It’s what I would do.”

  Craig stared at her gravely, remembering her despair the summer before. “She must also have known her husband would have tried to stop her and she didn’t want to be stopped.”

  Jake interrupted “Why not, sir? What was so bad about her life that she wanted to kill herself? She had everything; a loving family, two gorgeous kids, no debts as far as we know, so why? Do you think it was the same reason in all four cases?”

  Craig nodded. “That’s exactly the question I asked myself, Jake. Was it the same reason? We know that our victims have to be linked in some way, but that could be more to do with the killer than anything between them. If they were being coerced into killing themselves would the reason they did it have been different for all of them, or the same?”

  Liam’s loud voice rang through the room. “Here now, this is getting complicated. If I’m right you’re saying that all four of them had a link to their killer but it might not have been the same link? And whatever trigger he used to get them to kill themselves might have been different for every one of them?”

  Craig nodded. “That’s almost right, Liam. The triggers that made them commit suicide might have been different, but I think what linked each of them to the killer was the same. I think Rogan, Linton, Warner and McCafferty were all involved in something to do with our killer and the clue to their involvement lies in the numbers on the USBs. As far as what made them commit suicide, my guess is that he blackmailed each of them with something different.”

  “Like?”


  “Something they didn’t want anyone else to know, the lives of their family and friends, the prospect of prison, anything like that. But it was something that our killer knew about each of them that was enough to make them kill themselves rather than let it happen.”

  Craig stopped abruptly and scanned the five faces in front of them. He turned to Liam first.

  “What would make you kill yourself?”

  Liam blustered then decided to make a joke out of it. “Danni’s mother’s Irish Stew. It’s foul.”

  He started to laugh then realised that no-one else was taking Craig’s question as a joke. Craig stared at him until he caved in.

  “Nothing anyone could do to me would make me do it, but if they were going to hurt Danni and the kids, then would I kill myself if I could be sure it would protect them? Yes, probably. But I’d have to be certain.”

  Craig nodded and turned to the others. “Anyone else?”

  Annette spoke up. “I’d do it to protect my children, but no-one else.”

  Liam and Craig glanced at each other, noticing how firmly she’d excluded Pete.

  “Anyone else?”

  Jake blushed and nodded. “The same as the others, but I’d also kill myself if I ever thought I had to go to prison.”

  Davy jumped in. “Me too. I couldn’t s…stand it. Or if I was completely paralysed. I couldn’t stand that either.”

  Nicky was the last to speak. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and she looked more embarrassed than Craig had seen her before. Her words explained why. “Shame or hurt. If I did something to make my family ashamed of me, or if I’d hurt one of them so badly that I couldn’t repair it. I couldn’t live with that.”

  Craig nodded. “My reasons would be the same as Liam’s, but for my family and close friends.” He paused for a moment, giving them each a moment to think, then restarted in a more upbeat tone. “OK. So that tells us that every individual has a different trigger that might force them into suicide. Natural suicides might be depressed, lonely, homeless or something else, but for seemingly healthy, solvent people…” He stopped abruptly and turned to Davy. “Davy, we did check that all our victims were healthy, didn’t we?”