“We need to go to Diana Rogan’s office one last time and I want to drop into Victoria Linton’s office as well. Her secretary might know something more.”
“Fair enough; they’re both in the centre of town. You know what that means of course?”
Annette glanced up quickly from her notes, sensing that Liam was up to mischief. “What?”
“We can drop into The Apartment for coffee. I haven’t had a decent latte for years.”
***
Craig was pacing his office like a caged wolf and the pounding of his footsteps on the thin office carpet was driving Nicky mad. Finally she’d had enough and she banged hard on his door, yanking it open before he could say ‘come in’. Craig stopped mid pace, startled by Nicky’s appearance, in more than one way; he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Nicky’s dramatic entrance was magnified by the silver streak she’d dyed overnight into her newly blackened hair. With her knee-length leather boots she looked like Morticia Adams, or something from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Nicky stood in the doorway in silence, so Craig shrugged and resumed his pacing. Her quiet “Sir” made him halt again. The warning tone in her voice would have stopped him even if her expression hadn’t.
“Yes, Nicky?”
“Are you going to pace until Liam and Annette get back?”
Craig stared down at his feet, realising that she was right. He was pacing and he hadn’t even noticed. He’d always thought of what he did when he was working out a case as more of a thoughtful stroll, a la Sherlock Holmes. The problem was that he normally did it when John was there to make suggestions. It didn’t work half as well when he was on his own.
“I was thinking of it.”
“Fine.”
Nicky turned on her heel and left the office. Craig followed, wondering what her “fine” had meant. He soon found out. She packed her things into her handbag and headed for the floor’s double-doors.
“I’m taking some owed time; I’ll be back in an hour. If you need me desperately you can get me on the phone.”
With a flash of black hair she was out the door. Craig stared after her, wondering what he’d done to annoy her so much. Davy shouted out the answer.
“You w…were pacing, chief. It makes her s…scream.”
Craig turned to face him. “She never told me… Can you hear it through the door?”
Davy nodded. “Every thud. No-one else minds, but it drives Nicky mad.”
Craig went to pace the open-plan floor then realised what he was doing and laughed. He wandered over to Davy’s desk.
“It’s Liam’s fault for putting me under house arrest.” He leaned over Davy’s shoulder. “How are you getting on with the numbers?”
“Nothing yet, but I think Jake’s had s…some joy on the chat-rooms.”
Jake heard his name and joined them with a sheet of paper in his hand. Craig grabbed two chairs and beckoned him to sit.
“Davy says you’ve had a result on the chat-rooms?”
Jake frowned and then nodded hesitantly. “Yes and no. Remember I took the list of players from twenty and ten years ago and made a short-list of anyone who was on both, anywhere in the world? Then I removed any outside Northern Ireland and that left us with five?”
Craig nodded. “Using the logic that a teenager back then wouldn’t have had the know-how to re-route themselves through another country.”
“Correct. OK, so that left me with five players here. That’s where it’s got tricky. Once I’d got the real name and addresses behind the screen names I was going to remove all the men’s names, now that we know our perp is female. But they’re all male. There are no women.”
Craig swore loudly. They’d hit a dead end. “Where does that leave us?”
Jake hesitated and his expression said that what he was going to say next was a leap. Craig nodded him on.
“Well… then I thought. What if our perp hadn’t always been female?”
Craig’s mouth dropped open, seeing immediately where Jake was heading. Clever lad. What if their player had been a teenage boy who’d since had a sex-change to become a woman? Their female shooter had once been a man.
“Transgender?”
Jake nodded. “It’s possible. I’ve seen some very good sex-changes and Dr Winter only caught a glimpse of his assailant. He could have missed it.”
Craig hesitated to agree. John was very sharp. Sharp enough to have registered the woman’s eye and hair colour. Unless the sex-change was flawless he wouldn’t have confused their sex. But they needed more proof than his faith in John. He turned to Davy.
“Davy, the voice trace. Can you play it back, please?”
Davy hit a switch and they listened as the female voice filled the space around them. The voice was low for a woman and slightly husky, but beyond that it was impossible to tell. It could have been altered by hormones or their perp could still have been born female.
Craig shook his head. “Davy, get linguistics onto it urgently, will you? Tell them what we’re looking for.” He turned back to Jake. “OK, leaving the transgender option aside for a moment, let’s suppose that this is someone who was born female, in which case any female players from Northern Ireland twenty and ten years ago would have been on our present day shortlist of five, which they aren’t because there weren’t any. Or we’re wrong and this is a woman from Northern Ireland who wasn’t playing all those years ago and who has only started playing in the past few years, and is clever enough to re-route to anywhere around the world. In which case any woman playing anywhere nowadays gets added to our list.”
Jake pulled a face. “Sorry, sir. Again it’s yes and no. We know we have no women on our Northern Ireland shortlist nowadays, as you’ve said, and yes, a woman playing here could divert play as you’ve said to make it look like she’d playing from outside Northern Ireland. If they were bright enough, and we know our killer is. But our theory has always been based on this trauma starting when our killer was a teenager and that fits with the key, so who is this woman who has suddenly started playing an out-of-date computer game as an adult, and why this game? There are thousands of new games out there to choose from, so why choose ‘Justification’, a game from twenty years ago, if you’re just starting to play nowadays?”
Craig nodded. Jake was right, any woman who’d started computer gaming in the past few years would have made a more modern choice. Jake continued.
“If they’re transgender male to female now then twenty years ago they would have been too young to have had gender reassignment surgery. But if they had it ten years ago or more they’d have started to identify as female in everyday life then.”
Craig nodded slowly. “And the fact that they chose not to change their identity as female online could mean that they’ve been thinking about this killing spree for years. So the suspect list in the real population becomes males living in Northern Ireland twenty years ago, males and females ten years ago and females nowadays. That should catch every possibility. But in the online population, it still comes down to our list of five male names.”
Davy smiled at the way Craig’s brain worked, searching for the flaw in his argument. There wasn’t one. Craig crossed to Nicky’s desk and poured himself a coffee, still thinking. He was dragged back to reality by a triumphant yell and the sight of Davy punching the air.
“Yes! Jake was right! She’s transgender. Linguistics has given the chances of this being the voice of a male to female sex-change as ninety percent.”
Craig’s mouth fell open. It had been a long shot but it had paid off. “Why did Linguistics miss it before?”
Davy shook his head. “Not looking for it, probably. To be honest, chief, if w…we hadn’t looked for it I would never have noticed from the tape, w…would you?”
Craig shook his head. “No. Never. I just thought she had a husky voice.” He grinned. “Well done, Jake.”
Jake blushed. “Thanks, sir. I’ve met a few transgender males and females at Sarajev
o, so it wasn’t such a leap for me.”
Sarajevo was a popular gay club in the centre of Belfast.
“OK. Good. So let’s have a look at that list again now that we know. So our perp had a male to female transition but they’re on Jake’s list of five screen names as a man.”
They stared at the list in silence for a moment before Craig spoke.
“OK… so in 1994 seven males in Northern Ireland were in the chat-rooms dedicated to the game. If John and linguistics have got the age right at early thirties then our perp would have been a boy anywhere from his early to mid-teens then. Obviously with liberal parents who let him play the game! Ten years later we’re looking at either males or females in their early twenties but still no girls. We’ve lost a player, that’s a list of six people in 2004. And now we have just five players from Northern Ireland.”
He scanned the lists. “Right, let’s just examine the first two lists. There were seven names in ’94 then six ten years later, all male. People came and went over that period but we have two names that match on that list, both from Northern Ireland; Harry Lamb and James Mulhearn. They’re both still on the 2014 list. Jake, do you have addresses for them?”
Jake rushed back to his screen to check. “Yes, but only one kept the same address for the whole twenty years. Harry Lamb.”
“Right, Davy. Check the family at that address.”
Davy typed for a second and then started to read. “Harry Lamb and his family. Parents George and S…Susan, sister Kate. They still live there. Harry is recorded as having married and moved to Enniskillen in 2008; he obviously forgot to change his address online.”
‘Forgot’ was giving him the benefit of a huge doubt in Craig’s mind.
“His driving licence p…photo is coming up now.”
The image of a slim Chinese man appeared on the screen and Craig shook his head. It wasn’t their perp. It was easier to change sex than ethnicity.
“OK, good. That rules him out. That just leaves James Mulhearn. What have we got on him?”
Jake and Davy typed away for a moment then Davy spoke. “James Mulhearn thirty years old. Lived on the Malone Road w…with his parents, Mary and Patrick Mulhearn until 1997 when he was thirteen, then nothing. The last record of him w…was in 2004 when he got his driving licence. He was twenty then. He gave his childhood address on it even though the house was demolished in 1999. His picture’s coming through now.”
Craig walked to the printer and tugged the hot page free impatiently. He stared hard at the image in front of him then shook his head, not because the answer was no, but because he didn’t know what the answer was. James Mulhearn was definitely a man and not a bad looking one. He was slight and fine-featured with straight hair and a beard that could have been brown or auburn depending on the light. Hair was easily grown and curled and beards could be shaved off, but they could still only speculate that the man in the photo might be a woman now.
Craig handed the picture around and turned back to the lists. Jake’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“James Mulhearn hasn’t been playing online for the past two days, boss.”
Craig nodded. “Like I said there could be all sorts of reasons for that.”
“Or it could fit with someone who wanted to keep a low profile because they were busy doing other things, like killing.”
Craig sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. “I think you’re right, Jake. It’s too much coincidence that your hunch about transgender was backed up by linguistics. We’re on the right track. We’re looking for a teenage boy who played this computer game and became a woman at some point in the past twenty years.” He gestured at the photograph of James Mulhearn. “I think Mulhearn’s our perp.” He turned to Davy. “Davy, just to be certain, get me the photograph of every woman playing anywhere nowadays.”
“It’ll take a w…while. Some of them might be foreign nationals. I’ll have to s…speak to the countries they play from.”
“Or routed through. OK, do whatever you have to do. We need John to see their photos and rule them out.”
Jake glanced warily at Craig. “Actually, sir, I’m pretty sure we’re on the right track with James Mulhearn and I’d like permission to start following that up.”
Craig nodded. “OK, go ahead. Davy, John’s on a ward now so he’s well enough to do a sketch for us. Get the artist over there ASAP then run the sketch through face recognition and see if the main markers match James Mulhearn’s driving licence photo. Meanwhile, Jake, find me everything there is out there about James Mulhearn, past and present. If you need any strings pulled just let me know.”
Just then Nicky entered through the glass double-doors, with her protection officer in tow, looking less than amused. Nicky was carrying a bag from a popular clothes store. She stared pointedly at Craig’s feet as she approached.
“Stopped pacing then? Or has he been driving you boys mad as well?”
Craig smiled at her cheek and then at the bag. “Don’t tell me… I drove you to retail therapy.”
“You did, so you can explain my credit card bill to Gary when it arrives.”
***
Diana Rogan had been well liked. The mood in her office was subdued when Annette and Liam arrived, even though no-one could possibly have known they were coming. It was even more subdued when they left. Everyone from Rogan’s secretary and boss to the tea lady had a kind word to say about her, and everyone testified to how much she’d loved her husband and kids. As pleasant office companions went Diana Rogan seemed to have ranked high in the charts. But cautious questioning revealed that none of them knew that her son wasn’t Conor Rogan’s, so that said something about how little people ever really knew about anyone else.
Victoria Linton didn’t rate quite so highly for popularity. Annette smiled encouragingly at the secretary in front of them, assuring her that anything she said would remain confidential. Natasha Nunes took Annette at her word.
“Linton was a bitch. A Class A, nine carat, hard-faced, money grubbing bitch, and I’m not surprised that someone killed her.”
Liam burst out laughing and Annette shot him a disapproving look. This was a victim they were talking about, after all. She arched an eyebrow and stared at Nunes again.
“It’s obvious that you didn’t like Ms Linton, but could you be more specific as to why?”
Nunes folded her arms across her thin frame and warmed to her subject. “She shouted at everyone and expected us all to work our asses off for her without even a thank you.” She sniffed. “She never even bought us a gift at Christmas like Mr Roche did. He’s a gentleman, but Linton was just in it for the money.”
Liam lurched forward suddenly. “Did you want her dead, then?”
Nunes jerked backwards then stuttered. “N…No, I didn’t want her dead! I was leaving anyway.”
“To go where?”
“To take a new job; working closer to home.”
“Are you still leaving?”
“No. Mr Roche has asked me to stay on. But…”
Annette smiled to herself watching the girl being wrong-footed by Liam’s quick-fire approach.
“But what? But you bumped her off so you didn’t have to leave?”
The girl stared at him, stunned for a moment by the suggestion, then she re-folded her arms and grinned. “Yeh, that’s right. I wanted to stay here so much that I bumped her off. As if!”
Her sarcasm irritated Liam and he rose to his full height. “Right then, that sounded like a confession to me. Come along Ms Nunes. Read her rights, Inspector.”
Natasha Nunes’ eyes widened and she spun to face Annette, who was trying hard not to laugh.
“I didn’t kill her, but there were plenty who wanted to. She’d made a lot of enemies though the years.”
Liam sat down again and leaned forward with an intense look on his face. “Like who?”
“W…Well, I’d have to look through the files, but she had a few who rang up regularly, calling her everything. I wasn’
t allowed to put their calls through.”
Annette nodded. Victoria Linton was a prosecutor. That wouldn’t make her popular with the criminal classes.
“Criminals that she’d put away?”
Annette was surprised when Nunes shook her head. “Not all of them. She was a commercial lawyer before she turned to prosecution and she lost a lot of people compensation through the years.”
It was what they’d already suspected.
“What sort of companies did she defend?”
“All sorts. Insurance companies, pension companies, banks, anyone who could get sued really.”
Liam interrupted. “Why did she give it up?”
Nunes shook her head. “She didn’t confide in me.”
“Would Mr Roche know?”
The young woman shook her head again. “I don’t think so. He only became her partner last year. She was solo before that.” She thought for a moment. “You might try Mr Lover, Lover.”
Annette smiled at the reference to the old song by Shaggy. “Her boyfriend?”
“Julian Mooney. I spoke to him on the phone a few times. Not my sort, but he seemed nice enough. Too nice for her.”
“Why not your sort?”
“Too arty for me. I think he’s an architect or something like that.”
They really needed to interview Mooney.
“Do you have a list of the callers who you weren’t to put through?”
Nunes printed off a list of about ten names and Annette sighed, knowing that they’d have to eliminate each one. She rose to her feet and extended her hand to shake, gripping the girl’s and smiling. Nunes withdrew her hand swiftly before Liam offered to do the same and watched gratefully as they walked out the door. Then she stared at the list on her screen trying to work out which one of them had done the world a favour by bumping off her boss.
Chapter Seventeen
3.30 p.m.
Jenna swore at the tall C.C.U. building in frustration. It wasn’t for an audience; Pilot Street was deserted. The days when it was a bustling thoroughfare between the water’s edge and the rest of Sailortown, leading to food, alcohol and a warm woman were long since gone. Its cobbles had been shattered many years before by a developer’s jackhammer and St Joseph’s, the listed church that had served the area’s occupants and visitors since 1878, was boarded up and silent.
The Coercion Key Page 21