The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  “No. Cooke s…said he didn’t want a fuss and refused to proceed.”

  Craig nodded slowly. It made sense; Cooke hadn’t wanted what had been said about drugs to be made public in court. “OK, so why is it awesome then?”

  Davy grinned. “Two reasons. The s…same man, Ian Jacobs, was on the ward last night, visiting the same patient, his mum, again. S…She was readmitted.”

  It gave Jacobs the opportunity to kill Cooke. It sounded as if he already had the motive.

  “Good and…”

  “In the original case report it says there was no CCTV in the area to back up the nurse’s account, so Jacobs knew there was no CCTV there.”

  Craig gave a low whistle. They had a man with an obvious grievance against Adrian Cooke who had opportunity and knowledge of the lack of CCTV. And if drug-dealing was relevant to Jacobs, Eleanor Rudd might have been targeted by him as well.

  “Tell me about Jacobs.”

  Davy smiled, pleased that Craig knew he’d already have checked-out Jacobs before bringing him the lead.

  “His name is Ian Peter Jacobs. His mother, June, is an eighty-year-old asthmatic who gets regular chest infections that end her up on Newman W…Ward. Jacobs is a car mechanic; w…works for one of the big dealers on Boucher Road, and apart from the incident with Cooke he’s never been in trouble with the law. But here’s the important bit. His son Evan died from a bad dose of ecstasy not long ago. You know; the ‘Rolex’ version that was killing lots of kids.”

  Craig nodded sadly. There’d been a spate of deaths from green and speckled ecstasy tablets stamped with crowns; they’d contained toxic levels of PMA. He stared at Davy, already knowing the answer to his next question.

  “Is the boy’s name in Rudd’s Black Book?”

  Davy nodded. “Yes. I called Des to check. He says the notebook uses a code s…system. ‘C’ for cocaine, ‘H’ for Heroin...”

  Eleanor Rudd had been dealing the hard stuff.

  “‘M’ for crystal meth…”

  “And the boy had an ‘E’ beside his name.”

  Davy nodded again. “I checked the death records. One day after Evan Jacobs bought the ‘E’ from Eleanor Rudd he died. The dad could have put two and two together…”

  “And blamed Rudd.” Craig thought for a moment. “But how did he know Cooke was involved?”

  Davy shrugged. “Kids talk. Maybe the boy dealt with Cooke directly at some point. Or maybe…”

  He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Maybe Eleanor Rudd had given Adrian Cooke’s name to her clients as insurance against Cooke turning on her. Craig thought for a moment. Ian Jacobs had had motive, opportunity, knowledge of the lack of CCTV, and if he’d seen Cooke unexpectedly on the ward that night, he might have had an impulse that made him careless enough not to put on gloves. They had to lift him.

  They headed out onto the main floor. Everyone was there except Carmen and Jake so they might as well hold the briefing now. Craig had a feeling they were going to have a busy night.

  “OK, everyone. This will be quick. I’ll kick off, then Davy, then Liam and anyone else. As you’ll all know by now, Annette tailed Dr Cooke from his apartment to the E.M.U. last night. He was only in the hospital for twenty minutes during which time he was killed.”

  Annette interjected. “I was waiting for him to come back to his car.”

  Liam snorted. “That’ll be clamped by now. St Mary’s wardens are shocking.”

  Craig smiled at Liam’s talent for making death sound inconvenient.

  “While Dr Cooke was on the unit he called into both the acute and long-stay wards to say hello. He also retrieved Eleanor Rudd’s Black Book from somewhere.”

  Liam nodded wisely. “Probably some secret drop they had.”

  It was Annette’s turn to snort. “Thank you, Kim Philby.”

  “Wherever Cooke lifted the book from it didn’t do him much good. Des is looking at it now and Davy will tell us more about that in a minute. The important thing is that Cooke’s visit to the ward was completely unexpected so the killing was opportunistic, possibly by a visitor but it could also have been by a member of staff or a patient who saw Cooke on the unit last night.”

  Liam guffawed. “Have you seen the patients, boss? Most of them couldn’t strangle a fly.”

  Ken interjected. “How do you strangle a fly? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  Craig ignored them and carried on. “That’s why Liam and Annette have spent the morning re-interviewing. Did you find out anything?”

  Liam shook his head. “We got a list of everyone on the ward last night and gave it to Davy. But no-one saw anything, as usual.”

  “OK. There’s no CCTV in the linen room area as we know, but Davy and Des are pulling the other cameras on the unit. The fact that Rudd’s Black Book was left behind pretty much rules out a rival dealer; they would have taken it for the names. Or an addict; they would have taken the book to cover their own habit, or to sell it on. So that leaves us with an addict’s relative or someone who hates drug-dealers on principal.”

  Liam interjected. “Worst case scenario we have a motive that has nothing to do with drugs at all and we have to go back to the start.”

  Craig made a face but he knew that Liam could be right. He turned to Ken. “Ken, could you cover our meeting with John, please, then I’ll report on Prof Taylor.”

  Ken recounted the marks on Adrian Cooke’s body. “The marks on his knees and the others on his torso and head haven’t been identified yet, and Dr Marsham is checking out his body for possible prints as the killer didn’t wear gloves this time.”

  Liam shot Craig a questioning look and Craig shook his head.

  “No idea what the marks are. Maybe Cooke knocked his legs against something hard. John said he found similar marks on Eleanor Rudd’s thighs.”

  “It wasn’t the linen trolley. Too high. I’ll go back and take a look around.”

  Craig nodded. “Thanks. OK. We also went to see Prof Taylor again. We walked in on him just as his secretary was sitting on his knee. Not the most faithful of husbands.” Liam went to say something rude and Craig shook his head. “Save it for the locker room. Taylor admitted to being on the unit last night but said he didn’t see Cooke and was leaving the hospital just as the police arrived. Davy, check that out on the CCTV, please. Taylor seemed shocked about Cooke and I think he may be telling the truth, but we’ll double check just to be sure. There was definitely no love lost between them.”

  “Any chance that the Prof killed Cooke because he was in on the drug dealing, sir?”

  Craig shook his head. “It’s unlikely, Annette. Taylor was pretty scathing about Cooke’s drug habit and a partner would have taken the book in case it incriminated them.” He turned back to Liam. “Anything useful on the E.M.U. today?”

  “Just a lot of shock about Cooke’s murder. He was pretty well liked. But like I said, no-one saw anything.”

  “OK. Thanks. Leave the E.M.U. for now; I want you and Annette to interview someone for me.”

  Liam leaned forward expectantly. “Who?”

  “Davy’s just going to tell you.”

  Davy repeated what he’d told Craig about Ian Jacobs and Liam whistled.

  “Bloody hell, lad. You’d make a great cop.”

  “If it didn’t mean cutting my hair, I might.”

  Liam glanced at Craig. “So we’re bringing him in for questioning?”

  “Arrest him if he doesn’t come quietly. We have sufficient grounds. But I want him questioned properly, Liam. No trying to make him fit the bill, please.”

  Craig stared at Annette meaningfully; she would keep Liam’s bully-boy tactics in line. He nodded Davy on.

  “There’re some things that I’m s…still waiting for. I’m comparing the list of people around at the time of Rudd’s murder with the ones there last night. I’m mapping the movements of everyone in and out of the w…wards from the CCTV. Then we have Rudd and Cooke’s phone dumps, the Black Book and all Des’
forensics s…still to clear.” The look on his face said that he’d just realised how much there still was to do.

  Craig smiled kindly. “Don’t worry. Carmen will be back tomorrow and so will Jake. They can give you a hand. Ken and I will drop back to the lab to see Des and see what we can do to speed him up.”

  Annette smiled, knowing that Craig was doing his best to keep Carmen and Ken apart until Carmen calmed down. Davy suddenly thought of something. He turned to Annette.

  “W…What happened to the three names on that list I gave you?”

  Annette shook her head. “They all said they were at the library or shop and they had proof.”

  “But they headed back to the E.M.U. in time for Rudd’s murder.”

  Annette nodded. “The problem is we can’t pin down their movements inside the unit because of the broken cameras and blind spot. But don’t worry; we’re treating the whole unit as suspects now.”

  Craig leapt to his feet, glancing at his watch.

  “OK. It’s almost four o’clock. Annette, go home, you were working late last night. Liam and I will lift Jacobs and book him into High Street. He can stew overnight then you and Liam can see him first thing in the morning. Ken, if you could help Davy for the next hour or so, that would be great.”

  He headed for the lift and then realised Liam wasn’t with him. He popped his head back through the doors to see him chatting to Nicky then gave a piercing whistle that made everyone turn and Liam take the hint.

  Chapter Nine

  High Street Station. Tuesday, 6 p.m

  By six o’clock Ian Jacobs was in custody, looking shocked. Craig couldn’t work out if his shock was at being in a police station, because he’d been caught at all or... As he watched Jack Harris lead the forty-year-old mechanic to be printed, he frowned. Liam saw the look and rolled his eyes.

  “Now what?”

  Craig shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Just…”

  “God, boss, I don’t know what would make you happy. Jacobs came quietly, coughed to being on the ward last night and to seeing Cooke.”

  “But not to the murders. And he didn’t make us arrest him.”

  Liam shook his head. “Give me strength… It’s just bravado! You’ve seen it a thousand times before. Jacobs thinks he’s a master criminal and that we’re all thick. You know the approach; smile and cooperate enough with the dumb cops and they’ll just have a nice chat and let you go.”

  Craig’s head shaking became more pronounced. “Jacobs doesn’t feel like a guilty man, and before you go rationalising it, you know exactly what I mean.”

  Liam said nothing for a moment then he shrugged. “We’ll see. Annette and I will give him the third degree and let you know.”

  They lapsed into silence as Craig peered through the reception door, watching Ian Jacobs offer up his prints in an almost obscenely eager way. Either Jacobs was very clever and had worn gloves, so he knew that any prints they found would rule him out, or he was innocent and keen to prove it. The more Craig watched the more convinced he became it was the latter.

  His thoughts returned to Adrian Cooke’s death. Only a visitor, patient or one of the staff on the unit that evening could have killed him, but no-one had seen anything. Tim Taylor would be ruled out or in by CCTV and his money said out, so who did that leave who’d hated Adrian Cooke enough to kill him, and who was capable of manually strangling an uber-fit young man? No woman could have strangled Cooke, which left male staff, male patients or a male relative of someone on the wards. Craig was just making a note to check with Davy when something shifted in the back of his mind, as if it was waving for attention but he couldn’t see it in the dark.

  Liam said something and he jumped.

  “I missed that, sorry.”

  “I said, what do we do if the prints rule Jacobs out? He could have worn gloves.”

  “Only if he carried them around with him all the time; he wouldn’t have expected to see Cooke there last night.”

  “There were boxes of gloves everywhere.”

  “He’d have had to go looking for one.”

  “OK. Say he carried gloves around with him, then what?”

  “Then we pray that Des finds some other trace evidence that makes Ian Jacobs indisputably our man.”

  ***

  The Lab. Wednesday, 9 a.m.

  After a cursory coffee with John when he confirmed that Adrian Cooke had been high when he’d died, Craig and Ken took the lift up to Des Marsham’s world. As the doors opened they saw him approach; his opening words made Craig’s heart sink even though he’d half-expected them.

  “There were prints on Cooke but they don’t match your man Jacobs. Sorry.”

  As Des turned on his heel Ken pressed the button again for the ground floor. When Craig followed the scientist the army man looked confused.

  “But he said he had nothing.”

  “No he didn’t. He only said that the prints didn’t match. He wants us to follow him.”

  He strode off with Ken trailing in his wake. By the time they reached Des’ office he was sitting smiling at his desk. Craig got to the point quickly.

  “Show me what you’ve got, Des.”

  “Sheesh. So much for small talk.”

  He waved the two men to a seat and slid a lab report across the desk. Craig glanced at it and then passed it on to Ken.

  “Wool?”

  Des nodded, dislodging some crumbs from his beard. Craig wondered if he’d just dropped them or if something inside his beard was having a snack.

  “Dark green wool. Pure wool, mind you, not a mix.”

  “And oil.”

  “Engine oil to be precise. There was a patch on Dr Cooke’s throat.”

  Oil. Craig thought for a moment; Ian Jacobs was a mechanic. When they’d lifted him he’d been wearing a navy sweatshirt and jeans, nothing green, but then it was a day after Cooke’s death.

  “No prints?”

  “Like I said. None that match your man.”

  Craig’s eyebrow rose in curiosity while Ken stared at the report as if it would yield a name. “What does this mean, sir? Is Ian Jacobs our man?”

  Craig shook his head but not with a no. “If I’m correct, Dr Marsham is about to tell us exactly what it means. Des?”

  Des smiled, his teeth barely visible through his greying beard.

  “I found two prints but neither matches Ian Jacobs. One was on Cooke’s lapel badge and one on his watch; it has a metal strap. You’ll need to print everyone who was on the unit to eliminate them. You’ll also need to search Jacobs’ house for something made of dark green wool.” He turned to Craig. “And I need a sample of every oil in the garage where he works.”

  Craig was more confused than he’d been the night before. They’d lifted Jacobs although he hadn’t been convinced he’d killed Cooke, but now Des had found engine oil on Cooke’s throat. Jacobs was a car mechanic and Cooke had been manually strangled; the oil was almost a smoking gun. Ken found his voice.

  “But that’s around seventy people to print, sir, what with all the patients, relatives and staff. It’ll take us days.”

  “Get Joe Rice and Jack Harris to lend you some men. It’ll go much faster.”

  Craig stood up. Des looked disappointed.

  “Off already, Marc? Don’t you want some tea?”

  “Sorry, no. I’ve a search warrant to organise.”

  ***

  High Street Station. 10 a.m.

  Liam set down the phone and punched the air gleefully. “That’ll teach Jacobs to smile at me last night.”

  Annette glanced up from the newspaper she was scanning. They were in the staff-room readying to interview Ian Jacobs and she was recovering from a late night before. Not work this time but something much more pleasant.

  “Can’t you be a bit quieter? I have a headache.”

  Liam squinted across the table recognising the signs of dissolution – he’d seen them in the mirror many times.

  “Have you been a dirty
stop-out then?”

  Annette tried for indignation but ended up looking astonished instead. It was an overreaction to such a benign question and they both knew it was being amplified by guilt.

  “My social life is my business.”

  Liam shook his head and smiled, torn between his pleasure at seeing her less buttoned-up and his certainty that he would soon be witnessing a marital road-crash. He shrugged. Whatever or whoever Annette was doing, she looked good on it. She was slimmer than he’d ever seen her and with her newly long hair and sleek suits she’d shed ten years. He could even fancy her himself if wouldn’t feel like incest.

  In the time it took the thoughts to run through his head Annette’s interest in the case had returned.

  “Who was that on the phone and what were you smiling about?”

  “The boss and never you mind.”

  “It’s my interview as well.”

  Liam realised she was referring to his smile as he’d spoken to Craig. “Oh, aye, that. The boss is getting a warrant for Jacobs’ place and we’re to charge him.”

  A surprised look crossed Annette’s face. “On what grounds?”

  “Des found a smear of engine oil on Cooke’s throat. Jacobs is a mechanic. So ipso facto and Bob’s your mother’s brother!”

  Annette screwed up her face.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Jacobs doesn’t feel right for this.”

  Liam guffawed. “That’s what the boss said last night. Anyway, how would you know, you haven’t even met him yet.”

  Annette was adamant. “Think about it. He’s too obvious. A bereaved father suddenly sees the drug-dealer who supplied his son with the drugs that killed him and decides to strangle him then and there on the ward, and no-one sees or hears anything?” She shook her head. “No way. Where’s the passion? Jacobs would never have strangled Cooke without angry words.”

  Liam went to object and then he thought about what she’d said, picturing what he would have done in Ian Jacobs’ place. If it had been one of his kids killed with drugs and he’d seen Cooke unexpectedly, he’d have swung for him. There’d have been one hell of a fight and he might have strangled Cooke during that, but he wouldn’t have waited coolly until Cooke entered the blind spot on the ward and strangled him without saying a word. Annette was right.