He took a deep breath as if demonstrating calisthenics and Liam leaped into the gap.
“There’s nothing worse than a preacher, religious or otherwise. Don’t rub it in, Doc.”
John laughed and glanced at the page sitting at Craig’s elbow, pouring a cup of coffee as he talked.
“I see you’ve been making a list, Marc. Well, let me update you first before you start reading it out.”
He opened the folder and turned quickly to the back page, searching for the thing he wanted to report.
“Right. Lissy Trainor wasn’t raped. I said so yesterday but they rushed the forensics for me and it’s confirmed. No bruising, semen or anything. “
“Couldn’t the semen have been washed away by the tide, John?”
“Normally I’d say yes but she was wearing plastic leggings. They were waterproof so that would have stopped the water washing it away. The swabs have confirmed that there was nothing.”
“Pleather.”
They turned to look at Andy. He was nodding knowledgeably. Liam took the bait.
“What?”
“Pleather. It’s a form of fake leather, made of plastic. It’s very fashionable with young girls. Makes the leggings tight.”
Liam gawped at him, astounded. His knowledge of women’s fashion amounted to two things, sexy or his Mum. He was suspicious of men who knew more.
“Here, are you one of those cross-dressers then, Andy?”
Andy coughed so hard that he spat out his toast. “No, I am not! But I have three sisters and a wife; it’d be hard not to pick up some things.”
“Well I managed it and I had sisters too.”
John interjected dryly. “I don’t imagine there was much call for PVC on the farm, Liam.”
“Aye, you’re right, not unless it could be used for growing potatoes.” He gave a loud guffaw. Craig shook his head in mock despair.
“Very funny, Liam, but you can rein in the cracks about cross-dressing. If anyone hears that at work you’ll be in trouble.”
Liam sniffed grudgingly and nodded. “Aye, aye, you’re right, boss.” He turned to Andy with a solemn look on his face. “Andy, if you want to wear PVC leggings, then you go right ahead. It’s perfectly OK with me.”
Andy started to laugh again and Craig tried to stop himself joining in, but Liam’s droll delivery defeated them all. He nodded John on.
“OK, well. Lissy wasn’t raped or beaten, and she was strangled and drowned with all her clothing still intact.”
“So that rules sex out as a motive, unusual in the death of a young woman.”
John nodded, yes it was. “I’ve only seen a handful of cases where it wasn’t a cause. Evie Murray-Hill is the most recent.”
He was referring to the murder of a young pregnant woman they’d investigated seven months before. Thankfully the baby had survived the crime.
“It’s very unusual, and it points to a different motive than the usual rape or robbing. There’s nothing to suggest past violence or domestic abuse. Lissy x-rays are clean for old fractures.”
“So she was targeted and killed for a specific reason?”
John nodded. “Probably. What that reason was is over to you.” He turned to a loose page at the front of the file and started reading. It bore the header of a post-mortem and Craig could read Veronica Jarvis’ name upside down.
“Veronica Jarvis on the other hand was beaten badly and most probably raped before she was strangled and buried on the beach. Although there was no semen found, she did have extensive genital bruising and tears, so I don’t know why rape wasn’t listed as probable on her P.M. They seem to have dismissed it completely, but then forensics weren’t as advanced back then.” He looked at Craig. “If rape had been included they would have ruled it out as a punishment killing immediately.”
Craig nodded. He was right. Most of the reason it had been labelled a punishment killing had been the lack of rape. And because Veronica Jarvis had been friendly to the police who’d patrolled her Catholic street, wanting to keep things peaceful for the sake of her three sons. When she’d been found dead it had been assumed she must have been passing them information as well as cups of tea and that the IRA had killed her in revenge.
The IRA had always denied involvement in her death but Jonno Mulvenna had still been quickly convicted and put away. What if he hadn’t been involved and she’d been the victim of a sadistic rapist instead? A rapist that someone had wanted protected? And Mulvenna had just been a useful stooge? Mulvenna had told them as much.
John continued. “I don’t think we need an exhumation, Marc. There’s enough physical evidence for me to be convinced Veronica Jarvis was raped. So that’s another major difference between your cases.”
Craig nodded then started to outline his thoughts. He saw Liam’s coming objection and raised his hand quickly, stilling him before he jumped in. “Let me finish first, Liam, then everyone can tell me why I’m wrong.” He tapped the list in front of him, reading out the similarities between the cases.
“Two women killed thirty years apart, strangled and buried at the same spot on the same beach. One was raped and beaten but the other wasn’t. OK. It could be a straight copycat for dramatic effect but there’s another major similarity. Melanie Trainor, or Melanie Rogers as she was back in 1983.”
Liam sat back and nodded. He would tell them what he’d found out when Craig finished.
“What if Veronica Jarvis was killed by someone else? A man who someone wanted to protect for some reason, say an informant? A man who might have been supplying Melanie Trainor with information that could help her crack cases and advance her career?”
“God, we know she’s ambitious, Marc, but ambitious enough to let a murderer go free?”
“Let’s say she thought that she could control him, offer him incentives to stop him killing again?” He turned to Liam. “Liam, can you get Davy to widen the search for murders with a similar M.O. to anywhere in Ireland, and get him to search for any and all crimes linked to a man called Declan Wasson.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open.
“You recognise the name?”
“I do indeed. Nasty wee scrote was lifted every other month back in the eighties. We covered his cases at college.”
“Lifted for what?”
“Domestic battery. He used to beat the hell out of his wife, but she wouldn’t press charges, and back then they had to let things drop unless she would.”
“Mulvenna said he was an informant. If he was feeding Trainor useful tips it could explain why she covered his back when Ronni Jarvis’ body was found. I want to know if she succeeded in keeping him clean after that, or if there are any un-attributed rapes or rape-murders after ’83. If Wasson continued to rape until his death in ’89 then someone might have believed that was Melanie Trainor’s fault because she failed to put him away in ‘83. It might have gained her enemies who could have gone after her daughter.”
Liam interjected. “Here, boss. If Lissy Trainor wasn’t sexually assaulted then her killer could have been a woman. What if Wasson raped again after ’83 and Trainor covered it up to keep him as an informant? This could be one of his female rape victims taking revenge on the ACC?”
Craig nodded slowly, it was good point and he hadn’t thought of it. But the options didn’t stop there. Andy leaned forward.
“Aren’t we forgetting something obvious, hey? “
Three pairs of eyes stared at him.
“What about Veronica Jarvis’ kids? She had three boys who she adored by all accounts, and they probably adored her back. If they thought Trainor had let their mother’s killer go free there’s no telling how long they might have been bearing a grudge.”
“Andy’s right, boss. The Jarvis boys were still at primary school when she died. I remember hearing about it on the news. That would make them in their late thirties now, still plenty strong and fit enough to kill a young girl.”
John interrupted. “They’d have had to hate Melanie Trainor
a lot to wait this long and then kill her child. And how would they have known that Mulvenna hadn’t been a righteous rap?”
“Righteous rap? Have you been watching those American crime series again, Doc?”
John blushed and nodded.
“Well, don’t. You sound like Jay-Z.”
Craig raked his hair in thought for a moment before he spoke.
“OK. They’re all good points. Liam, chase up the Jarvis kids and find out if they have alibis for Lissy Trainor’s murder. John will give you the exact time frame.”
John nodded. “Right, well. It would be nice if I could be exact, Marc, but Lissy had been dead for several hours before she was buried and we don’t know what day that was on. We know she was found on Thursday morning at seven o’clock, by a horse-rider out for a gallop.”
Craig turned to Andy. “Do we have their statement, Andy?”
“Yes, and I’ve had men on the beach interviewing people for days, but no-one saw anything. It was Halloween this week so a lot of people were away, and it rained on Thursday and was blowing a gale. The Strand would have been deserted, except for the hardy annuals. I’ve had men there every day interviewing but there’s been nothing yet.”
John restarted. “It’s hard to get timings from Rigor because it had resolved by the time she was found, but she has two types of Lividity; primary and secondary. The primary Lividity is on her back. It indicates she was killed and left on her back for some time, but definitely less than six hours because there’s secondary Lividity as well. It’s on her feet, ankles and hands where the blood pooled when she was buried upright in the sand.”
“So she was moved less than six hours after death and buried on the beach?”
“Yes. There are some patches in the Lividity on her back which give us a clue to what sort of surface she was lying on after death. It looks like they were made by small twigs or sticks. Her clothes are being examined for spores and remnants now.”
“Was she undressed at any time, John?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. The twig marks are very faint, indicating that the pressure was through clothes, and there are creases in the Lividity on her back from what looks like the folds from her clothing. We’re checking her top for a match. There was nothing on the lower half because of her leggings.”
He paused, inviting questions.
“So she definitely wasn’t killed at the beach, Doc?”
“Definitely not. It may have been nearby but it’s hard to tell. Portstewart Strand is one of the last beaches that you can drive a car onto, so she was probably brought there by car. And before you ask, the C.S.I.s did their best with the tyre tracks but there were hundreds of them all over that stretch of beach so you’re looking at a dead end there.” John paused then restarted.
“OK. Lissy was killed somewhere where there were twigs, so maybe a garden or a wood, left on her back for less than six hours then brought to the beach to be buried in the sand. She was found on Thursday morning at seven o’clock but she could have been buried there days before. Her hand was visible when she was found so the sand protecting it had been washed away and it bore the marks of having been exposed to water for less than ten hours. I’d say if she was found on Thursday morning then the sand that was covering her had been worn away by the tide the night before.”
“OK, so uncovered overnight on Wednesday by the tide, but buried God knows when?”
John nodded. “That’s about the size of it, sorry. We’re trying to narrow time of death now, but the sand protected her from the water and she was cold the whole time. She would have been almost frozen and that throws T.O.D. off. Your best bet to narrowing things quickly is finding out who saw her last, or catching a break from someone who saw her abduction.”
Craig nodded. They needed to trace her last movements and interview her friends.
“We’ll come back to that in a minute. Andy, if you chase Davy on possible past victims of Wasson between ’83 and ‘89, then we can see if Liam’s theory of a female killer might run true, although she’d have to be a strong woman to strangle Lissy with her hands. Liam, check any male relatives of the rape victims as well as Veronica Jarvis’ sons. I’ll chase up the informant side with MI5 and speak to the Chief Constable. Liam, tell us what you found with Lissy Trainor’s friends and then Andy and I will update you on Jonno Mulvenna. I also have a slightly different theory of the crime.”
They all looked at him curiously but he waved Liam on.
“Aye well. I interviewed the girl next door, Billy Munroe but she hadn’t seen Lissy for two weeks - she was away with her mates in Greece for a fortnight. Then I interviewed her ex-university flatmate, Mary-Ann Eakin, but she’s been living in Dublin since the start of October and they only keep in touch by e-mail now. I canvassed the neighbours on both sides of the street but no-one remembers seeing Lissy since last Friday week when she was out in the front garden playing with her dog. That only leaves the boyfriend.”
“What have you got on him?”
“His name’s Conor Ryland. He lives with his dad. Like I said before, they knew each other at school but it seems they’ve only been dating since their first year at Uni. He was a well-known player at school, and both girls, Billy and Mary-Ann Eakin, said that he’d been getting up to his old tricks again and two-timing Lissy behind her back. Mary-Ann says Lissy dumped him three weeks ago and he’d been hassling her to give it another try, including waiting outside the place where she works part-time. He wasn’t home when I called last night, so I’ll chase him up today.”
“Where did she work?”
“A boutique along the front called ‘The Magic Box’. It sells those scented candles and girly stuff.”
“I like scented candles, hey.”
“Aye well, that figures. You probably light them on the nights you wear your pleather.”
A loud laugh ran through the group attracting the glance of a waitress nearby. She’d overheard and was stifling a laugh. Liam restarted, gratified by her amusement.
“Lissy worked there on Thursday and Friday evenings and all day Saturday. It closes at six o’clock on Saturdays. The twenty-seventh would have been her last day working there before she died.”
“Who else works there?”
“Don’t know yet. It’s shut on Sundays. I’ll call there today and canvas the promenade, but my guess is it’s mostly tourists down there during the week, although maybe some locals shop there on Saturdays.”
“I’ll help Liam with that, hey.”
Craig nodded, thinking. “Has Davy had any joy on her phone and e-mail accounts yet, Liam? We need to know is she was meeting anyone last weekend.”
Liam shook his head and dropped a piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing as he talked. “Give him a chance, boss. The lad’s good, but even he needs time off on a Sunday.”
Craig startled suddenly, realising that it was only Monday morning. “God, you’re right. Sorry. I’ve lost track of the days.”
Liam sniffed. “You need to watch that, boss. Next thing you’ll be wearing odd socks like the Doc.”
They all stared down at John’s feet, including him. Liam was right! He was wearing one brown sock and one black.
“Do I do that often, Marc?”
“Ask Liam, I hadn’t even noticed.”
“Once a week at least and more often on a Monday. Anyway, I’ll chase Davy today and hopefully Lissy had some phone calls that tell us where she was between the Friday the neighbours saw her and the Thursday she was found. I’ll see if she socialised with anyone from the shop that weekend.”
“Good. Anything else, anyone? Before I start?”
There was silence while Craig took a drink of cold coffee, screwing up his face. John beckoned the waitress over to top them up and Craig started. He updated them on their meeting with Mulvenna while Andy chipped in, then he stared at them all so intently they knew that whatever he was going to say next would rattle everyone’s cage.
“OK. Here’s my tak
e on the murder in ‘83. Jonno Mulvenna didn’t do it.” Liam went to interject but Craig stilled him with a glance. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a murdering bastard no matter how he tries to hide it behind ‘the cause’. And strangely he’s not complaining about being banged-up, says he deserved the years he did, and more. But there was something that didn’t fit.”
Andy nodded in agreement.
“I’ve seen men like him before, they’re lovers not fighters and if they do fight it’s always for some romantic cause. Their own personal crusade. Mulvenna justifies what he did in The Troubles by saying that it was a war. Now we might think that’s crap but it’s his take on life. And it’s a take that doesn’t allow for him killing a woman.” He turned to Liam.
“Liam, were any of the police or army he killed, female?”
Liam thought for a moment and then shook his head. “But that was by good luck, not judgement, boss.”
“I’m not so sure. You should have seen his house. Paintings all over the walls, and every one of them something of beauty.”
“He probably nicked them.”
Craig laughed, conceding it would have been true of many criminals he knew, but it wasn’t true this time. “He painted them himself and they’re bloody good. He has an exhibition coming up.”
Andy looked surprised. “He didn’t say anything about that.”
“No, he didn’t, but I noticed a flyer on the coffee table. It’s tomorrow night, at a gallery on the Lisburn Road.”
“He must be good, Marc. Those galleries are pretty fussy.”
“He is. But that’s irrelevant except that it underlines his approach to life. He says he didn’t kill Veronica Jarvis and I believe him. He told us about Wasson informing on the IRA and it made sense that someone was protecting him. He implied it was MI5 or us, but I need to find out more from MI5 on that. What doesn’t make sense is why Mulvenna was chosen for the frame-up when he hadn’t been active here for nearly two years. He’d been in America, so what brought his name to the fore just at that time, for a type of crime he’d never committed?”
The Broken Shore Page 8