The Broken Shore

by Catriona King

  “If they’d thought Mulvenna was going to make their relationship public you mean? But what was to stop him saying it in interrogation anyway? Death might have stopped him talking but not an arrest.”

  “Would anyone have listened if he’d said it in an interview, sir? His word against a serving officer’s? Even now that could be treated as revenge for being arrested.”

  Flanagan nodded slowly. It was possible. Everything they’d discussed was possible.

  “OK. Every hypothesis you’ve mentioned could be fact, Marc. What do you need from me to rule them out?”

  Craig leaned forward eagerly, glad that they were speaking face to face after all. He could never have said all this on the phone.

  “Let me see the full archives of Mulvenna’s arrest, interviews and trial. We’ll pursue all the other lines of enquiry we spoke about as well. Liam and Andy White are leading on those and my team in Belfast is backing them up. But I’m certain the two murders are linked and I need to find out how.”

  “You’ll leave ACC Trainor out of it until you’ve ruled out everything else? And come to me before you interview her formally?”

  “Absolutely. Do I have your support, sir?”

  There was silence for a moment then Flanagan nodded. Craig knew he was thinking the same thing he was. They needed to do this quickly before someone sabotaged their case.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liam had left The Magic Box shaking his head. The strange stuff they sold he could cope with; Ouija boards and crystals were old hat even when he was young. It was the girl behind the counter that had really freaked him out. Grey-white hair in a teenager was odd enough but he’d seen it in one of Danni’s magazines so he knew it was some new trend. It was her full body tattoo that had really made him stare. Hardly an inch of her five-feet-six had been left un-inked, including her face. She was a pretty girl, what he could see of her beneath the black and red, but why would anyone cover their body with other people’s art?

  He shuddered as he remembered the piercings on her face and rapped hard on Conor Ryland’s frosted-glass front door. A dark shape appeared in the hallway and stood immobile, as if deciding whether to answer his knock or not. Liam rapped again, adding. “Police, open up please” to his introduction, wondering if it would make them bolt. He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t; he needed to run after someone like a hole in the head. He wasn’t as fit as he used to be and the ten pounds around his middle meant he was definitely no Usain Bolt.

  The shape moved hesitantly towards him and Liam smiled to himself, satisfied that the ‘police’ bit had done the trick. In his experience people fell into two groups. Those who ran away at the sound of the word, and those who walked slowly towards it terrified and thinking of all the things they’d done wrong. The shape belonged to the second type. As it solidified through the glass Liam could see it belonged to someone young and slim. Beyond that he couldn’t tell.

  The door creaked open and he held up his badge, flashing it in the face of a boy no older than twenty-one. He was thin and pale and his dark blonde hair stood on end, in a style Liam thought was more bed-head than design. He stared up at him through bleary eyes that Liam recognised were swollen from tears. His hands were raw and red and his fingernails were bitten down to the quick. The boy looked rough; there was no doubt about it.

  “D.C.I. Cullen, son.” He still wasn’t used to the D.C.I. title. It would probably start to sound right about the time he retired. “Who might you be?”

  The boy sniffed and rubbed his hand across his eyes, unashamed of his tears. The younger generation had one thing right at least. He’d been so buttoned up when he was young he couldn’t even cry at funerals and he’d been to plenty of those. By the time his son was grown they’d probably be crying at the drop of a hat.

  “Conor Ryland. Are you here about Lissy?”

  The sadness in his tone was added to by the unexpected lightness of his voice. He might be a player but he was still a kid. A promiscuous one but a kid nonetheless. Liam nodded and the boy showed him into a small front room. It was sparsely furnished with worn out things and Liam contrasted it with Lissy Trainor’s luxurious home. He bet the MLA and police chief hadn’t been too happy about their daughter’s choice of boyfriend. He was half-wrong.

  “Lissy’s dad’s been round to see me. He’s a really good bloke. Wants me to do a reading at the funeral and say something.”

  He let out a harsh sob and his whole frame shook as he dissolved in tears. Liam scrutinised him carefully. His t-shirt was days old and his bare feet needed a wash. He needed caring for and Liam made up his mind to do the caring.

  “Where’s your father, Conor?”

  “He works on a cruise liner out of Belfast, one month on, one month off. This is his month on. He’ll be back at the end of November.”

  “Right, son. Where’s your kitchen? “

  The boy pointed down the hall.

  “Have you eaten? No, don’t answer that, I can see you haven’t. Right then.” Liam turned the boy by the shoulders to face the stairs. “Go and have a shower and change your clothes, while I cook breakfast. When you’re clean and you’ve eaten we’re going to have a little chat.”

  ***

  What was taking the cops so bloody long? He’d left them a trail of clues a mile wide. Even someone as thick as they were couldn’t have missed the story they told. All they had to do was follow them, so why had they gone to speak to the boy instead of arresting the one who was responsible for everything?

  The man shook his head and stared through the shop window, idly rearranging books on a shelf. A customer walked past him down the aisle, picking her way between more books stacked on the floor. He smiled absentmindedly at her in greeting, his mind five hundred metres away on the Strand. He couldn’t understand it. He’d left the girl where she would definitely be found and he’d strangled and buried her just like the other one. Surely they couldn’t have missed the similarities? They must have made the link by now, so why hadn’t they arrested them?

  He muttered ‘fucking idiots’ under his breath and the elderly woman turned and stared as he continued the conversation. He threw his arms out wide then curled his hand in a fist as he talked, as if he was fighting someone who wasn’t there. She put down her items quietly and left the way she’d entered to the street. The man didn’t even notice, too busy muttering to himself.

  Perhaps he should have raped her? No. His face contorted in disgust and he felt bile shoot into his mouth. He spat it on the floor and shook his head. Rape was for animals and he wasn’t one of those. It was dirty, brutal and obscene. Her death had been quick and gentle, like he was disposing of a pet. He hadn’t hated her, she was a child; older than he’d been when he’d been hurt but a child nevertheless. He was sorry he’d had to do it, but it was the only way. They had to pay for what they’d done.

  He jerked himself from his reverie and glanced around the store. It was empty, his solitary customer nowhere to be seen. He shrugged, there’d be another one and he’d be there every day, watching until they were caught and suffered for what they’d done.

  ***

  Nicky tidied the pile of letters and left them on Craig’s desk, ready for him to sign. She gazed out through his window at the sky, peppered with seagulls practicing their swoops. The place felt empty without him. She smiled to herself and blushed, admitting it felt even emptier with Liam gone. She missed him although she knew she shouldn’t; they were both happily married. But in a different life…She left the office briskly trying to hide the admission from herself and bumped into Davy. She stared up at his angular face and smiled. She could swear he’d grown in the past year, even though he was twenty-six.

  “The boss is on the phone, Nicky. S…says he needs a word. Put him back to me when you’re done.”

  She nodded haughtily, not sure that she liked him telling her what to do. She retook her seat and pressed to divert the call. The sound of her husky voice made Craig smile instantly and he pictured her ruli
ng the roost while he was away. Annette might be nominally in charge but the C.C.U. was Nicky’s kingdom and no-one had any illusions about that.

  “Hello, sir. How’s the North coast? Are you and Liam working on your tans?”

  Craig smiled. He’d known she would mention Liam with her opening breath.

  “Not unless you count wind-burn. How are things there? You keeping them all in line?”

  She sniffed and put him on speakerphone, then recounted a list of everyone’s misdemeanours five minutes long, ending with the worst one in her eyes.

  “And Liam left his coffee cup unwashed on Saturday. There was blue mould in it this morning!”

  Craig smiled. “Did you wash it for him?”

  He already knew that her answer would be no, but he just wanted to hear her indignation. He was homesick.

  “Did I wash it, indeed! It will be waiting here for him when he gets back, even if there are plants growing in it. And you can tell him that.”

  “It’ll be my first priority.”

  She laughed then asked him what he needed her to do.

  “It’s a long list, mostly for Davy and Annette. Annette can delegate as she likes. Before I start, did any new cases come in at the weekend?”

  She went to answer then caught Annette and Davy’s warning looks and swallowed what she was going to say. Lucia wouldn’t thank her for giving things away.

  “Nothing, sir. We’re all yours.”

  “Right then. Hand me over to Davy then he can pass me to Annette. And Nicky.”

  “Yes?”

  “Liam’s mould will be there for another few days yet, so I would chuck in a few seeds and see what you can grow.”

  ***

  Liam watched the boy wolfing down the eggs and bacon as if it was a death row meal. He’d been eating for twenty minutes non-stop and there was no sign of it ending, so he poured them a fresh cup of tea and started to talk. Ryland could answer his questions between bites.

  “How long had you and Lissy Trainor been dating, son?”

  Conor stopped mid-bite and gazed at Liam as if he was going to cry. Liam shook his head gently, halting his tears before they started. and waited for his answer. It came in two quiet words.

  “Three years.”

  Liam nodded; it fitted with what Lissy’s next door neighbour had said. Since their first year at university.

  “Did you study law as well?”

  The boy shook his head. “Politics, philosophy and economics at Queens. I want to be a politician like Lissy’s Dad. He’s been helping me get my first job.”

  Liam stared at him gravely, wondering if he’d be so forgiving if someone broke his daughter’s heart.

  “Did he know that you’d broken up?”

  The young man shook his head furiously. “We hadn’t broken up. Where did you get that from?”

  “Lissy’s flatmate and the girl next door. Are you saying that they’re wrong?”

  “I’m saying they’re silly gossips who should have kept their nose out of our relationship. Billy and Mary-Ann have never even had a date! They were jealous of Lissy. They wanted to split us up.”

  He sobbed suddenly, taking Liam aback. Fresh tears trickled down his cheek, landing on his clean t-shirt. Liam handed him a sheet of kitchen roll and gently urged him on.

  “Surely Lissy must have told them? Where else would they have got the impression from?”

  Conor wiped his nose, smearing a blob of brown sauce across his face. Liam let it sit there. If he wiped it away another would only take its place. His voice softened. “Tell me, son.”

  He swallowed and then started telling Liam a tale that he’d heard and been part of a hundred times before. He’d loved Lissy but he’d felt tied. Three years of dating had made everyone see marriage as the logical next step and he’d buckled under their expectations and done what a million men had done before. He’d run away.

  “I went to Turkey with my classmates for two weeks. There were some girls in the crowd that Lissy didn’t know and she got upset.” He paused, sniffing harshly. “We had a fight. But they were just girls who were friends, honestly. Not girlfriends. I’d loved Lissy since school; none of them could ever have taken her place.” His face screwed up in anger. “Those cows Billy and Mary-Ann were just waiting to stir the pot while I was away. I came round to see Lissy as soon as I came back and she screamed at me that we were done and dumped me.”

  Liam shook his head slowly. If he’d five pence for every time he’d seen that storyline played out amongst his friends he’d be able to afford a fortnight in Turkey himself. His voice was gentle.

  “She’d have come round, son.”

  Conor looked at him and nodded. “She already had. She phoned me on Saturday. We talked things through and she asked me to meet her on the South Pier at Portrush Harbour, on Sunday night at eight-thirty. I was there but she never came. I waited for nearly two hours and I called her mobile loads of times, but she never called me back. I phoned her for days.” He stared at the table. “I thought she’d changed her mind and dumped me. And then…”

  Then she was found dead. Liam’s heart went out to the lad and he’d no doubt Lissy’s phone logs would confirm the calls, but he’d only been five miles from the place she’d been found so he had to ask the question.

  “Did anyone see you there that Sunday night?”

  Conor gazed blankly into space, and then nodded once. “There were people in the guesthouse opposite, they saw me. Probably thought ‘poor bugger, he’s been stood up.’” His lip curled. “And then of course there was the lovely Mary-Ann. She’d been tailing me all evening hoping to catch me out doing something wrong.”

  Liam’s eyebrows shot up. Mary-Ann Eakin had said she was in Dublin that weekend. He repeated his thoughts out loud.

  Conor shook his head. “She started her new job down there weeks ago but she was always back, visiting her folks in Coleraine. I saw her in Portstewart on Sunday afternoon. Ask her. And ask her if she saw me at the pier that night as well, although she’ll probably lie. Bitch.”

  Liam wagged a finger in remonstration. “Here now, son. That’s no way for a gentleman to talk.”

  “And she’s no lady.” His face crumpled. “Lissy was. She was the gentlest person I ever knew. Kind to everyone. And now she’s dead and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  His shoulders heaved with sobs so harsh that Liam could feel them in his bones. Liam handed him a hanky and let him cry, for the girl he’d loved and would never see again.

  ***

  “Is that everything, chief? Chase Lissy Trainor’s e-mails and phone logs and see if there were any s…similar murders in Ireland anywhere, or any rape cases between ’83 and ’89 that fitted Declan Wasson’s M.O.? Liam already called me about those.”

  Davy waited for Craig’s answer, knowing that there was something more. He tapped his pen annoyingly against Nicky’s partition as he listened until she grabbed it from his hand, only relenting when he gestured wildly at the phone, indicating that Craig was giving him something to write down.

  “All the details?”

  “Sorry, Davy, but yes. I need Mulvenna’s arrest, interview trail and conviction transcripts and when you get them, give them to Annette. I’ll tell her why next. Andy and Liam are interviewing people at the moment so they may come back to you with some queries on those as well. Thank God we don’t have a case in Belfast right now.”

  Davy put his tongue firmly in his cheek. “True.”

  “Transfer me to Annette please.”

  Something moved in Davy’s peripheral vision and he turned to see Nicky frantically waving a fax and pointing at her phone. He transferred the call back to her, strolling back to his horseshoe of computers to get started on his list.

  “Hello again, sir.”

  Craig was surprised to hear her voice instead of Annette’s.

  “I thought Davy was transferring me to Annette?”

  “I took back the call. I’ve just had a fax in fr
om Dr Winter’s office that you need to hear about.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “It’s the toxicology report for Lissy Trainor. She was full of Morphine when she died.”

  Morphine. What the heck was that doing there? There’d been no sign that she was an addict, unless…

  “OK, Nicky. I’ll call John after I speak to Annette. Is she there?”

  Annette was at her desk running through the printouts of Lucia’s texts that Davy had given her first thing. They read like the one Lucia had showed her on Saturday, but there was nothing to identify the sender. Jake was at the desk beside her doing the same with Lucia’s phone-calls; home, mobile and work. The home phone-calls were ten pages long. Annette smiled; Lucia talked nearly as much as her Mum. Nicky waved to catch their attention then transferred Craig to Annette’s phone.

  “Good morning, sir. What can I do to help?”

  Craig laughed. She’d just said his six favourite words after sex and beer.

  “Thanks Annette, but you might regret asking. Is Jake with us full time now?”

  Annette glanced at the fair-haired sergeant and grinned.

  “Yes, and raring to go.”

  “Good. OK, Davy’s digging out the files of Jonno Mulvenna’s arrest and trial in ’83, for the murder of Veronica Jarvis. Briefly, it has a lot of similarities to the murder we’re working on up here and the lead officer back then was ACC Trainor. She’s our current victim’s mother.”

  Annette’s gasp told him that the grapevine gossip hadn’t extended that far. It wouldn’t take long.

  “This is sensitive and confidential, Annette, but I know I can trust you with that.” He had no idea just how true that was. “When the files come in, give me a call and I’ll tell you what I want you to look for. Use my personal mobile please. I’ll explain why when we talk.” His voice changed to a cheerful tone. “How’s life at the ranch without us? Quiet? Nicky’s been telling me all about Liam’s cup.”

  Annette laughed. “That’s only her way of saying that she misses him. But for God’s sake don’t tell him that, he’ll be unbearable if he thinks we care. It’s quiet here thankfully, I spoke to D.C.I. McKenzie and he’s rearranged the rota to make sure we’re not on call again until next week.”