The Waiting Room (#4 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  “You’re probably right sergeant, and that’s great work, but what has it got to do with our cases?”

  The younger man hesitated and Craig could almost hear him blushing at the other end, wary of taking the next step. He willed him on and he wasn’t disappointed.

  “Well. You know the girls I brought you to meet earlier, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was interested in the case. So when you left I checked the notes and I saw a reference to an escort agency. I, well I put two and two together and checked it out. It belongs to our woman. Sylvia Bryce is your Sylvia Brooks who runs the escort agency.”

  He paused and through the silence Craig could hear he was still uncertain. He didn’t need to be.

  “Sergeant, that’s brilliant work.”

  “Jake, sir.”

  “Jake, that’s excellent. Now, can you do me a favour?”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever.”

  “Bring Mrs Bryce down to High Street station at three this afternoon. Don’t tell her where she’s going, or why. I want the element of surprise. And in the meantime, show her photograph to Hannah Benner to confirm her I.D. You’ve just given me a solid link between our two murder cases.”

  ***

  Craig walked briskly into High Street at two o’clock, deliberately ignoring the slim, well-dressed man seated in reception. Sandi, the desk officer, buzzed him through and he entered the well-worn staff room, heading straight for the kettle. It was half-boiled by the time Jack Harris the station sergeant wandered in, pleased to have a bit of chat.

  “Sure, hello there, sir. How are things in the world of murder? You’re certainly keeping our interview rooms warm this weather.”

  Craig smiled ruefully, acknowledging that it was true. Murder was a thriving industry in Belfast.

  “Jack, I’ve a plan for this afternoon and I wonder if you can help me? I have to warn you though; it’s not strictly procedure.”

  Harris smiled knowing that it would only be for a case. As long as it wasn’t criminal, he was game for anything that caught the bad guys. And a detour from the rules occasionally broke the boredom. He started a mock bow towards Craig just as Liam entered, filling the doorway of the small room.

  “Here, I hope you don’t expect me to start bowing to you, boss. Mind you, that would mean Annette would have to curtsey. It might be worth it just to see that.”

  Jack swooped back to the vertical and ended with a flourish, while Liam mimicked making himself sick in the bin. Jack kept the joke going in a faux-regal voice. “Only tell me what you need sir, and your wish is my command.”

  ***

  Sandi showed the man into the interview room, with instructions to take a chair at the back of the room well into the shadows, say nothing and wait. Liam positioned himself in the viewing room on an ear piece, and listened to the sound of their interviewee breathing. Craig stood beside him, waiting and timing their entrance to the exact moment when Dr Timothy Morgan’s patience started to fray.

  Hannah had recognised Morgan the moment she’d seen him outside their Marrion Park rendezvous. That knowledge and the revulsion she’d felt at seeing her tutor there had probably saved her life. And definitely saved her from a fate worse than any death.

  Morgan had played dumb at his lunch venue when they’d invited him to ‘help with their enquiries’. And he would probably play dumb now and refuse to answer their questions. But what liars never realised was that words were only one way they gave the police information. His tense foot-swinging under the desk was already speaking to Craig, loud and clear.

  They were surprised by his lack of solicitor after their experience at St Marys’ Health Trust during the Barron case. Every doctor down to the newly qualified had arrived for interview with one tucked under their arm. Brandishing the excuse that ‘the insurance companies had insisted’. Still, that case had involved the deaths of patients, and this one… Well it was safe to say that this one would involve the good doctor’s leisure activities far more than his working day.

  They watched through the mirror as Morgan shifted on the hard interview chair, controlling his body language as best he could. He managed it well with his top half, but his legs were letting him down badly. His arms were folded across a firm torso that Liam imagined was the product of work-outs and road runs. He sucked in his own burgeoning stomach and then let it out again with a sigh, reassuring himself that Danni loved him anyway. His toddler daughter saw it as an interesting bump in the human slide that he became most weekends.

  Morgan glanced around the room, not nervously but curiously, turning finally to the window they stood behind, smiling. He waved once, acknowledging their presence and then returned to his arms-folded pose, closing his eyes and relaxing back in the chair.

  After several minutes a nervous flicker crossed his face and Craig leaned forward urgently, peering hard through the two-way glass. On the second flicker he nodded at Liam and opened the door, ready to enter the room.

  It was the sign of weakness that he’d been waiting for, the ‘tell’. A micro-expression so small that most people would have missed it. But it was large enough to show Craig that Morgan was feeling the stress and ready to crack.

  Liam slipped out his ear piece and they entered the room. Him first and Craig following, to confuse their prey which one to focus on and which one was safe. Craig nodded imperceptibly at Sandi and she slipped out past them in the darkness, relieved to be back at her desk. Jack took their place behind the mirror with a coffee in his hand, taking a seat for the show.

  They sat down side by side, across from the man they were certain knew something about Britt Ackerman’s death. Hannah Benner’s too if she hadn’t seen him and slipped away. Craig considered the man opposite them. He was slim and muscled, with the year-round tan of the privileged. Craig thought that he was probably handsome, insofar as a man can ever judge another. But not overly handsome, in a way that would irritate other people.

  His left hand bore a white-metal wedding ring and his nails were manicured and immaculately clean, matching his pristine cuffs. He looked every inch the prosperous doctor that he was and Craig doubted he would ever find attracting women a challenge. So why get mired in such a grubby world? But then, why does an evil bastard do anything?

  On his nod, Liam leaned over and pressed the tape machine hard, it’s loud buzzing nearly making Morgan jump, except his impressive self-control restrained his recoil. Craig stared into the man’s eyes - they were small and colourless. He scanned their faces in return, unable to decide which one of them was the leader that he needed to impress.

  A man like Morgan only ever dealt with the organ grinder, never the monkey, and Craig knew it. Refusing to allocate status when they’d entered had been deliberate, to throw him off-balance. It had worked nicely. But now he would.

  “For the benefit of the tape, present are, Detective Chief Inspector Craig.”

  “Detective Inspector Cullen, and…”

  There was a moment’s silence and the only noise in the room was the whirring of the tape. Morgan stared at Craig, identifying his opponent, and knowing that he wanted to hear him say his name. Defiance crossed his face and he held Craig’s gaze for a long moment, until he was satisfied that he’d stalled for long enough. When he identified himself it would be in his time, not theirs.

  Craig smiled inwardly at the game. He knew that giving Morgan this small victory would make him feel that he had the upper hand, and hopefully make him careless.

  He played the ball back to him with an obliging. “Would you mind saying your name for the tape please, Mr Morgan?” Adding a diffident, “I’m sorry, I know that it seems overly formal, but it’s routine.”

  Morgan smiled elegantly and nodded with a charm that he hadn’t shown since he’d arrived. “Certainly. My name is Dr Timothy Morgan.”

  At the emphasis on ‘Dr’ Liam’s hand twitched. Craig knew he was itching to haul the man across the table by his expensive tie. But he wouldn’t. He knew Craig’s
game and he’d seen it work many times.

  Timothy Morgan had identified himself as arrogant and status conscious. He’d also shown the charm and coldness that they’d seen in the truly dangerous before. The man was a sociopath and his ego would cause his end. Maybe not today on their first encounter - that would be too much to hope for. But if they could set him running they could follow, and he might lead them to someone else. Into the spider’s web. Neither of them knew then just how big that web would turn out to be.

  ***

  Tommy Hill pulled his battered BMW into the prison car-park and raked its gears to a harsh stop. He could have stolen a more modern car, but this one had done him for months, and there was no point in making the Pigs nervous. He’d sworn on Evie’s grave that he would go straight, and he was going to stick to it. Within reason. Or at least until McCrae got out.

  Getting a visitor’s pass had been a bit of a challenge. But that’s what challenges were put there for, to overcome. It would be good craic to see McCrae again and re-assert his authority. He had no crew to order about nowadays, not until Gerdy got out in September, so he would have to make do with pushing McCrae about today. He’d be out next year and they could pick up the real business then.

  But that wasn’t why he’d come. Someone had tried to frame them both for rape and murder and he was pissed-off about it. And much as McCrae couldn’t do much to help up here, they could at least be pissed-off together. Maybe he’d hear something useful on the prison wire.

  He locked the car, for security in a place full of criminals. Then he sauntered cheerfully towards the prison’s imposing entrance, preparing for an hour’s craic and planning for the future.

  ***

  They’d played the game for half an hour. Morgan jockeying for seniority and Craig letting him believe that he had it. They meandered around the real reason that he’d been invited in. Using the false pretext of needing information, about a report of attempted burglary at his imposing Upper Malone home.

  “You’ll understand that we need to check out every lead, Mr Morgan. There have been a number of burglaries in that area recently, with some valuable items taken. Many of them antique.”

  Morgan nodded, relieved this was why they wanted to see him, his relief leaking more information than he could ever have realised. Craig continued.

  “So when we had a report of two young men seen looking into your windows on two occasions, we had to make you aware. In case you might be burgled next.”

  “Of course, Chief Inspector. Thank you for that.”

  Craig half-smiled in acknowledgment while Liam remained grim-faced. Partly because he could never fake charm to crack a suspect, a failing he recognised in himself. And partly because it was his job today to play bad cop to Craig’s good.

  Morgan straightened up as if readying to go. Craig lifted a sheet from the bottom of the file, relocating it to the top.

  “There was one other small matter, Mr Morgan.”

  Morgan smiled at him pleasantly. He completely missed Craig’s shift in tone. From the amiable concern suited to a potential victim, to one of calculated coolness, ready to pounce.

  “Oh yes, what was that?”

  “Could you tell me what you were doing visiting number 40 Marrion Park on Sunday evening?”

  Craig’s deep voice sped through the question so quickly that Morgan was caught momentarily off-balance. He blustered out an answer as Craig watched his face. The ‘tells’ of looking up and to the left, and his voice’s sudden rise in pitch, indicating that he was lying. The answer was out before Morgan had the sense to ask why Craig needed to know.

  “Oh, I was visiting a friend there. Well, no, not there, but at number 42.” Sylvia Bryce’s address. He realised his mistake too late and scrambled to correct it, instantly revealing that he knew all about Bryce’s business.

  “No, not 42, it was… number 50. But they weren’t there.” His face brightened as he thought of a better excuse. “I had the wrong address entirely.”

  He sat back, satisfied that his lie was convincing and Craig saw Liam’s thumb go up under the table. He held back his smile and said calmly. “Would you have that friend’s name for us, Mr Morgan?”

  Morgan thought for a moment, confusion and fabrication clouding his eyes. Then he gave the name of a hospital colleague. Craig knew he would be on the phone to him five minutes later, begging him to corroborate. It didn’t matter, they knew that he was lying, and if need be they could destroy his alibi later.

  He’d admitted to being in Marrion Park on Sunday evening, confirming Hannah Benner’s sighting of him. The same evening that Paul Ripley had been killed there. That was all they needed to know. They would confirm his relationship with Sylvia Bryce another way.

  Craig rose quickly, motioning Liam to leave the room. His next words matched his physical speed, pushing past Tim Morgan asking who had reported his whereabouts on Sunday evening.

  “A patrol car covering the area. Now, thank you, Mr Morgan. Would you mind waiting here for a moment? My colleague will come and show you out.”

  Craig had no intention of telling him that he’d been witnessed. Hannah Benner couldn’t be mentioned or she would never be safe. Far better to imply that a routine patrol might have seen him. They could say they’d been watching Sylvia Bryce’s house, if it ever came to it.

  Craig was out the door before Morgan had a chance to answer, joining Jack in the viewing room. They watched for a moment longer, as Morgan shifted nervously in his chair, looking around the room like it was a prison. Hopefully he’d see inside a real one soon.

  Gone was the confident, smooth body language of earlier, replaced now by a worried man. He stilled, as if he’d had a sudden thought. Then he reached inside his jacket for his mobile, just as Craig had hoped he would.

  He scrolled quickly through the numbers, finally pressing a button. Then he glanced around, remembering where he was, and knocked it off again in case they were listening. It didn’t matter, the call had been dialled and the phone provider had a record of the number now. More evidence for when they needed it.

  Craig looked at Jack, smiling. “Do we have reception sorted out, Jack?”

  “We do indeed sir. Sandi knows what to do and we have the cameras on.”

  Craig nodded, pleased. This might just work. “OK, go and relieve Sandi please and let’s watch the show. Liam, you stay here until Morgan leaves the room, and then join us in the staff room.”

  Jack left the room first, followed by Craig. Liam folded his arms, ready for the next feature. A few seconds later Sandi entered the interview room smiling pleasantly; blissfully unaware of the type of man she was showing to the front door. She ushered Tim Morgan from the room, making small talk. As soon as the door closed Liam slipped down the back corridor and into the staff room. He clicked the kettle on and waited for the others to appear.

  As Sandi brought Morgan into reception, Jack was standing behind the desk, casually rearranging papers. Craig stood in the back office, watching the show on the CCTV. It was set to be a movie classic.

  Seated in reception, half-behind the door where Morgan wouldn’t see her until he turned, sat Sylvia Bryce. Jack had angled the cameras perfectly, to capture Morgan’s expression and hers on separate views.

  As Morgan entered reception they caught Bryce’s first sighting of him, before he had even seen her. As he turned towards the front door they would catch his first view of her. When Sylvia Bryce saw his face her hand flew to her throat and she recoiled. Then she pushed herself back against the bench she was sitting on, with a look of complete horror on her face. It was swiftly replaced by fear and her hands covered her face in self-defence, even though Morgan was still six feet away.

  Her handbag fell to the ground noisily and Morgan turned quickly at the sound, seeing her for the first time. His eyes locked on her face and murderous rage replaced the smile that he’d been giving Sandi two seconds earlier. His fists clenched and Craig could see him take a step towards her, then st
op himself abruptly, realising where he was. He turned away and pushed past Sandi, grabbing the heavy front door and storming through it into the street. Then he was gone.

  Sandi ran out after him and watched him disappear into the afternoon shoppers, turning up Donegall Place towards the City Hall. She re-entered the station as Sylvia Bryce scrambled around the floor, retrieving the contents of her bag. She bent down to help her, then showed her pleasantly into the interview room, to regain her composure and wait for Craig.

  Jack locked the front door of the station and walked into the staff room, joining the others men over their cup of tea. They sat for ten minutes watching and re-watching the video. It showed that Morgan and Bryce definitely knew each other. And that Morgan would cheerfully kill Sylvia Bryce and she knew it. Perhaps because he’d already tried.

  ***

  Hannah grinned at her young brother across the table and he stared back warily, trying to work out if she was going to steal his food or pat him on the head. She did the latter, ruffling his hair fondly. Her mother caught the gesture and stared at her curiously, far more used to the sibling rivalry that had punctuated every meal for months.

  “Are you feeling ill, Hannah?”

  Hannah smiled. She knew that she hadn’t always been the easiest child, especially since her mother had remarried. She’d resented her paying attention to any man who wasn’t her father, elevating him to the status of hero when he died.

  Maybe that explained why she’d put herself in a position that could have led to such danger? She felt powerful when men desired her and impotent the rest of the time. Their attention was like a drug.

  She shook her head and shuddered, thinking again what might have happened if she’d actually entered the house in Marrion Park. She would have done if she hadn’t recognised Morgan driving through the gates. Something somewhere had been watching out for her; maybe it was her father.

  Her mother walked over from the sink and placed a hand on her forehead, to check that the shudder wasn’t a sign of fever. Hannah gazed up at her and took her hand, resting it on her own cheek. Mary Stewart’s look of concern made her daughter’s eyes fill with tears. She’d promised Craig she would tell her mother before events brought things out. But she knew that what she was about to hear would mean she’d never look at her daughter the same way again.