The Depths

by Catriona King

  Ash raised a finger. “I’ve got something on that. Norris is a retired business consultant.”

  Liam gave a grunt of disgust. “What the hell is a business consultant anyway? They don’t actually run a business but they feel free to tell other people how they’ve made a hash of running theirs?”

  The analyst came back at him like a flash. “What, you mean like you don’t actually commit crimes but you tell others how they made a mess of committing theirs?”

  He grinned, displaying his perfect white teeth and making the D.C.I. conscious of his own slightly tea-tinted ones.

  Craig chortled at the quick retort. “Be honest, he got you there, Liam. Carry on with what you were saying, Ash.”

  The analyst ignored the D.C.I.’s disgruntled glare as he did.

  “OK, well, Norris used to work for one of the big firms specialising in mortgages and finance, then he took retirement at fifty and set up on his own. He does some work in Belfast as a mortgage advisor and he also acts as an agent for some properties.”

  “Of which the quarry was one.”

  “Yes. That basically entailed him processing all the planning and council applications before it was opened, contracting Derek Morrow then and now, and liaising with the owners.”

  “Like the mystery S.W.M.B.O. who called looking for him perhaps? I’m still waiting to hear a real name here.”

  Davy looked glum. “Sorry, chief. The quarry’s owned by a consortium and we’re struggling to get behind the front.”

  “Keep trying.” He turned back to Aidan. “What more do you have on Norris?”

  “He’s so protective of this mystery woman it’s like she’s his kid.”

  Even the chivalrous Andy laughed at that. “More likely his mistress, that’s if he’s married.”

  Ash nodded again. “He has been for forty years. One son. He’s a vicar.”

  Liam chuckled. “I bet he wouldn’t be pleased if Dad was playing away, now-”

  Craig interjected wryly. “I don’t suppose Mrs Norris would be enchanted either. Did Norris give you the woman’s name, Aidan?”

  “Nope, and short of using thumbscrews on him I don’t think he will.”

  A glance at Ryan said that he concurred.

  “OK, but she must be the woman who phoned Rownton nick looking for him-”

  Ash cut in. “And the woman who left the messages on his phone. No name unfortunately, but Grace got an earful from her that says she isn’t half as delicate as Norris thinks.”

  The words made Aidan frown. “That fits. We got the impression that he was a bit scared of her as well as feeling protective of her. Weird relationship. Almost S and M.”

  Before Liam could say something rude, Craig jumped up and rapped the board again.

  “OK. Where are we with tracing those calls from the southern mobile and merchant bank?”

  Ash replied. “We reckoned if the same woman was using both lines we were looking at someone working in a merchant bank down south. Probably Dublin. The fake number she gave the Rownton sergeant had a Dublin prefix too.”

  Even when telling lies we give something about ourselves away.

  “I’m waiting for a list of the bank’s extensions there and I’ve put a trace on her pay-as-you-go mobile, so we’ll pick that up if she uses it again. At the moment its signal’s completely dead, which means she’s smart enough to know to take the battery out.”

  “OK, good. Keep going on that.”

  Craig tapped his nose for a moment in thought before he spoke again.

  “Has anyone else noticed how finance seems an important factor here? Morrow’s cryptocurrency, Norris’ mortgage business, our mystery woman’s links with a merchant bank?”

  If they hadn’t noticed before they did now. Craig was just pondering if there were any implications beyond greed when he noticed someone familiar enter the squad-room.

  “Right, let’s take a ten minute break. We’ll restart with Andy, then Ash and Mary.”

  He was across the floor before anyone could respond, a broad smile on his face as he greeted the woman standing by Alice’s desk.

  “Nicky! How are you?”

  She smiled back, looking healthier and happier than she had in months, “I’m good, sir.” She nodded towards his office.

  “Could I have a quick word?”

  Craig’s heart sank instantly. Was she about to tell him that she wasn’t coming back? He could see that Alice had had the same thought, although whether it had perturbed her was impossible to tell.

  A minute later they were in his office and Nicky was reassuring him.

  “I’d like to start back at the beginning of March, sir, but only part-time.”

  Craig swallowed his disappointment. He knew part-time was better than no time but the truth was that, although he liked Alice now and they’d got into a rhythm of working together, she was a bit too quiet for him and he missed his old PA’s sparkiness.

  Hopeful of changing her mind he asked a question.

  “How’s Jonny?”

  Nicky nodded hesitantly, quickly touching the wooden arm of her chair as she did.

  “Improving, touch wood. He’s attending his counselling regularly, and he’s been clean now for two months, but he’s starting back at school on Monday and that’ll bring pressure and maybe the temptation to use again, so I want to be home more of the time just in case. He’s not out of the woods by a long way and we can’t afford a relapse.”

  “I understand.”

  “That’s why, sir, if possible, I’d just like to work between ten and two. So I can see him off in the morning and be there after school when he comes home.”

  She gazed at her boss hopefully but instead of the eagerness that she’d hoped for, and honestly anticipated after all of their years working together, she saw consternation on Craig’s face.

  “You don’t want me back?”

  The question made the detective sit up straight and end his calculation on working hours and their costs right away.

  “God, no! I mean yes, yes, of course I do!”

  Even part-time, Nicky was the best PA on the force by a mile.

  “It’s just you looked really worried.”

  “Did I? Sorry. I was just wondering how to go about things logistically. If you’re only going to be part-time then I can’t let Alice go back into the pool or we’ll be in trouble. But with both of you here, who sits where and when? But I think I have a solution for that, or soon will have. That’s if you’re OK with Alice sticking around that is?”

  He watched as she chewed her lip for a moment and knew there was a question she wanted to ask.

  “Yes… but, it’s just… I mean… who’ll be in charge?”

  It made him smile; same old bossy Nicky.

  “You will. Alice won’t mind, you’re more senior on the scale than her anyway. I’ll chat to her about working hours and how we do this, and then let’s all meet up next week. How would that suit?”

  It brought another, this time satisfied, smile.

  “That’ll suit very well.”

  The PA rose to leave.

  “I’d better go now. I’m taking Jonny shopping for some new shoes.”

  Craig rose as well. “And I have a briefing to finish. People will keep bumping each other off in this place.”

  When he’d walked her to the lift he reached over and gave her an unaccustomed hug. “It’s lovely to see you, Nicky. And welcome back soon.”

  As Craig retook his seat amongst the group, sipping the coffee that a curious Alice had handed him on his the way past, he got straight back to business, or was about to anyway when Liam stated the obvious.

  “That was Nicky.”

  “Well spotted.”

  “When’s she coming back?”

  Craig shook his head firmly, ending the discussion before it started with, “I’ll update you later” before turning to Andy with a smile.

  “Right, D.C.I. Angel. You’re up.”

  The always relax
ed detective was so low in his seat it looked as if he was about to fall asleep.

  “I could report from here, chief.”

  A brisk wave said it was the whiteboard or nothing so he grudgingly obliged.

  “OK, well, I went to the hotel where Stuart Kincaid stayed. I went twice, the first time to speak to the manager and pick up Kincaid’s stored luggage, and then I returned on my way back from meeting with the divers to interview two members of his staff. Before I get to them, the divers found a credit card with Kincaid’s name on it and a mobile phone that matches the description Luisa Kincaid gave us, so I dropped those and his luggage in with Des on my way back here.”

  “Excellent. No sign of his wallet and watch?”

  “Not yet, although I might have something on the watch later. They were still diving when I left and I don’t envy them their job. That quarry looked freezing.” He shuddered and then turned unexpectedly to Liam. “One of them was almost a foot taller than you.”

  Head, foot, what’s in a little exaggeration?

  “Freak.”

  “Jealous.”

  The exchange was ended by Craig rolling his eyes, so Andy hurried on.

  “The stuff was found about forty feet in from the right hand side of the pool. It might have slipped out of Kincaid’s pocket or been thrown in; I’ll check with Doc Winter how that fits with his PM findings when I go back to see what forensics have found.”

  He rubbed his hands together as if he was about to get to the good bit.

  “OK, so then I met with the chambermaid who’d tended Kincaid’s room and a young manager. I’ll take the maid first. Her name’s Freya Dalkey and she remembered Kincaid well because he was very nice to her. Pleasant generally, although she mentioned that he seemed sad too. He’d stayed at the hotel twice, the second time last winter-”

  Craig cut in. “Was the first time in twenty-sixteen?”

  “She just said a few years back, but I’d say yes.” Seeing Craig’s eyebrows rising he added hastily, “I’ll check to be sure. Anyway, Kincaid talked about his sister, saying that she used to have some relatives nearby-”

  Liam cut in. “The Westburys.”

  Andy nodded. “Had to be, otherwise he’d have said that they were his relatives too. OK, so then Kincaid showed her Bella’s photograph and said she was his niece, and that he was in the area looking for something, or someone, Freya couldn’t remember exactly which.”

  Craig allowed himself a small smile. It confirmed what they thought they knew.

  “Then I met with a young management trainee called Tristan Rodgers, not long out of Uni.” The D.C.I. reached into his jacket and withdrew his notebook, reading aloud. “A man turned up one day inquiring about Kincaid’s things and Tristan was on duty.”

  “When?”

  “The fourth of November. A Sunday afternoon. He remembered because there was a football match on and he’d been watching it in the back office when the man rang the bell in reception.”

  Aidan nodded. “I remember that match. Man City won six-one. I lost twenty quid on it.”

  Andy shrugged indifferently. Sport wasn’t his thing.

  “Rodgers described the man as…” he turned over the page, “…around six-three with dark blond hair, greeny-grey eyes, and dark, heavy eyebrows that made him look like he was scowling-”

  Craig stopped him. “That’s quite a detailed description.”

  His sceptical tone said that most young men rarely remembered details beyond how many limbs someone had, especially when they were raring to get back to the footie, so he wasn’t surprised when Andy responded with,

  “It was a joint effort with Freya.”

  “OK, carry on.”

  “The man also had a swarthy look, and was described as fit looking, not fat. Slim and muscled.”

  Mary commented for the first time in an hour. “Sounds just my type.”

  “Only if he wore earplugs.”

  Craig made a show of looking around for who’d made the jibe, shooting his junior analyst a warning but not entirely unsympathetic glance as he passed.

  “Go on, Andy. What was he wearing?”

  “Shirt and jeans, with shoes not trainers.”

  “Age?”

  “Around forty waste guess. The maid added that he was wearing a signet ring on his little finger but she couldn’t read the inscription.”

  Pity. A nice set of initials could really have narrowed any suspect list they eventually managed to produce.

  Andy paused for effect before delivering his next line. “And she also said that he was wearing a big watch.”

  Craig sat forward urgently. “Do you think she could ID it?”

  “I’m planning to check later.” He looked at the analysts. “If one of you could get me a photo of the model Stuart Kincaid wore?”

  “Can do.”

  Craig was hopeful as his D.C.I. looked. “OK, good. Go on, Andy.”

  “Both of them said the man had a strange accent. As if he’d come from somewhere in Ireland but had lived away.”

  Liam nodded knowingly. “Mangled. Like that mid-Atlantic twang you get with people from here that move to the States. They keep changing accent mid-sentence like they’re confused. Torn between two worlds.”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Sigmund Freud. OK, so this man rang the bell in reception and Rodgers came out. What happened next, Andy?”

  “That part was interesting. Rodgers said he probably only rang the bell at all because you can’t get through the security doors to the bedrooms without using a passkey. The man had one but it wasn’t working.”

  He produced a sample key from his pocket, nodding Liam to pass it around.

  “That’s one they gave me. Every key has the codes for the security doors embedded in it, and then the hotel programmes them with a randomly generated code for their bedroom when a guest checks in. The random codes are changed after each stay because people walk off with their keys all the time. Anyway, the stranger told Rodgers that he couldn’t get up to his room so Rodgers asked for the room number and was told nineteen. He knew that Stuart Kincaid was staying in nineteen so he asked the man his name and he said it was Kincaid too. Paul Kincaid, Stuart’s brother. He said that Stuart had asked him to go to his room to collect something, but the chambermaid said Kincaid had never mentioned a brother to her.”

  Davy interjected. “He definitely didn’t have one.”

  “Exactly. Anyway Rodgers was well on guard, and said brother or no brother they couldn’t allow access to anyone’s room or possessions without a court order. Apparently the man looked really angry, threw the key down and left.”

  Craig sighed. “But if the key had worked he could have been in and out without anyone seeing a thing.”

  “Yep. Lucky break for us it failed. Apparently it happens all the time and they have to reprogramme them.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Don’t I bloody know it. Usually when you’ve already carted suitcases up ten flights of stairs and then you have to traipse all the way back down to the main desk.”

  Spoken like a man who’d spent years acting as a packhorse for his kids.

  Andy carried on.

  “Anyway, it was a stroke of luck that it failed. The question is, had the man taken Kincaid’s key from his dead body, or had he just got hold of a proforma from elsewhere? Unfortunately Rodgers was only being trained then so he didn’t think to keep the key, and he didn’t report it to the police…”

  Damn.

  But not everything was lost.

  “…so then I thought, we could at least get a sketch of this Mister X, so they’re both downstairs with the artist now. The hotel manager wasn’t best pleased I was stealing his staff for the day, but tough-”

  Craig grinned. “Excellent work, Andy. I’ll send Alice down to sit with them, and as soon as we get the sketch Ash and Davy can run it.”

  He went to speak to the PA, and had just returned to the group and was writing ‘Stuart Kincaid’s killer?’
on the board when suddenly he had another thought.

  “Davy and Ash… Blaine Westbury. What does he look like again?”

  It was the senior analyst who replied. “Thirty-eight, fairish hair. I have his driving licence photo but not his height, but I can call his brother and find out.”

  “Do that now, please, and then one of you take a photo of him downstairs after we’re done. But wait till the hotel pair have finished their sketches first. I don’t want to taint their IDs.”

  Liam frowned at what he was implying. “You think Blaine might have been the man at the hotel? But why would he have killed Stuart Kincaid?”

  Craig shook his head. “I don’t know yet, Liam, and I’m well aware that I could be reaching, but I want to rule him out. Remember the post-mistress said she saw Blaine running from the direction of the quarry around the time Kincaid was killed, and she described him as wearing a shirt and jeans as well.”

  He turned back to his analysts. “Let me know what you get on that immediately. Right, Ash, give us whatever you’ve got, then I’ll take Mary on the CCTV and Galvet, and Davy can add anything that we’ve missed.”

  He held out the marker but the younger man shook his head, motioning the group to widen the misshapen circle they’d gathered in so that everyone could see the screen by Alice’s desk.

  “OK, I’ll go through the negative findings first to rule things out.” A bullet point appeared on the screen. “The Vice Squad has run the various aged images of Bella Westbury through all their databases and there’s nothing that fits. No images of abuse, no images of her at all.”

  A quiet sigh of relief ran through the group, apart from Liam who gave a noisy, “Bloody brilliant news.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t got the results back from the intelligence agencies yet, so I wouldn’t cheer just yet. But it’s definitely hopeful. Vice’s image database is huge.”

  That brought not so quiet grunts of disgust.

  He tapped up a second bullet point. “OK, next, looking at social services registers for child abuse the story seems to be the same. No sign of Bella. The same caveat that not everything’s in yet applies, but it’s good news so far.”

  Craig was just opening his mouth to ask something when the analyst shook his head.