“Aye, well. We got a call from a local farmer around two o’clock, complaining that someone had parked a car in his field-”
Liam cut in. “I take it he’d only seen it from a distance.”
“You’re right there. I was just about to get Traffic to take a look when he phoned back ten minutes later to say it contained a corpse.” He shook his head at the memory. “The accent’s strong around here at the best of times but it was hard to get a word of sense off him. Anyhow, I went to take a look.” He gestured at the board. “And found yer man.”
Craig nodded. “You’ve obviously sealed off the scene and called forensics.” He hoped. “Is that who took the photos?”
“Aye. They’ve a good lad who does all of that. They’re down there now, doing the usual.”
“And the body?”
“Gone to the local morgue. The pathologist started the P.M. ten minutes ago.”
He made a note to get John to check out the results.
O’Donnell looked embarrassed suddenly and the detectives immediately knew there’d been something at the scene he hadn’t photographed. Before Liam could put his foot in it Craig interjected.
“What aren’t you telling us, Sergeant? There was something at the scene that isn’t on that board, wasn’t there?”
O’Donnell had turned bright red.
“OK, let me guess. Your victim was found in a compromising position. Yes?”
Liam guffawed. “You mean his -”
Craig cut him off. “Thank you, Liam. The sergeant can answer for himself.”
O’Donnell searched for the words. “He’s…he was married.”
Craig smiled kindly. The practice of infidelity was universal; Armagh’s dedicated divorce firm was probably testament to that, but O’Donnell’s concern for Calum Fox’s family and reputation still did him credit. Liam’s laughter renewed.
“The dirty dog.”
“I’ll tell Danni you said that admiringly, shall I?”
The D.C.I.’s eyes widened. “Here now, there’s no-”
Craig decided to save O’Donnell further blushes. “Mr Fox’s clothing was in disarray from the waist down. Is that what you’re saying?”
O’Donnell nodded.
“And was there a condom in the vicinity?”
The sergeant shook his head.
“OK. So either they didn’t use one and his companion’s DNA will be on Mr Fox, or they did and he or she took it with them-”
“A man!”
The thought that Calum Fox might have been bisexual obviously hadn’t occurred to him. Craig went on as if the sergeant hadn’t spoken.
“Which suggests that our killer was forensically aware.” He shrugged. It made sense. Fox had been murdered in a remote location which said that it had been planned. His companion could be miles away by now with no way of finding them.
He felt a faint surge of hope.
“The farm is right on the border.”
“Aye, the end of that field lies on the line.” O’Donnell relaxed back in his seat, back on more comfortable ground.
“Did the farmer have perimeter cameras, by any chance?”
The sergeant looked surprised by the question but had the sense not to bluff. “I don’t honestly know, sir. Do you mind if I make a quick call?”
Craig nodded him out then turned to Liam with a glint in his eye. “You’re a rude bugger.”
The Crossgar man feigned innocence. “Moi? What did I do?”
“Basically told the man he was dumping the case on us.”
Liam shrugged. “Well he is, isn’t he?”
Craig was taken aback. He’d expected some embarrassment at least, then he remembered how long he’d known Liam and wondered why he had. “Well, yes, OK. But better that we have it, if it’s linked with McAllister, than they make a hash of things.”
“So I wasn’t rude, I was right. Admit it.”
“Like hell. Anyway…” Craig gestured at the board. “Fox was obviously looking for some afternoon delight and chose the wrong girl. Or she chose him.”
“So you do think it was a woman.”
“It’s more likely.”
Liam sniffed judgmentally. “Serves him right getting killed, the dirty old bugger. He was seventy if he was a day.”
“And seventy year olds aren’t supposed to have sex?”
“Not with women that young, they aren’t!”
“We don’t know how young she was.”
Liam snorted rudely. “Well she wasn’t his age, that’s for sure. A seventy-year-old woman would have more sense. Anyway, I don’t like big age gaps. They’re seedy.”
Craig didn’t disagree. He braced himself for what he knew was coming next.
“Mind you…it gives a whole new meaning to ‘dying for a shag’.”
Craig shook his head despairingly just as O’Donnell re-entered the room.
“We’re in luck, sir. There are cameras at some parts of the perimeter, although not directly pointing at that field. We might get something.”
“None on the nearby roads, I suppose.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask the Gardaí about that. It’s their turf.”
Craig stood up. It would have to do for now. “OK, I’ll need everything you’ve got on Fox’s family and then I’ll need to see the scene.”
Liam’s ears pricked up at ‘I’ll’ .
“D.C.I. Cullen will be watching the post-mortem. Could someone please take him down?”
That would teach him not to be rude on someone else’s patch.
****
High Street Station. Viewing Room One.
Annette pulled her hair back from her face, surprised when it didn’t end at her neck as it had before. Instead it was hitting her shoulders, a gift of her pregnancy hormones. She hadn’t noticed, preoccupied as she’d been with buying the paraphernalia that a new baby requires. She was just making a mental note to visit the hairdressers when Jake nudged her and pointed through the glass.
“Look.”
She looked but saw nothing different. Mitchell Purvis was still staring down at the table, stony-faced, with his brief entrenched by his side. He was one of Jonny Corbett’s colleagues which said that Mara Kennedy was probably footing the bill. Caring employer or an ex-lover with something to hide? Either way the tableau looked no different to when they’d interviewed Purvis four hours before. Annette shook her head and glanced at Jake, who was leaning against the viewing room wall with his crutches propped up by his side.
“What? I can’t see anything different to last time.”
The sergeant leaned forward, almost pressing his nose against the glass.
“I can. The lawyer’s getting pissed off. He rolled his eyes a moment ago. I saw it.”
If he had then that meant there was tension between him and his client. It could mean that he wanted Purvis to speak, which made him sort-of on their side. She nodded for Jake to lead the way into the interview room, thinking of ways to use the mood change to their advantage.
When the naming and cautioning was done Annette smiled at the solicitor pleasantly.
“You’re from Mr Corbett’s firm, I understand.”
The suited man hesitated, as if he thought the question was some sort of trick. Assessment over, he nodded.
“I am.”
“May I ask you then…is Ms Kennedy paying for your time?”
Purvis lurched forward.
“I object.”
Whether he was objecting on the grounds of privacy or macho-ness she wasn’t quite sure. Annette turned her smile on him.
“To what, Mr Purvis? I merely wondered who was footing the bill.”
He straightened up and threw out his chest. “I can pay my own way.” Macho-ness it was then. She gave him a mollifying nod.
“I don’t doubt it, but the fact is that your brief works for Ms Kennedy’s family firm, which makes it likely that she appointed him to protect you. Now why would that be?”
The farm ma
nager glanced at the solicitor and this time she saw the lawyer roll his eyes. It was a clear sign of exasperation and for the first time in hours that Mitchell Purvis had seemed uncertain of his ground. He thought for a moment and then gave them the most neutral answer he could find.
“She cares what happens to me.”
Jake signalled to cut in.
“But what could possibly happen to you, Mr Purvis? If you didn’t have anything to do with Mr McAllister’s death then the evidence will exonerate you. In fact it’s my understanding that we’re viewing that more likely by the hour.” He had no idea if they were or weren’t; Des’ examination of the slurry suit not yet being complete, but it was a vague enough statement not to land them in the shit and it might just make Purvis relax.
Purvis became more animated immediately.
“So you’ve found out who killed Colin? Who was it? And why? He never did anyone any harm that I knew.”
Annette jumped in. “You liked him.”
She was waiting for the brief to stop him answering. His lack of objection confirmed that he’d wanted his client to speak.
“We went to school together. Best mates for twenty-five years.” He looked sad suddenly. “When my own family’s farm went under Colin offered every hand a job and took me on as his manager.”
She followed up quickly. “And you thanked him by having an affair with his wife.”
Purvis’ sadness changed to guilt and then to anger. “You don’t need to remind me it was a shitty thing to do. I know it. But…” He dropped his eyes and she knew what he was looking at wasn’t the desk. He was seeing Mara Kennedy and remembering every stolen moment.
Her voice softened.
“You loved her.”
He nodded so firmly that she knew he still did, but she didn’t embarrass him by making him say it. They already knew that Mara had ended the relationship.
She moved her hand forward on the desk.
“I need to ask you, Mr Purvis, did the two of you ever plan a future together?”
His head shot up immediately and they could see his eyes reddening with tears.
“I used to dream about it…the two of us living somewhere with Ben.” His jaw set and he shook his head sharply. “Mara didn’t want it. She said she couldn’t divorce Colin; he would never recover. That was when she ended it with me.”
Annette held her tone and her position. “When exactly did the relationship end?”
He tapped his forehead hard. “In here, never. But we stopped meeting up in June last year.”
Seven months before. If it was true then it was unlikely Colin McAllister’s death had anything to do with the affair. She saw Jake signalling to ask something and sat back, nodding him on.
“Mr Purvis, when did you find out that Mrs McAllister was consulting a lawyer about divorce?”
“When your superintendent checked her texts yesterday.”
The farm manager’s face was sad and Annette could read the thoughts running through his mind. Why hadn’t Mara told him that things were rocky with Colin? And then the acknowledgement; the fact that she hadn’t meant that they would never be together again. Then, even worse, the question; had she deliberately sabotaged her husband’s slurry suit and left the farm on the Monday to give herself an alibi for his death?
As Annette watched the expressions flit across Purvis’ face she became surer that he hadn’t killed his friend. His reason for murder would have been his love for Mara, and that affair had ended months before. Even if hope had still burned that she might reconsider he would have had less reason to kill McAllister now than he’d had the June before.
Jake asked another question. “Do you know of any reason why Mrs McAllister might have wanted to leave her husband?”
The shake of Purvis’ head was instant and his answer came in the voice of a broken man. “I’ve no idea. The business was doing fine and Mara loved Colin, even when we were together I always knew that.”
The D.S. didn’t sugar coat his next question. “So why have an affair with you?”
Ouch. The solicitor moved forward to object but Purvis waved him back.
“It’s a fair question. The oldest reason in the world. Sex. Colin was always busy and Mara got bored on the farm. It started as sex pure and simple, but it turned into love.” He shook his head at the reality of it. “At least I thought it had. Seems like it was only me in love now, doesn’t it.”
There was no kind answer, so Annette called a halt to the interview and Jack Harris took Mitchell Purvis back to his cell. Jake stared up at the ceiling, thinking.
“Do we let him go?”
Annette shook her head. “No. We don’t know yet that the wife didn’t do it, or Purvis, or both. He could still have been her accomplice, no matter how innocent he’s just come across.” She tapped the table with her pen. “I don’t like the timing of her starting divorce proceedings with his death. It’s too damn close for comfort.”
She pushed back her chair and rose, getting ready to leave. “Let’s see what else the chief has found out and make a decision then.”
****
County Armagh.
Craig peered into the dark saloon’s boot, taking in a toolbox and gardening gloves. As he closed it with a slam Liam walked round to the car’s passenger side and noticed a baby seat in the back. He’d managed to convince Craig it would be more use if they viewed the scene and body together. He’d also promised to watch his mouth, although neither of them had believed that.
“I thought you said Fox was seventy. Who owned the kid?”
Fred O’Donnell had his notebook open, expecting the question. “His grandson, Cillian. Aged two. Fox looked after him twice a week. Don’t worry, he was at home with his mum today. We checked.”
Craig nodded and then walked round to the driver’s side. The bloodied door was lying open and more blood streaked the grass at his feet; a product of the emergency services pulling Fox out for a futile attempt at resuscitation. Blood had flooded the rest of the car as well; the windscreen looked like a Jackson Pollock from arterial spray. Craig stared at the carnage as he asked his next question.
“Did you find the weapon?”
O’Donnell shook his head. “No. Sorry. But it’ll have been a razor blade or sharp knife. The edges were very clean.”
Liam nodded vaguely as he wandered towards the bottom of the field. “The P.M. will tell.” He stopped a few feet in front of the low fence and beckoned them to take a look. “There’s more blood here, boss.” He hunkered down and was joined by Craig. Small spots of blood were visible on some of the longer blades of grass.
Craig sprang to his feet again. “Get the C.S.I.s back here please, Sergeant. There’s a blood trail leading from the car…” He walked as he talked until he’d covered the full length of the fence, then he returned to Liam. “…it’s only on this part of the fence, and the size and shape of the blood droplets says they probably fell from something. Possibly-”
Liam finished his sentence. “The blade.”
The detectives stared at the blood, then Liam utilised the common travel area and stepped over the wooden barrier into the Republic, to stare at it from the other side. “There’s more blood here, boss.” He yelled past him to O’Donnell. “You need to tell the Gardaí to get their lads here as well. They’ll need to follow the trail as far as they can on this side.” He squinted down the rough track, shielding his eyes from the afternoon winter sun. “Mind you, my guess is she’d have been picked up here, so there probably won’t be much more to find.”
Craig leaned over the fence, his gaze fixing on a smudge halfway down. “Is that what I think it is?”
Liam bent down for a look and then straightened up again with a laugh. “It is! It’s a print. Our girl forgot she had blood on her hands.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The chances of her having a record are slim to none. They won’t have used anyone well known to do this.”
O’Donnell had joined them so Craig conti
nued.
“Your C.S.I.’s and the Gardaí need to do some very joined-up work, Sergeant, otherwise we’ll be waiting all year to get the information across.”
He turned on his heel with Liam following and they drove the ten minutes it took to get to the Armagh Labs. When they arrived in the car park John Winter was waiting for them. Craig smiled, guessing that he’d wanted to be in on the excitement and it was an excuse for an afternoon out of town.
Liam didn’t let the visit pass.
“To what do we owe this honour, Doc? Don’t you trust the people you’ve trained?”
John blustered indignantly. “I trust them wholeheartedly. I just happened to be down here on a quality control check.”
None of them believed it but Craig nodded the excuse through, moving quickly into the building before Liam could offend the pathologist again.
“It’s an interesting case, John. It looks like Fox was with a prostitute and she cut his throat.”
“Do you pay extra for that?”
It was as politically incorrect as anything that Liam might have said and made Craig roll his eyes.
“We need you to confirm cause of death and tell us about the weapon.”
John nodded eagerly. “I can do that.” His curiosity about the circumstances of death began to show. “Was she a Mata Hari type then?”
Craig shrugged. “We don’t know anything about her. We’re only speculating that Fox was with a prostitute because he was found in his car in the middle of a field with his equipment on display. It could have been his girlfriend, for all we know.”
Liam shot him a knowing look. “In my experience they prefer dinner and a comfy bed.”
“Says the great lover.”
Liam’s retort was aborted by John opening the dissection room door; he drew the line at discussing his love life in front of a corpse. John nodded hello to the pathologist, who was discarding his gown in a bin.
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