The Tribes

by Catriona King

  “How are you, Jamie? Long time no see.”

  The young pathologist slipped his mask beneath his chin, revealing a respectful smile. “I’m well, Doctor Winter. It’s good to see you again.”

  Craig smiled. It was funny to hear John being addressed in such awed tones. He always forgot he was the lead pathologist in the country instead of just his friend and regular coffee supply.

  John moved to stand beside the body, gesturing Liam and Craig across.

  “Doctor James Bale, this is Superintendent Craig and D.C.I. Cullen from the Murder Squad in Belfast. They’ve been asked to look at this case by Sergeant O’Donnell, so what can you tell us about Mr Fox’s demise?”

  The pathologist uncovered Calum Fox’s face, revealing the throat laceration that had undoubtedly caused his death.

  “Mr Calum Fox, seventy-one years old. Dead between two and three hours. General health: clinically obese with signs of being a smoker, so, as expected, his arteries and heart showed the commensurate wear and tear. He had a small cancer in his prostate which probably wouldn’t have killed him for ten years or so, and other than that he was in good health.”

  Liam’s tone was dry. “Apart from the hole in his neck.”

  Bale smiled nervously. “I was just coming to that. Mr Fox’s cause of death was from complete bifurcation of his left carotid artery and partial severance of his right. He bled profusely from both arteries.”

  John nodded. “It would have killed him in minutes.” He nodded for the face to be recovered and waved a hand down Fox’s concealed body. “Our understanding is that he had engaged in coitus before death.”

  The pathologist nodded a tad too eagerly, earning him a chastising glance from his boss. He took a deep breath and continued reporting in a suitably sombre voice. “It appears that the deceased had sexual intercourse soon before death-”

  Liam cut in. “How do you know it was soon?”

  “Do you really want the details?” He turned back to John. “I’ve sent the samples to our labs. If a condom was used it seems the other party took it with them.”

  They were unlikely to get the woman’s DNA. Bale was still speaking.

  “I believe the C.S.I.s found a long blonde hair at the scene, so that might yield something.”

  John nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave. “Thank you, Jamie. I hope I’ll see you at my lecture on Blood Tranfusions next month?”

  The resultant nodding must have given James Bale a sore neck. As John led the way to the lift Craig couldn’t resist a quip.

  “You were like a proud father back there, John. Practicing?”

  The only answer he got was an enigmatic smile.

  ****

  County Louth. Republic of Ireland

  Inspector Magnus O’Shea was staring out of his office window when the call came. The view wasn’t up to much, just a row of shops and the local dole office, but he was well placed by the border to keep an eye on things.

  All his life he’d slaved at a desk or out on the street, risking his life for a pension less than half of what he was worth, and a spit in the ocean compared to the money made by the people he’d locked up. His wife had put up with a lot from the job; never knowing when he’d left in the morning if she would see him again that night. Mary had deserved better and soon she would get it; only eleven more months before he could take his pension and call it a day, then it would just be them and the kids and grandkids and whatever comfort he could provide.

  He wouldn’t miss the force at all, but he’d never have believed it if someone had said that when he was a young Jack-the-lad, first in uniform and then in a suit. He couldn’t wait to join the Gardaí like his Da had; to carry a badge and nick the bad men like he’d seen in the movies. And for the best part of his time in the job he’d loved it, but the hours had been long and eventually his mind, body and goodwill to all had worn out. Now he marked the days till he left on the desk calendar Mary had bought him, and the rest of the time he did paperwork and watched the world.

  That was why the call had made him smile; some boss up high had obviously decided to make him work. Armagh had had a murder and they thought the killer might hail from the Republic, so he’d been appointed Gardaí liaison and was heading for his car and a trip up north. His border location had always made it likely to happen one day.

  Ah well, he’d keep his ears open, make a show of the work and get home in time for tea, not like some eager young buck who’d go digging around and disturbing things he’d no business to, to make his mark. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

  ****

  McAllisters’ Farm. County Armagh.

  Liam’s mouth dropped open and stayed open. Normally Craig would have told him to shut it, in case a passing fly thought it had found a new home, but not this time, because his own mouth was lying open just as wide.

  Sergeant Joe Rice stood with his arms folded across his paunch and a grin on his rugby ball shaped face. The ex-Garda always worried when he called the Murder detectives down to see something, in case what he’d thought exciting barely warranted a jaded glance, so it was with more than a little satisfaction that he waited for their mouths to close.

  Craig’s closed first and he turned towards the Cork man, one eye still half on the thing that Rice had found.

  “How the hell…”

  He waved a hand in lieu of finishing his question. It gave the sergeant the permission he’d been waiting for to expound.

  “Ah, now, you see. I took a trip down to check the lads were working, so, and that’s when I noticed the cows-”

  As Craig smiled at Rice’s habit of saying ‘so’ at the end of every phrase, Liam interrupted him, repeating his last two words. “The cows.”

  “Aye, the cows, so. You see, my uncle Declan had a dairy farm, so, and when we visited as kids he taught us how to tell the weather by the cows.”

  It was a new one on Craig, but then he was a city boy. As Rice continued, Liam began to nod.

  “You see, cows will stand in the middle of the field when the weather’s going to stay fine, and huddle under the hedge when it’s going to rain, so. Even when there’s not a cloud in the sky they know hours in advance of the rain. Probably smell something in the air.”

  Liam’s nods increased. “It’s true. Another one that’s true is red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning-”

  Craig waved him down. “Thank you, Liam, we all know that one. It’s in the bible. Carry on, Joe.”

  Liam sniffed huffily as the sergeant continued.

  “But you see, the cows didn’t do it, so. Huddle, I mean. Not even when it started pouring around eleven o’clock.”

  Liam tried a quip for attention. He wasn’t used to someone being more expert on the countryside than him. “Maybe they’d lost their sense of smell.”

  Craig cut him down to size. “All of them? Unlikely. So, what happened then, Joe?”

  Rice didn’t dare look at Liam, but he tightened his folded arms excitedly, signalling that he was about to ramp the tension up.

  “I moved them to another field, just to check, so. But they were fine there, huddled under the hedge immediately.” He gave a knowing nod. “That’s how I knew it was the hedge itself, so we started digging along it and…” He gestured at the ground. “…well, you can see for yourselves what we found.”

  They could indeed and it had been the cause of their slack jaws. There, along the full length of the hedge in the field furthest from the McAllisters’ farmhouse, extending to at least one hundred metres wide, and who knew how deep once the diggers Joe had called in had completed their job, was one of the biggest and deepest metal tanks that either detective had ever seen, and it was three quarters full of an oily liquid.

  Craig smiled to himself. As clues went cows were a new one on him but they’d certainly earned their keep.

  “Have you had it tested?”

  The rugby ball grin returned. “I have, so. It’s red diesel with the dye remo
ved.”

  Low-price dyed fuel, usually red diesel, so called because of the government imposed dye, was only approved for use in agricultural vehicles and equipment. Fuel laundering removed the dye so it could be sold on illegally to unsuspecting car owners at the much higher price of undyed fuel. It was a lucrative business.

  Craig beckoned Joe to accompany them in the car back to the farmhouse and twenty minutes later they were seated in the workers’ kitchen, their hands clasped around warming drinks. Winter in the city was bad enough but there was nowhere to hide from the elements in the countryside. Craig asked the sergeant a question to which he already knew the answer.

  “What are you expecting to find when the excavation’s complete?”

  The reply was immediate.

  “A pipe leading across the border to a tank on the other side, so. That field’s bordered on the other side by County Monaghan.”

  Liam was nodding eagerly, all sign of his earlier chagrin gone. “It’s like that IRA setup–”

  “Alleged setup.”

  “OK, but it’s like that all over again.”

  He was referring to an episode where a pipe had linked two tanks across the border, so that when the police on one side got suspicious the fuel could be shunted to the other side. Another country with a different police force, guaranteed to slow any investigation down.

  As Liam recounted the story Craig’s mind turned to the next steps.

  “OK, we need this to be perfect. Send samples of the oil to the labs in Belfast, Joe. I’ll tell Doctor Marsham to expect them by tonight. Also, get the tech guys down here with ground penetrating radar. I want an exact plan of the layout, including the pipe. The Gardaí will have to pick it up over the border, so that we can get a plan of the other side.”

  He turned to find Liam with his hand wedged in a biscuit jar but ignored it; he had other things on his mind.

  “Liam, find out who the Gardaí liaison is for the Fox murder and link him up with Joe as well. He needs to get his guys working on the other end of the pipe.” He paused for a moment and then turned back to Rice. “Joe, we’ll need the other fields along the border scanned too, but that’s not urgent today. You’ve already given us plenty to go on. Well done.”

  Liam echoed his words, through the impediment of a half-chewed piece of cake. Craig rose to leave and then remembered something.

  “Have your men managed to access the McAllisters’ upstairs living quarters yet, Joe?”

  Rice nodded, his mouth now similarly full of cake. He gulped it down and answered.

  “Yesterday, sir, but so far there’s nothing incriminating there, so. We’ll keep searching though.”

  Craig had already reached the farmhouse’s front door but they heard his “Good” echoing back. It was followed by. “Get a shift on, Liam. We’ve forty miles to go and rush hour’s about to start.”

  ****

  The C.C.U. 5 p.m.

  It was dead on five o’clock when the two detectives reached the office and the team had already gathered, with three additions: Kyle Spence, who seemed less than impressed at where he found himself; Geoff Hamill, and Sergeant Karl Rimmins from the Drugs Squad, looking even gaunter and edgier than when he’d last attended a briefing months before. Rimmins was already known to most of them, but out of politeness Craig asked people to introduce themselves. Nicky saw it for the ploy that it was; he’d wanted the time to grab a decent coffee and evict Andy from the seat nearest the front of the room.

  Missions accomplished he nodded Liam to pull over the white board and began bringing everyone up to date.

  “OK, our two cases. Matias Rey, twenty, drowned in the Lagan with accompanying injuries that say he was forced in. His tox screen showed…” He turned to find Ash. His head was down but its luminous green colour made him impossible to miss. “Ash?”

  Without looking up the analyst said. “Ketamine and Valium, Diazepam. It’s a tranquilliser and the amount of Ketamine was enough to put him in the K-Hole.”

  The K-Hole was the state of dissociation, delirium and often catatonia experienced after high doses of Ketamine.

  Craig turned to Karl, expecting to find his hawk-like gaze on Ash’s face; the narcotics officer was on constant alert after his years on undercover Ops. But Rimmins wasn’t looking at the analyst, instead his dark gaze was locked on Snow White lookalike Rhonda, seated halfway across the room, and she was returning it with an intensity that boded badly for the state of Andy’s heart. Craig rolled his eyes; it would be a pairing made in Goth-Heaven but he had enough to think about without dealing with another romance. He barked “Karl” sharply.

  If it hadn’t occurred to Craig that he might be just the tiniest bit jealous of a budding romance, Liam’s chastising glance reminded him that he probably was. He ignored it and softened his tone only slightly.

  “Karl, how much Ketamine would it take to get in the K-Hole? For say, a sixty-five kilo man.”

  Rimmins shut his eyes, calculating. When he opened them again Rhonda had looked away.

  “Around one-twenty-five milligrams injected, or up to two-fifty snorted or swallowed.”

  Craig nodded. “OK. Our first victim, Matias Rey, was injected and thrown into the river. His early attempts to climb out were prevented by stamping on his hands and he eventually drowned. Ash has the site of entry…”

  “Shaw’s Bridge. He travelled down the river until he caught on a some metal around Lagan Meadows and probably stayed there for about a day before being washed down to the Weir.”

  Craig turned to find Andy. He was murmuring to a youth who he thought was called Sid something; he really should pay more attention when people were giving their names. He worked for Geoff Hamill, he knew that much.

  “OK, D.C.I. Hamill will tell us about the Rey family in a minute, but Andy, you took the father to do the I.D. and then interviewed him. What did he give you?”

  Andy straightened up in a way that said he was trying to impress someone and Craig was damn sure that it wasn’t him. He flicked open his notebook and started to read aloud.

  “Xavier Rey, aged sixty-two, father of Matias Rey, the river victim. He identified the body of his son and then we brought him here to the relatives’ room for a chat-”

  Liam interrupted. “We?”

  He knew damn fine who ‘we’ were but he wanted to throw Andy off his stride.

  Andy gestured to the man by his side. “Constable Sid Freeman from D.C.I. Hamill’s team joined me for the interview.”

  Craig stepped in. “D.C. Freeman was able to get some information out of Mr Rey, so let’s hand over to him.”

  Freeman jerked upright in his chair, nodding first at Craig and then at his boss. He recited from memory.

  “Mr Rey was very upset and D.C.I. Angel sensed that he wouldn’t speak when he was in the room so he left the two of us alone.”

  Geoff Hamill shot Andy an angry look and he rushed to defend himself.

  “I assessed Mr Rey as safe.”

  Hamill’s eyes widened. “Are you insane, man? Xavier Rey would rip the head off a grown man if he accidentally spilled his pint-”

  He was interrupted by a high tenor.

  “I was perfectly safe, sir. The man was grief stricken and he wouldn’t have said anything with the boss in the room.” Freeman straightened his ever present rucksack briskly. “Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to continue.”

  Craig wanted to give him a round of applause for putting his boss in his place.

  “Mr Rey told me that Matias had gone out on Tuesday night to meet some friends.” He retrieved his notebook from his pocket. “Ryan Phelan and Niall Henderson. The three of them had known each other since school-”

  Liam snorted rudely. “Borstal was it?”

  “Church school actually. They were choir boys.”

  Liam wasn’t the only one who laughed. “So the church is a recruiting ground for gangs now. I give up.”

  Geoff Hamill wasn’t laughing; instead he was scribbling some no
tes. Craig urged Freeman on.

  “They were going to The Pit on May Street. When Matias didn’t return home the next morning, Mr Rey phoned the club and they said the boys had left before twelve.”

  Craig nodded. “That may have been when Matias was abducted. Ash, see if there’s any CCTV on that stretch of road. Jake, check if there were any patrols there that night.”

  Freeman continued. “When he realised Matias had disappeared, Mr Rey set some of his men looking-”

  Craig cut in. “Is that how he described them? Some of his men?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you ask him why he had men?”

  “I did. He said he ran a cab business and they worked for him.”

  “Loyal employees to help him out like that.”

  Freeman smiled. “That’s what I said. He didn’t answer.”

  Craig turned to Hamill. “Any thoughts, Geoff?”

  “Maybe at the end.” He caught Liam smiling and glanced away quickly, girding his loins for the first short man joke.

  Freeman continued.

  “Mr Rey said he’d searched for almost two days and was just about to call the police when you arrived, sir.”

  The fact that the ‘sir’ was addressed to Andy made everyone smile. His laid back chocolate munching seldom commanded such respect.

  Liam couldn’t let the words pass. “Just about to call the police, my ass! Would you let your kid go missing for two days without calling us?”

  Annette roused herself enough to speak. Thank goodness it was almost going home time; she was struggling to stay awake.

  “To be fair… he was hardly a kid, Liam.”

  Liam was undeterred. “If it was your Jordan wouldn’t you have reported it? There’s only a year difference in their ages.”

  She nodded, conceding the point. “So what did the father during those days?”

  Geoff Hamill answered. “Probably had his hoods beating the crap out of everyone they met, looking for information. If you search hard enough you’ll find a trail of split lips from Poleglass to town.”