The Tribes

by Catriona King

  Any residual grogginess Craig had dissipated with the sharp shaking of his head. “He didn’t do it.” He headed for the bedroom to get dressed, shouting out questions as he did. “Where is he now?”

  “High Street. They called me soon as they realised he was ours and I got him moved down to Jack’s.”

  “Good. Call John in to do the P.M. and I want Des on the forensics ASAP.”

  Liam made the calls and then wandered down the hallway to stand at Craig’s bedroom door. His expression conveyed abject misery. “The inspector who called me said the bullet hole fitted a 19 millimetre parabellum just like a Glock holds, and Andy had gunshot residue on his hands. I know he’s a dozy pillock but I wouldn’t wish this on him.”

  Craig angled away from the mirror where he was fixing his tie and shook his head emphatically. “I don’t care if Andy has ‘I killed her’ tattooed on his face in blood, no way did he do this. Lots of guns use Parabellums: SIGs, M9s; it’s a long list.” He grabbed his keys and wallet and strode past his deputy to the door. “My car’s at headquarters so I’ll need a lift.”

  Liam was struggling to keep up. “Where are we going?”

  “Andy’s flat and then to collect my car. After that it’s High Street then the lab.”

  He halted mid-step and turned to face the worried looking D.C.I.

  “Don’t look so concerned, Liam. This is good news.”

  Liam’s jaw dropped. “GOOD NEWS! How the hell is it good news? Andy could be banged up for years and he’ll definitely lose his job. Plus he has a kid to support and-”

  Craig pulled the apartment door shut and raced down the three flights to the street. “When you’ve quite finished shroud waving I’ll tell you why it’s good.” He strode over to Liam’s Ford, feeling strangely energised. “It’s good news because it’s a blindingly obvious setup and we’ll prove it, and hopefully gather evidence on the way. It also means that someone is getting so worried about us cracking the murders that they’re desperate to try and throw us off-”

  Liam cut in. “So why not target you then, or me?”

  Craig shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. But whichever of us they’d chosen to set up, they’re doing it because we’re on the right path.”

  Liam’s frown deepened as realisation dawned. “I’ll tell you what else it means. Someone on our side has a bloody big mouth.”

  ****

  The Lab. 7 a.m.

  By six-thirty the two detectives had left the murder scene and were heading to the lab, the order of play changed by Craig. Andy’s city centre apartment had looked much as he’d expected, clean but untidy, with stacks of DVDs and Blu-rays dominating the living room. The man needed to get out more, although come to think of it, maybe not, given what had just occurred.

  What he hadn’t expected were the images on Andy’s walls. In amongst the photographs of his two ex-wives and son, and a framed poster of a giant Toblerone that was an obvious pastiche on Warhol, there were several original works of Irish art that he recognised. A Harrington, a Scully and even a small Levine. It pointed to Andy being a serious collector. Craig paused for a moment to admire them, chiding himself yet again for not knowing or asking more about his officers’ private lives.

  His reproach was short-lived and after collecting his Audi both cars arrived at the labs. It was comforting to see the lights burning, not only because it meant that the kettle would soon be boiling but because knowing that John and Des had lost sleep as well gave the detectives a slightly sadistic but warm glow. Misery loves company.

  Craig’s greeting to his best friend continued in that vein. He thudded into a chair in John’s office and nodded Liam to hit the kettle, while he prodded a finger at the tired doctor, who was curled sideways in his chair with his eyes closed attempting to sleep.

  “Greetings, oh great one. What can you tell us about our girl?”

  John didn’t move so Liam’s back-up plan kicked in. He flicked cold water in John’s face, earning him a wild-eyed pathologist leaping to his feet.

  “I was trying to sleep! I’ve been up all sodding night.”

  Craig waved him down unsympathetically. “Well, you’re awake now, so what can you tell us?”

  “I’m telling you nothing until I’ve had some tea. And I sincerely hope that you brought food.”

  Craig produced a bag of donuts and slid them across the desk. Two minutes later the colour had returned to even Liam’s cheeks and John had begun to thaw.

  “She died from a single bullet wound to the right temple. Nineteen millimetre Parabellum, probably from a Glock or a SIG. Des is checking the markings at the moment.”

  “OK. Consistent with the story from the arresting officers. What can you tell us about the girl herself?”

  John’s expression was sad. “She’d had a tough life. Bruises all over her, some of them only a day old; someone had been very rough with her. I’d estimate her age at about twenty; I’m just waiting for the X-Rays to confirm. She’d made at least one attempt at suicide – cut her wrists—the scars say around two years ago. There are marks of self-harm as well, and she was definitely a user. I found injection sites on her arms and feet. Probably Heroin but I’ll tell you for sure once the full tox-screen comes back.”

  Craig shook his head. “She sounds like she never stood a chance.”

  John nodded. “I’ll tell you something else. She wasn’t from here. From her teeth I’d say eastern European of some description. I can be more certain of where when we examine her bones. Her last meal was well over five hours before death, but there was alcohol ingested after that. A lot.” He made a face. “How in hell did Andy meet her?”

  Liam shook his head. “No idea, Doc. We’re on our way to talk to him after this.”

  John took a gulp of tea and levered himself to his feet. “I’ll take you to see her, then you can bugger off and let me get back to sleep.” He shuffled into the dissection room, where the size of the sheet covered figure made both detectives gasp.

  “My God! She’s tiny.”

  “She is. Around five-two and seven stone.”

  He drew back the sheet, uncovering the girl’s face. With her smooth, pale skin and dark brown hair she looked like a child, the only sign that she wasn’t sleeping a small hole above one ear.

  Craig motioned to cover her again and turned to leave the room, feeling nauseous. The girl must have been so vulnerable in life.

  Liam followed, shaking his head. “Andy’s twice her age. What the hell was he thinking of picking her up?”

  Craig couldn’t answer he was so angry; right now his instinct was to kill his incarcerated D.C.I. John emerged from the room a moment later and immediately read their minds.

  “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, gentlemen. One thing I failed to mention was the victim’s time of death.”

  Craig turned quickly. “Which was?”

  “Between two and three hours ago.”

  Craig glanced at his watch. That put TOD between four and five a.m., when she’d been with Andy, so why should that cheer him up?

  John elaborated. “I rushed Andy’s bloods. We don’t have the full tox-screen yet, but I can say that your D.C.I. had so much Ketamine on board I’d be surprised if he could have walked never mind fired a gun.”

  Craig’s urge to kill abated and he asked another question.

  “Was she moved after death, John?”

  “No. Or if she was it was soon after death, before lividity had set in. But from the sheets I saw I’d say that she was killed where she was found.”

  “You’re saying she was shot while Andy slept.”

  John held up a hand. “That’s your bit-”

  Liam cut in. “So if Andy left the office at four-”

  “Five-ish. I kept Ash and him behind.”

  “OK, say five-thirty then. We know he was heading out on the town last night, ’cos he said so. That means he went home, got ready and headed to a bar or club say around nine, and he managed to pick up a woman and convin
ce her to come home with him within eight hours?” Liam shook his head. “Not a chance, boss. Have you ever see his chat up technique? It’s woeful.”

  It made them all laugh, until John remembered the girl was lying only feet away and he moved them back to his room. He thought for a moment before speaking.

  “Andy was examined by the F.M.E. at the station, who said he was completely out of it. They took samples-”

  Craig cut in. “For?”

  “Tox-screen and alcohol level, plus swabs to see if he’d had intercourse. I took similar swabs from the girl. But-”

  “We’ll have to wait till tomorrow for most of the results. So what are you thinking?”

  “Well…one possible scenario is that Andy’s a monster and we’ve all missed it, so he really did pick up a girl half his age, take drugs and have sex with her and then he shoot her in the head…but another is that he was drugged somehow, then taken unconscious to his own flat where the girl had already been killed. Or they went to his flat together, with Andy drugged, and someone else shot the girl to stage the scene.”

  Craig frowned. “What about the GSR on his hands?”

  Liam jumped in. “And the neighbour who phoned in the fight?”

  Craig shot him a sceptical look. “Anyone could have made that call. Odds on it came from a burn phone.”

  “They’ll be able to pinpoint the location.”

  “So what? It could have been made from just outside Andy’s place, before the caller disappeared. Actually, get Davy onto that, Liam. Andy lives in a city centre apartment, so there should be CCTV in the hallways or street outside.”

  John yawned loudly. “Do you want to know about the gunshot residue or not?”

  Craig frown deepened. “It’s hard to fake, John.”

  John shrugged. “Not really. Either she was still alive when they took Andy back unconscious and they put the gun in his hand and fired, or they wore gloves, fired the gun then turned the gloves inside out and slipped them on Andy long enough to transfer some superficial GSR, or-”

  Craig gave a slow smile. Even half asleep John was on the ball.

  “We get the idea. Basically you’re saying to exonerate Andy we have to trace his movements between when he left the office and when she was killed.”

  John nodded and stood up. “Correct. Now, as you’ve woken me for so long that I’m unlikely to get back to sleep, I’m going home to wreck Natalie’s sleep the way she wrecks mine every night she’s on call.” He stopped suddenly, glancing at Craig in a ‘will I, won’t I?’ way. ‘Will I’ won.

  “Before you go, Marc. Could I have a quick word?”

  Liam took the hint, moving towards the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

  He left one friend to tell another the information Natalie had given up on the tenth kiss.

  ****

  The Republic of Ireland. 8 a.m.

  The bedroom was dimly lit, all signs of morning hidden behind two serge curtains that hadn’t yet been drawn. Offers had been made and refused but the man liked shade in his life, in more senses than one.

  He listened carefully as details of the event emerged from his mobile in broken English, his only reply the occasional suck of disapproval and a far rarer “OK”.

  The caller paused, certain that he’d exhausted all there was to report, only to restart again, repeating himself, pressured by the silence on the line. When the silence failed to prompt him further the older man roused himself to speak.

  “She’s definitely dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “The cop’s been well framed?”

  “Yes.”

  “You left the trail as we agreed?”

  A final yes. Then more silence until neither had anything more to say and the call ended without a goodbye.

  The man sat up in the half darkness, listening to the noises of the country until a light tap on the door broke his trance. He placed his phone inside his briefcase and then emerged to face the world.

  ****

  Belfast. 8.30 a.m.

  Craig had a lot on his mind. So much so that he’d left his car at the lab to retrieve later and become Liam’s passenger for the second time that day. He wasn’t looking forward to Andy’s interview, albeit he was looking forward to it more now than two hours before. But until they could nail down the D.C.I.’s movements for the previous evening, which had better not show him even smiling at the dead girl, he would feel uncomfortable, something that he was demonstrating unconsciously now by shifting constantly in his seat.

  Liam gave it five minutes and until they’d reached slow traffic on Victoria Street before he showed his displeasure, and it was in a way that on any other day would have made Craig laugh. The D.C.I. barked “sit still, Erin!” and then leaned over and grabbed Craig by the knee. It took only seconds for both men to realise what he’d done.

  “Sorry, boss. I forgot you weren’t-”

  “A five-year-old girl? Nice of you to think I look so young. I won’t even discuss the girl part.”

  Liam waved a hand vaguely around the car. “Ach, driving with two young kids is hell. If you put them both in the back they beat the life out of each other and if you put Erin in the front she jumps around on her booster seat. He gestured more pointedly at Craig. “Hence…”

  Craig sighed. “I know. I’m all over the place, but-”

  “You’re worried about us not being able to alibi Andy.”

  Craig nodded. “Amongst other things.”

  Liam shot him a questioning glance but he ignored it.

  “John’s possible explanations for the evidence are just that. Possibilities. We still have to prove them.”

  Liam was more upbeat. “Never worry; we’re bound to find Andy on CCTV somewhere. Sure you can’t move nowadays without someone taking a pic.”

  Craig shrugged a ‘probably’. It was so half-hearted that Liam waited till he’d stopped at the lights again and then turned to face his boss.

  “OK. Spill. Something else is rattling around that designer mind of yours.”

  It gave Craig his first good laugh of the day. He would have wondered what a designer mind looked like if he’d had the time, but he’d speculate on that another day.

  “Lots of things.” He paused, ordering his thoughts before restarting. “OK, they framed Andy because they think we’re close, so if someone tipped the killers off about our cases then we need to find out who.”

  Liam shook his head. “We’ll never do it. There are too many choices since we involved Drugs, Gangs and Armagh. Anyway, if we have been making any significant progress then it’s news to me.”

  “Agreed, but the point is it’s what our killers believe. So something we’re doing now is going to lead us to them, and they can see it even if we can’t.”

  “OK, so that means we need to re-look at everything, to try to see what they saw.” He shifted into third gear and then tutted at the traffic up ahead. “It’s not a bit of wonder my petrol bills are huge, when I’m stuck in traffic like this every day.”

  Craig had stopped listening at ‘see what they saw’ and started running through their cases again. Liam resigned himself to sitting still for five minutes so he slid on the handbrake and added more wisdom to the mix.

  “Anyway, apart from working out why we’re close to a breakthrough and working out who squealed, you’ve other stuff bubbling inside that bonce of yours.” He glanced out the side window, wearing a grimace that conveyed extreme reluctance to ask his next question. “Are you thinking about Katy?”

  There. It was out. He’d asked a personal question to which the answer was bound to include emotions. It was against everything that he stood for. As a rule he left emotions to his wife. Danni told him when he needed to be upset because he’d done something wrong, and other than that, as long as he was fed, watered and had enough money to pay the bills, he didn’t experience any burning need to feel.

  He’d only asked because Craig had been upset before the cases had started, although it had
been shown only by him locking himself in his office and giving them all mindless crap to do, but still, he was half-Italian and you never knew what went on inside those hot blooded types.

  Much to Liam’s relief the only emotion Craig displayed in answer was astonishment, followed by a loud guffaw.

  “My God! Did you just ask me how I was feeling?”

  Liam blushed and grunted a vague “Yes”.

  “In all the years I’ve known you, I think that must be a first. OK, then, Liam. I’ll tell you.”

  Liam’s heart sank. Didn’t Craig know the rules of male engagement? On the once-in-a-blue-moon occasion that they actually asked after each other’s wellbeing, the polite thing to do was to shrug casually and say “I’m fine”, not tweeze each emotion apart.

  Thankfully Craig knew the rules very well and took great comfort from them. If he wanted to discuss his emotions he’d get drunk, sing a song and then cry into his beer. But it was a prime opportunity to wind Liam up so, as the D.C.I. braced himself for a discussion he’d rather eat hot coals than have, Craig deliberately drew things out.

  “Well…Katy…she’s…she’s…” When Liam’s eyes had widened to the size of a cartoon mouse running from a cat, he added casually “apparently she’s taken up parachuting, and today she’s racing round some track at one hundred miles per hour.”

  Liam heaved a sigh of relief, quickly replaced by a noisy “What?”

  Craig nodded. “Yep. She made a list of risky activities from some actuarial table that she found, and she and Natalie are working their way through them. Having lessons to pilot a light aircraft, cliff diving and rock climbing are on there too, but apparently they’re limited a bit by Katy’s wrist still not being one hundred percent.”

  Liam was stunned into silence for a moment, then he nodded slowly and smiled. “Ah…I get it.”

  Craig didn’t. “Well, explain it to me then because I’ve no idea what she’s playing at.”

  Liam allowed himself a smug smile. It was his reward for asking the ‘feelings’ question a moment before. “She’s trying to be brave.”