The Property

by Catriona King

  The thing was, the station sergeant watching Tanner didn’t care who he discomfited when he was doing his job. In fact, truth be told, Jack Harris secretly enjoyed a bit of criminal baiting, so long as it was only verbal and didn’t cross the line. He put it down to not being able to deploy his rapier-like teasing at home in case it upset his wife, Evelyn, who was a creature of delicate sensitivities born two centuries past her time.

  But whatever the reason for it Jack could see that Brian Tanner was out of sorts, and he viewed it as excellent preparation for the man’s next hour which was going to be spent with Liam and Craig, who, as is the way of coincidence, he could hear coming through the back door at that very moment, Liam’s booming baritone an unmistakable herald.

  The sergeant hurried to direct the two detectives down the back way into the staff-room bypassing reception, causing Liam to give him a curious look.

  “Who’s out front that you don’t want us to see? Miss Northern Ireland?”

  “You’ve got it back to front.”

  The D.C.I. raised an eyebrow coyly. “Mister Northern Ireland?”

  Craig interpreted. “Jack means he doesn’t want them to see us. Is it Brian Tanner?”

  “It is. He’s on edge and my guess is you’d probably like him to stay that way? So better he doesn’t see you till you face him in the room.”

  “Yeh, ’cos the sight of us now would relax him. Not.”

  Craig smirked at the street term being uttered by a man three decades too old.

  “Good thinking, Jack. Liam, make us a couple of drinks to take in.”

  It was on the tip of the deputy’s tongue to say, “What did your last servant die of?” when he conceded that Craig would have done the same for him.

  Five minutes later they were sitting on one side of an interview room table with Brian Tanner seated opposite, his arms tightly crossed and seeming to Jack, from his vantage point in the viewing room, even more on edge than he had done before. The sergeant had put his W.P.C., Sandi Masters, on reception, and after wriggling his way to comfort in his usual chair he gave a small tap on the two-way mirror and Craig got ready to start.

  “When D.C.I. Cullen turns on the tape machine, confirm your name and address, Mister Tanner.”

  Tanner’s immediate objection came in a strong East London accent that took Craig by surprise, although he wasn’t sure why; there were plenty of English people living and working in Belfast.

  “First I want to know why I’m here. All the gorilla who lifted me would say was that I was helping with police enquiries. What enquiry?”

  Craig shook his head. “You’ll know in a moment.” He signalled Liam to hit the switch. “Now say your name and address.”

  The absence of a “please” signalled how he meant to go on.

  Introductions over, Craig rested back in his chair, gazing at the obviously irritated man in front of them, a man who even his mother probably called non-descript and Ash and Davy would have categorised as a cipher; uncharitable cyber-speak for an empty space.

  Brian Tanner was of average height and build, had average brown hair and eyes, and was dressed in a plain beige polo-shirt and a pair of fawn coloured jeans; if the man had fallen into a sand-pit he would probably never have been found. But non-descript or not, Jessica Chambers’ sighting of Tanner’s car that night in two-thousand-and-seven said that the DoE caretaker had been up to something and they needed to discover what that was. Although, as Craig scanned the security-guard he had to admit that as far as possible murderers went, Tanner wouldn’t have been cast as one in any movie that he’d seen.

  “Mister Tanner, you were a caretaker and security-guard at the Department of Energy building on Howard Street, Belfast, from two thousand and one until the autumn of two-thousand-and-seven. Correct?”

  He watched as Tanner’s irritation changed to confusion and then shock, and then as the guard tried desperately to compose his face in a neutral mask, his attempt at nonchalance undermined by his answer emerging in a squeak.

  “Yes.”

  “A day-time security-guard, yes?”

  A slightly less squeaky “Yes” this time, as Tanner regained some control.

  “But you sometimes worked nights as well.”

  “No.” The denial was accompanied by an overly vigorous shake of the head.

  “Never?”

  “No.”

  “Not even on the…” He turned to Liam for the details.

  “Third of July oh-seven.”

  Tanner’s shocked expression returned and Craig stepped back in.

  “Before you deny it, your car was seen on Wellington Street at three a.m. that morning, by a witness who also reported seeing lights and hearing noises coming from the site. So, let’s try again, Mister Tanner. You were at the DoE site on Howard Street that night, weren’t you?”

  He was answered by silence.

  “What were you doing there?”

  This time a quiet, “no comment” emerged.

  “You refused the offer of a solicitor, Mister Tanner, would you now like to rethink that?”

  Tanner dropped his head, and Liam just made out a murmured, “Yes” that made him smile.

  Not so cocky now, are you, mate?

  Craig was already on his feet, leaning across to say, “Interview suspended” into the tape, then he motioned towards the mirror and Jack appeared to lead Brian Tanner to a cell.

  When the caretaker had left, Liam leant back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head.

  “Kelly next, boss?”

  “Let’s wait a minute for Jack.”

  A moment later the sergeant entered the room.

  “Jack, is Dean Kelly here yet?”

  “Nope. He’s not due till ten.”

  Craig sprang to his feet. “OK, when they’re both tee-ed up with solicitors call us. We’re nipping up to the lab.”

  “What about the other one, Barr? He’s not due until one o’clock and he’s bringing some high-priced brief with him. Should I get him in a bit earlier, so you can see the three of them in a row?”

  Liam shook his head. “Andy and Kyle are taking Barr.”

  But Craig said nothing, considering for a moment. With Kelly and Tanner they had some evidence to build their questions on from Jessica Chamber’s statement, the origins of the fax and call to the surveyor, and Leonards Construction sending Kelly to fill in the cellar. But Kamran Barr… all they had on him so far was that he’d owned the site where the bones had been found, had sold it just as it was turning a profit, and he’d pissed them off when they’d spoken first. They needed a lot more than that before anyone quizzed him or they’d be wasting their time, and their limited interviewing time would run out.

  “Liam, what do you think? Do we have anything really solid to talk to Barr about yet?”

  The D.C.I. pulled a face.

  “I hate to say it, boss, but no. OK, he’s an annoying wee shit and there was a body in his building, but if Barr had known about it would he ever have sold the place? There was always a chance that any new owners, Monmouth or whoever, might have wanted to remodel and that risked uncovering the bones. Would a murderer have taken that chance?”

  Craig wasn’t convinced. “An arrogant one might, and most psychopaths are. Think of it as a double-bluff, Kamran Barr banking on us thinking exactly what you just said, but ensuring that the chances of the bodies not being found, especially if his foreman Kelly was in on it and working both jobs, the build in oh-seven and this new one, were good. Or perhaps Barr thought that even if the bones were found no-one could prove their links to him.” Craig shook his head firmly. “No, Barr’s definitely still a suspect. But you’re right, with the sort of brief he can afford we’ll need a lot more evidence before we have him in.”

  “OK then, so we stand down on Barr until we have something more concrete.”

  Craig groaned at the pun.

  “I didn’t mean that sort of concrete, although that’s not a bad joke actually.”

/>   Craig signalled his deputy to move it along.

  “OK. No interviewing Barr for a while. Anyway, if we take the heat off him it’ll make it less likely that he’ll try to run.”

  “Agreed, although I want no let-up in his surveillance, Liam.”

  Craig turned back to the sergeant, “OK, Jack, contact Kamran Barr and say we don’t need to see him today, but when we require his assistance with our enquiries we’ll get in touch. Let me know his exact reply, please.”

  “What are you expecting him to say? Thank-you?”

  Craig gave him a sceptical look.

  “An innocent man who’s supposed to be a pillar of the community like Barr should say ‘let me know if I can be of assistance in any way’, for instance with floor-plans etcetera. A guilty and stupid man would threaten to sue us for yesterday’s arrest.”

  The sergeant decided to play devil’s advocate. “How about a decent, innocent man who’s so indignant about being questioned that he’s disinclined to be helpful? Or a guilty and smart one?”

  Craig ignored the first option, on the grounds that innocent people who couldn’t forgive the police for even questioning them about a murder had no business calling themselves decent in his book.

  “A guilty and smart one would keep his mouth shut unless he had a solicitor present. Saying nothing, volunteering nothing…” a thought occurred to him “…but he might just reach out to someone else, especially if they’d been involved in the murder.”

  He turned to his deputy. “Liam, give Davy a call and say we need a tap on all Kamran Barr’s phone lines: home, mobile and office, while I let Andy and Kyle know they won’t be interviewing him today. They can back Aidan up with Jackson Hardy and then help him pursue the sealed case. The C.C.’s given the OK.”

  His thoughts went back to Chief Constable Sean Flanagan’s exact words when they’d spoken about the sealed case the night before. After a good minute’s silence the C.C. had sighed resignedly and then said, “Go ahead and open it. And let the chips fall where they may.”

  It had hinted that Flanagan already had an idea what they were going to find in the file, and strengthened Craig’s belief that the case involved a cop.

  Liam gawped at him. “I thought you didn’t want Spence digging around in that sealed stuff!”

  “Needs must now that Annette and Mary are helping Nicky. Aidan needs the back-up eyes.”

  The sucking noise that followed was normally only heard when a tradesman discovers something so allegedly appalling that it’s going to cost you a fortune to put it right.

  “On your own head be it, then. Spooky will get up to mischief.”

  When his warning was answered by a shrug, Liam returned to his earlier point.

  “Legal ones?”

  Craig was confused. “Legal ones what?”

  “Legal taps on Barr’s phones.”

  It was an excellent question. Legal phone taps might yield admissible evidence, but they were often refused even by an obliging judge, whereas an illegal tap might tell them everything but if they acted on anything they heard on it, even if it led them straight to their murderer, the evidence could be kicked out of court as ‘fruit of the poisoned tree’; an American legal doctrine which even though it had no direct legal equivalent in UK law would hand so much ammunition about bad process to any competent defence barrister that it would set their client free. Sometimes Craig thought the law had been deliberately designed to free murderers.

  He nodded reluctantly; they had to try the legal route. First.

  “Ask Davy to get on the warrants now.” He turned back to Jack, correcting his former instruction. “Don’t call Barr yet, please, not until we confirm the warrants. We need Barr’s lines tapped before you tell him that we don’t need him to attend today.”

  “So we catch whoever he calls to tell them about his narrow escape. Nice.”

  “I’m glad you approve. Liam, you get on with all that while Jack takes me to Tanner’s cell. I want to take a quick look in.”

  What Craig saw was a very nervous former caretaker pacing up and down the small space. As Tanner approached the door on his travels Craig stepped back quickly; he’d seen enough for now.

  He made his way back to the staff-room where Liam was just hanging up the phone.

  “All sorted. Andy’s doing the warrants and he’ll call to let Jack know they’re in place before he phones Barr.”

  “Good. OK, let’s head to the lab.”

  As Craig made for the door the D.C.I. shook his head.

  “St Mary’s Hospital. Davy’s just said that’s where the Docs are.”

  Craig frowned. St Mary’s. Katy was a consultant there and there was a danger that they might bump into her, especially near the hospital’s Medical Department, and he needed Liam as an audience to one of their awkward encounters like a hole in the head.

  His next words were squeezed out.

  “Why St Mary’s?”

  Liam immediately heard the tension in his voice.

  “Because the Docs are down in radiology using some machine to crack concrete. Davy’s got the hump because he can’t go and watch.” He gave Craig a meaningful look. “Said it was your fault for giving him too much work.”

  There was no remorse forthcoming because Craig’s thoughts had already moved on; St Mary’s Radiology Department was far enough away from the medical one to be low risk for an encounter with Katy. As he headed for the car slightly less worried he completely missed Liam’s smirk as he followed behind; a legitimate trip to the hospital was the perfect opportunity for the D.C.I. to ‘bump into’ Katy, and maybe find out finally what was eating his boss.

  ****

  St Mary’s Hospital Radiology Department.

  If anyone had watched the episode from the outside they would have sworn it was a scene from a science fiction movie; four men and one woman huddled in a small room hosting a switch-covered control panel, watching through a protective window as a large machine battered something with sound waves. The fact that that something was a lump of stone, several in sequence, in fact, made them more like mad brickies than mad scientists, but you get the general gist.

  Craig had decided as soon as they’d arrived to stay and observe the destruction of only a few of the concrete pieces, not getting the same huge thrill from the procedure that the scientists around him obviously were. They were halfway through the second when Liam nodded to be excused.

  “I’m just nipping out to the loo, boss.”

  Craig made a face. “Since when did you ask my permission for that?”

  The D.C.I.’s immediate thought was ‘Damn. I’ve just given myself away’, but Craig merely turned to face the window again, seemingly taking him at his word.

  Within seconds of leaving the room Liam was out of Radiology and loping his way down a connecting corridor towards the Medical Department. Just outside its entrance he halted to look at a floor-map, running his finger over it until he found the two most likely places for Katy Stevens to be found: the main medical ward, Lowry, and the consultants’ admin unit, down another corridor at the hospital’s rear. Now all he had to do was sneak a look at the lady in question, confident enough in his detecting abilities that if there were any obvious clues as to what might be amiss between her and Craig he would spot them in a glance: playing footsie with a male doctor, the sight of an engagement ring that he knew hadn’t come from the boss, possibly even that she’d developed a sudden fetish for facial tattooing or dyed her hair orange. Anything, no matter how trivial, that might explain why they weren’t together any more.

  He didn’t have to wait long. As Liam was lurking in an alcove by the floor-map wondering how to perform his surveillance unobtrusively, quite a challenge when you’re six-foot-six and built like a brick shed, the automatic doors of the department swung outwards and a white coat topped by an unmistakable head of blonde waves bobbed past him with a gaggle of medical students in tow. That ruled out his orange hair theory, but he knew he would have to get
closer to check the rest.

  A quick glance at his watch said that he’d been out of Radiology for two minutes now, only a couple more before Craig’s antennae would start to twitch. The D.C.I. decided that following the group would take too long so he decided to get ahead of them, taking advantage of the hospital’s system of parallel glass corridors to sprint towards the admin unit, banking that that would be where Katy was headed next.

  His hunch paid off and an even distant scrutiny revealed no tattooed face and no ringed fingers, although he didn’t have time for the more lengthy observation that might have seen her interact with a new man. But, as Katy turned to swipe her pass-card in the unit’s lock, what Liam suddenly noticed made him gasp and fall back against the wall. To a father of two and an uncle of fifteen from his many sisters the signs of pregnancy were unmistakable; from her very slightly projecting abdomen to her subtly swollen face and lips. The D.C.I.’s first shock was that the medic was expecting a baby, but his second and even bigger one was the possibility that Craig might be the dad!

  Liam didn’t have time to consider any other possibilities or ramifications, as a glance at his watch said that his time was up. He’d found out part of what he’d set out to but it had raised even more questions, and there was one thing for sure; he wouldn’t be discussing what he’d discovered with anyone on the team.

  By the time he got back to Radiology he really did want to use the bathroom, but there was no time, so he re-entered the control room, answering Craig’s quizzically raised eyebrow with, “Took me ages to find it. This place is like a bloody maze”, and gesturing casually through the glass.

  “Have they found anything yet?”

  “They have. It’s working well. The first block yielded some small hand bones, and the second one held another skull.”

  Craig turned to John Winter, who was wearing a near orgasmic expression as he gazed through the glass.

  “We’re leaving now, John. Put a rush on that facial reconstruction, please.”

  The pathologist nodded without looking at him. “You’ll have it after lunch. I’m thinking of getting this one done as well. I’m hoping between these bones and the ones from the site that we might get two complete skeletons.”