The Running of the Deer

by Catriona King

  It was Davy who responded, with perfect logic. “That’s impossible; circles don’t have s…sides. Anyway, everything depends on whether you link each head to the one beside it, or the links w…were just every third.”

  Andy tried to visualise the shapes. “And the difference would be?”

  “If every point is joined to the one beside it then it’s a decagon. If it’s every third one it’s a ten-pointed star, a decagram.” He looked at Liam pointedly. “But never a circle. Also, decagrams aren’t pentagrams, and they’re the shapes normally associated with devil w…worship.”

  Liam shot him a ‘traitor’ look.

  Craig picked up the discussion. “Good. OK, so Kyle’s correct: no altar, no skulls, no symbols. That rules out devil worship or Satanism. I can see the Aztec link with the crushing, but why in Tyrone? And Voodoo I don’t know enough about to argue with, but I know that it can involve joint human and animal sacrifice. Davy, can you chase both of those for any similarities, please.”

  “Ash has already started, chief.”

  The junior analyst heard his name and glanced up from his smart-pad. “Everyone’s forgotten Santería.”

  “Which is?”

  “A religion. Santería, also known as Regla de Ocha, La Regla de Ifá, or Lucumí, is an Afro-American religion of Caribbean origin that developed in the Spanish Empire among West African descendants. The name itself comes from the Spanish word for "worship of saints." Anyway, it’s not that because they don’t use deer, only ever kill animals for food, and using animal parts in a human murder would never happen.”

  Craig nodded at the comprehensive ruling out of the religion and went to move on. Before he could Mary had another idea.

  “What about Paganism? The ancient Celts combined animal and human sacrifices and we are in Ireland.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, even though he thought the whole worship aspect of the death was rubbish, so he nodded Davy to add it to his list.

  Aidan had been quiet since his outburst but now Craig noticed him staring intensely at the board.

  “Aidan?”

  The D.C.I. had been chewing gum vigorously since he’d decided to give up smoking, only stopping during the meeting he’d had with Craig earlier. The chewing slowed down now as he considered the board, but it was still obvious, and Craig wondered how long it would be before Nicky decided to complain about that.

  “I’m just thinking about those three points you put up, Guv.”

  The D.C.I. been calling Craig ‘Guv’ since December, when he’d worked closely with the squad’s secondee on the Rowan Drake case, Deidre Murray, mimicking the title that she’d used. Craig didn’t mind what they called him: chief, boss, guv, sir or fascist, just as long as they didn’t call him when he was in bed or on holiday and they all did their jobs.

  “And?”

  “You think the whole ceremony thing was a front.”

  Craig went to say yes but then stopped himself, preferring to hear the D.C.I.’s logic before admitting that he was right.

  “Explain.”

  Aidan leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “OK. If this was a killing cult, there’d be more than one victim.”

  Craig wondered whether now was the time to discuss Flanagan’s historic case, and decided that it was.

  “There have been two.”

  A murmur ran through the group and Aidan’s blue eyes widened, but the ex-Vice officer was undeterred.

  “When?”

  “Eight years ago. Another teenage boy in the same location.”

  The D.C.I. nodded. “And there’ll be other similarities between the deaths, I don’t doubt. The odds on it being two different killers in the same remote location with the same type of victim are very low. So… this killer or set of killers has two victims now, but that still doesn’t make them a killing cult. Cults have an ideology or belief system, and if you’re saying that their ideology is killing or murder then two bodies in eight years is far too few.”

  Craig’s eyes narrowed with interest. “You sound as if you know something about cults.”

  “I should do. I did my masters in sociology on them.”

  Craig gave a wry smile. He’d completely forgotten about that. It could turn out to be useful.

  “Can you define one for us?”

  Hughes screwed up his face as if trying to recall something and then nodded. “OK, there are a lot of definitions, but the one of the best is by Alexandra Stein. She’s a specialist in the social psychology of ideological extremism.”

  Liam gave a whistle; it was half-admiring, half about to take the piss. “That’s a lot of long words there, boy.”

  Aidan’s retort was instant. “And I can spell them all too.” He turned back to Craig. “Stein gave a five-point definition of a cult. One: the leader is a charismatic bully. Two: the structure of the group isolates people. The third aspect is the total ideology and belief system. Fourth is the process of brainwashing, and fifth is creating controllable, exploitable followers who serve the needs of a leader and who are not able to think of their own interests.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I learnt it verbatim for my thesis.”

  “I’m impressed. OK, so, do you think we’re dealing with a cult here?”

  Hughes shook his blond hair. “Definitely not a killing cult, they haven’t killed enough people. I can’t be definitive about whether it’s some sort of cult or not until we learn more about our killers, and what their ideology and belief system is.”

  “You keep saying killers plural. Why?”

  Craig saw Liam about to bring up their discussion at the café, and shook his head to stay quiet, listening attentively as Aidan went on.

  “Simple logic. Unless the boy was unconscious he would have fought to escape, and how could even a grown man have held him without there being some signs of a struggle left on the boy? Therefore, it required more than one person. Were there signs of a struggle, or any sedation, Mike?”

  The pathologist shook his head. “We don’t have the blood tests back yet, but we know the blow to his head came after the body fractures, so he wouldn’t have been subdued from that. And you’re right, there were no signs of a struggle, but if he’d been unconscious the whole point of him watching his own crushing would be nullified.”

  Aidan nodded. “OK, so say the boy was just subdued not unconscious, he’d still have been a dead weight and you’re talking probably two people needed to carry him, so that’s more than one killer either way. But then, why bring ten deer heads if there are just two of you? Just for display or to confuse us? Unless that’s what you meant by bluff?”

  Craig said nothing, not ready to show his cards just yet, so Aidan carried on.

  “OK, so let’s say it was just one man who killed him. Why use so many small stones to kill the boy, why not just one big one?”

  Liam shrugged. “It could all be a show to make us think there were ten killers and cover his tracks.”

  “Bit elaborate don’t you think?” Aidan shook his head. “No, there was more than one killer, more than two probably. I’d say we’re looking at a group of nine, allowing for the number of hollowed-out heads.”

  Craig could see people beginning to turn their faces away, sickened by the discussion, so he moved it briskly along.

  “All valid points, Aidan, and everything says this was more than one killer, so I’d like you to look deeper into cults for me and see what you can find.”

  He turned back to Davy and was about to nod him on when the D.C.I. spoke again.

  “Don’t you want to tell us about the leader and bluff options?”

  Craig shrugged. “Leader is simple. A cult or tribe without one wouldn’t be, by your own admission, and any gang without a leader would soon descend into disorder, and the ceremony here was ordered. There’s a leader here all right, and the accuracy of the heads’ spacing makes it’s likely that they’re someone bright.”

  He paused, so Aidan prompted hi
m again, with the familiarity that comes from being an old school friend.

  “And bluff?”

  “Maybe that’s just my cynical default opinion.”

  “No way. You’d never have written it up there without knowing why.”

  Annette felt Mary perking up by her side. She was about to find out why the boss held his rank.

  Craig gave a tight smile. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it, but he would.

  “All right then. You’re correct when you say just two killings in eight years mitigates against it being a killing cult; such a small number of deaths shows far too much self-control, and there’s an element of impulsive, addictive behaviour to cults which there isn’t here. However, I do think Sunday’s killing shows some of the other cult features you listed. Not the ceremonial but the group aspect of the murder, but then the same could be said of any killings by a criminal gang with a strong leader. Unquestioning obedience and control are the most important aspect of both successful gangs and cults, and for other reasons that I’ll go into in a moment, it’s likely that some of this group are very young, making them easily dominated by someone strong.”

  He stopped for breath and this time Liam interjected.

  “Bluff?”

  Craig smiled. “This just doesn’t feel like a cult to me, it’s all too neat, like someone’s presenting an image of how they think a cult should behave for the tourists. The whole ritual aspect feels more like a front for something, a cynical set-up to throw anyone investigating the boy’s death off their trail.”

  Des cut in. “A front for what?”

  “I don’t know yet, and I might be wrong, but this feels criminal rather than ideological.”

  As the follow-on questions came thick and fast Craig shook his head. “Time will tell, but for now we have a murder to investigate so let’s get back to it. Davy.”

  His tone said that the debate was over for now, so Davy, who had been quite enjoying learning about cults, picked up his report again by displaying his second slide on the screen; ‘Regulation’.

  “Right. The wild deer population of Ireland includes several breeds and they vary with the area. In the Republic they’re protected under the terms of the Wildlife Act and it’s a s…serious offence to hunt them without a licence. In the UK the laws differ slightly, and under certain conditions land occupiers can kill them; to protect their crops from damage and to perform mercy killing of an animal to prevent s…suffering. But there haven’t been any recorded deer shootings by farmers in Northern Ireland for ten years. There are also a lot of things they still can’t do.”

  Miranda smiled; he’d just saved her having to do some research.

  He tapped his smart-pad and a list of ‘don’ts’ appeared, relating to seasons, times of day, guns, pursuit vehicles and the fact that in Northern Ireland venison couldn’t be sold except to a licenced game dealer.

  Annette tutted loudly. “It’s disgusting, killing beautiful animals like that to eat them.”

  Craig agreed but now wasn’t the time for an ethical debate, so he waved the analyst on. But the D.I. hadn’t finished.

  “Last year in County Meath two deer were left dead for no reason, and there was Red Deer poaching as well. Venison hunters.”

  Liam nodded. “Aye. I emailed the Guards about it.”

  The Guards was a nickname for An Garda Síochána.

  At the sight of Craig’s growing impatience at the diversions Davy picked things up.

  “Where our victim was found the most common breed of wild deer is Red.” He turned to the scientists. “Do you know what type the dead deer were yet?”

  Des answered him. “Red. According to the animal pathologist at the facility.”

  Mary was about to ask what facility, but Craig shook his head. They’d get to that later.

  “So, we know the deer were most likely local to the Killeter area. Continue, please.”

  “OK, nine of the deer heads w…were hollowed out and one deer had just been decapitated. Mike gave us the exact time lines.” He tapped his pad again and the name of the land owner appeared. “The Canavan family have owned land in Tyrone since the days of the Irish Kings. They were thought to be cousins of Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, who left the land during the Flight of the Earls.”

  Ash sat forward excitedly. “We did that in history class. It happened in sixteen-o-seven.”

  Liam adopted a martyred look. “It’s only yesterday to me, son. My ancestors fought the English.”

  Craig was curious, so he broke his own rule about no side-tracking and turned to his deputy.

  “How do you think the Canavans managed to hold on to the land? Given the English invasions and the arrival of the planters, I didn’t think many of the indigenous Irish had remained landowners.”

  Liam straightened up in his seat, and they all knew he was picturing himself as a sword wielding Celtic chieftain laying waste to every foe, with a bodhrán drum beating him into battle and uilleann pipes welcoming him home.

  “They fought to keep it, that’s what they did, and they must have been good at it because armies didn’t mess about in those days. Mind you, at least an axe in the head was a quick way to go.”

  Craig made up his mind to read more about the period and turned back to Davy again.

  “Look into the Canavans’ genealogy, Davy. I’d like to know more about that area.”

  “I’ll tell you about the current generation first, if that’s OK.”

  Craig smiled at the jibe.

  “There are only two Canavans alive now, barring distant cousins. Niall and Dermot, the two sons of Aine and Declan. Niall’s the elder; he’s thirty-eight. Dermot’s thirty-five. Neither is married so the line could s…soon die out-”

  Craig interrupted him. “What do they do for a living, or don’t they need to work?”

  Davy nodded. “They don’t, but Niall does. He’s on the Board of a bank. It has branches all over the w…world, so he travels-”

  Craig cut in again. “When you say they don’t need to work, where exactly is their money coming from?”

  Davy tapped his smart-pad twice and a map of the western third of Northern Ireland appeared on the screen, encompassing Counties Tyrone, Fermanagh and Londonderry. The western half of each county was shaded blue.

  “That blue area belongs to the Canavan brothers.”

  Liam gawped at the screen. “They own half of the west? The west of the west in fact!”

  “Yep. A sixth of Northern Ireland’s acreage in total.”

  With a stroke of his screen the analyst drew a second border inside County Tyrone, annexing an area of land, half inside the blue and half out. He tapped his pad again and it coloured the area red.

  Craig pointed to the red area. “What’s that?”

  “Killeter Forest. Can I come back to that in a minute?”

  “Carry on.”

  Davy brightened the blue for emphasis. “OK. The Canavans own the western half of Counties Fermanagh, Tyrone and Londonderry, and it’s all prime land. Most of it’s being w…worked by tenant farmers who pay the Canavans rent and a percentage of whatever they make.”

  “What percentage?”

  “Forty.”

  Liam gulped. “Bloody hell, that’s high.”

  “Hence the Canavans don’t need to w…work.”

  The analyst tapped up his next slide. It was a picture of a well-dressed young man lying face down on a pavement.

  “This is Dermot Canavan, the younger brother. This photo came from the Ulster Bazaar eleven years ago.”

  The Bazaar was the country’s equivalent of Harper’s Bazaar.

  “He was twenty-four there, and that’s him at three in the morning after a ball in Dublin.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “I take it that Junior sees his main occupation as going out on the piss?”

  “He did then. There are plenty of other snaps very similar, but basically Dermot Canavan seems to have been of a bit of a w…waster. He was arrested a few times for dru
nk and disorderly, driving under the influence and speeding, but no jail time.”

  “Yet.”

  Davy shook his head. “I doubt it will happen now, because…” He brought up another slide which showed an elegantly suited young man at a charity function. “…this is Dermot Canavan now. He’s been a reformed character for the past nine years. Working for charity, good causes and the rest.”

  Craig gazed at the photograph thoughtfully before asking a question. “Does he have unlimited funds, or is he on an allowance? Presumably under primogeniture the elder brother inherited control of the estate.”

  Davy nodded his head. “Exactly right. Niall holds the keys to the kingdom, and he’s also pretty good at making money by all accounts. Apart from the farming profits and his s…salary from the bank, he has a substantial share portfolio and interests in an IT company, a pharmaceutical company and a media conglomerate. He’s managed to grow the family fortune from fifty million in two-thousand-and-eight when he inherited, to over a billion now. He’s also a big player in the Irish and UK governments, behind the scenes of course.”

  Aidan opened his mouth to interrupt but his coffee went down the wrong way. When he began to cough, Nicky nodded sanctimoniously.

  “Smoking. I told you so.”

  Craig raised a warning eyebrow. “If Aidan wants a lecture he’ll ask you for one, Nicky. He’s coughing from his coffee.”

  He was about to say “help him out” to Andy, who was sitting beside him, but Liam was already there, smacking the D.C.I. on the back with more vigour than was strictly required.

  “That’ll do, Liam. I don’t want any broken ribs. Aidan, you were about to say something?”

  The red-faced Vice cop managed to wheeze out. “What’s Dermot’s allowance?”

  Davy turned back to the screen and switched to his next slide. It said, ‘Four thousand pounds per month.’

  Craig was shocked at the low figure; he doubted Dermot Canavan would be content with the amount given his brother was a billionaire. Although in the real world four thousand pounds per month when you had no mortgage or other outgoings would be more than enough to raise a family on.

  Annette echoed his thoughts. “I’m sure that’s free and clear in his hand, and his home and car are probably covered by the brother, so I’d be very happy, but it’s not a huge amount for such a rich family.”