The Running of the Deer

by Catriona King

  Craig tutted. He knew it was no-one’s fault but that didn’t help.

  “OK, ask him to dig around the MoD to see if he can find ownership of the instruction there. Someone ordered those deer heads collected from the clearing on Sunday and I need their name.”

  He was answered by a loud pop that could only mean one thing.

  “Are you chewing bubble gum?”

  “Yep. It tastes better than the other stuff.”

  “Well, keep it away from the public, please, and from me.” He pictured a giant pink bubble bursting all over the D.C.I.’s face and smiled. “Has Miranda spoken to her team in Castlederg yet?”

  He’d asked her to assist with the Appside shut-down, and to gather whatever information on the heads the staff might have as she did.

  Aidan didn’t respond for a moment, too busy tucking his gum up behind his teeth. Finally, Craig got his answer.

  “She spoke to them an hour ago and they’re planning an interview schedule for the Appside staff now. But we mightn’t be able to do them in the station, Guv, depending on their radiation levels. The MoD’s checking everyone first. And they’ve already said we can only ask approved questions anyway, because of official secrets.”

  It was what Craig had expected, but even the smallest piece of information on the deer heads would be worth the wait.

  “Has the facility closed yet?”

  “Done, and the staff were taken to quarantine when they arrived for work this morning. Once everyone’s checked and safe to speak to, they’ll make a start, although it might have to be through intercom at the hospital for some of them. The MoD’s sent hazmat teams into the building as well.”

  Craig pictured the scenario; it would be like the decontamination scene in Silkwood, an old movie about radioactive leaks, where irradiated people were subjected to a hard, head-to-toe scrubbing by suited men. The facility staff must be terrified; he knew he would be.

  “Tell them to go easy on the staff, Aidan, except for Underwood. They’ll be scared witless when they find out they’ve been exposed.”

  The two men shuddered simultaneously, imagining it, then Aidan made a suggestion.

  “I was thinking maybe I could go and interview the Canavans’ gamekeeper while I was waiting for Underwood to get sorted?”

  “Great idea. Keep me up to date.”

  He cut the call and glanced out the window at a signpost; three miles to go to Niall Canavan’s office in a business park just outside Omagh.

  Liam broke the silence as if he’d been waiting to speak.

  “How do you want to play this, boss? This one’s the responsible brother, isn’t he?”

  Craig shook his head. “If we go in with the idea that this is the good brother, we might miss something. So, let’s keep it neutral and ask the questions as if no-one’s innocent or guilty.” He continued gazing out the window. “Any word from the court?”

  “Aye. Davy called me with an update. Apparently, Drake started his tricks as soon as he entered the dock. He’s requested that as he’s now acting as his own defence he should be able to question people from the floor.”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “I was waiting for that one. Standish will have to consider the request now it’s been made.”

  Liam nodded. “Aye, he adjourned the hearing and went off to check some case law.”

  As he indicated to turn off the A5 into a large complex of glass-fronted office buildings, signed ‘Islederg Business Park’, Craig sighed.

  “This bloody court case could take all year, and the longer the better if Drake has his way. He wants his time in the sun before they lock him up.”

  He gestured at a blue-tinted glass building up ahead. “That’s the one.” He scanned his surroundings curiously as Liam parked the car. “This is all new, isn’t it?”

  “Built in twenty-fourteen. It’s one of those business hub places, with all the whizzy tech stuff in one place.” The D.C.I. adopted what he thought was a posh accent. “Everything the discerning businessman could possibly need.”

  It made Craig smile, and he was still smiling as they entered the blue building and approached a reception desk housing a large aquarium tank. The effect was slightly disconcerting, probably equally so for the young woman seated behind it, who gave the impression of being half submerged.

  She smiled as they approached and nodded knowingly.

  “I know. It looks strange.”

  Craig smiled politely, leaving Liam to make the obvious quip.

  “Looks like you’re a mermaid.”

  The receptionist smiled up at him coyly. “I am. And you know what they say about those.” She turned back to Craig before the D.C.I. could respond. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

  “We have an appointment with a Mister Niall Canavan.”

  She checked her computer screen and nodded, rising to display a pair of impressive legs instead of a tail.

  “Please follow me.”

  As they did, Craig had to nudge Liam to stop him staring at where her tail should have been. The woman led them down a white-wood lined corridor, and then into a plush waiting area outside a door bearing Niall Canavan’s name.

  “Please take a seat. Mister Canavan will call you in one moment.”

  Then she was gone, leaving them with an array of newspapers from around the world, all of them that day’s. Judging from the dog ears at their financial sections, Niall Canavan worked hard at his banking trade.

  When no-one had emerged from the office five minutes later Craig took the opportunity to make another call, this time to John. He by-passed the niceties, reasoning that the ones from a few hours before would still be fresh.

  “Quick query.”

  “OK.”

  “Latex?”

  The pathologist nodded to himself and tapped his computer to life. Mike had brought him up to speed on the cocaine find, so Craig’s enquiry wasn’t a complete surprise. John scanned his screen quickly, muttering as he went.

  “Mmm…cocaine…condoms.”

  Craig didn’t have time for the medic’s exposition; he could hear footsteps approaching the office door.

  “Get to it, John. Yes or no?”

  The pathologist made a huffy face at his phone and then answered, “I can’t say until I get the swab result, but probably.”

  It would have to do for now. “So, if the coke was inside a condom and plugged.”

  “I can’t say that yet either. I’ll…”

  His, “…need to do more tests”, fell on dead air, as Craig cut the call and rose to his feet to greet the businessman who’d just emerged from the room.

  The greeting involved not a shaken hand but a warrant card being shown, and Liam followed suit; it was as well to start the meeting as they meant it to go on. Craig had decided before they’d left the labs that both Canavans were to be put under pressure to see what oozed out.

  “Mister Niall Canavan?”

  Craig watched as the man swiftly took stock of the scenario: two large policemen, neither looking friendly, who could easily block his exit if he tried to run. As Canavan didn’t run he would never know if the detectives might have done so, but from the banker’s unwavering stare and barely concealed smile, Craig could tell that if their badge flashing had been meant to frighten him then it would have completely failed. Niall Canavan was a cool customer.

  Craig watched as the smile widened on the slim financier’s face, and then as one perfectly manicured hand reached up to brush back a strand of his mid-brown hair. When Canavan’s voice eventually emerged, it was as smooth as the rest of him.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Would you like to come in?”

  The absence of ‘what are you here for?’ or ‘what have I done?’, the most common responses to a visit by the police, struck Liam as strange but not Craig. Innocent or guilty, there was a range of reasons why the banker mightn’t have asked the questions, and they couldn’t draw anything from it yet.

  Craig signalled his deputy through the door, w
atching Canavan curiously as he strolled across an expanse of plushly carpeted office to take a seat behind an ebony coloured desk. By the room’s window sat an even larger fish tank than the one in reception, flanked by a pair of easy chairs that looked as if they hadn’t been occupied once. The arrangement looked more like a testament to Feng Shui than anything practical.

  The financier rested back in his soft leather chair. If Canavan was worried by their visit he certainly wasn’t showing it, but again that told the detectives nothing about anything except for the coolness of his nerves.

  There had been no mention of ranks in their introductions, and as their cards had only been flashed for seconds the banker could hardly have read them, but he turned immediately to Craig, somehow recognising him as the boss.

  “Now. What can I do for you? When your secretary phoned she mentioned you needed some information about land that my brother and I own.”

  Very neat. He very much doubted that Nicky had given any reason for their coming, but Canavan had managed to explain his earlier lack of curiosity and bring his brother into the equation right away; no such thing as carrying the can alone. The fact that he’d guessed that their land was the reason for the interview said that he must have heard about their forest search.

  Craig rested back in his own, less comfortable, chair, matching their host’s relaxed posture.

  “Killeter Forest. We believe that you and your brother own part of it.”

  “We do. Around half by acreage.”

  “You’ll have heard about the boy who was found dead there.”

  Craig deliberately omitted to say when.

  Liam had been scrutinising Canavan’s face since they’d entered, and now he was watching him for the slightest twitch. There wasn’t one. An innocent man or nerves of steel? If the D.C.I. had ever witnessed the bloodbath that passed for commerce on the floor of the stock market, then his question would have answered itself.

  “I did. Yesterday, from our cook.” The banker shook his head. “Very sad.”

  Craig said nothing, waiting to see if the death eight years before was mentioned as well. When it wasn’t he based his next question on the omission.

  “Have you always lived in County Tyrone?”

  Canavan nodded. “Always, and always in the family home.”

  So, there was no way that he wouldn’t know about the death in twenty-ten, he’d simply chosen not to say.

  “Your brother, Dermot. Does he live there as well?”

  Canavan shrugged. “When he’s in the county. He has an apartment up in Belfast where he spends a great deal of time.”

  Exactly where Andy and Kyle were now. Craig was growing tired of their dance, so he decided to get to the point.

  “Mister Canavan, there have been reports of lights, drums, even dead animals found in the forest clearing where the boy’s body was found, a clearing that you own. What can you tell us about that?”

  He was surprised to see a smile tug at the financier’s lips. It made him want to slap him down.

  “You find a dead boy amusing?”

  Canavan didn’t react, merely stared at Craig through unpleasantly pale green eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that meant to embarrass me, Officer?”

  Craig felt Liam bridle at the retort and shook his head slightly to warn him off, then he reined in his own annoyance and adopted a pleasant tone.

  “I wondered why you were smiling, that’s all.”

  “Well, since you ask, I was remembering something. We used to go to that clearing to have barbeques when we were teenagers, and there was a lot of light, music, beer and girls, so perhaps that’s what people reported.”

  Craig continued quickly. “And the dead animals?”

  Canavan shrugged. “Poachers probably.”

  The detective kept up the pace, hoping that the banker would make a slip.

  “Nothing else could have been happening there?”

  The financier raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

  “Ceremonies of some sort. Celebrations, rituals-”

  His words were cut off by a laugh.

  “If you mean did we all dance naked round a fire for Beelzebub, then no. And as far as I know there are no Wiccans or Pagans around here either.”

  Liam wasn’t amused. He was fed up with people poo-pooing his devil worship theory.

  Craig asked another question.

  “And deer? What can you tell me about those?”

  He deliberately didn’t say if they were dead or alive.

  Canavan appeared to think for a moment before answering, although whether he was feigning to make them believe he possessed only a vague knowledge of the species only time would tell.

  “I do remember my father complaining about some dead deer once. He said it was poachers, but my workers might know more.”

  “That’s what we’d hoped, so your gamekeeper’s being interviewed now.”

  Liam thought he detected a slight flinch, although it passed as soon as it appeared. But Craig had seen it too, so he moved on to something else that he hoped would disturb the businessman.

  “You leased some land to a government research facility.”

  “Yes.” The word was accompanied by a vague shrug. “What interest do you have in it?”

  “I wondered why you’d done it. Leased to the government I mean.”

  Canavan turned his palms upwards in a ‘why not’ gesture. “Why does anyone do anything? Money. They were offering us a great deal of it.”

  “Do you have any contact with that facility or its staff?”

  When the businessman stared unblinkingly at him, Craig had to suppress an urge to smile. Such facial immobility was a deliberate attempt not to reveal anything, and in the very act of doing so it inevitably failed. Niall Canavan had had contact with Appside’s staff, regardless of what he said next.

  “No. Why would I?”

  Why indeed? But you have done, Mister Canavan, and we’re going to find out why.

  Without warning the detective stood up.

  “Thank you for your time, Mister Canavan. We’ll need a complete account of your movements between Saturday and today, just to exclude you from our inquiries. A member of my team will be in touch.”

  Then he exited the office with Liam hot on his heels, neither man saying a word until they were in the car.

  The deputy spoke first.

  “Lying git. He’s in contact with someone at Appside all right.”

  “Yes, he is. And he doesn’t like us talking to his gamekeeper for some reason.” Craig started the car. “Give Aidan a call.”

  The D.C.I. answered in three rings, and it only took him that long because he was parking his gum again.

  “What do you need, Liam?”

  “The Canavans’ gamekeeper. Have you spoken to him yet?”

  Aidan glanced out his car window at the man in question. “Not yet, but I’m just about to.”

  “Can you see him from where you are?”

  “I’m looking at him now. Why?”

  “Is he on the phone? Or has he been in the last five minutes?”

  “Nope. He’s busy chopping some wood.”

  “Good. OK, I’m putting you on speaker. Boss?”

  Craig leaned towards the hand set. “Aidan, I want you to interview him immediately, and remove any phones he has first, please. We’ve just come from Niall Canavan’s office and he didn’t like it when we mentioned speaking to his keeper, so the chances are he’ll call him now and try to shut him up.”

  Aidan was out of the car now and walking. “Canavan knows something about the boy’s death?”

  “Or the deer. He knows something about that clearing at the very least. We’re convinced he’s been in contact with someone at Appside as well, but we’ll need a lot more than a hunch before we can nail him with anything. What’s the gamekeeper doing now?”

  “Putting down his axe thankfully, and he’s coming across to say hello.”

  “OK then, we�
�ll leave you to it. Call Liam as soon as you’ve finished.”

  “Do you want him put somewhere that Canavan can’t get at him?”

  “Use your judgment on that. Miranda can help you if you need a cell. Bye.”

  He signalled Liam to cut the call.

  “Get Andy on the line, Liam. Canavan will try to call his brother as well, and we need to have a word first.”

  When they reached Andy, he was in the roof garden of the Belfast city centre apartment block where Dermot Canavan had a pied à terre. Liam got straight to it.

  “Where’s Dermot Canavan?”

  Andy glanced at the subject of their conversation as he replied. “Ten feet away from us taking the sun. We’re on the roof of his block of flats.”

  “Nice for you. OK, don’t interview him there. Take all his phones and secure him at High Street. The boss and I are heading back now.”

  Andy smiled uneasily at the young man leaning against the railings before responding. “Secure on what grounds?”

  “Make something up.” Liam grasped for inspiration. “Tell them there’s been a radioactivity leak near his family home and we need to check him and his clothes, phone and so on for exposure. Des can send someone down to High Street with a radiation counter.”

  From the silence he realised that the D.C.I. didn’t know about the radiation debacle of the night before, so he caught him up fast. Andy’s next question made infinite sense.

  “Won’t Jack object to having a radioactive man in his station?”

  It was a good point; Jack wasn’t even known for his tolerance of detainees with lice, so a full-on glow would definitely hack him off.

  Craig interjected.

  “Take him to the labs then, just as long as he’s away from a phone and secure. Get him tested but tell him you won’t have the readings for a few hours. That should give us enough time to get back there and interview him. Make sure you get all his phones, Andy, and he’s not to make any calls either, I don’t want any contact between those brothers. He’s not under arrest but if he does ask for a solicitor, you or Kyle call them for him.”

  “OK, but before you go. Liam, is it French?”

  Liam stared at the phone, wondering whether Andy’s oil paints had finally rotted his brain.