Murder at the Holiday Home

by David Pearson

  “Were both men shouting?”

  “Yes, both. But I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then it all went quiet for a few minutes, and then, then…”

  “It’s OK, Paulina, take your time. Then you heard a shot. Is that right?” Lyons said.

  “Yes, I guess,” she said, wringing her hands together. Her eyes were full of tears, and Lyons handed her a tissue from her handbag.

  “What did you do when you heard the gun go off?”

  “I wasn’t sure what it was. I have never heard a gun being fired like that. But after a minute, I guessed that something bad had happened, and I called your 999. I was too scared to go out onto the landing.”

  “Did the man leave Matis’ room immediately?”

  “Not immediately. Maybe three or four minutes later. I heard him running down the stairs very fast and out the door.”

  “Did you see this man at all – the one running away?”

  “No. I was afraid to look. Even after he was gone and it was all quiet, I stayed in here until the police came to the door. I was very frightened.”

  “Have you ever seen Matis with any other men at all, Paulina?”

  “No, never. I only see him rarely, and he is always alone. What will happen to me now? Will I be sent home?” Paulina asked.

  “Of course not. You have done nothing wrong. I will ask you to come into the police station tomorrow to make a statement. But if you remember anything – anything at all, no matter how small – please let me know, and thank you for your help,” Lyons said, handing the girl a business card and getting up to leave.

  “Irish police are nicer than ours in Poland,” Paulina said, managing a smile.

  Back in Matis’ room, the forensic team were finishing their meticulous search of the small area. They had taken fingerprints from all around, and were removing the cups that had been left out in case some saliva DNA might be recovered from them. Sinéad Loughran stood up as Lyons came back in.

  “Hi, Maureen. We found the bullet. It was lodged in the bed leg. It’s badly mashed, but we may be able to get some information from it,” she said.

  “Well, that’s something, I suppose. Any sign of his passport or papers?”

  “No, not a trace. I reckon the killer must have taken them with him to slow down the identification process. He can’t have been aware that Matis was known to us already.”

  “What about the laptop? We know he had it here, because he was going to sell it to Mary and Liam tomorrow at eleven,” Lyons said.

  “No, nothing there either, and we’ve had a good look.”

  “OK. I want you to go through the kitchen waste – look for anything at all that might be helpful to us in connecting Matis up to whoever else he was involved with. He must have left some traces behind. Have you been through his pockets?”

  “Yes. €250 in cash and some change, a dirty handkerchief. A Post-it note with some numbers on it, and two wrapped mint sweets – the kind they give you in a restaurant at the end of your meal.”

  “Right. I’m going down to see if the neighbours saw anyone. Let me know if you find anything of interest, thanks.”

  Back down on the street, Lyons met Eamon Flynn who was directing operations.

  “Hi, Eamon. Anything from the door-to-door?”

  “Sorry, boss. Nothing so far. I see the Chemist has a CCTV camera pointed at the door. But it’s inside the shop, and it would have been closed at the time of the incident, or so it says in the window in any case.”

  “Well, dig out the keyholder anyway. Mill Street should have a record of whoever it is. I want that CCTV analysed tonight if it was still recording. And let’s have a briefing at 08:00 tomorrow with everyone.”

  “Right, boss,” Flynn said, knowing that Lyons was in no mood to be challenged.

  Lyons drove back to the Imperial and parked again in the set down area in front of the hotel. She found Janssen sitting at the bar on his own with two thirds of a pint of Guinness in front of him. She sat up on one of the high chairs beside him.

  “Ah, Maureen. What can I get you?” Janssen asked.

  “Oh, just a soda water please, I’m still on duty.”

  “How are things down at the house?”

  “We’re not much further on, I’m afraid.” She explained how little they had discovered. She also told Janssen about the plan to buy the computer, and the fact that it had now gone missing.

  “Well, robbery wasn’t the prime motive for the killing. Otherwise the cash would have been taken. But this has all the signs of a clean-up operation by the gang,” he said.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Vitkus was obviously getting into a little business of his own, selling off the phone and the laptop like that. That would be what they refer to as a loose end, and would need to be taken care of. And it was.”

  “But does that mean that Vitkus murdered Maria Geller?”

  “No, but it’s a possibility. More likely he was selling the stolen stuff for someone else – a friend. Are you certain the phone belonged to Maria Geller?”

  “No, we’re not. But I’ll know first thing tomorrow morning. Forensics have it and are going over it carefully for trace evidence. Would you like to come in at eight o’clock tomorrow and sit in on our meeting?” Lyons said.

  “Yes, I would very much. And I’ll see if I can find out anything in the meantime about your latest victim.”

  “What? At this time of night?”

  “Yes, of course. Our computers never sleep!”

  Lyons said goodnight to Luuk Janssen and left the hotel. When she got back out to the car, she sent a text to Sinéad Loughran asking her to attend the briefing the following morning. There was nothing more she could do that night, so reluctantly, she went home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lyons had persuaded her partner to sit in on the briefing the following morning. With two murders unsolved, and no real clues except for some vague information about gold theft and smuggling, she felt the need for his insight into the case. She was hoping that his greater experience would be able to provide some new direction for the investigation.

  Hays had agreed to join the team for the briefing, but made it clear that he was expecting Lyons to lead. He would stay out of it, unless something occurred to him that they hadn’t thought of.

  Lyons got the meeting underway just after eight. Janssen had turned up, as promised, a few minutes earlier, and was nursing a small paper cup full of what looked like hot treacle.

  “I think you all know Inspector Janssen from the Dutch police by now. Out of courtesy, I’ll ask Inspector Janssen to tell us what he has found out so far,” she said.

  “Thank you for your consideration, Inspector Lyons. In fact, I have discovered quite a lot overnight. I used various IT systems that we can access to burrow a little deeper into our friend Matis.”

  “Oh, and what did you discover?” Lyons asked.

  “Well, firstly, his name is not Vitkus. He was born Mateus Vidas in Akmenyne, on the border between Lithuania and Belarus. Of course, this was all part of the USSR at that time. He’s wanted in several countries by the police, largely for petty crimes, but more latterly for more serious matters involving money laundering. I think he must have come to Ireland to avoid unpleasantness back home, but it looks like it caught up with him in any case.”

  “Thank you, Inspector, that’s very useful. Is there anything else?” Lyons said.

  “Well, I have a list of his known associates. It’s not very long – he was a bit of a loner,” Janssen said, holding up a piece of paper.

  “Great. John, can you take this and get onto our colleagues in Dublin? See if any of them have come into the country recently.” Lyons handed the list to John O’Connor who went over to a quiet corner of the room to make the call.

  “Sinéad – have you got anything for us?” Lyons said.

  “Well, the iPhone did, it seems, belong to Maria Geller. We found skin particles in the charging port, and small trace
s of blood wedged down the side of the screen. The specimens are very small, so some further verification is needed, but I’d put this month’s salary on it being hers. Then, about the other death in Buttermilk Way, the killer was quite careless. He left boot prints and saliva traces on the coffee mug, but no actual fingerprints that we can attribute specifically to him. We did find the bullet shell though – it had rolled under the bed, so we’re still working on that to get more information. We have the actual bullet as well, though it is pretty bashed up. The killer will have powder scorches on his hands and on his clothing though, so if we can find him quickly, we might be able to tie him in.”

  “Thanks, Sinéad. When you’ve finished with the phone, can you give it to John so he can see if he can get anything from it? And what about the knife? Anything there?” Lyons said.

  “Just Vitkus’ fingerprints, boss, and it doesn’t look as if it has been used.”

  “Ok, thanks Sinéad. Anything from the CCTV in the chemists, Eamon?”

  “We got the keyholder out, and they gave us the CD from the system. It’s handy – it records when there’s any movement, so it can run for days if things are quiet before it overwrites. We’ve had a brief look, and we can see someone emerging from the door of the flat at about the time the incident was called in, but they have a hoodie on, and they’re all dressed in black, so no identification, I’m afraid,” Flynn said.

  “Damn. Can you see if there’s any other cameras working on Buttermilk Walk? The chemist’s is surely not the only one. What about the scrap of paper found in the victim’s pocket – anything there?” Lyons said.

  “We’re still trying to figure out what the numbers are, boss,” Sinéad Loughran said.

  At this point Janssen put up his hand.

  “Yes, Luuk, go ahead.”

  “I was just thinking; these people often have several passports. If you could get your friends at the airport to provide a list of everyone who has arrived recently with a Lithuanian passport, I could run the names and see if any aliases pop up.”

  “Excellent!” Lyons said. She looked over to where John O’Connor was standing and he nodded.

  “I’m on it, boss.”

  Then Lyons took a sheet of paper out of her folder.

  “This is a list – a rather short list – of reported burglaries in this area where gold items were reported stolen. It mostly concerns jewellery. I’m not convinced that this is the extent of the robberies. Sally, can you get onto the home insurance companies? There are only three or four that cover the region. Ask for the claims manager, and see if we can get details of any claims involving jewellery, gold or whatever, and cross reference it to this list. We’ll have a look at that later. What about the numbers on the Post-it note Matis had in his trouser pocket? Eamon – can you follow up on that, see if you can make any sense of it? Let’s reconvene after lunch and see how we’re getting on. Oh, Liam, Mary, can you go across to the post-mortem on Matis and see what emerges, if anything? And don’t let Dr Dodd’s rather sarcastic manner intimidate you. He’s a fine pathologist, just a bit quirky,” Lyons said.

  Hays, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, now spoke up as the group started to disperse.

  “Inspector Janssen, I wonder if we could have a word in Maureen’s office?” he said.

  “Yes, of course, sir.”

  Lyons, Hays and Janssen withdrew to Lyons’ office. When they were all seated around Lyons’ desk, Hays spoke to Janssen.

  “Inspector Janssen, I’m not sure if Inspector Lyons has explained my role in these cases to you. I’m the superintendent in charge of the detective units for the region, and to put it bluntly, I’m getting quite a lot of heat from on high with two unsolved murders on my patch. And now, it seems, there is some connection with international organised crime. This is not what we are used to in these parts. If there is anything you can do – anything at all – to help us solve these dreadful crimes quickly, it would be greatly appreciated. The last thing we need is this sort of thing taking hold around here.”

  “Yes, of course, Superintendent. I’ll do anything I can to help, and you can help me too,” Janssen said.

  “Oh, how come? In what way can we help?” Hays said.

  “I didn’t mention this earlier, because I didn’t think it would be helpful, but the way these people work may involve more of the locals than you think. In order to help avoid detection, the criminals that sell the gold often set up some kind of local distribution. If they can send out the gold by post from within the target country, then there is no issue with customs or anything like that. All they have to worry about is getting the gold into the local area in bulk, which is usually done by including it within some other innocuous cargo. We discovered such an arrangement in the Netherlands, which is how I became involved. The gold was being hidden in consignments of ordinary everyday household items from China. It’s so small and easy to hide that it wasn’t discovered by routine inspections. We found 100 small ingots inside a shipment of kitchen utensils. That’s nearly half a million euros worth.”

  “I see. So, you think that there is someone in Ireland receiving quantities of gold and then posting it out to people who buy it on the net?” Lyons said.

  “Quite possibly. And that’s the beauty of it. He or she probably doesn’t know anything about the gold being stolen and sent back to the main distributors in eastern Europe. Very few of the players know each other, which protects the gang from leakage,” Janssen said.

  “But then why kill Geller and this Matis character?” Hays said.

  “Collateral damage. Maybe she got careless, or decided to help herself to a slice. Or maybe they just killed her to keep the others on their toes. These gangs are brutal – they have no regard for human life.”

  “And Matis – why do you think he was killed?” Lyons asked.

  “I need to do some more work on that before I can explain it. I don’t think he killed Geller though. I’m not sure, but I think he may have been just an opportunist who bought the phone and the laptop in a pub for a few euros and was selling them on for profit. But we’ll see. If I can spend some more time using your computers, I may be able to make some headway with it,” Janssen said.

  “Yes, of course. Help yourself. John O’Connor will log you in. He’s our technologist,” Hays said.

  “Thank you. That’s most helpful. Is there anything else?” Janssen said.

  “No, that’s all for now, Inspector. Thanks for your help,” Hays said.

  Janssen got up and left the office to go in search of John O’Connor.

  “What do you think, Mick?” Lyons said.

  “I don’t know. It’s more complex than the cases we’re used to. And if it’s true what he says, then there’s a lot more work to do before we get to the bottom of it. Are you OK with it all?”

  “Sort of. I have a few ideas that might be worth following up. We’ll see.”

  “Care to share?” Hays said.

  “No, not yet. Let’s see if anything comes of them first. It could be a wild goose chase and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of a senior officer!”

  “Hmph. Right, OK if I leave you to it then? I’ve got a flaming juvenile crime meeting with social services in half an hour, and I’d better at least appear that I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Riveting stuff!” Lyons said. She came out from behind the desk and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “See you later then.”

  * * *

  When Hays had left the room, Lyons picked up the phone and called Séan Mulholland in Clifden.

  “Hi, Séan. Look, I think I may have found a way for Peadar Tobin to redeem himself. Is he on duty this morning?”

  “Yes, he is. He’s just gone down town. A tourist has had their motorbike stolen from outside the Station House Hotel. Why?”

  “I have a little job for him. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Can you get him to meet me in the hotel in Oughterard in forty-five minute
s?” Lyons said.

  “I suppose so. What’s it about?” Mulholland said.

  “I’ll tell you after, Séan, if it works out. Sorry, but it’s a bit of a long shot.”

  “Oh, right so. I’ll call him on the radio and get him into Oughterard for ye.”

  “Thanks, Séan. See ya.”

  Lyons found Eamon Flynn and told him that she had to go out, and if she wasn’t back by two o’clock, he was to take the afternoon meeting.

  Flynn agreed, and asked her where she was going, but she wouldn’t say.

  Lyons enjoyed the drive out to Oughterard in her new Volvo. Mid-morning was the best time to travel from a traffic perspective, and once she was clear of the city, she let the car out, enjoying the lively acceleration and good handling that it provided.

  She found Tobin in the lounge of the hotel relaxing with a cup of coffee. Somehow, he had managed to change out of his uniform, and was wearing a pair of navy slacks, a tweed sports jacket, but still had his blue Garda shirt on.

  Tobin stood up as Lyons entered the lounge.

  “Hello, Inspector. Can I get you a coffee or something?” he said.

  “Thanks, Peadar. Yes, a cappuccino would be great.”

  Tobin caught the eye of the waitress and ordered Lyons’ coffee.

  “Thanks for coming in, Peadar. I guess you have some idea what this is about.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s something to do with the murder out at Own Glen. I’m sorry about that business with McCutcheon. I didn’t know it would lead to trouble.”

  “I think Séan is looking after that for us. But there have been some fairly significant developments since.”

  Lyons brought Tobin up to date, telling him most of what Janssen had revealed, and of course outlining the events surrounding the second murder.

  “God, that’s a right old mess, all right. So, how can I help, Inspector?”

  “I’d like you to take yourself out to Westport and befriend one of the girls working at the Eurosaver shop. I’d like to know if there’s anything going on there – it doesn’t feel quite right to me,” Lyons said.