Death to Pay (3 page)

‘What about the method?’ Moira said as they made their way to the car park. ‘Surely if someone wanted to kill her they could have used a knife or a gun.’

‘That’s been bothering me too. Lizzie’s head was smashed to a pulp. The question is why?’

CHAPTER 5

Wilson’s in-head alarm clock woke him at seven thirty exactly. He managed five hours of fitful sleep and had only begun to sleep properly just as his brain told him it was time to get up. He extended his arm to find that he was alone. He left the bed and without showering or dressing headed for the living room. Kate was seated at her desk a cup of steaming coffee within reach of her right hand.

‘How long have you been up?’ he wrapped his arms around her neck.

‘Maybe twenty minutes,’ she tilted her head upwards in an effort to see him.

‘Liar, liar. If you don’t stop, Junior is going to come out thinking lying is okay.’

‘No, I’m serious. This is my first cup of coffee,’ she turned to face him. ‘You were remarkably quiet coming to bed last night. How did it go?’

‘I’d be happy if it turns out to be just Armageddon,’ he pulled her to her feet and kissed her. ‘Works finished for you this morning. Get me a coffee while I take a quick shower, and I’ll fill you in.’

They sat at the breakfast bar directly across from each other while he told her of Lizzie Rice’s murder and the visit to the Royal Victoria.

‘How bad is it?’ she asked when he’d finished.

‘There’ll be people on the street tonight, a couple of cars will be burned, and some police and protesters will be injured. Tomorrow night will be worse and things will escalate until we manage to apprehend someone.’

‘And what are the chances of that?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. I hope we’ll have something from forensics today, but I’m not counting on it. This murder was planned. The killer, or killers, knew when Lizzie was due home. Billy was dispatched to the fairies and the killer waited quietly until Lizzie came home. Then he smashed her head in. It took planning and daring. We’re not going to find whoever did it that easily.’

Kate finished her coffee and stood up. ‘I’m sorry for your trouble but I’ve got a busy day ahead. I’ll be in court until at least four o’clock, and then I have some client meetings. I hope to make it home by eight.’

‘Remember our little talk about cutting back on work, and please try to be home before the riot starts.’

Lizzie had made the front page of the Belfast Chronicle and was the first item on the TV news channels. Sky even managed to get their national crime correspondent to Belfast in time to report on the early-morning news. Wilson could only imagine the level of activity at PSNI HQ. The Chief Constable and his minions would be pissing themselves at the expected fallout.

‘Christ, Boss,’ Detective Constable Harry Graham said as Wilson entered the Murder Squad Room at the station in the heart of the Shankill. ‘Twitter is going crazy. If the idiots who create these social network sites could see the uses that they get put to, maybe they’d have had second thoughts. The riot for to-night is already organised and Sammy hasn’t even appeared on the scene yet.’

‘Tell me something I hadn’t expected,’ Wilson said heading for his office at the end of the room. He closed the glass door and laid a copy of the Chronicle on the desk. The details were sketchy, but the central point was that a major Loyalist figure had been brutally murdered in her home. In these days of sound bites that was all the balaclava wearing rioters would need to know. He stared out at the five members of his team. They were all busy on their computers, but he knew that, in reality, they were all waiting for him to get them into gear. Although he had been promoted to Detective Superintendent for several months, the sign that some wag had erected at the end of the room with the legend ‘KEEP CALM THERE’S A NEW SUPERINTENDENT IN THE HOUSE’ was still in place. He turned on his computer and looked at the list of e-mails. An e-mail from Forensics told him the crime scene photos would not be available until ten o’clock. The autopsy on Lizzie would begin at 10:30 at the Royal Victoria according to an e-mail from Professor Reid and he had a feeling that it meant 10:30 and not 10:31. And there was the frantic e-mail from his boss, Chief Superintendent Spence asking him to brief him as soon as possible since Public Relations had been banging on his door about a press conference later in the day.  The forensic report would not be available until some time during the evening. It had been given the express treatment, and if it could be sent earlier, it would be. The last e-mail he opened was from Human Resources reminding him to keep control on the overtime costs. That was a major laugh. He left his office aware of five pairs of eyes following him as he made his way to two whiteboards at the side of the room.

‘Gather round children,’ he said. He picked up a felt pen and wrote ‘Lizzie Rice’ on the top of one of the whiteboards

His team comprising Detective Sergeant Moira McElvaney and Detective Constables Harry Graham, Peter Davidson, Eric Taylor and Ronald McIver made a semi circle with Wilson at the centre.

‘Moira, briefing please.’

Moira pulled out her notebook and gave a succinct briefing of the finding of the body of Lizzie Rice at the Malvern Street house and the interview with Billy Rice.

‘I have no need to remind you that this is probably the highest profile case we’ve ever handled,’ Wilson said when McElvaney finished her briefing. ‘The photos will be on the computer in an hour and the autopsy starts at 10:30. The forensics are promised by this evening.’

‘You want me on the autopsy, Boss?’ Graham asked.

‘Thanks, Harry, but I’ll handle this one myself. I want you to put the hustle on the forensic guys. The sooner we have the results the better. Even something preliminary would be helpful.’ He turned to Davidson. ‘Peter, the house-to-house?’

‘We tried to get something going last night, Boss, but conditions weren’t ideal. I have four uniforms available, and we’ll be doing the streets in the neighbourhood in half an hour.’

‘Eric, Lizzie was at the bingo last night. Check it out and see did anything out of the ordinary happen there.’

Eric Taylor nodded.

‘I don’t have to tell you that we’re all going to feel some pressure on this one.’

‘What about the overtime, Boss?’ Graham asked.

‘More school uniforms to buy, eh Harry,’ Wilson smiled. ‘Although I have no confirmation from above, my guess is that overtime will not be an issue on this case.’

CHAPTER 6

Wilson entered the Royal Victoria Hospital Complex from the Grosvenor Road and made his way to the car park at the rear of the Mortuary Building that was itself located at the hindmost section of the complex. The red and yellow brick construction of the Mortuary was very much in keeping with the 19
^th
century origins of the ‘Royal’ as it the locals call it. Wilson entered by the portico door and was shown to Autopsy Room No.1, where he found Professor Reid. The corpse that was Lizzie Rice was laid out naked on a stainless steel table with channels all round to direct the flow of fluids.

‘Will you stay here or do you prefer to watch from above?’ Reid nodded towards the viewing area at the end of the room.

‘And good morning to you too, Professor.’

‘Up or down, your choice. But if you decide to stay here I suggest you gown up. I’m not an expert on men’s fashion, but that suit looks like it might have cost more than a few hundred pounds. It’d be a shame to wreck it in the name of justice.’

Reid’s male assistant already held a green set of surgical scrubs in his hand, and Wilson quickly climbed into it.

Reid pulled down the microphone which was located above the table. ‘This is the autopsy of Elizabeth Rice. The subject is a female of approximately fifty-five years. Although the injuries she sustained, which caused her death are to her head, I will begin by examining the internal organs.’ She picked up a scalpel and made a long incision straight down the corpse’s sternum. Then she picked up the rotating saw.

One hour later, Reid pushed up the microphone and moved towards a rack of washbasins in the corner of the room. She removed her surgical hat and gave her blond hair a toss. Then she removed two bloodstained gloves from her hands and tossed them into a bin located beneath the washbasin. She removed the rest of the surgical garb and thoroughly washed her hands.

‘A very professional performance,’ Wilson said dumping his scrubs into a basket.

‘You got the gist I suppose,’ she said.

‘You mean the bit about the tumour in the lungs and the embryonic tumours in the pancreas.’

‘Elizabeth Rice would have been dead in six to twelve months if someone hadn’t bothered to murder her. ‘

‘Unfortunately they weren’t to know that, and they wanted to make sure that she died. Do you have time for a coffee?’

‘Sorry, the next client is about to be wheeled in. This one appears to have died naturally, but we shall have to wait and see.’

‘What about the blows to the head?’

‘They accomplished their purpose. My assistant will take an impression, and we’ll send it to the pathology lab. We should have some idea of what the blunt instrument was, but I wouldn’t like to speculate any further except to say that it was something very heavy. Given that the impacts came from behind and the strikes appear to have been right to left. I’d say you’re looking for someone who is right handed. But you’d already deduced that from my commentary.’

‘I’m at least that much of a detective. Anything else worth noting?’

‘Other than the fact that this woman ruined her body with cigarettes and booze?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll review the transcript of the tape later and if anything strikes me, I’ll get on to you. ‘

They both turned as a gurney entered the room with an enormous naked man on it.

‘Duty calls,’ she said accepting a new surgical outfit from her assistant. She nodded at the man on the gurney. ‘And somebody is wondering why he got a massive heart attack.’

CHAPTER 7

The crime scene photos arrived, and a set was already attached to one of the whiteboards. Wilson went into his office and opened a copy of the photos on his computer. He went through them one by one, enlarging them as he went. He didn’t note anything of significance, but he decided to wait for the full forensic report. He was still examining the photos when his phone rang.

‘My office, now,’ Chief Superintendent Spence, the boss of the station was not noted for being longwinded.

Two minutes later and three flights of stairs higher, Wilson knocked on Spence’s office door and entered. The Chief Superintendent was seated at his desk. He had dispensed with his uniform jacket, his black tie was loosened, and the top button on his shirt was open. Things were indeed serious when the Chief Super could be considered to be casually dressed.

‘What a royal screw-up,’ he said nodding at the chair in front of his desk. ‘Please tell me that we’re making some progress.’

‘I’m just back from the autopsy, ‘Wilson flopped onto the proffered chair. He had worked with Spence for five years, and they were not only colleagues but friends. And given Wilson’s relationship with PSNI HQ, he needed every friend he could get.  Spence was eight months away from the compulsory retirement age of 65. He had a full head of grey hair, and his obsession with golf had kept a paunch at bay. ‘The bloody bugger jumped the gun,’ Wilson continued. ‘Lizzie was riddled with cancer and would have been dead in six to twelve months. Peter Davidson is organising a house-to-house but since I haven’t heard from him, I must assume that nothing has surfaced so far. There are no CCTV cameras in Malvern Street, but we’re checking the available CCTV in the area. I wouldn’t hold out too much hope though.’

‘You mean to tell me that someone just breezed into the Shankill and killed a prominent Loyalist and then buggered off and nobody saw anything.’

‘That conclusion is a bit premature. We have all our resources out there at the moment, but it doesn’t look fantastic.’

‘The DCC has organised a press conference for fifteen hundred hours. He wanted to catch the late editions of the newspapers.’

‘And the six o’clock TV news, no doubt.’

Spence smiled. ‘We’ll need a statement, so draft something positive that the DCC can say. We hear that there’ll be two to three hundred rioters on the street to-night. Send me the draft and I’ll forward it to HQ so that the spin doctors can get at it. Any news of Sammy?’

Wilson stood up. ‘We’re expecting the explosion any minute.’

Although Wilson wasn’t aware of it, the explosion was already taking place four floors below in the reception area of the station. Wilson’s mobile rang as he was descending the stairs to the Murder squad room.

‘Help,’ the Desk Sergeant said simply.

A mini riot was taking place in the reception area by the time Wilson arrived. Sammy Rice’s blond locks were in full flow as he flung every manner of invective at the Desk Sergeant. The former leader of the UVF in West Belfast was surrounded by five of his leather-jacketed troops who were adding to the commotion as much as they could. The Desk Sergeant who was no shrinking violet himself had stood back from the counter separating him from the mini mob.

‘OK, everyone shut the hell up,’ Wilson shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Everybody out except him,’ he pointed at Sammy Rice. For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Just as the shouting was about to begin again Wilson said. ‘I’m going to arrest every man still in the reception area in one minute and charge them with affray. Sergeant put Mr Rice in the soft interrogation room, and I’ll join him there in five minutes. If these men are still here in one minute, call out the station and have them all arrested including Mr Rice.’

Wilson waited until he saw Sammy give the troops the signal to disperse.