The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (15 page)

“Davy?”

Davy had listened to the exchange calmly, knowing that Craig never veered too far from the point.

“OK. The point is that w…we believe Weston killed Fintan Delaney and perhaps her method will give us some more clues about her. Now we need to find out why s…she killed him.” He tapped a finger on Weston’s biography. “Weston and Delaney both went to Queen’s but she’d left by the time Delaney arrived. She studied Theology and we know that Delaney w…was heavily involved with his faith, so I’m checking if they were in any religious groups together, but the university office is closed today.”

Annette interrupted. “If Weston went abroad after her nurse training, do we know where?”

Davy shook his head. “Not s…so far. I’m running the airline passenger databases but I think the quickest w…way to find out is to ask her family.” He nodded at his page. “Their details are on there.”

Davy paused for a moment, considering whether he’d finished with Jennifer Weston. A barely perceptible shrug said that he had. He turned to page three of his hand-out.

“OK. This is the most up-to-date info on the forensics from Papyrus. Three of the blast victims have been identified and Fintan Delaney was, until this morning, the only s…survivor. The fourth bomb victim is so far unknown but Dr Winter is working on the DNA and I’m hoping to get the s…street and traffic-cam info through tomorrow, so we should be able to see who entered and left the shop that day.”

Liam leaned forward. “I’ve some stuff on Sharpy.”

Craig waved him back. “Let Davy finish first.”

Davy smiled so smugly that it had the subtext of him sticking out his tongue, then he realised that he had actually finished. He scrambled for something more to say to thwart Liam’s inevitable satisfied smile. “And I’m getting Fintan Delaney’s laptop and phone tomorrow.”

Craig nodded. He hadn’t thought of it but he was glad that Davy had. Something occurred to him. “Hold on, Davy; where are they coming from? We didn’t get a warrant for Delaney’s house.”

Davy grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to Craig. It was headed with a regimental crest.

“Captain Smith got it after the explosion. Apparently it’s normal procedure when there’s a bomb. Everyone, even a survivor, is s…suspect.”

Annette nodded. “Especially the only survivor, I imagine.”

Craig frowned, unsure of either the legality of the army warrant or its jurisdiction. “Did the army search the house, Davy?”

“Not in any depth as far as I know, just lifted the computer. Delaney’s phone was already at St Mary’s. The w…warrant covers a search and all the contents.” He stared at Craig. “Do you w…want me to leave it, chief?”

Craig stared hard at the paper. He wanted to know what was on Fintan Delaney’s computer as much as anyone; it probably held clues to what had got him killed, but he didn’t want dodgy procedure messing up their case in court. After a moment he nodded.

“Leave it until I check this with the lawyers. I spoke to Delaney’s parents and they seemed happy for us to look at anything in his flat, they just want his murder solved.” He set the warrant down. “I’ll get them to sign something then we won’t need this. But good thinking anyway. I’m pretty sure you’ll get the phone and laptop contents tomorrow either way. Anything else?”

“That’s me finished.” Davy was about to hand over when he remembered something else. “Oh, yes. Hanna W…Weir, Delaney’s old girlfriend. She’s clean. S…She’s at Uni in London and engaged.”

He sat back and Craig waved Annette on while he thought of the army’s arrogance. They weren’t content with just dealing with the bomb; they’d almost messed up his murder investigation as well.

Annette handed out a single sheet. “I know it doesn’t look like much but it’s taken me hours of land searches and calls to Company House to narrow things to this. The company developing that part of Smithfield is called SNI Property Holdings. Don’t ask me what the SNI stands for, because trust me, I’ve searched everywhere.”

Liam cut in. “The N.I. must be Northern Ireland.”

“Thanks, Einstein. I’d already worked that bit out. It’s the’ S’ that’s a mystery. Anyway, the parent company has holdings in the UK, Republic of Ireland, Italy, Australia and elsewhere.”

Craig interrupted. “Where elsewhere?”

“China mostly and some in the Middle East. Their modus operandi is to find an area they want to develop and aggressively target the existing tenants until they leave. They offer money and perks and if that doesn’t work they make life so difficult that people move.”

“Have they ever destroyed a property before, Annette?”

Annette shook her head firmly. “Never. That brings me onto my next point. I don’t think they had anything to do with the explosion. They’ve intimidated and bought people out, but none of their target properties in any country has ever been bombed.”

Craig shrugged. “Perhaps they’d never encountered anyone as stubborn as Jules Robinson. He sounds like he gave a new meaning to the word thran. Either way, we need to dig deeper.”

Davy whispered to Liam. “W…What’s thran mean? I’ve never heard of it.”

Liam leaned back, totally ruining Davy’s attempt at covertness, then he explained in a loud voice, like a teacher lecturing a particularly dim student.

“Thran means awkward, stubborn or pig-headed.”

Davy smirked. “So basically the boss was describing you.”

Craig stared at them. “Pay attention, you two.”

He waved Annette on and she covered her research into SNI, ending with a puzzled frown. “That’s all I could find, except that their solicitor in Belfast is someone we all know; James Trimble.”

Liam lurched forward. “James Trimble who did all the UKF’s defence work?”

“The same. He’s been working with SNI since 2012.”

Craig nodded. It made sense. If the UKF’s solicitor acted for the company that had wanted Jules Robinson’s shop then it was likely that Sharpy Greer had been in contact with SNI. If she was inspecting SNI’s future purchase it would explain why she’d been in Papyrus. It also made it unlikely that either the UKF or SNI had planted the bomb. Craig perused the group’s faces as they all reached the same conclusion; all except Liam. He checked that Annette had finished and nodded Liam on.

“Aye, well; Sharpy... I met with an old mucker of ours earlier today; Tommy Hill.”

Craig raised an eyebrow, not in disapproval but in curiosity. “How is Tommy these days?”

“Keeping his nose clean by all accounts. Full of the joys of the baby. He even showed me her photo.” Liam smiled, thinking of his baby son. “She’s bonny, right enough, and the Kerrs have had her christened; that’s what the photo was. Anyway, the old lag seems to be keeping his nose clean for her sake.”

Craig interrupted. “That and the fact that half his gang are still locked up in Maghaberry.”

“Aye, that’s helping too. Anyway, it seems that the UKF have had a name change.”

“To?”

“UKUF. I can’t keep saying ‘the’ UKUF; it’s way too grand for that bunch. Anyhow UKUF stands for UK Ulster Force. Seems they changed their name after the flag fiasco at the City Hall, just for emphasis.”

“I’m guessing Tommy didn’t say fiasco.”

“Nope. He called it a disgrace. Anyhow. Sharpy was still ruling them with a rod of iron, helped by her son Zac.”

Craig startled. Zac Greer would still have been at school. “Look into that, Liam. Zac can’t be sixteen yet.”

“Alexander the Great w…was sixteen when he became regent.”

Craig glanced at Davy sceptically. “Zac is no Greek hero, trust me. He’s got a juvenile record as long as your arm.”

Liam dragged the spotlight back to himself. “Aye well. Whoever UKUF’s boss is, Tommy confirmed they’re running protection in Smithfield. I tried to get him to tell me about their other activities but no joy.”

Craig nodded. So Sharon Greer had been at Papyrus inspecting her protection interest, and probably casing it for the SNI takeover. She’d just picked the wrong day to do it.

“By the way, boss. I gave Tommy what we discussed last week.”

“Good. Hopefully it will keep him out of trouble.”

Annette looked quizzically at the two men. “What did you give him?”

Liam tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially and Annette decided that to ask any more would give him too much importance. She would find out some other way.

“I was planning a visit to UKUF tomorrow, boss. What do you think?”

“Take Jake with you please, or if he’s not back take some uniforms. The paramilitaries on both sides hate us. And remember, we haven’t notified the next of kin about Sharon Greer’s death yet, so the boy won’t know.”

Liam nodded and handed back to Craig to sum up. Some threads were coming together and others were unravelling. Sadie Robinson’s story about protection was true, as were her words about the developers. UKUF was extorting money from Papyrus, and probably all of the businesses in the area, so there would have been no percentage it in for them to blow the bookshop up. And unless Zac Greer had suddenly decided to stage a coup, he certainly wouldn’t have destroyed the shop with his own mother inside; it was too like a plot from ancient Rome, even for them. Who would have benefited from blowing-up the shop, as opposed to a well-ordered demolition? Craig threw the question out there.

“OK, who wanted the shop gone?”

“The developers.”

“UKUF?”

“Someone who hated Jules Robinson.”

The suggestions came thick and fast and Craig sifted through them.

“OK, not UKUF unless Zac wanted his mother dead. Liam, check that out tomorrow. Someone who hated Jules Robinson is a possibility, but they could just have easily hated one of the other victims. We need more background on all of them to rule that out, including how often did each of them visit the shop and was it regular enough to tie it to that specific day? Everyone, get on that, please. We know that Fintan Delaney was a target, but was he the original target of the explosion?”

“Bit of a blunt way to kill him, blowing up a whole s…shop.”

Craig nodded. Davy was right. The niggle that had been there for days suddenly returned to annoy him. He couldn’t work out what it was yet, but he knew that it wasn’t something they were already working on.

“Demolishing the shop was part of the plan for SNI, albeit not in quite such an explosive way.”

“But knocking it down served their purpose, sir. It didn’t serve anyone else’s.”

“True, Annette, but if SNI was working with UKUF then they would hardly have destroyed the shop with Sharon Greer inside.”

Liam interjected eagerly. “Unless they’d got the message that Zac wanted rid of his Mum so he could take over the empire.”

Craig considered for a moment. They’d gone past detective work into the realm of speculation. It was always a risk but sometimes they struck gold. If Zac was involved they needed facts to prove it.

“OK, that brings us to background again. Liam, follow up on UKUF. Annette, go and meet the boss of SNI. Davy, you’ll have your hands full with the background checks and Delaney’s computer and phones. I’m going to his flat tomorrow to see if there’s anything there, then I want to interview James Trimble.”

“Here or at High Street, sir?”

Craig was taken aback by Nicky’s words; she’d been so quiet he’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Good point, Nicky and I think you’re right, High Street will put Trimble on the spot. It’ll make a pleasant change from him doing it to one of us. Invite him to join me there tomorrow afternoon. The timing is up to you.” Craig stood up. “Right. It’s almost five o’clock on a Sunday and you all have a life outside this place. So go and live it and we’ll brief tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

Nicky waited until the group had dispersed and then glanced across the floor, to where Carmen was making no moves to leave. She watched as the constable rummaged in her handbag with an intense look on her face, as if its contents were desperately important. The others grabbed their coats and headed for the exit, hurrying home to their partners and kids. She was eager to do the same but she had a theory to prove. She hung back, well out of Carmen’s eye-line and watched as she glanced up occasionally to check if everyone else had gone.

Craig walked past his sparky P.A. and turned to see where her eyes were fixed. Nicky glanced at him meaningfully then back at the new member of the team. Craig beckoned her into his office. “What do you think?”

“I think she’s spikey and Liam’s been giving her a hard time for it; rightly, probably. But it’s why she’s spikey that’s interesting. I think she’s lonely, sir.”

Craig’s raised an eyebrow. “On what basis?”

“Well, look at her. It’s a Sunday evening and she doesn’t have any work to do yet, yet she’s hanging around here pretending to look in her bag for something until she thinks that everyone’s gone.”

“And?”

“She looks so sad.” Nicky folded her arms in a way that brooked no argument. “She’s lonely.”

She stared pointedly at Craig’s wall clock and her message was clear. Craig nodded and they walked out of the office together and across to Carmen’s temporary desk. Craig spoke first.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk, Carmen, so how about that chat now?”

Carman’s blue eyes lit up before she realised how nerdy such eagerness must look. She glanced away, feigning cool. “But it’s a Sunday evening, sir. Haven’t you got better things to do?”

Craig shook his head. “Nicky and I were just heading over to The James Bar for a drink. Let’s chat there.” He glanced at Nicky. “OK?”

“More than OK. Gary’s taken Jonny, that’s my twelve year old, to his granny’s. They won’t be back until seven.”

“That’s settled then. We’ll leave in five minutes.”

Craig turned on his heel quickly, but not so quickly that he didn’t see the happy look in Carmen’s eyes. Nicky was right; she was lonely. But a drink was only a temporary solution. Craig shook his head and smiled, knowing that this was only step one of whatever plan Nicky was hatching. If he knew one thing about his kind P.A. it was that she wouldn’t be happy until their new detective constable was.

Chapter Fourteen

Karachi. 9 p.m. local time

By the time the long plane journey ended Jenny Weston had convinced herself that she’d done the right thing. The explosion had destroyed one part of their problem and her terminating Fintan had dealt with the rest. She’d foolishly allowed herself to develop feelings for the boy; it was self-indulgent and had almost threatened their mission. Fareed had been right to send her to finish the job; it had brought her focus back.

As she disembarked the plane, the last thing she expected to see was the head of their operation in the arrival’s lounge. Fareed nodded at her and then towards the exit, his message clear; follow me. It could only mean one thing; that somehow their mission had failed. Perhaps Fintan was still alive? She shook her head. No, he was definitely dead. But whatever had happened their mission wasn’t over yet.

***

Docklands. Monday. 11 a.m.

“Nicky, what time am I meeting Trimble?”

“Two o’clock. Is anyone going with you?”

Craig cast a look around the squad-room. Annette and Liam were out and Jake was off the scene for at least another week. That left Davy and Carmen. Carmen had been pleasant enough company in the pub the evening before, although her tendency to quote facts in a ‘did you know’ way was vaguely annoying. But with Jake gone she was all they had. Craig remembered something and frowned.

“What happened to Ken Smith? He was supposed to have been here at nine o’clock.”

Nicky smiled. “He phoned through. He’ll be here at one. Something about Major James insisting that he takes some parade.”

Craig nodded, unsurprised at Stephen James’ need to assert his power; it had been written all over the man when they’d met. He pondered James’ ploy for a moment. He’d never understood the military’s thing about parades; the need to line everyone up and have them bellow out their name. It was like school. Craig smiled, imagining what would happen if he tried it on his team. Nicky read his mind and shook her head.

“OK, Carmen can come with me to High Street. The way we’re going for staff we’re lucky to have her.”

Craig re-entered his office, casting a longing look at Nicky’s percolator on the way.

“You want coffee and not to be disturbed for an hour. Right?”

“Right. Unless it’s John.”

She lifted a pile of files and pressed them into his hand. “Since you’ve got a free hour these need your signature for court, and I’ve some more letters to bring in.”

Craig closed the office door firmly behind him and sat down in his chair, swivelling it round so that his back was to the door. He stared out at the glinting summer river, forgetting the files he’d just set on his desk, and started to search for the itch that was scratching at the back of his brain.

Why would a developer blow up a property when they knew it was going to draw unwelcome attention? SNI had never done it before. And if they had decided to do it, then why not at night when the place was empty? It would have served the same aim; to destroy the property. The Robinsons were elderly and unlikely to want to rebuild. They would have got the insurance money, sold SNI the land and everyone would have been happy enough.

And if Sharon Greer was working with SNI then why would they kill her? Why would UKUF? Even if Zac Greer wanted his mother out of the way, and they had no proof that he did, there were easier ways that wouldn’t start the cops snooping into their affairs. Craig shook his head. No; none of it made sense. Unless…

The office door was tapped quietly and Craig said “come in”. A moment later he was holding a strong coffee and staring at a pair of seagulls on his windowsill. His thoughts returned to the case.

Unless what? Unless whoever had planted the bomb had wanted to kill everyone in the shop as well as destroy it. No, too random. Not everyone in the shop, just someone. The logical answer was that Fintan Delaney had been the target all along and that’s why they’d come back to finish him off, but there were things that pointed away from him. First his age; how many enemies could someone have made by the age of twenty, especially enemies this vicious? And there must have been other places where they could have killed him more easily; his student digs for a start. And if Delaney was the target then why allow him to be in the most protected position in the shop when the bomb went off? Surely they would have arranged for him to be right on top of it. Craig shook his head in frustration and turned back to the other victims.

So Sharon Greer was at Papyrus inspecting her empire and Barry McGovern was a regular visitor. How regular? Regular enough to say with certainty that he would have been in Papyrus on a Thursday afternoon, or was he just there at the wrong time? More questions to ask. That left Jules Robinson who was there every day, but if he’d been the target, with or without his shop, then why not blow it up when he was alone, opening or closing up? And what about their unidentified victim; who was he? Craig hoped fervently that if John managed to extract his DNA it was on a database somewhere. He lifted the phone to the lab and John answered in three rings.

“Did you get it?”

John raised an eyebrow and considered lecturing Craig on his conversational skills. Instead he answered in kind.

“Running the database now.”

“Brilliant! Get it over to Davy as and when.”

“I’ll see you at four.”

Craig dropped the phone, forgiving his own rudeness; John was just as bad when he was fixed on an idea. They had their bomb victim’s DNA and soon they would have a name. Even Craig knew that his optimism was touching; if their victim wasn’t on a database he might be John Doe forever.

Craig sipped his cooling coffee and turned back to the niggle that had kept him awake half the night. He reached hard for the elusive idea as it disappeared, first down one rabbit hole and then down the next. Finally he had it cornered in the darkness. What if it hadn’t been Papyrus or a particular person that the bomber had wanted to destroy, but something else? But what?

A concept? A brand? No, too intangible. Suddenly the rabbit-hole’s light flickered on and Craig could see the answer clearly; it was something he’d already thought of and dismissed. A book. What if they really had bombed Papyrus to get rid of a book, or books? What if Jules Robinson had found a valuable book that someone had wanted? Or wanted to destroy? But why? For its worth? A collector trying to maintain their own rare book’s value; a value that only held true if you owned the only copy?

Craig was out the door and across to Davy before Nicky had time to turn.

“Davy!”

Davy raised his eyes calmly, quite used to Craig’s eureka moments. Carmen on the other hand was not. She gawped at the speed that he crossed the room; Aidan Hughes had barely moved beyond a stroll.

“Yes, chief?”

“Books.”

Davy nodded and tapped on the screen to his right. A document appeared and Craig grinned.

“Is that Jules Robinson’s inventory?”

“Yup. All except whatever he’d ordered in the past two w…weeks.”

“Damn.”

“Don’t w…worry. I’m going through the order books his w…wife gave me and following up a few other leads.”

Craig nodded. “Print me a copy of that list and keep me up to speed with anything you get.”

A moment later Craig was holding twenty hot pages and heading back to his room.

***

1 p.m.

Davy swung between his three computer screens and frowned as he tried to link the traffic-cam views and street CCTV around Papyrus with what was left of the feed from inside the shop. He was tapping so frequently on his keyboards that it was irritating. Eventually Nicky had had enough and she rose to tell him just as an athletic looking man entered the squad. From his confident stride and upright posture Nicky guessed military. Ken Smith’s clean-shaven smile backed her supposition up.

“Ken Smith to see Superintendent Craig.”

A small frisson of excitement made Nicky brush back her already smooth ponytail, then she reminded herself that she was married and reluctantly accepted that someone else would have to benefit from Smith’s charm. As she turned to show him into Craig’s office she had a mischievous thought. She knocked Craig’s door once and opened it, ushering the captain in.

“Captain Smith, sir. I’ll bring fresh coffee.”

Craig rose and the two men shook hands. Nicky returned quickly with coffee and biscuits then left the door open just a crack, knowing that any information she gleaned would aid her plan. Craig poured the coffees, talking as he did.

“We’re glad to have you, Captain Smith.”

“Ken. I can’t go around being called Captain.”

Craig smiled. “Fine. Well, we’re glad to have you, as I said. Jake McLean our sergeant is off sick, and we have a new member of staff seconded to us from Vice, just for two weeks. That just leaves five core team members. Nicky, who you’ve already met. Just remember that she owns this floor and you’ll be fine. D.C.I. Liam Cullen, who you met at the explosion site. Detective Inspector Annette McElroy; she and Liam are both out on enquiries, and Davy Walsh our analyst, who I’ll introduce you to in a moment. We also work very closely with the Northern Ireland Forensic labs and our lead pathologist and forensic scientist are coming to the briefing at four o’clock.”

“Who’s the other secondee?”

Craig suddenly remembered Carmen and nodded. “Ah yes, sorry. That’s Detective Constable Carmen McGregor; she’s outside now.” Craig glanced at his watch. “Sorry to rush you but Carmen and I are interviewing at High Street Station at two. We often use the rooms there for interviews. I’ll introduce you to anyone who’s here now and Nicky has prepared a pack with up-to-date findings for you to read before the briefing.” Craig glanced at the percolator. “Top your coffee up and follow me.”

A moment later they were standing in front of Davy’s desk, listening to him swear beneath his breath as his eyes darted back and forth between three screens. Smith gazed at him with an amused expression until eventually Craig coughed and Davy registered that they were standing there. He sighed dramatically, launching into a rant about street cameras until Craig’s sideways glance at Smith drew him to a halt; he’d been so focused that he’d hadn’t noticed they had a guest. Davy sprang to his feet and nodded hello. Smith nodded hello back. He considered shaking hands then realised that the gesture was too old- fashioned for the young Emo.

“Davy, this is Captain Smith; Ken. He’s joining us for two weeks as military liaison.”

Smith interjected. “And general dogsbody. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Good. Davy’s your man for cameras, computers, phones and links with Dr Marsham in forensics. For pretty much everything really.”

Nicky chipped in. “Everything that I don’t do.”

Craig smiled. “Like Nicky said. OK, Davy, Ken’s going to remain here and get up to speed for the next few hours. Give him any help you can, please.”

Davy nodded eagerly. “I’d love to talk to you about bomb s…signatures.”

“Sure. Give me time to read the briefing pack then I’m all yours.”

Before the two men disappeared into a discussion about wires and chemicals Craig steered Smith towards the empty desk that Nicky had set up.

“This will be your home for two weeks; let Nicky know if you need anything.”

He was just about to head back to his office when he caught Davy’s eyes signalling towards Carmen. He’d forgotten all about her! Craig’s horror at his bad manners was mitigated only by the fact that she was so new. He covered his mistake by turning smoothly towards Carmen’s desk, set diagonally opposite Smith’s own.

“Captain Ken Smith, let me introduce you to Detective Constable Carmen McGregor.”

Craig completely missed the colour rising in Smith’s cheeks as Carmen rose to shake his hand.

“Carmen McGregor.”

“Ken Smith.”

Smith lingered a second too long on his handshake and both Davy and Nicky read the situation in a glance. Nicky smiled to herself. She’d been planning to match-make the newbies since Smith had walked onto the floor, but now that he was so obviously attracted to Carmen, it would be even easier. Carmen’s disinterested expression made her think again.

Carmen’s happiness at being invited to the pub the evening before had underlined her social isolation and Smith’s obvious attraction to her seemed like the answer to a maiden’s prayer. So why wasn’t she sending out interested vibes?

The secondees settled back to their desks and Craig strolled back to his office, throwing. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes, Carmen” behind him as he did. He re-entered his office, completely missing the direction of Nicky’s continued gaze. Davy didn’t. He loped over to her desk and perched beside her.

“Are you planning w…what I think you are?”

Nicky turned briskly towards her screen. “What are you talking about?”

Davy squinted at her. “You know w…what. You’re planning to match-make those two.”

Nicky thrust out her chin stubbornly. “What if I am? I think they’d make a great pair.”

Davy’s voice rose an octave in indignation. “W…Well first, I’m not sure Carmen agrees with you and s…secondly, how come when Maggie and I were getting together you tried to s…sabotage it at every turn, but this time you’re setting it up?”

Nicky was outraged. “I did not try to sabotage it!”

“Oh yes you did. You told me she was too old for me and that I couldn’t possibly date a journalist because she would try to s…snoop on our cases!”

Maggie was a journalist at The Belfast Chronicle and five years older than Davy. In Nicky’s opinion she’d been far too sophisticated for the twenty-five-year-old Davy when they’d met, although she liked her now.

Nicky was about to deny everything then she thought for a moment and laughed instead, making Davy even more irate. She raised her elegant hands in surrender.

“OK, OK. I admit that I was protective of you and I was wrong; Maggie’s lovely.”

“You can tell her that at the w…wedding. She’s still terrified of you.”

Nicky was about to say “really?” but she stored the fact away for future use instead. It was no bad thing to have people a little afraid of you; it stopped them taking liberties. The old expression ‘Keep in with the bad for the good will do you no harm’ held more than a grain of truth. Nicky smiled.