The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (7 page)

She threw her handbag on her chair and stared pointedly at Craig perched on her desk, waving him away with a manicured hand. Today’s nail varnish colour was bubble-gum pink, to match her rather disturbing outfit of ankle socks and wide 1950s skirt. All that was missing was John Travolta and they could have been on the set of ‘Grease’.

“Go away, all of you. You’re untidying my desk.” She scanned her terrain and then squinted at Craig. “And who touched my percolator?”

Craig took the hint and moved everyone down the floor, miming coffee pleadingly as he left.

“Right. Let’s get started. Liam’s right on one thing. We need this done and dusted before John’s big day, hopefully well before it; the last thing I want is to be flying to the Caribbean exhausted. I’ve a best man’s speech to give.”

They sat by Davy’s desk; far enough away not to annoy Nicky but close enough to smell the coffee perking when it did. As Craig opened his mouth to begin, Liam across him in a self-satisfied tone.

“I’ve found us someone.”

Annette got his meaning first. “How? You were working all day yesterday.”

Liam tapped his nose; the universal sign of ‘I’m bloody clever and you don’t need to know’. Annette was wishing she’d never asked when Craig made it clear that he did need to know.

“I presume you’re referring to an officer joining us? And yes, how, Liam? Did the name come to you in your dreams?”

Liam sniffed knowingly. “As a matter of fact it did. I woke up this morning with the idea and a call ten minutes ago sorted it.”

Annette snorted. “I bet whoever you phoned this early on a Saturday was overjoyed.”

Craig nipped the exchange in the bud. “OK, Liam. Who and how?”

“Aidan Hughes in Vice. I didn’t need to wake him ‘cos those boys never sleep; too many late nights staking out brothels.”

Craig shot him a quizzical look. “You mean Aidan wants to work with us? He’s a bit senior.”

Nicky arrived with the coffee and Liam took an enormous slurp, giving Craig a look that said he was daft.

“No, not Aidan. He has a wee lassie on the squad and I remembered him saying she was finding Vice rough going. It seems she’s a ‘laydee’ and the filthy world of sex and drugs is not to Madam’s liking.” Liam extended his little finger like a Victorian Duchess. It looked like a sausage appearing from his mug.

Craig smiled at the reference to ‘Little Britain’. “Does this laydee have a name, by any chance?”

Davy leapt in. “Flower of Victorian womanhood?”

“Don’t encourage him, Davy.” He turned back to Liam. “Well?”

“Her name’s Carmen McGregor. She’s Scottish, from the posh part of Edinburgh. Anyway, Aidan says she’s bright and keen to learn.”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

Liam bit into a digestive and shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“Come off it. You know Aidan as well as I do; do you really think he’d let such a gem go without a fight, unless he wanted shot of her? ”

Nicky had stopped typing and was craning her neck to listen and Annette wore an expression that said ‘please God, don’t let her be difficult.’

Liam popped the last crumbs of biscuit in his mouth and was just reaching for a second when Craig’s gimlet gaze halted him. He leaned back in his chair and shrugged, conceding.

“Aye, well… Apparently she’s a bit challenging.”

Craig raked his hair and Annette mouthed “Oh, God.”

“Challenging how?”

Liam was about to play for time when four pairs of eyes warned him not to.

“Well… She’s a bit mouthy, thinks she knows it all. And apparently she got a crush on one of Aidan’s lads and followed him around.” He saw Craig’s head begin to shake and added hastily. “But she’s got a first class degree in something and she works her ass off. And it’s only for two weeks and then we can give her back.”

Craig thought for a moment and then dragged his hand down his face in a gesture of defeat. He looked directly at Annette. In Jake’s absence she would be the person with most contact with a new junior. If she didn’t want Carmen McGregor to join them then she wouldn’t. Annette read Craig’s mind and thought for a moment before she spoke.

“OK, here’s the deal. Until Jake’s back Liam and I share responsibility for her equally.”

Liam lurched forward, scattering crumbs all over the floor. “Here now, I’m a D.C.I.”

“I don’t care if you’re the Pope, those are my terms.”

“Ach, boss.”

Craig ignored his whine. “Carry on, Annette.”

“If she’s lippy we need your permission to rein her in then and there, sir, not have to refer her back to you.”

“Agreed. Is that it?” Craig knew that it wasn’t.

“And Davy has to let her shadow him sometimes so that we get a break.”

Davy had only been half-listening, reckoning that a new detective was the business of the police-officers in the room, not him. He’d left a programme running on one of his computers and had been craning his neck to see how far it had progressed when he heard his name mentioned and turned back hurriedly to the group.

“W…What?”

Craig knew he hadn’t been listening so he summarised. “Annette wants the new girl to be able to sit with you sometimes, to learn what you do.”

Davy shook his head with a vehemence that surprised them all. “No. W…What I do is… is complex. I need peace and quiet.” He finished with a veiled threat. “That’s if you w…want results.”

Craig did want results so he was on Davy’s side. “Sorry, Annette. But you, Liam and Jake, when he’s back, will have to split the load. Davy’s off limits, and before you ever think about it, so am I. It’s up to you. So, do you want Constable McGregor with all her foibles or not?”

There was a Mexican standoff for a moment then Annette’s shoulders slumped and they had their new member of staff.

“OK, good. Liam, call Aidan and say yes, but only from this Monday until we leave for the wedding. Now let’s get back to the case. Liam, update us on the bomb then I’ll do the hospital. Davy, it looks like you’re waiting for something to come through on your screen?”

“Yes. Hopefully I’ll have the victims’ details s…soon. Well, the I.D.ed ones.

“Excellent.” Craig waved Liam on to start.

Liam spent ten minutes running through the army’s preliminary report on the explosion then he paused for breath, took a swig of cold coffee and gave Nicky a look so pathetic that Annette started to play an imaginary violin. Nicky took the hint and as they were waiting for fresh drinks Liam handed out some pages; copies of the army’s summary.

Craig read for a moment then nodded, realising that he needed to pay a visit to the local base.

“As you can see, boss, they’ve kept it as vague as buggery. ‘Timed device with Semtex explosive.’ No details on the bomb’s signature or hint of where it might have come from.”

Just as a painting was signed by the artist on the canvas and a composer printed their name clearly at the top of each page, so every bomb bore a signature. Not signed with words of course, no matter how proud they were of their destructive creations few bombers were willing to lead the forces of law and order directly to their door. But each bomb was signed by its chemical composition and the structure of the device, and the military world-wide could read the signatures as clearly as a name. Craig tapped the page in front of him.

“They haven’t said it was anonymous.”

Liam was about to answer when Annette cut in. “They haven’t said anything, sir. Surely that means that they just don’t know?”

Craig shook his head tiredly. “I wish it did, Annette. But their lack of elaboration speaks volumes. The army knows who exactly made this or they can find out; they just don’t want us to.”

“Aye. That’s what I thought. I asked but they just fobbed me off. You’ll have to go and see that Major James yourself.”

Craig nodded in resignation, knowing that he’d be stonewalled all the way. He’d try the polite approach but if Major James tried to obstruct his investigation then he’d go over his head. Just then an air-raid siren’s whine came from the direction of Davy’s desk and he raced over excitedly and started typing on some keys. Liam frowned in irritation.

“I asked you to tone that noise down.”

Davy ignored him and two minutes later they had new sheets in their hands and Davy started to report.

“Right. W…We have I.D.s on three of the bomb victims. Fintan Delaney, the s…survivor, Jules Robinson, the shop owner, and a third man; Barry McGovern, a forty-two-year-old businessman who often browsed in the s…shop.”

Craig interjected. “Leave Delaney till the end, Davy. Tell us about McGovern first.”

Davy nodded. “OK. Barry McGovern. An accountant w…working at Roulston’s in North Street. He’s been there for ten years, before that he w…worked in London. Nothing very exciting about his life. Married, with three children aged three to thirteen.”

Annette groaned. “Poor kids.”

Davy nodded and continued. “Wife, Maria. S…She’s an event’s organiser for a children’s charity called ‘The Belfast Buzz’”

Liam cut in. “Here. Isn’t that the one Lucia used to work for?”

Craig nodded. “Years ago. She might know Maria McGovern. I’ll ask.” He waved Davy on.

“I’m getting McGovern’s financial details and phone and computer dumps now, but s…so far there’s nothing nasty.”

Annette interrupted with an annoyed look on her face. “Why are we getting all that? Are we treating everyone as a suspect, even if they died?”

Craig shot her a sceptical look. “We have to, Annette, you know that. Even if it’s only to rule them out. What’s the problem?”

Annette shook her head, setting her sensible brown bob flying. Craig smiled inwardly at her flat shoes and prim suit. Annette had never dressed casually but nowadays it seemed she was dressing as if someone was assessing whether she was suitable senior officer material. He knew she was ambitious and getting more so but she didn’t need to carry it that far.

Gone were the days when women had to hide their attractiveness to be taken seriously; feminism was in its third wave. Well, that’s what Lucia and Katy told him if he asked how they walked all day in five-inch-heels.

Annette’s Maghera tones dragged Craig back from his thoughts. “Well, it’s just… hasn’t the wife suffered enough already without her husband being treated like a suspect?”

Craig shook his head. “This is behind the scenes work, Annette, and if you’re worried I’ll let you interview Mrs McGovern. OK?”

Annette nodded, mollified, and Davy picked up his report.

“The s…shop-owner Jules Robinson is more interesting. He was a civil servant, then ten years ago he bought the shop outright w…with cash.”

“Retirement money?”

“Maybe, but I can’t find any s…sign of where it came from and retirement funds would normally be paid into a bank account, w…wouldn’t they? Maybe it was dodgy money?”

Craig laughed. “So young and yet so cynical. It’s probably perfectly innocent but follow it up anyway. Dig into every corner of Robinson’s finances; personal and business. Anything on his family?”

Davy shrugged. “Wife, Sarah, s…seventy-two.”

Liam grinned. “Here. Old Jules was a toy-boy.”

Annette snorted. “And if he’d been some sad old man with a ponytail and a twenty-year-old on his arm you’d have said ‘good on him’. It might interest you to know that in forty-eight percent of marriages the woman is the same age or older than the man.”

The way she said it made Craig expect a “So there” to follow. It did, from Nicky. Her husky voice grew louder as she approached the group with more biscuits.

“Good on her. I hope I’m dating a fifty-year-old when I’m eighty. Joan Collins is an example to us all.” She deposited the digestives with a haughty sniff and left.

Craig waved the chatter down. “OK, everyone. I know we’re all de-mob happy about John’s wedding but let’s focus, please.”

Davy focused. “The Robinsons led a quiet life. No children, just a cat and dog. They seemed to put everything into the s…shop. Mrs Robinson helped out there.”

Craig leaned forward urgently. “Find out how often, Davy, and if she was expected to be there on Thursday. Any changes in her routine, flag it up to me. We need to know if she could have been a possible target.”

“W…Will do. Do you want to take over for Fintan Delaney?”

Craig nodded then started reporting on his two encounters with Delaney and his belief that the youth’s amnesia was genuine. “He can’t even remember his own name. The consultant called it global amnesia and said the sooner we find Delaney’s family the sooner his memory might return.”

Davy waved for attention. “I’ve found them. He has parents, John and Bronagh, and two younger brothers, Dermot and Liam.”

Liam sniffed proudly. “Great name. Did you know that Liam was William in Irish?”

Craig laughed. “So we can start calling you Billy?”

“Not if you want an answer.”

Craig signalled Davy to continue. “Fintan is at Queen’s studying P.P.E.; Politics, Philosophy and Economics. He’s just finished his s…second year. Did OK in his exams.”

Annette interrupted. “What does he do apart from study?”

“Like attending ‘bomb-making for beginners’, you mean?”

Liam guffawed loudly. “Nice one, son.”

Annette shot Davy a ‘don’t be cheeky’ look. “No, I didn’t. I meant most university students join societies and clubs. What did Delaney join?”

Davy smiled, conceding. “You’re right. He’s in the drama s…society and chess club.”

Craig interrupted. “Not much terrorist activity going on there. OK, Davy, dig into his politics and his family’s. Include all family members and do a wide search for gang connections and terrorist offences. You know the drill.” Craig checked the time and stood-up. “Right. There’s plenty for everyone to do and we have two more dead victims still to I.D. John’s working on that. Liam, go and see Sarah Robinson. Annette, can you visit Barry McGovern’s wife, please. Davy, can you and Liam pull any traffic cameras and CCTV around the shop for the hours before and after the blast. I’m going to the army base and then onto the lab.”

He swung round to see Nicky sitting with her pen and notepad poised. “Nick, can you arrange for Fintan Delaney’s parents to be brought to the relatives’ room downstairs for about three p.m., or I can meet them at the hospital if they prefer.” He headed for his office to lift his jacket. “And get Major James’ office on the phone and say that I’m on my way to the base. I should be there by ten o’clock.”