The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series) (27 page)

“Make a recommendation and they’ll probably just get their knuckles rapped.” He had a sudden thought. “I need to go. Bail them pending the P.P.S. decision.” He ended the call and made another one to Davy, cutting straight to the chase. “Have you checked the Bwyes’ Wills?”

Davy stared at the phone, considering asking who was calling, then he decided the joke wouldn’t be worth the earache he’d get. The chief was in a grumpy mood these days.

“Diana Bwye only had a s…short one, outlining some charitable donations she’d like to make and leaving all her jewellery to her daughter.”

“Did she have any money in her own right?”

“A trust from her family, the D’Arcys. I’m waiting for the details.”

“OK. Presumably she’d have inherited everything on her husband’s death.”

“Yes. His w…will was straightforward. Everything went to Diana. Nothing to the daughter except the trust she’d get at thirty. There’s something else you s…should know, chief…”

Craig cut him off. “Save it till I get there. Is Liam back yet?”

Davy shook his head then remembered it wasn’t a video phone. “Not yet. He’ll be here for the briefing.”

“OK.”

Craig ended the call without a thanks or goodbye. Andy noticed his unfamiliar abruptness and that it had been there all week long.

“Something up? You don’t seem your usual cheerful self these days.”

Craig glared at the side of his head. “You mean I’m not pandering to everyone’s inefficiencies the way I normally do.”

Andy lashed back. “I mean you’re being a rude bastard, Marc, and if it was your normal personality I wouldn’t bother pointing it out.”

It was on the tip of Craig’s tongue to pull rank then he realised how stupid he would sound. What could he say anyway? You can’t tell me I’m rude because I’m your boss? Andy was right. He was being a grumpy shit but he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t the case and it wasn’t seeing Julia again; he hadn’t felt right for months. He hadn’t been sleeping and he’d been drinking way too much. He knew people thought it was the Pitt shooting, but that was crap. He was trained to deal with such things, even if Pitt had been an old man…

It was too much to think about so he shrugged and slid further down his seat. The rest of the journey was spent in silence and when the two men entered Bwye’s study the tension between them was almost palpable.

Liam was lounging in a low armchair with his eyes shut and Carmen was sitting beside Davy, tapping on a laptop. Craig barked so loudly that Liam jerked awake and Carmen jumped up, alarmed.

“Wake up, all of you! What’s happening at the lake?”

Liam gazed at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean have they found anything else relevant to the case; like Bwye’s rifle. And where are Julia and Annette? Come to think of it, where’s Gerry?”

Liam squinted at him. Craig was in a snit and intent on taking it out on them. By the looks of Andy he’d already had his share.

“Gerry’s down at the lake. He’ll let us know if they find anything new. The ladies who lunch are on their way back from interviewing Father Fred and the McCanns. They’re making a detour to visit someone called Stephanie and they’ve asked if the briefing can be delayed for thirty minutes.”

Craig’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Of course we can delay it. Why not? Let’s just delay the whole investigation!”

With that he stormed into the main room and Liam glared at Andy.

“What did you do to him? He was OK when he left here.”

Andy grabbed a chair, shaking his head. “No he wasn’t, not really. He hasn’t been right since this case started. Haven’t you noticed?”

Liam made a face that said he was trying to recall Craig’s mood. With his level of sensitivity they’d be waiting all year. Andy shook his head.

“Why am I asking you? You never notice what people are feeling.”

“Here! That’s not true.”

Andy took out his mobile phone. “Shall I call Danni and ask her, hey?”

Liam conceded the point. “Aye, well, maybe you’re right. OK, so I’ve noticed the boss has been a bit out of sorts the past while.”

“He’s a grumpy shit and he’s drinking a lot more than he usually does; haven’t you noticed at the hotel? Something’s eating him and it’s not this case.”

Liam furrowed his brow. He knew what was ailing Craig but there was no point him tackling him about it; he’d just tell him to get lost. After a moment he grinned. “I know who can help. The Doc.” He grabbed the phone, signalling Andy to keep an eye out for Craig. The call was answered quickly.

“John Winter, pathologist extraordinaire, at your service.”

Liam smiled. If the Doc was feeling playful then he’d give him a game. He put on his best English accent.

“This is Her Majesty’s Home Office here. I need to speak to a Dr John Winter.”

John gawped at the handset and was about to make an excuse for his answering technique when something about the way the word Home had sounded like Hum made him change his mind.

“Very funny, Liam. What do you want?”

“What gave me away?”

“The Hum Office. That Crossgar twang is hard to hide. You wanted to ask me something. Shoot.”

Liam was smarting from the crack about his accent so he handed Andy the phone.

“Hi John, it’s Andy; Liam’s sulking. We’re ringing to ask you what’s wrong with Marc. He’s chewing the head off everyone and drinking like a fish every night.”

John frowned. He hadn’t noticed anything major amiss with Craig; perhaps they were imagining it. He was about to say so when he thought again. Craig
had
been drinking more than usual. He’d put it down to the festive season but now that he thought about it the festive season seemed to have started in October that year. He hadn’t been rude to him exactly, just vague and distracted, as if he hadn’t been listening half the time.

His mind ran back through the previous two months, recalling Craig verging on drunk a few times during the week. He pictured the dark shadows under his eyes that he’d put down to heavy sessions, but were there even when he knew Craig had drunk nothing the night before. He hadn’t been sleeping, he’d been distracted and moody and he’d been drinking far more than he usually did. Of course…

“Are you still there, John?”

“I’m still here. Leave this with me, Andy.”

Andy wasn’t leaving it that easily. “Marc’s being a bad-tempered shit and it’s making life difficult up here.”

John’s tone said not to argue. “I said leave it. I’ll sort it out.”

Before Andy could object further he was listening to a dead line. He gawped at the hand set then turned grumpily to Liam.

“Rudeness is obviously contagious in Belfast. Whatever’s eating Marc has just taken a chunk out of the Doc as well.”

****

4.30 p.m.

Craig’s meeting with Sean Flanagan had been moved to the next day so he’d calmed down a little about the briefing beginning late.

“Grab a drink and let’s get started.”

The instruction to grab a drink was redundant as everyone who’d entered the study had headed directly for the coffee. The donuts beside it as well, if their sugar coated lips were anything to go by. Craig gestured at the chairs in the middle of the room to be met by a communal shake of the head and the sound of scraping as they were dragged towards the fire.

Gerry explained for all of them. “It would skin a fairy out there, and you’ll be sending us out in it again soon.”

He held his hands in front of the flames giving Craig a look that would have done a Dickensian orphan proud. The performance would normally have warranted a smile, but there wasn’t a glimmer of merriment in Craig’s eyes.

“Let’s get on with it. Liam, tell me about the brothel and the boat.”

Craig topped up his coffee and ignored the cakes, taking a seat as far back from the group as he could get in the small room.

“Aye well, The Kasbah. Strictly speaking it wasn’t a brothel, more an escort agency. Not the most welcoming place I’ve ever been; it looked like a government office. When I think of that place out near the airport…”

He was referring to a high-end brothel called Lilith’s that they’d encountered on a case in 2012. It had occupied a Victorian house near Belfast’s International Airport, for the convenience of travelling businessmen.

Craig shot him a warning look.

“Aye, OK then. It was clean, nothing much there except the girls and madam. Well, when I say girls, the youngest was about thirty and Bwye’s particular favourite was well north of sixty.”

Annette smiled approvingly; or as approvingly as a woman could when the discussion was about prostitutes. “At least he was age appropriate.”

“That’s about as appropriate as that place got. The waiting room was like a dentist’s but behind that they had a corridor with these themed bedrooms.” He turned to Craig. “You should see it, boss, they have an ice adventure room, a rodeo room…”

Craig cut him off before he reached fetish corner. “The case, please.”

Liam sniffed, put out. “So the punters either go there or the women go to them.”

“You spoke to Bwye’s favourite?”

“Aye, Mrs Mavis Brown; he saw her three times a week. You’d think she’d have changed her name to something like Misty, wouldn’t you?” Craig’s frown said he was about to bollock him so Liam continued hastily. “Anyhow, I got her DNA. It’s gone to the lab for elimination.” He chanced a P.S. “She’s nothing like Diana Bwye. Not a looker at all, but she listens to every word you say.”

Gerry couldn’t resist a question. “How do you know? She might just look like she’s listening.”

“’Cos she repeats it back to you every time.”

It was Annette who couldn’t resist now. “Echolalia.”

Craig gave a small smile. John had told him about the medical condition so he knew what was coming next.

Liam asked the question warily, certain that the next joke would be at his expense. “What’s that?”

Annette decided that a demonstration was in order. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“What?”

Before it turned into a French farce Craig intervened. “Echolalia is where someone involuntarily repeats words or phrases. It can sound as if they’re really interested. It’s a symptom of lots of conditions, including Schizophrenia.”

Liam’s face fell. “So that’s what Mavis has. I thought she was really into me.”

“I doubt she has any condition at all. She’s probably just realised it’s an approach that some men like.”

Craig waved him on with the report.

“Right, the boat. Now this is clever. It belongs to the family across the lake, the McDermotts. It’s normally moored outside their house but one of the two sons, Micky, noticed it missing on the Wednesday around six p.m. He didn’t say anything to his parents because he thought his older brother had taken it out for a joy ride. The father noticed it was missing on the Thursday evening around eight o’clock and when they checked with the binoculars it was floating in the middle of the lake. They retrieved it using their rowing boat and I’ve the C.S.I.s looking over it now.”

Craig thought for a moment. “They saw no-one taking it?”

Liam shook his head.

“Did they know the Bwyes?”

Liam’s expression said that he hadn’t asked. “I’ll make the call. My guess is that everyone knows everyone around here.”

“Probably, but ask. Take a trip back there this evening.”

Liam knew that making the trip on a freezing cold evening was his punishment for forgetting a basic question. He shrugged; it was his own fault. Craig turned to Annette and just as he did so, Liam remembered something.

“Old man Bwye knew a Garvan McDermott. John Ellis had to break up a fight between them about politics last November.”

“And you’re just telling us this now? Is it the same McDermott?”

Liam thought about shrugging but the look in Craig’s eyes said it wouldn’t be a good idea. “I’ll check.”

“Do that. Before you go back there tonight.”

He turned back to Annette, not missing the wary looks the group were giving him. No-one wanted to experience the sharp end of his mood next.

“Jane Bwye and McCann?”

Annette glanced at Julia and gestured her to take the lead; after all she was the local. Plus the fact that Craig was less likely to shout at an ex-girlfriend hadn’t escaped her.

Julia shook her head. “Nothing that we didn’t already know. She hated her father for how he treated her mother and controlled them both. She’d known McCann for years on the estate and Diana Bwye knew they’d married but agreed to keep it secret.”

Craig interrupted. “What did you make of the husband?”

She smiled, spreading her freckles across her nose.

“He seems genuine. He loves her, that’s for sure. He was visiting his mother that night and Jane went to her apartment after Bernadette Ross saw her drive in. They didn’t come up here till after eleven o’clock. They found the study door open and saw the blood on the floor and feared the worst had happened to Oliver Bwye. They thought they would get the blame so they skedaddled.”