The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series) (7 page)

“Now then, what is all this? Please explain.”

Andy waited for Julia to take the lead; it was her case and she had a reputation for being sharp, although, according to Gerry, since she’d got engaged she’d toned it down a lot. Mellowness through marriage, he wondered cynically how long that would last. Julia said nothing, just continued to stare at the judge as Andy carried on.

“You’ll have heard about the missing family in Derry, your honour.”

Standish hadn’t so he shook his head. When Andy had finished outlining Craig’s theories, Standish nodded.

“You’re expecting a ransom demand and believe it will come to The Chronicle or one of you.”

Andy nodded vigorously. “Aye. I mean, yes, your honour. Oliver Bwye owned The Chronicle for years. I don’t know if you read it…” The judge’s posture had softened so he allowed himself a ‘hey’. “…hey? But it’s not the most dignified of rags, and the news editor, Ray Mercer, is a hack and a half. Anyway, if the Bwyes have been kidnapped -”

Standish interjected. “By someone whom Bwye offended when he owned The Chronicle, then they might use the newspaper to communicate.”

Andy nodded again and this time Julia joined in. She added eagerly.

“It’s just one theory, but if they phone The Chronicle and we haven’t got a trace on their lines then we might lose valuable evidence that could help us find the family.”

Standish shook his grey head, not in refusal but in the certainty that The Chronicle would have high-powered lawyers who would object. He felt an appeal looming in his future but for now the inspectors had explained their reasons well enough that he could see merit in their request.

Julia and Andy watched Standish’s round face wrinkle slowly into a smile, what they didn’t know were all the reasons putting it there. Cameron Lawton was The Belfast Chronicle’s new editor-in-chief and he and Standish had played rugby against each other at school. Lawton had hit puberty early, giving him a serious advantage in the scrum; an advantage that he’d used more than once. Schoolboy rivalries never faded, so Eugene Standish raised his pen and, with a flourish, he signed the warrant off. Time to make Lawton the loser for once, if only for a few brief hours.

****

Derry Station.

Craig stared at the pale woman across the table, then he clicked on the tape machine and nodded Annette to start. Bernadette Ross jumped at the click and then again at the recorder’s loud buzz. Annette gazed at her sympathetically, as if she understood her shock, both at the sounds and at being in an interview room.

If Annette looked sympathetic it was because she really was. Her gut said that the woman in front of them had done nothing wrong and she knew that Craig’s was saying the same, but on the off-chance that both their instincts were wrong and Bernadette Ross’ fearful innocence masked a Machiavellian mastermind who had kidnapped the Bwyes, her warmth had to be tempered by questioning disbelief.

“Ms Ross, can you tell me how long you’ve worked for the Bwye family?”

Bernadette Ross glanced at the tape then at the table top, and finally back at Annette before answering in a lilting West-Bann voice.

“I don’t work for the family, just for Mr Bwye. I’ve been his P.A. for eight years.”

Craig asked a question to which he already knew the answer. “You worked for Mr Bwye at The Chronicle?”

Ross nodded. “Yes. I was his P.A. there for six years and when he sold the company in 2012 he asked me to come with him, to help manage his affairs.”

Craig sat back while Annette continued. “What sort of affairs did he have to manage? After all he was retired, wasn’t he?”

Ross shook her head and a proud smile tilted her lips.

“He’ll never retire. Men like that never do.”

Craig furrowed his brow. Interesting. She was using the present tense even though Annette’s question had been in the past. It was as if Ross believed, or knew, that Oliver Bwye was still alive. The P.A. continued.

“Mr Bwye has several business interests. He’s on the board of two companies and he has a portfolio of shares to handle. I’m nearly as busy now as when we worked at The Chronicle.”

Annette nodded. It explained all the paperwork they’d found. “We’ll need the names of the companies and details of what his roles were.”

Ross lurched forward so suddenly that Annette jerked back in her seat. But her intent was far from violent if her shocked expression was any guide.

“Were! You said were! Is Mr Bwye dead? Is he dead? Have you found him?”

Ross had only just noticed that Annette was discussing Oliver Bwye in the past tense. Annette corrected her use of tense as if it had been in error.

“I apologise, Ms Ross, it was a slip of the tongue. I meant what his roles
are
. We haven’t located anyone yet.”

As the secretary relaxed, Annette grew even more convinced of her innocence. A sharp glance from Craig told her not to; Bernadette Ross could be playing them, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d had a liar or an actor in the interview room. Annette gave Ross a moment to recover before she carried on.

“Are you working on anything special for Mr Bwye?”

Ross thought for a moment and then shook her head. “No more than usual. Just clearing the minutes of Board meetings and making arrangements for his business trip to the States in Janu ––” A sharp sob cut her short and she was silent for a moment before continuing in a firmer voice, glaring at Annette as if she dared her to disagree. “January. He’s
going
to New York.”

Tempted as she was to do so, Annette knew there was no point delving into Oliver Bwye’s business dealings until Davy had checked everything out. It was time to get personal. She lined up her pen with the edge of the file in front of her and fixed the other woman’s eyes with hers.

“When did you last see Mr Bwye?”

“Last Wednesday lunchtime at around one o’clock.”

“Why not after that?”

“He was going to play a round of golf.”

“Where?”

“The golf-club at Drumahoe.”

“With whom?”

“With one of the golf pros I believe, although I couldn’t swear to that.”

Annette stared at her pen as she considered her next question. It was a Waterman, a gift from Mike. He gave her gifts all the time; he was that sort of man. She raised her eyes back to Ross’ pale face, searching hard for anything she could find there. Liam had briefed them about Oliver Bwye’s drinking at the golf-club that Wednesday and John Ellis’ assertion that Bwye was an aggressive drunk. She wondered if the P.A.’s obvious loyalty to her boss would be strong enough to make her lie.

“How was Mr Bwye when you last saw him?”

Ross looked puzzled, as if it was a trick question. “He…he was fine. Looking forward to his golf.”

Annette decided on a diversion before the main event. “And Mrs Bwye and her daughter; how had they been recently?”

Ross glanced away and Annette knew she was either embarrassed or preparing a deceit. Her tapping feet beneath the table said that whichever it was it was making her stressed. Ross kept her eyes averted as she answered in a sad voice.

“Mrs Bwye is a lovely lady.”

That was it. No mention of Jane, but the omission and tone were enough; Jane Bwye caused her parents trouble and Diana Bwye had suffered because of it. Annette wondered if upsetting her mother had been enough reason for Oliver Bwye to harm his daughter. She decided a direct approach was best.

“Was Mr Bwye ever violent towards his daughter?”

Ross jerked back in her chair and her gaze skittered around the room, searching for somewhere safer to alight than Annette’s face. Annette repeated the question in a stern voice.

“Look at me, Ms Ross. Was Mr Bwye ever violent to Jane?”

Her tone snapped the P.A.’s gaze back to her face and after a moment’s stare Ross nodded once.

“And to his wife?”

Another nod.

“I need details, Ms Ross.”

Bernadette Ross gabbled wildly. “He’s very good to them, they get everything that they need… it was only when he drank. Jane’s…she’s difficult…she upset Diana, but then Diana would stand up for her and Mr Bwye would…”

She shook her head and Annette nodded, knowing that they would get the full details bit by bit, probably once they’d found them all dead. Right now it seemed like a betrayal too far for the faithful P.A.

Craig nodded at her to change tack.

“Last Wednesday.”

Ross smiled weakly, grateful to be let off the hook. “Yes?”

“After he went to play golf, you didn’t see Mr Bwye again?”

Ross shook her head sadly. “No.”

“What about Mrs Bwye or Jane?”

She thought for a moment and then nodded. “I was working until six-thirty on Wednesday and Diana popped in at around five to offer me something to eat.” She smiled, remembering. “She’s like that. Very kind.”

“Did you have something?”

“Yes. I had a sandwich with her before returning to work.”

Craig had been listening silently but now he intervened. “How was she?”

Ross looked surprised. “Diana?”

“Yes.”

“She looked…tired. Yes, she looked tired. And worried.”

Craig pushed her for details. “Any idea what about?”

To his surprise Ross laughed. It was a weary laugh, as if there could only be one answer.

“The only thing that ever worried Diana was Jane.”

“Did she confide in you?”

Ross hesitated as if wondering whether or not to keep Diana Bwye’s secret, then she nodded.

“She told me that Jane was involved with a man that she knew her husband would think unsuitable.”

“So Mr Bwye didn’t know about him?”

Ross’ eyes widened. “Absolutely not. He would have killed him. Jane was his little girl.”

Even though he hit her. Had his objections been paternal protectiveness or something more?

“What was so unsuitable about Jane’s boyfriend?”

Ross shook her head. “Diana didn’t tell me; just that Mr Bwye would think that he was. I went back to work after that.”

“She didn’t mention the man’s name?”

“No.”

Craig needed time to think so he waved Annette to pick up the ball. She slipped back into the Q&A seamlessly.

“Did you see Mrs Bwye again?”

Ross smiled weakly. “I nodded goodbye as I left that night. She was sitting in front of the TV in the main room.”

“Why do you say sitting in front of, rather than watching?”

Well spotted.

“Because it was switched off.”

It was logical.

“Was she reading or doing something else?”

“No. Just sitting, staring at the floor.”

Diana Bwye didn’t sound like a happy woman.

“And Jane?”

“I saw her as I left. She was entering the drive as I was leaving. In her little sports car.”

Annette startled. There’d been no sports car parked at the house.

“What does she drive?”

“A blue Mercedes SLK.”

“We’ll need the registration number.”

“I know it by heart. JB1993; the year that she was born. She’s twenty-one soon.”

Craig jotted it down and left the interview room. John Ellis was at the front desk, chatting to a woman through the glass. He excused himself and turned to Craig.

“John, is there a search on for Jane Bwye’s car?”

Ellis looked blank.

“It’s a blue SLK and it was last seen at the house the evening the family disappeared. It isn’t there now. Here’s the reg.”

Ellis took the paper and lifted the phone, beginning the search while Craig returned to the interview room, irritated. Why the hell hadn’t Julia checked the family’s cars? She’d dropped the ball badly on this case, it wasn’t like her; maybe the wedding was occupying her mind. By the time he’d re-joined the interview, Annette had changed topic to the Thursday morning.

“When you arrived at the house, how did you enter?”

“Through the front door into the main room. It’s the only way in.”

“That’s not strictly true. There’s a door at the back of the study.”

“That’s always kept locked. Only Mr Bwye has the key and only he and I have the key to the interior study door.”

Annette frowned. It seemed like excessive security not to leave a spare set in the house.

“So Jane and Mrs Bwye never entered the study?”

Ross shook her head emphatically. “Never. They weren’t allowed.”

She hesitated for a moment and Annette knew she had something else to say. She decided against it and the moment passed. No amount of urging from Annette could bring it back.

“OK. When you entered the house that morning did you notice anything out of place in the main room?”

Ross concentrated, as if she was running her gaze mentally across every table and chair. Finally she shook her head. “Not that I saw, but then I just walked straight through to the study. But if the place had been badly disrupted, like in a fight, I would definitely have noticed.”