A Box Full of Darkness (Wilson Book 5) (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sergeant Jackson spent most of the morning staying away from Wilson but inevitably he was required to report to his superior. He pushed in the door to Wilson’s office and saw that his direct superior was busy writing on a pad of paper. He would love to get his hands on these inner thoughts. ‘Sir,’ Jackson said as soon as he entered.

Wilson glanced at his watch. It was after one o’clock. All good civil servants were already at their lunch. ‘And what have you been up to, sergeant?’ he asked.

‘I got the impression that you weren’t impressed with our friend Ramsey. I’ve been going back over the records to see whether there was someone else we could speak to from our side about the event.’

‘And did you succeed?’

‘Not so far, but I’m still working on it. Resources were pretty stretched at the time.’

‘And, of course, officers didn’t have the time to properly log their whereabouts, or write reports on their activities.’

‘As you say, sir.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Wilson said adding a frown for effect. ‘The blue car that was seen at the top of Beechmount Parade. You remember, the one that no one followed up on.’

Jackson shuffled his feet. ‘Yes, sir.’

Wilson noticed that Jackson stood to attention except when he was unsure of what was about to come. Then he shuffled. Just a bit, but enough for Wilson to notice. ‘It was usual for cars that were used in hits to be stolen in advance and then burned out after the hit took place. If we assume the shooting of Mallon and Lafferty was one of a series then we should assume that the famous blue saloon car should have been stolen sometime that day or the day before. It should have been burned out after the event. I’d like you to find out whether any saloon cars, blue or otherwise, were stolen on or before the day of the shooting. And, whether any cars were found burned out in the days after the shooting. Don’t confine yourself to Belfast and its environs. Fan out. Try Portadown and Ballymena. It would have been stolen in some Protestant enclave or other.’

Jackson repressed a sigh. Whether by accident or design, Wilson was burying him in records.

Wilson took immense satisfaction from the look on Jackson’s face. ‘Everything alright, sergeant.’

‘Everything is fine, sir.’

‘You have quite a lot on your plate. Keep looking for a second member of the RUC team that attended in Beechmount Parade and follow up on the car.’
That should keep you busy
, he thought.

‘Sir,’ Jackson did an about turn and did the equivalent of a march out of the room.

Wilson looked at the strategy he had been working on during the morning. He had already used McDevitt, Kate and Reid. He would soon have a forensic report on the bullet from FSNI and if Reid succeeded he’d have an autopsy report. That meant that he would be on the way to constructing a proper file including some aspect of forensic evidence, possibly the autopsy report and some photos, and a report on his interviews. Under normal circumstance, that wouldn’t satisfy him or the old man lying on the bed in Beechmount Parade. He thought about his promise. An improved file wasn’t going to satisfy him at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

‘For Christ’s sake, sit down.’ Sinclair was sitting behind the desk in his office, and Jackson had been doing his usual stand-at-attention stance. ‘You’re not in the fucking army now.’

‘More’s the pity,’ Jackson said sitting forward in the visitor’s chair. ‘Things were a lot simpler there. He’s loading me with every shit job imaginable. I’m supposed to be hunting for the blue car that was seen at the end of the street. I have to check for stolen vehicles in the days before the shooting and burned out vehicles in the days after the shooting. I think he likes keeping me busy.’

‘That’s what superintendents do to sergeants.’

‘I know, but I think there’s more to it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like he’s on to us.’

Sinclair sat forward. ‘You were with him every moment he was with old Lafferty and Mallon?’

‘Except when either he or I went for a piss. It would have looked a bit suspicious if I’d followed him into the toilet.’

‘Don’t bother trying to be smart; you haven’t either the brains, or the balls for it. So, what you’re saying is that you left him alone with both Mallon and Lafferty.’

Jackson thought for a moment. ‘Yes, in Lafferty’s I was in the kitchen for a minute and I was forced by nature to spend a penny in
Subway
in Omagh. Why, is it important?’

Sinclair smiled. ‘Kate McCann’s office sent a bullet and shell for examination to the FSNI yesterday.’ He paused to allow the information to penetrate Jackson’s brain. ‘We’ve looked at McCann’s current caseload and none of her cases involve a shooting. So, where did she get the bullet and shell?’

‘You obviously know.’ Jackson hated the cat and mouse games that Sinclair liked to play.

‘Wilson was observed meeting his former partner at the Courts of Justice yesterday morning. He was also observed passing her a small box. What do think might have been in that box?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘It might be the bullet and shell that’s currently being examined by FSNI. If it is, it begs the question; where did he get it? There are only two possibilities. Either Mallon or Lafferty gave it to him. And you didn’t observe anything being passed by either man during their interviews.’

Jackson shook his head. He was replaying at fast speed both of the encounters, and he had only been missing for minutes in each case. ‘Where would they have got the bullet and shell.’?

‘Let’s suppose that your friend Ramsey and his men were not exactly meticulous in cleaning up at Beechmount Parade. Suppose they left at least one bullet and one shell to be picked up by someone, and put in safekeeping.’

‘So, he has a bullet and a shell from Beechmount Parade. Big fucking deal!’

‘Sometimes I wonder about you, Jackson.’ Sinclair could see worry on Jackson’s face. ‘Luckily you haven’t fucked up too badly. In fact, it may turn out to be a very good thing. We’ve already passed the word to FSNI to put a rush on the examination.’

‘No harm done then.’ Relief flowed through Jackson.

‘But it leaves a few questions hanging in the air. Why didn’t he tell either you or me about the bullet and shell? And why did he call on his girl friend to process them through FSNI?’

Jackson didn’t have to think too long. ‘He doesn’t trust us.’

‘Quite right, he doesn’t trust us. I also hear on the grapevine that someone has been asking questions about us.’

‘Someone in the PSNI?’ Jackson asked.

‘He too smart to go there. He’s getting the crime reporter for the
Chronicle
to do his dirty work for him. The original idea was that he would depend on you and me, and that scenario is not being played out. Either he’s a lot more perceptive than we thought, or you and I are losing our ability to fake friendliness. That may not worry you and me, but it will certainly worry whoever is running this operation.’

‘I’m getting bored with this,’ Jackson said. ‘The sooner we’re back where we belong the better. Why can’t they just fire the guy? The job is his life. Several months after he loses it he’ll be sleeping in someone’s doorway.’

‘That’s one of your problems, Jackson, you underestimate people. If Ian Wilson gets fired, a lot of shit hits the fan. He was famous once, and many of the people who knew him back then would rally around. Questions would be asked.’

‘All this head-messing shit gives me a pain in the arse.’

‘Well let me know when you’d like to return to cleaning up the shit left behind by our political masters, and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘It beats playing the long con. Wilson seems like a decent enough fella. We get set on him just because he rubbed someone up the wrong way.’

‘Don’t let’s overanalyse the life we’ve chosen,’ Sinclair said. ‘We’re only here to make sure he keeps heading in the right direction.’

‘I think he could make his own way there without our assistance.’

Sinclair sat back. There was a certain amount of truth in what Jackson said. Wilson had already made reasonable progress. The bullet and shell weren’t part of the plan, and neither was the lady pathologist. That had forced a little bit of a rethink, and Sinclair seldom did improvisation. Wilson not trusting either Jackson or him had not been part of the plan either, but it was necessary to have someone manage the programme. He needed to pass the information upstairs. Someone beyond his pay grade would have to make the final decision.

‘So, what do I do about the blue car?’ Jackson asked.

‘You were told what to do by your superior. Check out every stolen car in the three days before the shooting and every burned-out car in the three days after the shooting.’

‘Thanks.’

‘My pleasure,’ Sinclair said. ‘And the next time you feel a piss coming on when you’re with him, tie a knot in it. Now get to fucking work. I don’t want to be sitting in this dump any longer than necessary.’ He watched as Jackson left the office. The sergeant was a good foot soldier, but would never make it to officer level.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Wilson liked McHugh’s Bar in Queen’s Square. It would never replace the Crown as his favourite haunt, but it was up there. He didn’t often visit it, which was an advantage. He didn’t want anyone reporting back on his rendezvous with Reid. He still considered that things were tender between him and Kate. He decided that he would do nothing to exacerbate the situation.  He made immediately for the back bar where the open fire was already blazing. He installed himself in one of the comfortable armchairs and signalled to the barman.

Every male and several female heads turned as Stephanie Reid entered at the front door, and progressed along the bar in the direction of Wilson.

He watched the look on the male faces, and noted their disappointment when Reid threw her jacket on the seat beside him, and sat down. She was dressed in her habitual work gear of white blouse and black just-above-the-knee-length skirt. Her blonde hair was tied back and her blue eyes were glassy, and spectacular. She crossed her legs when she sat down and although Wilson promised himself that he wouldn’t look, he stole a glance.
Magnificent
, Wilson thought. He was remembering the details of their previous evening in McHugh’s. He had resisted then. He wondered whether he could resist now

She looked at Wilson’s pint of Guinness on the table. ‘Any chance of a drink?’

Wilson looked back at the bar and saw the barman was already staring in their direction. Wilson signalled. ‘Gin and tonic?’ he asked.

‘Double the gin,’ she said sitting back.

Neither spoke until the barman returned with Reid’s drink. She prepared the gin and tonic and raised her glass. ‘Cheers,’ she took a long sip. ‘I needed that.’

‘Tough day?’ Wilson asked.

‘No tougher than usual. People keep dying from something their doctor failed to diagnose, and it’s left to me to try and save my colleagues’ faces. What about you? Task force on cold crimes, or whatever it’s called, treating you alright?’

‘It’s different.’ He sipped his Guinness.

‘Why does that sound like an understatement? Maybe you’re just like me. You prefer to deal with fresh cadavers.’

‘Working a cold case isn’t exactly a barrel of monkeys in the fun stakes. And especially not so when it looks like the so-called professionals in the RUC did their level best to screw up the initial investigation. Any news on the autopsy?’

She pouted. ‘Oh, Ian. I thought that we were here for a friendly drink. You could at least let me unwind before we get down to business. I was only asking you about the job as an icebreaker. I don’t really want to spent the evening talking about lost autopsies and murder investigations.’

He smiled. ‘Sorry, habit of a lifetime.’

‘Then I suggest that you make a serious effort to get some sort of other life.’

I think someone might have that plan for me already
, Wilson thought but didn’t say. ‘So,’ he said. ‘If we’re not going to talk about work, what will we talk about?’

She leaned forwards. ‘Tell me about your love life? Mine’s pretty dull at the moment but I hear that yours is interesting. Found anyone new yet?’

Wilson shook his head. ‘I always said that you were hopeless.’

‘I’ll bet that Rottweiler that used to hang around you didn’t say that about me.’

‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Moira’s doing quite well in Boston. She’s attending classes at Harvard, and I get the impression that she’s happy enough with life.’

Reid finished her drink and stuck her hand in the air. Every male head at the bar looked in their direction.

Wilson was still smiling at the reaction to Reid’s hand in the air when the door of the bar burst open and Kate McCann entered. Too much of a coincidence, he thought as Kate strode in their direction. Wilson had seen that purposeful stride before, and prepared to reap the wind.

‘You bloody bastard,’ Kate said as she stood above them. ‘We’ve been apart a wet week and already you’re getting into someone else’s pants.’

Wilson could see that every eye in the bar was turned in their direction.  ‘Calm down, Kate. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink? Professor Reid and I are discussing the Mallon and Lafferty case. She’s helping me obtain copies of the autopsy report.’

‘My God, but you’re quick off the mark,’ Kate said. ‘I find you skulking here in a bar you never frequent, sitting with a woman you’ve been sniffing around since she arrived on the scene. And I’m supposed to believe that this is just business. Don’t insult my intelligence. Helen was right about you. Not only are you an insensitive pig, but you’re also a serial philanderer.’ She turned and looked at Reid. ‘I was in your boots once. I was one of the ones that he cheated on his wife with. I should have known better, but he told me that he was reformed.’ She turned back to Wilson. ‘You make me sick. I curse the day I ever came back to this accursed country.’

‘Please sit down, Kate,’ Wilson said. ‘Everyone in the bar is looking at us and I came here for a quiet drink, and not as part of the entertainment. We can discuss this rationally if you would calm down and have a drink.’

‘I wouldn’t have a drink with you and your girlfriend if you were the last people on earth.’ Spittle flew from Kate’s lips.

Wilson could see that she was fighting back tears. He wanted to stand up and hold her but he was afraid that given her emotional state, it would only exacerbate things.

She leaned forward and picked up his pint of Guinness from the table. ‘You bastard,’ she said and threw the remnants of the Guinness into his face.

Reid leaned forward and picked up her drink.

Kate slammed the pint glass back on the table. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar. There was a scattering of applause from some of the wags at the bar.

The barman came to Wilson’s table and proffered a towel. ‘You’ll be needing this,’ he said simply.

‘I think my friend will be needing another drink also,’ Reid smiled.

Wilson took the towel and started to clean himself off. Most of the Guinness had hit him in the face and thankfully his shirt, except for the collar, was relatively untouched.

‘Your ex really does know how to puncture the mood,’ Reid said.

Wilson was wondering how Kate had managed to turn up in McHugh’s. Someone had to have told her about his arrangement with Reid. Kate had arrived loaded with buckshot and ready to shoot. So she not only knew that he was there, she knew the time and that he was with a female companion. There were only two possibilities, either his phone was bugged, or his office in Dunmurry was. He was willing to bet it was the office. But how did the trail lead from there to Kate? It was unimaginable that Sinclair or Jackson had some connection to Kate. Perhaps neither one was involved. He wished Kate had calmed down and he could have discovered who had passed the message to her.

The barman arrived and laid a pint of Guinness on the table. ‘It’s on the house,’ he said. ‘Best piece of theatre we’ve had in here in many a long day.’ He smiled and departed.

‘So,’ Reid picked up the pint and handed it to Wilson. ‘I think you need some of this immediately.’

He took a large slug and set the glass down gently on the table.

‘Hell hath no fury, and all that,’ Reid said before sipping from her glass.

‘Totally out of character,’ Wilson said. ‘Kate is the coolest cucumber I’ve come across. Every since the miscarriage, she’s been someone else.’ He thought for a moment of the period when she had left the hospital. She was pretty normal then. It had really started to go haywire when her mother arrived. She must be on something, he thought. She hadn’t mentioned visiting her GP. What the hell was going on?

‘Earth to planet Wilson,’ Reid said trying to break him out of what appeared to be a reverie.

‘Sorry, I was running through something in my head.’

‘I had great hopes for this evening but I can see that it’s going to be a hot-bath-and a-bottle-of-Chardonnay night. The look of guilt is plastered all over your face. I thought you philanderers had hearts of stone when dealing with your conquests.’

Wilson smiled. ‘I think my reputation is a little out of line with the reality.’

‘Pity, I was actually hoping that you were a philanderer.’ She was more than a little pissed off at Kate’s intervention. She wanted him so much, that sometimes it actually hurt, and that was a strange feeling for Stephanie Reid. She could love them and leave them as easily as any Don Juan. Somehow she thought that things would be different with Wilson, if she ever landed him. She was elated when she heard that McCann and he had broken up. It was the chink in the relationship that she had been hoping for. However, she didn’t like the look on his face. It wasn’t just guilt. He really loved the damn woman. It was going to take more than one evening to wean him off her. ‘Your famous autopsy,’ she said.

‘You found something?’

‘Back then, there were no computers, so all the records were on paper. I’ve found that autopsies were done, but it’s going to need a bit more digging to come up with the actual record. There’s a storeroom at the morgue and it’s full of boxes. They keep talking about digitising the records but they never seem to find the money. I need to find a student with some time on his or her hands who is willing to wade around in a mountain of paper.’

‘I’ll pay,’ Wilson said.

‘What’s so important about these two murders?’

‘I don’t know.’

She laughed. ‘You don’t know and yet you’re willing to pay from your own pocket for evidence that should be freely available.’

‘There’s something going on that I’m not exactly up to speed on. Spence and I were cut adrift because HQ was supposedly setting up a serious crimes unit. Except that’s not happened. I’m in some corner in a Mickey Mouse task force that’s located in a sort of Nissen hut in Dunmurry. Both my chief superintendent and sergeant are former Special Branch officers with zero investigating experience. I’m beginning to get the feeling that their only job is to keep an eye on me.’ He put up his hand to preclude a question. ‘Don’t ask me why. It’s just a gut feeling. I’m investigating a very specific crime from the beginning of the 1970s. With Spence gone I have no back up. Perhaps I’m being set up, but for what?’

‘It sounds a bit Kafkaesque. Maybe you should think of moving on.’

‘It was on my mind, but where would I go. I don’t exactly identify with the job but it’s all I know.’

‘Why not become a rugby coach? Try commentating on TV, you have the looks and the background.’

‘It’s not me. I’d be suicidal in a few months. This is something I have to work through.’

Reid finished her drink. ‘What happens next?’

‘You’ve got a hot bath and a bottle of Chardonnay waiting at home.’

‘There’s room for two in my bath.’

‘Not tonight.’

She stood up and picked up her jacket. ‘I’ll have a student search for the autopsy report. Is £10 an hour OK?’

‘Perfect.’

“We’ll see each other again soon?’

‘Aye, very soon.’

She turned and he watched her as she strode from the bar. He saw the admiring looks she drew from the male group and wondered what they would think about him refusing her offer. He already knew. They’d think he was mad.