A Box Full of Darkness (Wilson Book 5) (3 page)

Kate looked towards the jury. ‘Amazing, the senior officer investigating permits an outsider privileged access to his investigation and he has no idea why.’  She turned back to Wilson.  “I would like to explore another avenue with you. You developed a motivation for the murders committed by my client?’

‘I did.’

‘And it was?’

‘Revenge for the death of her mother, Francis McComber.’

‘And in the course of this investigation have you established how and where Francis McComber was murdered?’

‘We have ascertained that Francis McComber was murdered by a group of women from the Shankill Women’s UDA. We understand that she was murdered in a romper room in Belfast.’

‘Have you examined the RUC investigation into the disappearance of Francis McComber?’

‘I have.’

‘And what did you conclude?’

‘DCI Armstrong did his utmost to find Mrs McComber.’

‘Were the murderers of Mrs McComber known to the police?’

‘Their leader was.’

‘Was she interviewed?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘But she was a well known community leader?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think there was police collusion in covering up the death of Francis McComber?’

‘I have no knowledge of such collusion.’

‘But it is possible that friends of the murderers within the RUC helped to cover up a murder?’

‘I have no basis for answering that question.’

Kate looked theatrically at the jury.  ‘I think the members of the jury can draw their own conclusions. Do you think my client is insane?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think the police failed my client and her mother?’

So, the PSNI were going to be the whipping boys in Kate’s defence strategy. ‘Perhaps,’ Wilson said simply.

‘Thank you, Superintendent,’ Kate said. ‘I think we can let you go.’ She turned to the Judge. ‘Your Honour, the defence has issued a subpoena for Deputy Constable Royson Jennings but have so far been unable to serve it. I think that the Deputy Chief Constable should be required to attend.’

Laurence Gold was immediately on his feet. ‘The prosecution cannot see what calling Deputy Chief Constable Jennings can possibly add to the proceedings. The purpose of this trial is to assess the guilt or innocence of the woman in the dock, not to deflect the jury’s attention to the internal decisions taken within the PSNI.’

The Judge made a note on the paper in front of him. ‘I am disposed to agree with Mr Gold,’ he said. ‘All the relevant participants have received subpoenas for this trial. I cannot see what the Deputy Chief Constable can possibly add.’

Kate remained on her feet. ‘We could find out why my client received privileged access to the murder squad. We could learn whether there was a cover-up and collusion in the case of the murder of her mother.’

‘I do not see the relevance of that information to the case,’ the Judge said. ‘Superintendent Wilson, you may step down. Mr Gold, you may call your next witness.’

Wilson left the witness box. He had been skewered and Jennings was probably going to escape. He looked at the Judge who was studiously scribbling on his notebook. He wondered which lodge he belonged to. However, he concluded that it had been a good day for the defence.

CHAPTER FOUR

Wilson was waiting outside the courtroom when the Judge called it a day.  He had slipped out early to avoid the rush from the public gallery. He stood aside as the public filed past. Finally, he saw Laurence Gold and his team heading for the exit. Then Kate, her junior and the solicitors emerged. Kate looked around and saw him standing alone at the side of the courtroom door.

‘Tough day,’ he said moving forward.

‘Very,’ she said looking over her shoulder at her team who stood at a diplomatic distance. ‘We’re off for a strategy meeting.’

‘You’re very busy.’

‘You could say that. Look I’ve got to run.’

‘We should talk,’ Wilson said putting his hand on her arm. ‘I don’t really understand what happened.’

She shook off his arm. ‘Things happen. Life is about change.’

‘I need to know what’s going on, Kate’

She looked around the corridor. ‘Can’t we have this conversation somewhere a bit more private?’

‘We could if you’d take my calls and agree to sit down together.’

‘Well then, can we have this conversation when this case is over?’ She put her briefcase under her arm.

‘I need to know what’s going on. We didn’t just fall out of love, did we?’

‘No we didn’t,’ she said with a tinge of sadness. ‘Things happened. We haven’t had time to reset our lives. We’ll talk when the case is over. Look, I really do need to go.’

He watched as Kate and her team disappeared in a flurry of black gowns. He looked at his watch. It was just past five. He had to make his mind up between returning to the office or heading to the Crown for a drink and a bite to eat. He wasn’t about to have another solo meal in his newly acquired and otherwise empty apartment.

‘Trouble in paradise,’ Jock McDevitt appeared at his side.

‘None of your business,’ Wilson said

‘You look like a man in need of a drink.’

Wilson was inclined to agree with that. ‘If you’re buying, I’m drinking.’

Just then Wilson’s mobile started to purr. He pressed the green button and listened. He put the phone into his pocket. ‘We’ll have to postpone that drink, Jock. Orders from above.’

McDevitt put on his sad face. ‘I hate drinking alone but this time I’ll make an exception.’

A few yards down the corridor Kate made her excuses and headed for the ladies’ toilet. She could feel another weep coming on and she didn’t want her legal team seeing her so vulnerable. She closed the door of the ladies’ room and went to the row of wash basins. She turned on the tap and cupped her hands beneath it. She splashed water on her face where there were already tears running down her cheeks.  She looked a mess. Meeting Ian again had reawakened some of the pain that was beginning to diminish. How could she ever explain to him why they could never be together again? She knew they were not unique. It was well established that many couples split after the death of a child but she had learned that the data extended to couples that had lost a child in pregnancy or had a stillbirth. She had thought long and hard about why she couldn’t live with him. She knew it was something about how he had accepted the loss of their child. To him, the baby wasn’t a real person because he, or she, had not been born. But she had carried the child for almost twenty weeks, she had felt the life within her womb and for her their child was already a person. She thought that throwing herself into work was part of the grieving process but she had been only kidding herself. She tried to ignore the sleeplessness, the tiredness, the nightmares and worse of all the depression. Perhaps Ian’s response, if in fact he did have a response, was a function of his job. He saw dead bodies regularly. Sometimes the corpses had been horribly mutilated. She had seen the photographs taken of Rice, Morrison and Boyle. Ian hadn’t just seen the photos; he’d smelled the smells, looked into the smashed heads. Maybe that experience had dulled the grief she felt he should have experienced at the death of their child. She often thought that she judged him too harshly. In the weeks after the miscarriage, she had looked at him for signs of the symptoms she was suffering. Where were the sleeplessness, the nervousness, and the depression? Ian had been his usual self while her emotions had been like a raging storm. He was playing his usual gundog role hunting out a gang of murderers. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed at the water on her face. The tears had dried up, if only for the present. Some days she tired of playing the part of Kate McCann, QC. She was not super competent, super intelligent and, most of all, invulnerable. It was time to put on the mask again. The group outside would be expecting the person she was supposed to be. And she was going to give them full value.

CHAPTER FIVE

Chief Superintendent Donald Spence was sitting in his car in the station’s courtyard when Wilson pulled into his parking spot. Although it was early summer, light rain had started to fall and a vicious wind was blowing from the north. One could never depend on the weather in Ireland. Wilson struggled into a waterproof jacket as he exited his car. He covered the distance between the two cars in a few steps and quickly opened the door behind the driver. Spence looked like someone had just killed his favourite mutt.  He was dressed in full uniform; never a good sign.

‘I heard about your evidence,’ Spence said tapping the driver on the shoulder.

‘I did my best,’ Wilson said settling back in the seat.

‘You fucked the DCC,’ Spence said simply. ‘You could have fallen on your sword but you’re too proud for that.’

‘It’s not pride that keeps me from returning to the beat in some Godforsaken dump in Fermanagh. For a change, I thought I might tell the truth. At least I didn’t have to produce Jennings’ written instruction. The little bastard will survive.’

‘Aye, but will you and I?’ Spence turned to look at Wilson. ‘Two months, Ian, I have two bloody months to go for retirement and one of my coppers goes and fucks the DCC.  You’re one of the best officers I’ve ever worked with but the business between you and Jennings will do for both of us. Jennings has connections that we can only guess at.’

‘I thought that you were also a member of the peculiar handshake club.’

‘Touché,’ Spence’s serious face collapsed, ‘except I operate at a very junior level.’

‘I thought that you guys have your tongues cut out if you admit to being a member of the Venerable Order,’ Wilson said smiling.

The car was approaching the collection of buildings outside Castlereagh that constitutes the headquarters of the Police Service of Northern Ireland. Despite the decrease in violence in the Province, the building housing the hierarchy of the police service had protection that would not have been out of place in the Green Zone in Kabul. Both Spence and Wilson showed their warrant cards as the Chief Super’s car glided slowly past the steel outer gates.

‘What’s the plan?’ Wilson said as they pulled up before Brooklyn House, the building containing the office of the Chief Constable.

‘We’re here to learn our fate,’ said Spence pushing open the back door before his driver had an opportunity to rush around to assist him. ‘So, there’s no plan, we’re not in control.’

The first thing that Wilson noticed was that the Chief Constable himself was not going to be a part of their meeting. Being a detective had its uses and when he saw the Chief Constable’s parking space vacant, he drew the obvious conclusion. They entered the reception area where a uniformed female police officer was waiting for them. She led them to a conference room on the second floor of the building. The dominant feature in the room was a large mahogany table around which twenty or so chairs were placed. None of the chairs had an armrest except for one, which was located at the head of the table.

‘Ominous,’ Spence said as they entered the room. ‘When you don’t meet in an office it means they want a sanitised space in which to screw you.’

Wilson moved to the windows and looked down into the courtyard.  He imagined a guillotine and a coterie of old biddies knitting sweaters sitting around waiting for Spence and him to be brought out for their entertainment. As he was chuckling to himself, the door behind him opened and two men entered. Deputy Chief Constable Jennings was resplendent in full dress uniform with his cap under his left arm. Jennings’ bald pate looked like it had been shaved and Wilson noticed that the liver spots were more prominent on his face and head. He had his usual pallor but Wilson thought he could see something new. Stress lines were cut into his face. He looked at Spence and saw that he too was surprised at Jennings’ presence. Earlier in the day, Wilson had been informed that Jennings was out of the country. The second man was also dressed in full uniform and although Wilson seldom had business with the Assistant to the Chief Constable, he knew Chief Superintendent Brian Campbell by reputation. Campbell’s nickname was the ‘Gravedigger’ occasioned by the number of times he dug the graves of his colleagues before consigning their careers to the toilet.  Campbell carried a buff-coloured folder in his right hand.

‘Chief Superintendent Spence, Detective Superintendent Wilson,’ Campbell said as he entered. ‘Thank you for joining us so quickly.’ He moved to the head of the table and looked at Wilson. ‘I’m Chief Superintendent Campbell, I don’t think we’ve met.’

Wilson was not offered a handshake. ‘I don’t think so.’ He had already decided to keep his intervention to the minimum.

Campbell sat in the chair that Wilson assumed was usually reserved for the Chief Constable. It was clear that Campbell was acting for his master in this meeting. He placed the folder on the table in front of him.

Jennings didn’t greet either man and took the seat immediately to the right of Campbell.

‘Please,’ Campbell indicated the seats to his left.

Spence walked forward and sat in the seat immediately to Campbell’s left. Wilson took the seat beside his superior.

‘The DCC has joined us today by special arrangement,’ Campbell started. ‘As you may know, DCC Jennings is currently attending a course in leadership at Stanford University in California. He’s only with us for today.’ He smiled in Jennings’ direction and then opened the file.

Wilson smiled. Skewering was not a spectator sport. It was always preferable for men like Jennings to be present when the knife is finally placed in the back.

Campbell continued, ‘The DCC will be taking up a new appointment with Cumbria Police when he returns from Stanford and will rejoin us here in a senior capacity at a date in the future to be decided.’ Campbell’s smile for Jennings widened and was returned. Campbell rubbed his hands together and turned to Spence and Wilson. ‘As you are both aware, the Cummerford trial poses several challenges for the PSNI. Firstly, there’s the issue of the botched investigation into the death of Francis McComber. We have some little leeway there since the event occurred in the middle of the “Troubles” when we were faced with literally hundreds of such cases.’ He looked at Spence and Wilson looking for some sign of agreement.

Wilson wanted to intervene and explain what he had learned from DCI Armstrong who had tried to pursue the McComber case. But the die had been cast and there was nothing to be gained by pointing out that collusion probably played a part in the so-called “botched” investigation.

Campbell flipped the cover of the file over and stared at the page beneath. ‘Secondly,’ he looked up, ‘secondly, there is the issue of Cummerford’s access to the investigation. We have carried out an investigation at headquarters and we have established that DCI Harrison was responsible for that particular debacle. He has been reduced in rank to inspector and reassigned to non-operational duties.’

Wilson thought: one grave dug, body deposited and ground covered over, farewell to ‘Fatboy’ Harrison, another sacrifice on the altar of DCC Jennings’ unstoppable career.

‘The whole affair,’ Campbell continued,  ‘and the absence of the DCC on an obligatory course has accelerated a reorganisation that the Chief Constable has had in mind for some time.’ He turned another page then looked up and stared at Spence.

Wilson saw his superior swallow hard.

‘I understand you are about to retire,’ Campbell said speaking directly to Spence.

‘Two months,’ Spence said his mouth dry.

Campbell said, ‘We have of course received your retirement papers and we have decided that there is no need for you to serve out the last two months. You will commence “gardening leave” at the end of the week. There will, of course, be an official function, but you will be ready to vacate your office in three days.’

Wilson could see that Spence was about to object and put his hand firmly on Spence’s forearm. It was a
fait accompli
so no good could be done by arguing. Second grave dug and body deposited.

The next page of the file was turned and Campbell faced Wilson who could see Jennings sitting forward in anticipation. ‘Superintendent Wilson,’ Campbell began, ‘you have done an admirable job as head of the murder squad. However, as I said earlier we have decided to accelerate a reorganisation, which has been under discussion for some time. The murder squad will soon be disbanded and will be replaced by a serious crimes unit.’

Wilson could see some light at the end of the tunnel but all his experience told him that it was a train rushing in his direction.