The Sixth Estate (The Craig Crime Series) (32 page)

Annette nodded. “Especially in the mood he’s been in.” She drew her finger across her throat graphically, smiling as Liam grabbed his keys.

“I’m going under duress. Union rules state it’s time for dinner.”

As he left, Craig was thirty miles away, still pondering the case. OK, so Richard McCann was a possibility but his gut said no. He thought about the names Cameron Lawton had given him, perhaps one of them would bear fruit. Liam and Davy had been running through them, so he would ask Liam when they met. If it wasn’t one of them then that still left the Bwyes’ solicitor as a possibility. He of the wine soaked shirt and affectionate glance. He made another call, this time to Annette.

“Annette, has Liam finished moaning and left?”

She smiled. It was as if Craig had heard their exchange. “Yes, but he has his mobile if you need him.”

“Thanks, but it was you I wanted. I need you and Davy to check out the Bwyes’ family solicitor; he’s called Joshua Kelly. Get Davy to do a background check so I can read it tonight and can you call Kelly’s office and arrange a meeting for me tomorrow morning.”

Annette raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t heard Kelly’s name mentioned before and she was curious.

“Is he a suspect, sir?”

Craig sighed. She was asking him what he’d been asking himself since Lawton had first mentioned the name.

“Good question. The answer is I don’t know. Cameron Lawton said something that suggests Kelly and Diana Bwye might have had a thing. Although it seems unlikely. Everyone says she took her marriage vows seriously.” Something occurred to him. “Get back to her friend Stephanie from the charity committee, and Niamh McDermott, the lady who lives across the lake, and see what they know about a possible affair between Diana and anyone. Then drop Kelly’s name in and watch their reactions.”

The lady who lives across the lake; it sounded like nineteenth-century poetry.

“Will do. Are you having dinner with us later at the hotel, sir?”

“Dinner?”

He said the word like he’d never heard it before and glanced at the dashboard clock in surprise.

“It’s nearly six o’clock!”

“Yes, sir. That’s why Liam was moaning.”

That and the fact that the match started at eight.

“I’m sorry, I’ve completely lost track of the time. Have something to eat before you get on with all that. I’ll see you later.”

She said goodbye and smiled, knowing that Liam’s stomach would be rumbling all the way through their interview. She lifted her handbag and tapped Davy on the head.

“Come with me, young man. I know a good restaurant in the centre of town.” She threw him her keys. “You’re driving. I have calls to make on the way.”

****

By the time Craig arrived at the station it was six-thirty and Liam’s mouth and stomach were groaning in unison. He was sitting in reception, eyes shut, with his forty-inch legs deliberately obstructing everyone who passed. John Ellis jerked a thumb in his direction.

“For God’s sake get him out of here. He’s making more noise than ten men.”

Craig stared pointedly at Liam’s limb barricade. “If you think I’m climbing over those you’ve another thought coming.” As Liam stood up he added. “And I hope McCann’s in the interview room.”

Liam was less than amused. “Where else would he be at six-thirty in the evening? Oh yes, maybe at home having dinner like normal folk.”

Craig ignored him and Ellis buzzed them through. As they pushed open the interview room door Craig watched as Richard McCann jumped at the intrusion. It always amused him when interviewees did that, as though they thought they’d be sitting alone all night.

“Mr McCann. You have no solicitor present.”

McCann gazed around blankly as if Craig knew something he didn’t.

“Do I need one?”

“You’re being questioned under caution so it’s advisable.” As Craig said it he hoped fervently that McCann wouldn’t think so; the delay waiting for a solicitor would make Liam grumble even more. To his relief the young husband shook his head, casting a wary glance at Liam as he did.

“Are you going to beat me up?”

Craig wasn’t sure if he was joking, then he remembered McCann’s west Belfast roots and wondered what had happened to his family in the bad old days.

“No, Mr McCann. We don’t do that. If you’re sure you wouldn’t like a solicitor then we’d just like to ask you a few more questions.”

On McCann’s nod Liam clicked on the tape machine and ran through the formalities. Then both detectives folded their hands on the table and sat back, leaving the room in silence apart from the whirr of the tape and McCann’s feet tapping nervously on the floor. The longer the silence ran the louder McCann’s tapping got, until, when it had reached door-knocking level, Craig finally spoke. He stared directly into the young man’s eyes.

“Did you kill your in-laws, Mr McCann?”

It was a toss-up who was more surprised. McCann at the content of the question or Liam that Craig had asked it in such a rookie way. Where was his usual circling of his opponent, winding him up to a pitch before going in for the kill? A first week probationer would have asked the question more covertly!

McCann was the first to recover, his answer drowning out the near deafening volume of his feet.

“No I didn’t!”

“Did you kill one of them?”

“No!”

McCann’s eyes were wide and wild, and he leaned forward so abruptly that Liam reached out a hand to halt him before he head-butted his boss. His hand said ‘back off’, but his brain said the way Craig had been behaving lately a head-butt might knock some sense into him.

“I didn’t kill anyone. I swear it.”

Craig looked unperturbed, both by McCann’s answers and by Liam’s obstructing arm. His voice said that he was bored, as if he was just going through the motions of the interview. Unknown to the other men in the room that was exactly what was going on.

“Where were you on the evening of Wednesday the tenth of December?”

“At my mum’s flat on the estate. You already know that. I would never have hurt Diana; she was a lovely woman. She was Jane’s mum, for God’s sake!”

Craig waved Liam’s arm away and leaned forward so that he and McCann were almost nose to nose. Liam noticed Craig’s nose was completely straight; how the heck had he escaped having it broken when he’d played as much rugby as he had? His own nose looked like it had been used as the ball. Craig kept his tone conversational.

“But you wouldn’t have minded killing Jane’s dad, would you?”

McCann shook his head, but not vehemently.

“I didn’t kill him, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished him dead plenty of times. He was a bastard and there’s not one person worse off for him being dead.”

Craig shrugged and sat back. “That’s honest of you.”

McCann warmed to his theme, his naturally rapid speech speeding up even more.

“Tell me one person who’s sad that he’s gone. Diana yes, but not him. He was an animal. He terrorised Jane and her mum all their lives. I’m only sorry Diana didn’t live to see life without him.”

Either McCann was so stupid that he didn’t realise openly saying you hated a man was incriminating, or he didn’t care, probably because he was innocent. Craig stared into the younger man’s eyes and finally his logic and instinct agreed. He rose suddenly to his feet, beckoning Liam to do the same.

“I’d like to keep you here overnight, Mr McCann, to recheck your alibi. A Detective Constable Carmen McGregor will speak to you in the morning. Do you have any objection?”

McCann shrugged. “If it helps you prove me innocent and catch Diana’s killer, that’s fine. Can I call Jane and ask her to tape the match? Derry’s playing a special fixture.”

Liam’s expression turned wistful.

“Fine. We’ll ask Sergeant Ellis to arrange the call.”

Craig strolled towards the staff room with Liam hot on his heels. When the door had closed behind them Liam let rip.

“Is that it? Did you kill them? No. Oh well, that’s all right then.”

Craig gave him a wry look. “What would you have preferred? Thumb screws? He didn’t do it, Liam. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Liam touched his nose defensively. “Then why waste time bringing him back in if you already knew?”

Craig brought the ever ready kettle back to the boil.

“I wanted to look him in the eye when I asked the question. I’ll be doing the same tomorrow with another man; Joshua Kelly.”

“And who the hell is he?”

“I’ll tell you later. Anyway. I saw what I needed to see with McCann.”

Liam found two mugs and started to make the drinks. “And what did you see in his eyes, Swami? The answers to life and the universe?”

Craig laughed despite himself. “Something like that. He wasn’t lying, that’s what I saw.”

“I thought you’d already dismissed him as a suspect.”

“I needed to recheck some things before I narrowed the field down to five.” He gestured at the clock before Liam could ask who the final five were. “If we hurry we can have dinner before the match.” He slipped his hands inside his jacket and withdrew two tickets, handing them to his disgruntled D.C.I.

“John Ellis organised them for me. Far better to see it in person than watch the sanitised version on TV.”

Liam gawped at the impossible-to-get tickets and softened towards his boss, but it hadn’t escaped him that Craig still hadn’t named his five suspects. He could only think of the three names on Lawton’s list.

He shrugged. No doubt Craig would tell him later, after they’d found out who’d won the game.

Chapter Ei
ghteen

Sunday. 11 a.m.

“OK, quick round up. Mike’s just called, he needs me at the lab and I’ve Joshua Kelly to see before then. Carmen, you saw McCann this morning. Where are you with his alibi?”

Carmen glanced at Craig over a pair of black-framed spectacles that he didn’t remember her wearing the day before. Liam asked first, not well disposed towards her since their hostile few months when she’d first joined the squad, and never one to let a grudge go to waste if it still had mileage. He gestured at the glasses.

“Trying to look intelligent, are we?”

Her retort was swift. “We? I’d give up if I were you…sir.”

The quip scored a hit and Liam went to lash back. Craig motioned her to continue reporting, but he was irritated by her cheek to a senior officer, even if Liam had started it. He was too busy to deal with it today but her time would come.

“McCann, Carmen?”

She tried not to look smug and continued.

“I checked his alibi with two people; the head gardener and one of the grounds men. The gardener confirms seeing McCann outside his mother’s apartment that evening. Apparently he was putting out the rubbish. He came out again around ten p.m. to carry something in from Jane’s car. Shopping they thought. It was a grounds man who saw him that time.” She turned over the page and read from the back. “I also checked Brendan Gordon’s alibi. It checks out.”

Craig nodded; it was as he’d thought. “Release McCann.”

He turned to Annette, only to find her whispering to Julia and Gerry in a way that told him they’d been amused by Carmen’s wisecrack.

“Annette. Where are you on the reactions to Diana Bwye owning the house?”

She took out her notebook hastily, chastened by his ‘don’t mess with me’ tone of voice.

“Julia, Gerry and I split the re-interviews and the only person who didn’t look shocked by the information was Bernadette Ross, although she seemed surprised by the question.”

“She didn’t think it was a secret?”

“Exactly. I suppose that’s because she was privy to all the family’s documents, so she would have seen the deeds. Everyone else thought Oliver Bwye owned everything and that was the reason he held so much power over the women in his family. In fact…” She flicked furiously through the pages, stopping first at one and then another. “In fact, Linda McCann and the head gardener both asked why Diana hadn’t had him evicted, given his treatment of her and Jane.”

Craig shook his head. “Marriage is a strange thing.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “How did Jane take the news?”

Annette’s expression changed to one of sadness. “She cried. She couldn’t understand why, if her mum had owned the estate, she hadn’t thrown her father out, if only to protect her. I think she felt betrayed.”

Craig knew everyone was wondering how Diana Bwye could have put her husband before her child’s safety and her own. Davy ventured an opinion.

“Perhaps s…she was scared of what he would do…if she asked him to leave, I mean. He was a big man.”

Craig thought back to Margie Rudd, a woman on an earlier case who’d stayed with her abusive husband for years out of fear. But she’d been poor and uneducated and Diana Bwye hadn’t been either. Julia spoke for the first time since she’d arrived.

“Perhaps she loved him.” She glanced at her engagement ring. “Some women will put up with a lot for love.”

Annette was quick to retort. She’d experienced domestic violence once and had filed for divorce right away. “And some women are stupid. It looks like Diana Bwye was one of them. She had money, her own home and a daughter to protect; there’s no excuse for her staying with that animal.”

“She was religious. Maybe she really believed her wedding vows.”

Craig sensed a feminist battle looming and changed the subject, even though he found it interesting that Julia, a militant feminist when they’d dated, was now on the less militant side.

“OK, so the only person who’s confessed to knowing that Mrs Bwye owned Rocksbury is Bernadette Ross. How sure are you all that they weren’t faking their surprise?”

Gerry and Julia answered in unison. “Very.” Annette’s nod backed them up.

Davy cut in. “The W…Wills were straightforward, like I said before. When Oliver Bwye died everything passed to his wife and when she died, everything went to Jane.”

Liam chipped in. “Unless the wife had died before him, then he’d have owned the house while he still lived.”

Davy shook his head. “Nope. The house would have reverted to the trust and then onto the next female relative in line, in this case Jane. Bwye couldn’t have got his hands on it no matter how hard he’d tried, although Jane would’ve had a job to evict him.”

Craig thought for a moment. “OK. So the only people who stood to benefit financially from killing Diana Bwye were Oliver Bwye, who would have got her life insurance, but as he was going to die in a few months it would have been of little use. And Jane and Richard McCann and we’ve ruled them both out. So…”

The whole group stared at him, wondering what pearls of wisdom he was about to cast forth. There’d been no robbery and the only people who’d stood to benefit from the Bwyes’ deaths had either been killed or proved innocent. That left a killer who’d wanted the Bwyes, or more likely Oliver Bwye, dead for some other motive.

Davy couldn’t contain his curiosity. “So w…what, chief? What possible motive is left for their deaths?”

Craig deferred revealing his thoughts for a while longer.

“You have a list of three people. Councillor Brian Ormond, Harold Clinton and Solomon Ronson. They’re the only three men alive that Cameron Lawton feels hated Bwye enough to kill him.” He sipped his cooling coffee and shot Davy a begging look. As he topped it up Craig carried on. “Bwye accused Ormond of embezzlement, which was later proved false but Bwye only printed a brief retraction on the back page. Bwye covered Solomon Ronson’s son’s arrest for drug dealing with a front page colour spread.”

Gerry whistled. “That was a bit unnecessary.”

Liam nodded energetically. “It certainly was. The family are very respectable. Orthodox Jews. It ruined their reputation and the father’s business. He was a pharmacist.”

Craig nodded. Everyone would have assumed the pharmacist was supplying drugs to his dealer son. He continued.

“Harold Clinton was the only one of the three that Lawton thought deserved everything he got from Bwye. He’s a convicted paedophile. Still inside, Liam?”

“Doing fifteen in Maghaberry.”

“That rules him out in the killings unless he took out a contract, which any of families of the men on Lawton’s longlist could have done. As an aside, apparently Bwye used Clinton’s case to start a fundraising campaign for a child abuse charity. One of the few decent things he ever did, according to Lawton.”

Annette snorted derisively. “A children’s fundraiser who beats the hell out of his own kid.”

Craig nodded. “Bwye was a bastard. It’s hard not to be glad that he’s dead.”

The shock that filled the room was palpable. Not at the words, God knows every one of them had hated Oliver Bwye from early in the case, but at the fact that Craig had said them. No matter what he felt he was always professional. It was an uncharacteristic lapse.

Craig carried on as if he’d said nothing.

“OK, Clinton’s locked up and the others are elderly. Ormond is seventy-two and Ronson’s in his sixties. It doesn’t rule them out but it makes killing Bwye more of a risk.”

Julia shook her head. “Not if you have a gun.”

Liam spoke before Craig could. “It’s not their age that rules them out, it’s other things. Davy’s been checking them out so I’ll let him tell you.”

Davy tapped the smart-pad on his knee and the screen’s glow highlighted the tiredness on his young face. Annette dreaded to think what the rest of them looked like.

“OK, Brian Ormond, s…seventy-two, currently in St Mary’s Hospital having post-surgery radiotherapy for squamous cell s… skin cancer. He’s been in since early November. S…Solomon Ronson and his family have been visiting relatives in Israel since June. I’ve checked passports and airports and they haven’t been back here during that time.”

Craig shook his head. “It doesn’t rule out extended families or a contract.” He turned to Liam. “You and Gerry get your ears to the ground and see what the Derry snouts can find. If it was a professional contract there can’t be that many round here who could have done it efficiently. John Ellis can help you with local knowledge. Annette, you and Julia check into the men’s extended families. They-”

Just then the back door burst open and Andy stormed in. Craig hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t there. He stood by the doorway triumphantly.

“They’ve found it! The divers have found the Ruger.”

Liam dampened his excitement. “Well, unless you fancy diving in after them, shut that bloody door. You’re letting the heat out.”

Andy kicked the door shut with his heel and grabbed a seat, continuing in an enthusiastic tone.

“It was near where they found Mrs Bwye, weighed down in the same way.”

Craig interrupted. “In a plastic bag, weighted with stones?”

“Yes; identical. They’re hoping the plastic might have protected any prints.”

Liam and Craig shook their heads in unison and Liam spoke first.

“No way. There were no prints on the boat except the McDermotts’. Whoever dumped it and the rifle wore gloves.”

Craig gave Andy an apologetic look. “He’s probably right, but it’s a good find anyway.” He scanned the group. “Anything more on the van; anyone?”

Davy nodded. “A motorway patrol found a burnt out carcass that might be a match.”

Craig sat forward enthusiastically. “Cameras? If it was dumped on a motorway there must be footage.”

Liam warmed to the theme. “And he must have had a car parked nearby as getaway. Try the local A roads and do a ten-mile sweep for CCTV. We might catch a break.”

Annette sounded a note of caution. “He only said it
might
be a match, sir.”

“It’ll match, Annette. There are only two adapted vans of that type in Northern Ireland. What are the odds of finding one burnt out so close?”

She wasn’t persuaded. “And how many in the whole of Ireland? How many on the ferries to mainland UK and Europe this week, not to mention the ones already replated and sprayed by now? They’d have to be a real amateur to burn the van out so close by.”

Craig’s face fell. Liam wasn’t as quiet in his disappointment.

“Ach, why did you have to say that?”

Craig shook his head. “Because she’s right, Liam. We’ll check, but the chances of it being our van are slim, unless our man was a complete novice.”

Liam wasn’t done. “So what does that leave us with? An expert stranger attack, or revenge by the families of the men on Lawton’s list.”

Annette scrutinised Craig’s face, reading something there. “Or the Super’s so…”

Craig smiled; Annette was on the ball. Liam looked confused. “The Super’s so? What does that mean?”

Craig stood up, signalling that the briefing was closed. “It means you all know what you’ve got to get on with and we’ll meet again at five.” He turned to Andy. “OK, show me that gun.”

****

The rifle looked just like any Ruger, except for the slime and weed that had somehow entwined itself around it, despite its plastic overcoat. The mysteries of open water. The plastic was in a separate evidence bag and Craig scrutinised both as they lay side by side in the divers’ van.

What would the gun tell them? That it was Oliver Bwye’s, probably, and that it had fired the bullets they’d found. That it had been dumped at the bottom of the lake at the same time as the bodies? Again, probably; forensics would prove that much using samples of water and silt. Craig prayed fervently for prints, but without them what other information did the rifle’s discovery yield? It said what they already knew, that there was a third person in the boat. There was no way Diana Bwye had survived her fatal wounding long enough to wrap the gun and dispose of it neatly in the lake, and Oliver Bwye definitely couldn’t have dumped it; concrete tended to inhibit athleticism.

So what did that leave? A third person, yes, perhaps even a fourth. Craig dismissed the idea as soon as it appeared; the McDermott’s boat was small and Bwye’s sarcophagus would have made it cramped; two more people was all that it could have held. Diana Bwye and who else? And was that person their killer, as most juries in the land would believe, or merely a helping hand after the event? Someone who’d assisted the Bwyes in ending their lives because that’s what they’d wanted to do, or someone who’d aided one of them in arranging both of their deaths?

He shook his head at the thought; not because it was wrong but because it was something that had to remain just a thought until he was certain of his facts. And there was only one way he knew how to get there; by relentlessly working the case.

****

Miller Street, Derry.