The Running of the Deer Read online

  “We’ll do the reports this evening-”

  He was cut off by Liam’s howl of dismay. “Here now. I have a life outside this place, you know.”

  The way he said it made Andy snort. “You mean your wife’s organised something for this evening and told you there’ll be trouble if you’re late.”

  He’d got it in one, but Liam wasn’t about to admit it, so instead he sniffed and said, “I’ll have you know I like going to our ni-”

  He stopped abruptly as several sets of eyes locked on to him, realising with a sinking heart that he’d already said too much. The others knew it as well.

  Andy rubbed his hands. It sounded like Liam was taking a night-class, and if so he needed to discover its subject; if there was the possibility of piss-taking here it was just too good to pass up.

  Before anyone could ask more Craig shrugged. “OK, I’ll do the reports then. Send them to me, Nicky.”

  His girlfriend Katy, a doctor, was on-call that evening so he would have plenty of free time. He turned back towards the exit with Liam hot on his heels, but their progress was halted by Nicky once again.

  “And what about Mary Li?”

  The question made Craig frown. Mary Li, Mary Li, he’d heard that name somewhere before.

  Annette put him out of his misery.

  “The new constable. Rhonda’s replacement.”

  Rhonda O’Neil had been the squad’s detective constable for two years, and had originally been due to return to her native Sydney after she’d left them two months before, however, a budding romance with Karl Rimmins, a sergeant on the Drugs Squad, had prompted her to request an extended stay so she’d transferred to work in Youth Crime. Craig would have liked to have kept her, but it seemed that the Australian had very sensibly had enough of murder, although at least she’d remained local enough to join them for the occasional drink.

  Craig nodded slowly, his mouth opening in surprise that he’d forgotten the team’s new recruit. In his defence, he did have a lot on his mind.

  “Ah, yes, the girl from the Traffic Division. Liam, you organised that transfer, didn’t you?”

  The D.C.I.’s eyes narrowed. “I did… but if you think I’m staying here to baby-”

  Craig cut him off with another question, deliberately prolonging his deputy’s agony.

  “And Ryan Hendron’s transfer. When’s that happening?”

  Ryan Hendron was a detective sergeant from Strangford who’d worked with them on the Rowan Drake case three months before. When he’d learned that the murder squad was missing a sergeant he’d expressed a desire to join them, just as soon as his current boss gave the nod. It had taken Craig several months and a lot of free drinks and persuasion, but Strangford’s lead detective had finally agreed to let Hendron go, although not without moaning to anyone who would listen about “unscrupulous poachers from the Big Smoke”.

  Liam was still squinting at him. “Not for another couple of weeks. Strangford made him work his notice.”

  Craig tutted. After all that free booze too. Some people had no gratitude.

  Liam decided to press his point.

  “If you think I’m staying here while you swan off to Tyrone then you’ve another think coming.”

  Leaving aside the fact that Craig could order him wherever he wished, he had absolutely no intention of working Flanagan’s case without his best man.

  “I’m just winding you up, Liam.” He turned towards Annette. “Annette, I don’t suppose that you-”

  His favourite inspector smiled. “Would look after Constable Li for you, and show her the ropes? I will, but you owe me, sir, that’s if you don’t want me brainwashing her into only taking my orders before you get back.”

  “Name it.”

  “I’d like Friday off, so Mike and I can take Carrie away for a long St Patrick’s weekend.”

  Carina, or Carrie, was the couple’s two-year-old.

  “We’ve hired a caravan up at Castlerock.”

  It was a lovely spot on Ireland’s north Atlantic coast, and as Mike Augustus, Annette’s pathologist partner, had been carrying more weight since he’d been promoted to deputy just after Christmas by the pathology service’s director, John Winter, Craig guessed that he could probably do with the break.

  Liam thought so too and put it bluntly.

  “Taking the crypt-keeper out for some fresh air then?”

  Annette’s eyes narrowed. “One more word from you and you can stay and look after Mary yourself.”

  Craig held the exit door open pointedly. “I’d quit while you’re ahead, Liam.”

  The D.C.I. took the hint and scurried through and, satisfied that they’d sorted all of Nicky’s objections, Craig finally managed to get his new car on the road. Ten miles out his car-phone beeped with a message.

  “Check that will you, Liam.”

  When the D.C.I. had spent a full thirty seconds staring at the phone’s screen and shaking his head, Craig felt compelled to ask.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “The boy.”

  In Liam-World ‘the boy’ always meant Davy Walsh, the squad’s senior analyst. So named because he’d been an extremely shy twenty-three-year-old when he’d first joined them in two thousand and eleven, and Liam seemed incapable of accepting change. Davy was now a grown-up almost thirty-year-old who was getting married soon, and whose only sign of shyness now was a slight stammer on ‘s’ and ‘w’ that worsened under stress. But strangely the analyst didn’t object to the nickname; his rationale being that if Liam ever accepted that he’d aged then he’d have to acknowledge it too.

  When Liam offered no further information, Craig pulled into the next layby and reached out his hand for the phone. What he saw on its screen confused him.

  “What the hell’s this?”

  As his deputy was now staring straight ahead, still not answering, Craig decided to make a call.

  “Nicky, put me through to Davy, please.”

  The computer expert came on the line.

  “What’s this photo you’ve just sent through, Davy?”

  The analyst could tell that Craig wasn’t pleased, and part of him wanted to say, “It’s not my bloody fault. I’m only the messenger”, but he knew that arguing with the chief was always a zero-sum game. Craig was the boss, and a decent one apart from his occasional moodiness who’d arranged for him to get the time and financial support to do his PhD, so coping with a curt comment now and then felt like a fair exchange.

  Davy replied in his soft, slightly stammering voice.

  “The C.C.’s office just s…sent it through. It’s from the case he told you about.”

  Craig’s forehead wrinkled as he flicked his screen back to the image. It was the body of a dead teenage boy, just like in the photos that Donna had already sent over, but the items surrounding him were the strangest the detective had ever seen.

  “Was there any commentary with it?”

  Davy shook his pony-tailed head. “Sorry, no, chief. It came over from Donna just as it is. Do you w…want me to call her for more info?”

  “No, don’t worry. I’ll check it out when we arrive. Thanks.”

  He was just about to cut the call when Davy remembered something else. “Donna said an Inspector Hunter will meet you at Castlederg Station when you’re ready.”

  Craig answered, “Fine”, absentmindedly, his thoughts already at the scene. As he hung up he glanced at Liam who was still staring straight ahead. “Buck up, man, for God’s sake.”

  The D.C.I. responded in a dull voice. “You saw that photo.”

  “Yes, I did. And it’s disturbing, I’ll grant you that, but you’ve seen worse and we have a job to do.”

  Liam turned to face him. “All right. But I’m telling you now, if this turns out to be Satanic shit I’m out of there. I can’t be doing with that stuff.”

  Neither could Craig, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  The D.C.I. hadn’t finished.

  “And the Chief Con’s
a sneaky bastard not telling us what we were walking into. Devil worship and the like.”

  Craig said nothing, because deep in his heart, which along with his gut was what he always followed, Satanism, Devil worship, or whatever else Liam wanted to call it, wasn’t ringing any bells relating to their case.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s wait to see what we find when we get there.”

  Liam’s grumbling in response to his logic continued for several miles.

  Chapter Three

  The C.C.U.

  It was eleven o’clock by the time the rituals devised by Human Resources to intimidate new staff members finally ended, and they released Detective Constable Mary Elizabeth Li to the C.C.U. The first person she encountered as she entered the squad-room wasn’t Nicky, AKA, ‘she who none must ignore’, or Annette, her newly designated supervisor, but Ash Rahman, the squad’s smooth-skinned junior analyst. Ash had an eye for the ladies and having a girlfriend didn’t prevent him appreciating any woman under eighty with a pulse. Scrap that; even octogenarians were treated to the full force of his charm.

  So, no sooner had the team’s new addition set foot through the squad-room’s glass doors and begun walking tentatively towards Nicky’s desk, prominently positioned outside the office labelled ‘D.C.S. Craig’, and therefore obviously the place to go, than Ash, whose laser eyes had locked on to the petite brunette seconds before, was on his feet and across to intercept her, his hand extended to shake.

  “Hi, I’m Ash. You must be Mary.”

  Most new entrants when so greeted would either be comforted in their nervousness, momentarily taken aback, or both, but Mary Li just stared intently at her new colleague as they shook hands, assessing Ash in a glance.

  Clever, handsome, although what was with the three-piece suit? Fancies himself but harmless, would like to be a player but doesn’t have the required ruthless streak, born under either Libra or Cancer, and probably only a few years older than her.

  All that emerged from her mouth however was, “Yes, I am. Lovely to meet you.”

  Annette had watched the exchange, smiling. Their new constable was doll-like and pretty and was guaranteed to break a few hearts, but behind her eyes the D.I. read something else; a sparking intelligence and a wryness that said Mary Li’s sojourn with them was likely to be fun, trouble, or both.

  When she thought that Ash had had enough time to make his mark Annette rose from her desk and crossed the floor, at the same moment as Nicky emerged from Craig’s office and said, “You must be D.C. Li.”

  Introductions over and Nicky’s traditional new member’s interrogation not the way to make a good early impression, Annette decided that the best place to induct her new charge was three floors down in the canteen. They decanted there quickly, and ten minutes later, as is often the case with women, they knew everything about the other that there was to know. Or everything that they would ever reveal in any case.

  Mary had been the first in her family to join the police force five years before, something that her university lecturer parents had been ambivalent about and were still to be persuaded was a good idea. She was twenty-six, had a degree in computing and linguistics and had wanted to be a murder detective from the start, working her way tortuously towards it via the Drugs Squad, the Hate Crimes Unit and finally the Traffic Division where Liam had rescued her from.

  Annette was curious.

  “Which division was your favourite?”

  The new team member smiled, revealing small teeth so white that they almost shone, and as her nose wrinkled up a bright blue stone on one side winked at Annette. For the first time the D.I. noticed Mary’s piercings: three rings high on each ear and a stud in her nose, and who knew what lurking beneath her neat dress. She shook her head firmly before the girl could answer her question.

  “The D.C.S. won’t let you keep those in. In case a perp grabs one and rips it through your skin.”

  It made the new squad member frown and determine to check the regulations, but Mary knew that before she chose which battle to die in, she needed to know more about Craig. He was the boss, so he set the tone of the squad.

  She decided to answer Annette’s question and then ask one of her own.

  “My least favourite was the Hate Crimes Unit. The others were all OK. What’s the D.C.S. like?”

  Annette was surprised by the declaration, so she deferred describing Craig to dig deeper into the D.C.’s words.

  “Why? Dislike the HCU, I mean.”

  Mary screwed up her face in disgust. “Tokenism. I hate it.”

  Annette was confused and looked it, so the constable elaborated.

  “OK, so, I’m bi-racial. Half-Chinese, as you’ll probably have noticed.”

  Annette wasn’t sure how to reply, but she was from saved her politically correct angst by the D.C. carrying on.

  “My mum’s family is from Hong Kong, but they moved to Dublin when she was one, so she grew up there and met my Irish dad at Trinity College. They moved up here where I was then born, hence the Belfast accent.” She paused for breath and went on. “So… I’m Irish, mixed-race Irish OK, but still Irish, so to me, getting picked to work in the HCU on the…” She twitched her fingers in parentheses. “‘Assumption’ that because of my race of course I must understand discrimination, so I therefore deserved to get the job, was itself discrimination, albeit a positive form of it. But anyway, I loathe both sorts.”

  In case she hadn’t got her message across she leaned forward defiantly.

  “I really can’t stand the assumption that I must have experienced Hate Crime when I haven’t! And I want to be given a job because of my skills not my colour!”

  Annette had been holding her breath throughout the tirade and now she exhaled noisily. “Hence tokenism.”

  “Exactly.” Mary rolled her eyes. “Like I’m somehow supposed to have been traumatised because of the colour of my skin! My mates spend every summer dyeing themselves a blotchy orange because they feel stigmatised for being too white, but I don’t see anyone trying to recruit them!”

  Annette burst out laughing. She wasn’t quite sure that the argument made sense, but she decided to opt for diplomacy rather than debate.

  “I’d never thought of it like that.” She needed more time to assimilate the information, so she changed the subject, gesturing towards the coffee bar. “Fancy one?”

  “If they have a latte I’ll be yours forever.”

  As they were sipping their drinks, Annette decided that it was time to discuss Craig.

  “D.C.S. Craig, or the Super, or chief as most people call him, except Liam who calls him boss, and I always call him sir, but that’s my traditional training in nursing I suppose. Anyway… you asked what he was like.”

  Mary set down her glass mug and nodded enthusiastically. “Please. Inspector Ronson in Traffic was terrified of him, so he’s already pretty high in my opinion.”

  Annette had been wondering about how best to describe Craig and she’d just been given her start.

  “OK, well, that’s an example. Gabe Ronson’s obsessed with detail. The man has never met a rule-book that he didn’t want to date.”

  The image made Mary laugh, and she revised her assessment of Annette as a prim Virgo to a slightly more adventurous Taurean.

  “And although the Super’s good at detailed stuff himself, he isn’t nit-picking and he’s not keen on people who are.” Seeing a sudden glint in Mary’s eyes she added hastily. “But he never slags people off, and he won’t like it if he hears you doing it. So, don’t.”

  “Never? Is he some sort of saint?”

  Definitely not, but Annette wasn’t about to say that to a new recruit.

  “I’ve never heard him bad mouth anyone, except maybe a perp.”

  Well, not in public anyway.

  Mary deflated slightly but rallied quickly. “OK, so what else about him?”

  Annette warmed to her theme. “He’s a gentleman, extremely bright, and well-educated too. He di
d law at Queen’s and speaks fluent French and Italian, although that could be because of his mum, she comes from Rome. She’s a concert pianist, so the Super knows about music, art, literature, all that stuff-”

  The D.C. interrupted, her interest piqued. “Does he play?”

  Annette smiled as if she was remembering when. “A bit, but only when he’s drunk. He’s good, but he doesn’t play classical stuff like his mum. It’s mostly blues/soul type stuff.”

  “Oh, good, he drinks then. I was starting to think he was an angel.”

  Annette’s smile became a laugh. “Very far from it.”

  The mood seeming more relaxed, Mary slipped in the question she really wanted to know the answer to.

  “Is he single?”

  Annette’s eyes widened at her cheek.

  “That’s his personal life and none of your business! Let’s get back to how he works, which is all that should concern you.”

  Mary sniffed at her chastisement as Annette went on.

  “He thinks outside the box, laterally, so he sees things that no-one else does. There’ve been lots of times when all the evidence has pointed to person A being guilty, but the Super sees it as being person B, and he always turns out to be right.”

  “Always?”

  Annette nodded meaningfully. “Always.”

  The D.C. decided to push her luck again and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Does he have any faults?”

  Annette’s guard rose immediately. Loyalty was big with her, and she was starting to wonder if the girl opposite had an agenda of some sort. Mary spotted her doubts and shook her head hastily.

  “I’ve no ulterior motive, honestly. I’m just looking for hints not to get on his bad side.”

  Annette relaxed again, but only slightly. Mary was new and eager, but she was also nosy, and it wasn’t a trait that she liked, although it was a useful one in a detective, she would give her that.

  The D.I. stirred her coffee for several seconds before replying.

  “OK…faults…Well, he doesn’t hold grudges, but if he doesn’t trust someone he’ll be wary around them. And before you ask me, no, I’m not giving you any names. Apart from that, he does have a temper. It’s rare but it’s powerful, so you really don’t want to see it, and he can be moody and thoughtless at times, but then can’t we all?” She sat back decisively, signalling that they were nearing the end of their discussion on Craig. “All you really need to know is that if you work hard he’ll respect you and listen to you, regardless of rank.”