The Sect (The Craig Crime Series) Read online

  He turned back to Jake and Andy and after ten more minutes of self-important rhetoric Craig’s rap on the glass told them to let him go, but not before spending a night in the cells, while Jack searched for his mysteriously lost paperwork.

  ****

  Wednesday, 1 a.m.

  Craig groped for his vibrating mobile and clamped it to his ear, then fell back into a semi-doze as John began talking about the case. His one a.m. calls were becoming a habit.

  “Devaney’s stomach contents weren’t as well digested as the others’ so we think that they killed him quicker than the rest. And Des got a male print from his cling-wrap that matches one of the other two, but still no I.D. And before you ask, none of them match Philip McDonagh’s.”

  He didn’t pause for queries, which was probably just as well. Craig was so tired he could barely think never mind form a coherent question.

  “And, oh yes, your girl in the Quoile had the same stuff for her last meal as the others, but it was barely digested so she died very soon after eating. I’d say less than an hour. And it was definitely river water in her lungs not fresh.”

  Craig woke up enough to query what it meant. The girl’s stomach contents were too much of a coincidence so she’d definitely been a rehearsal killing, but why had the group needed a rehearsal if they’d already killed elsewhere? The only answer was that they had some new members in Northern Ireland, or worse, that they were training up local teams.

  He was too tired to work it out so he gave an exhausted “mmm” that he hoped would end the call. It was a vain hope. Natalie’s high pitched voice suddenly sliced through his doze, shocking his eyes open wide. He hadn’t expected John to phone again this late and he most certainly hadn’t expected Natalie to be on the call when he did. At any other time the double act would have amused him, but broken sleep and corpses were combining to make it a bloody week.

  The surgeon was halfway through a sentence when Craig remembered that at one a.m. most sane people were in their beds.

  “Are you two still at work?”

  John went to answer but Natalie’s forcefulness beat him down. “Why would we be at work? It’s one o’clock in the morning!”

  Craig didn’t know whether to answer her or laugh. He answered, more angrily than he meant to.

  “Exactly! So why the hell are you calling me? Don’t you like sleeping?”

  His attempts at keeping his eyes closed were being undermined by some bizarre need to make facial expressions as he spoke. He blamed his Italian half, but whichever half of him was to blame he was suddenly wide awake. He propped himself up against the wall and took a deep breath, cutting politely across Natalie’s tale of how she often survived on a mere three hours sleep.

  “Natalie. Nice as it is to chat to you, could I suggest that one p.m. might be a better time?”

  John interjected. “That’s what I said.”

  Her icy tone cut him off. “No.”

  No what? No, he couldn’t suggest it, or no it wouldn’t be better? She saved him the bother of asking, her doom laden tone insisting he paid attention to her next words.

  “We called ’cos Sofia has got you in her sights.”

  Craig wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What? Like a sniper?”

  John laughed. “That’s quite funny.”

  Natalie tutted loudly, telling both men that she wasn’t amused.

  “Don’t be stupid, you two. This is serious. She’s obsessed with you, Marc. From the moment Katy mentioned you she was plotting some way to meet you. After she did she talked about you obsessively to John, then she came back to the hospital and picked Katy’s brains again, for every detail she could get. And you know Katy; she’s so flipping nice that she told her everything. How that girl manages to navigate life beats me.”

  Craig could hear John muttering “she’s right” and “mm” in the background, like the chorus of a rap song. He let Natalie continue for a moment longer then he silenced them both with one word. “So?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Anything less than ‘Oh my God’ told Natalie that he hadn’t understood the portent of her words. She started again in exaggerated tones. “The. Italian. Hussy’s. After. You. Do. You. Understand?”

  Craig yawned loudly, forgetting to cover his mouth, making John laugh and Natalie purse her lips. He irritated her even more with his next words.

  “I repeat. So? I’m sure you’re just being dramatic, but even if you aren’t what the hell’s the problem? She’s a woman not an axe murderer. I’ll just refuse to see her and she’ll take the hint.”

  Natalie’s high pitched voice dropped an octave in what both men knew was her attempt at gravitas. “She’s a stalker, mark my words. Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

  Then John committed a faux pas he would regret for days. “Mind you, if you have to be stalked…”

  Craig had already slid down to the horizontal when he heard Natalie’s outraged squeak. He murmured “thanks for the warning” then fell asleep on top of his phone.

  ****

  The C.C.U. Wednesday, 8 a.m.

  They didn’t so much have a briefing as people talked while they grazed on the buffet that Nicky had arranged. Everyone was exhausted and in Craig’s experience only two things helped with that: caffeine and sugar. Andy was already getting both from a Toblerone.

  Craig took a seat, yawning at length before he spoke. He’d managed to get back to sleep after Natalie’s warning but he was running on a severe deficit.

  “OK. As you know, last night The Belfast Mirror ran the killers’ statement. It was a freelance piece by Ray Mercer. Jake and Andy interviewed him but he was no help. He’s still in High Street if anyone wants to try again, but I wouldn’t waste your time. What damage to public confidence The Mirror piece has caused, Annette’s about to find out at a press conference downstairs.”

  He turned to see a pale Annette flicking through her notes.

  “Just let me see the statement before you go down, Annette. Nicky will be accompanying you.”

  Nicky gave her a thumbs up.

  “This seems like an appropriate moment to announce that from now on Annette will be known as Annette Eakin instead of McElroy.”

  As he said it he fixed Liam with a ‘shut up’ look.

  “It doesn’t require explanation but any questions you have should be addressed to Annette privately. OK, let’s carry on. Doctor Winter has informed me that our fourth victim, Brian Devaney, had stomach contents that matched the others, as had the girl who was found in the Quoile. That’s too much of a coincidence for me so I believe we’re now looking at five local murders by the same gang.”

  Ken raised a hand and Craig nodded him on.

  “You believe the girl was a rehearsal killing?”

  “Yes. They obviously hadn’t perfected their M.O. then.”

  It was Davy’s turn to interject. “But if they’d killed before elsewhere, why the need to rehearse?”

  “I asked myself that at one a.m. when John rang to tell me. The best scenario is that they have a new member, the worst case is that they’re training separate teams in each country.”

  Liam nodded sagely. “Like terrorist cells.”

  Craig made a face; it was too near the truth for comfort.

  Ken’s face said he was still unsure about something. “I was just thinking, sir. Is it possible that the girl wasn’t actually killed by them, but instead she fell in the river and drowned when she was escaping?”

  Craig was surprised. None of them had thought of it but it would explain why the girl hadn’t been wrapped in cling-film and disposed of at the site, and why she’d drowned in river water instead of fresh.

  “Excellent. That explains something I was struggling to work out; why the girl had the same stomach contents but nothing else. If she was being prepared for baptism but escaped between the meal and the ceremony that would fit. Her stomach contents were less than an hour old when she died.”

  Liam’s interest was pi
qued. “Here, that might give us a clue about where she was held. We can check what she was wearing, but I seem to remember she was in her bare feet when she washed up and no shoes were ever found. How far could she have run in bare feet? That means the place they held her must have been close to where she fell in.”

  Ken interjected. “And from where she washed up and the tides Davy should be able to calculate where she entered the water.”

  Craig had heard enough to tell him it was worth exploring. “Good thinking, Ken, look into it, but don’t spend too much time please. Carmen can help you with CCTV for the days around when the girl was found. We might be very lucky and catch her running from members of the group.”

  He turned to the sound of Davy tapping noisily on one of his PCs.

  “Got something, Davy?”

  He was answered by a nod and further tapping.

  “OK, we’ll come back to that. We need to get a few reports from yesterday.” He turned to Liam in time to witness a Danish pastry’s demise. “Liam. The Bishop’s list. Update us on that please.”

  Liam nodded, sending a shower of crumbs across Carmen’s desk. She brushed them off in disgust and then turned her gimlet gaze back to Ken. Any normal girlfriend would have been pleased by Craig’s praise of him but she looked furious. Everyone saw it, except Ken who was smiling innocently around the room. Liam flicked through his notebook as he talked.

  “OK, Bishop Murray gave me a list of twenty names of seminarians and practicing priests. All were either chucked out or are practicing under supervision.”

  Craig interrupted. “Why?”

  “The seminarians mostly got in trouble for hopping over the walls to see the local ladies. Two were caught viewing online porn and one for running up debts, bringing the bailiffs to the seminary door.” He laughed loudly. “I bet that went down well.”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “Did any of them actually leave on religious grounds i.e. they believed the church was becoming too modern?”

  Liam scanned the list. “Nope. Sorry, boss. Of course they might have thought it but just not said. And before you ask, there were no names I recognised on the list, but it only goes back ten years. The priests are being watched for various reasons. One has a nasty habit of betting on the gee-gees, one’s under suspicion of having an affair with his housekeeper and one’s been fraternising with the local dissidents.”

  Davy had stopped tapping. He interjected, looking pleased with himself. “I can help with s…something further back. Philip McDonagh.”

  “What about him?”

  “He was in a s…seminary for five years. Left in mid eighty-four.”

  Craig sat forward, suddenly energised. “Any idea why?”

  Davy smiled. “Here’s a clue. He got married two months later and his daughter was born three months after that.”

  Liam interjected cheerfully. “Maybe his wife was one of the local ladies.”

  Maybe. It told them two things. Philip McDonagh took his religion seriously enough to have considered becoming a priest and he could have made contacts at the seminary.

  “Thanks, Davy, keep digging on that, and how he might have met Professor Rustin.” He was about to move on when the analyst shook his head.

  “I haven’t finished. There’s s…something you need to see.”

  He beckoned them across and tapped on a computer key. On his central screen was a grainy black and white CCTV shot.

  “I had an idea and came in early to set it up.”

  As everyone watched he tapped again and the images began to move. After thirty seconds of viewing Jake gasped.

  “That’s Ronnie Carlton! The therapist who saw Bobby McDonagh and Elena Boraks.”

  Davy nodded and paused the video. “Statistically one of the group was likely to buy the print edition of The Mirror, just to make s…sure they’d actually published their diatribe.”

  Liam chuckled. “Diatribe. That’s exactly what it was.”

  Craig cut in. “Explain your thinking, Davy.”

  “OK. So I thought; who would have known all four victims? Only Devaney made it to court and prison so that ruled them out, and only three of the victims were known to social services.”

  He paused for comments but Craig urged him on.

  “Just two of the four saw Carlton, and Philip McDonagh knew Bobby but, as far as we can tell, none of the other victims. They w…were all Roman Catholic but all lapsed, so that ruled out attending the same church and although they all lived in the same county it was miles apart. There w…was no one thing that linked all four victims, except for––”

  Liam finished the sentence. “Cops.”

  Craig’s heart sank as Davy nodded.

  “Correct. All four vics had been seen by the police: Devaney multiple times, McDonagh and Boraks for s…shoplifting and Sam by Sergeant Boyd, although only Devaney was ever charged.” He saw Craig’s grim expression and grinned. “Cheer up, chief. I checked and they were different officers from different s…stations and none of them seem to know each other.”

  Craig was ashamed to say it but he was relieved. They’d had a corrupt A.C.C. two years before and they didn’t need another police scandal so soon.

  “Then I realised they didn’t each need to know every victim, just as long as they knew all of them between them, s…so I decided to create a fantasy sect.”

  Liam’s face lit up. “Like a fantasy football team.”

  “Sort of, except with possible sect members. I got photos of Louise McIntyre, Carlton, Rustin and McDonagh from their driving licences, plus shots of all the arresting officers, Sergeant Boyd, McDonagh’s solicitor, Devaney’s barrister and the prison guards from his wing at Magilligan, and ran a s…search against every CCTV tape we got in from last night.” He tapped again then gestured at the screen with a smug smile. “And hey presto, Ronnie Carlton at a newsagent’s shop in Ardglass. He’s definitely buying a newspaper. I can’t see the title, but my money’s on it being last night’s Mirror. I’m having the frame enlarged at the moment then it’s over to you lot to check it out.”

  No-one knew who’d started the applause although they suspected that it was Nicky; she was certainly beaming with maternal pride. But whoever started it was irrelevant because everyone joined in, much to Davy’s shock.

  Craig added to his blushes. “Astounding work, Davy. You may just have found our third killer.” He turned to Jake. “Jake, as you interviewed Carlton you follow this one up. Get the Ardglass uniforms to the shop with his photo. Davy will see what the traffic cams show and hopefully we’ll catch a break and see which direction he came from or went last night.” In the periphery of his vision he saw Annette readying to leave. He gestured her to wait, and rose to his feet.

  “We still need to hear about McDonagh’s alibis, so everyone stay put for a minute. I’ll be back.”

  With that he beckoned Annette and Nicky into his office, scanned their prepared press statement, tidied a few words and nodded, handing it back to Nicky to rejig.

  “That’s fine. Nicky, print out some copies, please.” As she exited he turned to Annette. “Thanks for doing this.”

  She smiled. “I know how much you hate journalists and I need it on my CV.”

  “Thanks anyway. OK, just read out the statement while Nicky distributes the copies, then say you’ll take one or two questions. Keep it to that. If you stick to the facts you’ll be fine.”

  Annette wasn’t so sure. “What will I do if they start on last night’s headlines?”

  “Tell them it’s unfair on the victims and unhelpful to the investigation to glorify killers with nicknames and sound bites.”

  Nicky reappeared carrying the print-outs and a golf umbrella.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “It’s Gary’s. I brought it in especially, just in case those press boys get out of line.”

  Craig didn’t doubt she would use it so he removed it gently from her grasp. “Thanks, Nick, but assault wouldn’t look good on your résumé.
Annette will be fine.” He opened the door, showing them out. “Tell me how it went afterwards.”

  As they crossed the floor he beckoned Andy, Jake and Liam in, completely missing the hostile vibes emanating from Carmen.

  “OK, if Davy’s right and I think that he probably is, Ronnie Carlton is involved somehow. We might be lucky and catch his direction of travel last night on a camera, but we also need a tail on him right away. You take that, Jake.”

  He turned to see Jake giving a wide yawn.

  “Are we keeping you up?”

  The sergeant swallowed the yawn halfway and shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping much.”

  It was understandable for all sorts of reasons, so why did he think that none of them applied? The answer would have to wait.

  “Unless they’re stupid they’ll be maintaining their normal routines, so get over to Carlton’s office. Before you go, was there anything on McDonagh’s alibis?”

  “He’s clean for all the abduction and disposal times. Sorry.”

  Craig shrugged and waved him out, then he turned to Andy. “Andy, McDonagh’s brief’s been making noises about his release. Tell Jack to do it, but only when you’re in place to follow. See where McDonagh goes and report back.”

  Andy didn’t move, eyeing Craig’s percolator instead, so Craig said “now!” more forcefully than it had sounded inside his head. When he was alone with Liam he began tapping a pen annoyingly against the desk, until finally Liam had had enough and grabbed it.

  “OK, what?”

  The words could have meant absolutely anything but in the shorthand developed between them over seven years it meant ‘there’s something on your mind, so spit it out’. Craig spat.

  “Carlton, McDonagh and Prof Rustin.”

  “The three stooges.”

  Craig smacked a palm hard on the desk. “Exactly! That’s exactly my point. None of them have what it takes to be the leader.”