The Coercion Key Read online

  Natalie leaned forward, excited. “That’s Des Marsham. He works with John. They must have a case there.”

  Katy screwed up her face. “I don’t think so. We had a death last week, but it was a suicide. My upstairs neighbour Mr Warner jumped into the Lagan from his balcony and drowned.”

  Natalie’s face lit up. “Can you reach the river from your place then?”

  Katy gave her a horrified look. “Yes, you can, if you jump far enough. But that’s not the point. A man’s dead, Natalie!”

  Natalie sniffed, ever practical. “The mortuary’s full of dead people but most of them didn’t die in such an interesting way.” She warmed to her theme. “John told me about this one case where…”

  Katy stood up and Natalie stared at her in surprise. “I don’t want to hear it, Nat, at least not over lunch.”

  Natalie waved her down. “OK, OK, keep your hair on. What’s eating you?”

  “I was trying to talk to you about Marc Craig and you turned it into a diatribe about dead people!”

  Natalie thought back over the conversation then laughed aloud. Katy was right; she had. She leaned in with a mock-attentive look on her face.

  “OK, then, tell me all about Mr Wonderful.”

  “Don’t you like Marc?”

  “I like Marc fine. In fact I’d go as far as saying I like him a lot. He’s kind and he’s funny, when he’s not being anal about his work.”

  “But?”

  Natalie sat back and threw her hands up in the air. “But nothing. God, Katy, you can read something into nothing better than anyone I know. I wasn’t damning him with faint praise, I was telling the truth. I really like him.” She smiled knowingly. “Although not half as much as you obviously do.” She glanced around the canteen then leaned in like a conspirator. “I thought that you and Rowan…”

  Katy set her jaw. “Rowan and I are just friends.”

  “That’s not what I saw at the radiologists’ party last week. I’m sure I saw you slow dancing with him and there wasn’t much space between your lips.”

  “Natalie!”

  “I’m just saying. If you like Marc Craig then you should do something about it, before Rowan gets the wrong idea.”

  Katy shook her head shyly. Her long blonde waves fell across her face hiding her expression. Natalie reached across and pushed them back like a mother.

  “If I ever have a daughter I’m going to make her shave her head, or at least tie her hair back. I can’t stand people hiding behind their hair.”

  Katy smiled at Natalie’s long dark curls, they were pulled into a low ponytail down her back and Katy knew they wouldn’t dare try to escape. She returned to the subject of Craig.

  “I can’t ask him out.”

  “Why not? I practically did with John. He might like to think he did it, but really I made it impossible for him not to.”

  Katy gawped at her. “I wouldn’t have a clue what to do, and anyway…” She turned away and said something that Natalie couldn’t hear. She didn’t need to hear it, she already knew what it was. “I’m shy.”

  And she was. Terminally shy. She was worse than a teenage girl. Katy was still speaking. “He knows where I live and I gave him my card when we met last year at that art gallery, but he didn’t call. He didn’t even ask me to dance at your engagement party. So…”

  Natalie wasn’t listening, she was already making plans. If Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain then it would have to be vice versa, and two weeks in a hot country while she got married would give Craig no chance to escape. She interrupted Katy rudely.

  “What are you doing in August?”

  “What? I don’t know. It’s too far away to think.”

  “Well I do. You’re being my bridesmaid on an island. Somewhere that even Marc Craig, John’s best man won’t be able to escape from.”

  ***

  The C.C.U. 2 p.m.

  Craig swung his chair around to face the window, certain that he wouldn’t be disturbed for an hour. He’d promised Nicky one whole hour from three to four p.m. to go through her list of things for him to do. In exchange she wasn’t to allow anybody through his door until then and she had his permission to bite anyone who tried. He pictured her sinking her teeth into Liam’s leg and laughed. They flirted mercilessly with each other but so far it hadn’t gone further than that, leaving both their hearts intact. If it ever progressed Craig hoped he was long gone; he wouldn’t have a clue whose side to take.

  He turned his mind back to the case. Four deaths, four apparent suicides. Four identical notes written in the victims’ hands and four obscure six-digit numbers. So far they had two identical platinum keys from Linton and Warner’s scenes and he was still waiting to see the second one. He didn’t even know how Nelson Warner had received it. Victoria Linton’s had been posted to her office but Warner didn’t work now that he’d retired. So where had his come to? His home?

  That left the two earlier deaths of Diana Rogan and Jonathan McCafferty. Had they received keys as well? They must have, so where were they? Annette was visiting the McCafferty family this afternoon so they would know more when she came back, but Diana Rogan’s husband hadn’t mentioned anything to him about a key. Rogan definitely hadn’t had any reason to kill herself – quite the opposite. Craig thought back to her children’s faces and the obvious love of her husband. She’d had everything to live for, so why?

  And what did the four victims have in common? Linton and Warner were obviously wealthy. A barrister and a retired stockbroker who could afford the best. But the Rogan family was just comfortable, and most of their income would have come from Conor Rogan’s job. Was he part of the equation?

  And what about Julian Mooney, Victoria Linton’s partner? Craig made a mental note to check into him and the other’s spouses then he turned his mind back to their victims’ occupations. Diana Rogan had been a middle manager in a firm of brokers, Nelson Warner had been a broker too, but he’d been retired for years. Victoria Linton was a prosecuting barrister and Jonathan McCafferty was the manager of a high street bank. What was the connection between them? Money? Their own or other people’s? Money might tie three of the four together; they’d all worked with it in different ways. But not Victoria Linton. And NIBank wasn’t a merchant bank, it didn’t deal in stocks and shares like Rogan’s and Warner’s brokers firms would have done, it was just a bog-standard ‘go in and cash your wages’ type of place.

  Even if he could establish a connection between them, like they had with the victims in the Jessica Adams’ case eighteen months earlier, what was the significance of the key? Its design was too expensive and elaborate for it to mean nothing. It definitely meant something, but what?

  Craig stared out at the river, looking for inspiration and caught sight of some small sailing boats set against the opposite bank. Their sails were fluttering in the light April breeze and they had flags hanging from their masts with something written on them. He walked to the window and peered out, straining to see the words. He could only read one. ‘Northern’. The boats were obviously part of some company-sponsored publicity event. Craig watched them for a moment longer, wishing that he was out on the water as well. He’d sailed a lot when he was younger and Julia had bought him some refresher lessons at the Abercorn Marina for his birthday in June. He hadn’t got round to taking them yet; work always seemed to get in his way.

  Craig let himself think about Julia for a moment, smiling as he remembered her long red curls and freckles, then he remembered her moodiness and shuddered. They hadn’t spoken since November and fortunately work hadn’t made their paths cross. He’d been worried about hurting her so he hadn’t had another relationship since they’d split, but it was time to move on. Craig was just about to make a phone-call to start that process when his desk-phone started to buzz.

  He glanced at the clock. Two-thirty. He’d asked Nicky not to bother him until three. He lifted the phone, expecting to hear her voice saying it was important, then he froze; it was the mal
e voice from the day before.

  “I warned you not to hunt me, Craig, and now you’re making me warn you again. I don’t like having to repeat myself, so I think your team needs a little lesson. You’ll get it when you least expect.”

  As soon as the line went dead Craig was out of his chair and at the door. He yanked it open. “Nicky, get a trace on the call to my line five seconds ago.”

  Nicky stared at him aghast and grabbed the phone. Craig knew a trace would give them nothing but they had to try. It wasn’t just a threat now, it was a promise and it was time for all of them to watch their backs.

  Craig lifted the line to High Street and Jack Harris answered it in one.

  “Jack, is Liam there?”

  “Ach, and hello to you too, sir.”

  “Sorry, Jack. I haven’t got time for the niceties today. Get Liam on the line please.”

  Twenty seconds later Craig heard Liam’s booming voice in the background. “What do they want? Tell the eejits that I’m busy…” Craig heard Jack mutter something then Liam’s voice again, less booming this time. “Oh, right. I’ll be there now.”

  Craig imagined the faces that Liam was pulling. He would have laughed if his message hadn’t been so serious. He heard the phone being fumbled then Liam came on the line.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  Craig’s voice was urgent. “I’ve had another call. They’ve said they’re going to teach the team a lesson for not dropping the case. I want you to watch your back, Liam.”

  “Ach now, calm down. They’re all talk, that’s all.”

  Craig’s voice grew harder. “Take me seriously on this, Liam, or I’ll take you off the case. Do you understand?”

  Liam stared at the phone, making a face, then he acquiesced. “Aye, aye, OK. But we’ve no idea where or when, so all we can do is keep our eyes peeled.”

  “Do that. At least it’s something. I need to phone Annette now. I’ll see you at four. Bye.”

  Craig dropped the phone and called Annette, repeating the message. She was still at Jonathan McCafferty’s parents and as she put down the phone she grimaced. Angela McCafferty gazed at her anxiously.

  “What’s the matter, Inspector? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, please don’t worry, Mrs McCafferty. Now, let’s go back to what you were telling me about your son.”

  Angela McCafferty glanced at her husband and he gave a heavy sigh. They were an elderly couple. Older than Annette had imagined from the age of their son. She’d expected a spritely pair of sixty-somethings like her own parents, but she’d been taken aback when Niall McCafferty had opened the door of their small apartment. Taken aback by two things. At the straitened circumstances they were living in, given their son’s important job, and by their age. They were both in their eighties and forty-five-year-old Jonathan had been their only child. A late baby perhaps?

  Angela McCafferty had corrected her obvious assumption. “Jonathan was adopted. Unfortunately we couldn’t have children of our own. .Jonathan always knew. He was a good son.”

  Not as good as he should have been, given the shabbiness of their clothes. The elderly woman saw Annette’s glance and smiled. “Jonathan offered to buy us things all the time but we wouldn’t allow it. Material things aren’t important to us, Inspector. We place much more importance on the love of God.”

  Annette glanced round the room, noticing a cross and bible. She wondered if Jonathan McCafferty had been as religious as his parents. Not if his lifestyle and divorce were anything to go by. She changed the subject hastily; religion really wasn’t her thing.

  “Did his divorce affect your son a great deal?”

  Niall McCafferty shook his head. “Not half as much as it should have done. Amelia was a good girl and they were happy, until he met that whore.”

  Angela McCafferty frowned at her husband. “Niall! That’s terrible language to be using. The Inspector doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

  Annette stilled her with a smile. “I’m afraid I do, Mrs McCafferty. I need to hear about anything that might have been important in your son’s life.” Annette turned back to her husband, Niall. “Do you think the divorce could have been a reason for your son’s suicide, sir?”

  Niall McCafferty snorted. “Not a bit of it. He didn’t care. What did he have to kill himself about? He was off flying his kite all over the world. France, America, you name it. Anywhere he fancied a holiday he took one, never mind about Amelia and the kids. Well at least they’ll inherit all his money. They’ll be OK now.”

  Annette startled. She hadn’t thought about his wife having a motive to see McCafferty dead. Did the same apply to the other victims? She made a note to raise the point at the briefing and carried on asking questions. Thirty minutes later she had a true picture of Jonathan McCafferty and it wasn’t the image of a loving son that his mother had wanted to portray.

  She said her farewells and headed back to the car, checking her mobile. She’d missed two messages. Craig saying something about being careful, and Nicky telling her to call the ranch urgently. She slotted the phone into speaker mode and dialled the squad as she drove.

  Nicky answered in one ring. “Annette!”

  “Yes. What’s up?”

  “The boss wants a word.”

  She transferred the call immediately and Craig barked at her down the phone. When he stopped Annette backtracked gently on his words.

  “So we’ve been threatened and you think he was serious, sir?”

  “Yes. That’s what I just said.”

  “No. With all due respect you’ve just told me to be careful or I’ll be sacked from the case.”

  Craig stared at the phone aghast. She was right. He was letting his fear for them make him threaten fire and brimstone. Annette was still talking.

  “We can’t protect ourselves completely, short of never leaving the C.C.U.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m barking at everyone but…”

  She laughed. “It’s nice to know you care. I’ll see you in five minutes and you can bark at me some more.”

  Annette cut the call gently and drove to the C.C.U., parking in the basement garage and thinking how exposed they all were. If someone wanted to kill one of them they only had to lie in wait and put a bullet between their eyes. It was a risk, but not one they could avoid. By the time she reached the tenth floor the other teams on the floor were buzzing with rumours.

  “Did you hear? Someone’s been named as a target?”

  “No. I heard that a contract had been taken out on Superintendent Craig.”

  Annette walked straight past them to her desk and started to type up her notes. Everyone on the Murder Squad had their heads down, trying to ignore the murmurs. At four o’clock Craig emerged from his office and beckoned the whole squad in. It was a squeeze once Nicky joined them but better than the other teams overhearing and speculating even more. Annette was certain they’d have declared one of them dead by the end of the day!

  Craig poured them all a fresh coffee and then sat down behind his desk. His face took on a sheepish expression and he glanced at them each in turn.

  “Nicky says I’ve been behaving like a pillock for the past hour.”

  Nicky’s jaw dropped. “I did not. I never said the words.”

  “Well you should have, you’ve been thinking them.”

  She went to protest just as Craig said. “And you were right. I’ve been overreacting to a threat against the team and playing straight into our stalker’s hands.” He turned to Annette and Liam in turn. “I owe you two an apology for barking at you.”

  Annette waved him away with a smile, but Liam sat back and stared at the ceiling as if he was thinking weighty thoughts. When he spoke it was in a solemn tone.

  “Nicky’s right. You have been acting like a pillock. You threatened to sack me if I didn’t do as I was told.”

  Nicky squinted at him in warning. “Liam…”

  Craig winced. “I only meant sack you from the case, not c
ompletely.”

  Liam sniffed in mock hurt. “I had visions of being on the breadline, out on the street with a wife and two small children.”

  Davy interrupted in a dry tone. “Cut to the chase, Liam. This isn’t the Oscars.”

  “You cheeky pup. I was just working up to my finale.” He turned to Craig who was struggling to stop laughing. “I think compensation is in order, boss.”

  “Three pints?”

  “Done.”

  “OK. Now, can we get on with the briefing? Good. The reason I overreacted is that the same man who called yesterday called again today at two-thirty and told me that he was going to teach the team a lesson for not dropping the case. I took it that he was going to harm someone in the team. I’m hoping that it’s me that he comes for, so that I can have the pleasure of taking him down, but it may be one of you.”

  He stared pointedly at Davy and Nicky. “And that doesn’t just mean officers. You two need to be careful as well. In fact even more careful than us because we can arm ourselves.” He turned to Annette and Jake, who rarely carried guns. “I want both of you to carry your personal weapons until further notice.”

  Annette objected first. “Ah, sir, do I have to? You know that I hate guns.”

  “Yes, you have to. You too, Jake. Old Wyatt Earp here and I are always armed, but you and Annette need to be as well, just until we tie up this case.”

  Davy leaned in eagerly. “Can I have a gun as w…well? I’ve messed about on the firing range.”

  Craig shook his head, smiling. “Sorry, but no, Davy. You would probably shoot yourself. You and Nicky are pretty safe during the day because you’re here, but I’ll assign close protection officers to escort you to work and home at night, until further notice. If you’re going out in the evening they’ll go with you as well.”

  Davy made a face. “Maggie won’t like that.” Maggie Clarke, Davy’s girlfriend, was a journalist for a local tabloid, the Belfast Chronicle and she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with.

  Craig smiled. “Don’t worry; I’m sure she’ll get a few column inches out of the case at some point.”

  Davy gave him a hopeful look. “Can I tell her she‘ll get an exclusive w…when it’s cracked?”