The Tribes Page 7

  “Thank you for meeting us, Mr Purvis. Has there been any contact from Mrs McAllister at all?”

  Purvis shook his dark blond head, his tanned face unperturbed. “Mara’s often away for a few days without contact. She was a city girl before she married so sometimes she needs time away from the farm.”

  Liam waved a hand at the playground. “Did she take the kids with her?”

  The farmer nodded. “Kid. Ben’s six. She always takes him, to see the museums and such like. She wants him to experience the finer side of life.” He grinned. “Doesn’t want him growing up wearing wellies.”

  Craig was staring at the house and frowning. “So Mrs McAllister and her son go away for days and never check in at all? Wouldn’t she have called her husband?”

  “Aye. On his mobile. But if she didn’t catch him she wouldn’t worry, unless she didn’t hear for a fair few days. It’s a busy farm.”

  He wasn’t appeased. “We heard she might be staying with her sister. Have you any idea of her address?”

  Purvis shook his head vigorously. “She won’t be with her sister. She’ll be in some fancy hotel or another, that’s what she usually does.”

  It seemed strange behaviour for someone newly bereaved.

  Purvis continued. “They’ve been gone since Monday. I don’t know which hotel. I’ve been trying to find her to tell her about Col-”

  Craig gawped at him. “She doesn’t know that he’s dead?”

  “Not unless someone else told her.”

  Craig signalled Liam to check while he asked another question. “Where is Mr McAllister’s phone now?”

  Purvis turned towards the house, removing a key from his pocket.

  “You have access to the house?”

  The McAllisters must have been a relaxed couple. He wouldn’t fancy someone being able to enter his home whenever they liked.

  “Only part of it.” Purvis unlocked the wide front door. “When you get inside you’ll see what I mean.”

  As the door swung in, admitting them to a large black and white tiled hallway, Craig was surprised to see there were no stairs to the upper floor. Instead the manager turned right towards a door that opened into a large kitchen/dining room, with a cosy corner of settees and a television that boasted a sixty inch screen.

  Liam hung up his phone and shook his head. Mara McAllister didn’t know that her husband was dead, unless she had killed him that was.

  The D.C.I. thumped down onto the plump settee, explaining to Craig where they were.

  “This part of the house will be for the farm staff. They’ll come in here for meals and relaxation.” He gestured at the screen. “I bet it’s lively enough here whenever there’s a match.”

  Purvis shook his head. “Horse racing more like. We’re not much for the football up this way.”

  As Craig scanned the room, still trying to work out the house’s geography, Purvis opened a drawer and extracted an old mobile phone. He handed it to Craig and then filled the kettle.

  “Coffee all right?”

  It was Liam who answered. “Grand. As long as there’s something with it to stop it being too wet.”

  A home-baked cake was removed from the fridge along with a jug of milk and they were soon seated around a long dining table with their drinks. Craig interrupted Liam’s chomping with an observation.

  “OK, so the family have the rest of the house, which I’m assuming they access through another door.”

  Purvis nodded and wiped some crumbs from his mouth. “It’s at the orchard side. I don’t have keys.”

  “Where would Mr McAllister have left his keys when he changed into the slurry suit? Only the suit and the clothes he wore underneath were found.”

  Purvis’ eyes widened. “I’d never thought about it, but they must be in the changing stall.” He waved towards the door. “It’s near the milking parlour.”

  “OK, we’ll look in a minute.” Craig sipped his coffee. “OK, so…if the phone you’ve just given me is Mr McAllister’s mobile, why didn’t he have it on him?”

  Purvis laughed; it obviously wasn’t the first time someone had asked the question.

  “Col wouldn’t carry the flipping thing. He hated technology. It drove Mara mad; she’s the complete opposite. She was always moaning that she couldn’t get hold of him when he was out on the land.”

  Craig’s eyes narrowed. Not at the words but at the way Purvis’ eyes lit up when he mentioned Mara McAllister; he hadn’t noticed it before. And he was still far too cheerful, considering they’d just had a nasty death.

  “OK, so is that why she doesn’t worry if she can’t get hold of him when she’s away?”

  “Aye. She used to panic when she couldn’t at first, but now she just knows that it’s Col.”

  Except this time it hadn’t just been because of Colin McAllister’s dislike of technology. Craig switched on the small mobile as Liam reached for another slice of cake and then thought better of it; Danni liked his newly flattish stomach so he was trying to be good.

  As the phone beeped on ‘Old Macdonald’s Farm’ blared across the room. Purvis gestured at the old fashioned handset.

  “That’ll be Ben’s doing. Six years old and he’s better with technology than his dad.”

  Craig didn’t comment; he was too busy reading the screen. Three answerphone messages and a host of texts. As he worked his way through them Liam asked for more detail on the farm.

  “So how many acres all told?”

  “Four-fifty. Half dairy grazing and the rest crops.”

  Liam whistled. His knowledge of land values told him the McAllisters weren’t short of a bob or two.

  “What did the wife do before she married?”

  Purvis raised an eyebrow at the assumption that Mara McAllister would have given up work. “She still does it. In fact I’m surprised that you boys don’t recognise her name.”

  Craig glanced up from his scrolling, curious.

  Purvis smiled proudly. “She’s a criminal QC. Works with Cullons in town.”

  The detectives’ hearts sank. Their wariness of lawyers wasn’t as strong as it had once been; Judge Standish and Katy’s friend Nicola O’Hara were to thank for that, but they’d still rather one wasn’t involved in their cases and definitely not as a victim’s spouse. Craig made a mental note to cover their asses on everything, then he deliberately made a double-edged comment and watched carefully for Purvis’ response.

  “You admire Mrs McAllister a lot, don’t you?”

  The farm manager had the good grace to blush. He recovered quickly.

  “I think she’s a very clever woman.”

  And the rest. Craig underlined ‘affair’ as a possible motive and tapped on the phone in his hand, setting it to speakerphone as the voice messages played. The first two were business: queries about the delivery of a new bull and some animal feed. The third was more interesting. A man’s voice saying “call me” before cutting out.

  “Any idea whose voice that is, Mr Purvis?”

  Purvis’ face looked genuinely blank. He gestured Craig to play it again, the second time shedding no more light.

  “Not a clue. But he doesn’t sound happy, does he?”

  Craig didn’t reply, instead turning to the texts. They were dated the twenty-second to that day, and again seemed mostly to do with work. He turned the phone towards Purvis and motioned him to explain.

  “First text’s from the saddle makers in Keady, just letting Col know the new saddle for Ben’s pony was ready-”

  Liam cut in. “I didn’t see any ponies.”

  “Aye, well, you wouldn’t from here. They’re in the back field miles away. Mara’s horse as well. She’s a great rider.” He turned back to the phone quickly, in case they made anything of the comment.

  “The next two texts are from the travel agents. Mara and Ben are off to Italy in two weeks, ski-ing.” As the final message appeared he frowned, reading it completely and then scrolling back to read it again. Craig sensed somet
hing wasn't right.

  “Who is it from, Mr Purvis?”

  Purvis kept shaking his head. “It can’t be. She wouldn’t do it.”

  Liam lifted the phone and read aloud.

  “‘If you don’t meet me. Robsons will be in touch. I’ve tried.’ It was sent yesterday at nine a.m.”

  Craig was insistent. “Tell me whose mobile number that is, Mr Purvis. I can ring them, so there’s no point in you lying.”

  Purvis’ eyes were wide. “It’s Mara’s. But this can’t be right.”

  “What can’t? Who are Robsons?”

  He was about to find out himself when Purvis finally replied.

  “They’re solicitors in Armagh.”

  “So what? Mrs McAllister is a lawyer. You said so.”

  Purvis’ expression lay somewhere between shock and a smile. When he answered he sounded surprised. “They’re divorce solicitors. It’s the only work that they do.”

  Liam was surprised as well. Not that the McAllisters might have been considering divorce, but that there was enough divorce work in County Armagh to keep a firm employed full time. The countryside had got a lot friskier since he’d been a boy.

  Craig seized his chance. “Afraid that you’ll be named, Mr Purvis?” Before Purvis could answer or Liam could express his shock, he hadn’t noticed Purvis’ earlier blush, occupied as he’d been with the cake, Craig added. “After all, you and Mrs Purvis were having an affair, weren’t you?”

  What followed was a whole love story played out in the expressions on the farm manager’s face. Thirty seconds was all it took for Mitchell Purvis to portray his love, attraction and subsequent rejection. The next stage would be grief because Purvis knew that whatever had made Mara McAllister decide to leave her husband it hadn’t been him. If the text and her absence weren’t just a convenient alibi for murder that was, and that was something they would soon find out.

  Craig raised a hand to stop him answering. “Don’t bother, Mr Purvis. It’s clear that whatever happened between you and Mrs McAllister was over at her behest. But that mightn’t have stopped you hoping that if her husband was out of the way you could have stood a second chance. That’s motive and it makes you a suspect in her husband’s murder.” He stood up. “You’re coming back to Belfast with us.”

  He would summon the local uniforms to seal off the farm and house, in preparation for the next day’s search, and once they were back in Belfast he would phone Mara McAllister’s mobile. If she really had no idea that her husband was dead he needed to see her before she found out from John or Annette, and if she did know then he needed to watch her face when she realised they knew of her affair and suspected her of being involved in his death.

  ****

  High Street Station, Belfast. 11 p.m.

  While Liam booked Mitchell Purvis in for his overnight stay at High Street, Craig was in the station’s staff room speaking to their murder victim’s wife. All he asked the QC was where she was staying, informing her he needed to see her that night but not outlining why. As they spoke he listened carefully to Mara McAllister’s tone of voice and recorded every word that she said. It was for his information and not the courts, she hadn’t been cautioned, but he could get Liam’s opinion on the conversation, so that by the time they entered the luxurious surroundings of Belfast’s five star Merchant Hotel they would be on the same page.

  Liam nodded sagely as he listened to the recording, waiting until Craig had knocked it off before he spoke.

  “She didn’t even ask why we wanted to see her.”

  Craig slumped back in his chair, raking his dark hair. “OK. So why not? If a police officer contacted me at nearly midnight, I would think the worst.”

  “You’d think someone was dead.”

  “Yep.”

  “And I’m assuming you told her you were a detective?”

  “I said I was a detective from Belfast, but I didn’t mention the Murder Squad. I didn’t want to tip her off.”

  Liam continued. “OK, but the late hour still likely means bad news. And if someone is dead a detective coming has to mean it’s a suspicious death, otherwise uniform would’ve called. She’d know all that being a QC.”

  “Yes again. Unless…” Craig frowned. Something didn’t feel right. Mara McAllister had sounded neither anxious nor guilty. “Maybe she thinks we’re working on a case she’s involved in. She is a criminal lawyer.”

  Liam thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Nope. You specifically said we were from Belfast and she works in Armagh. She can’t think it’s one of hers.”

  It was a good point. Craig was about to make another suggestion when Liam shook his head again.

  “And we couldn’t be anything to do with her divorce. That’s a civil matter, again in Armagh.”

  He was right on both counts. So why hadn’t she been surprised to hear from them. There was only one way to find out. Ten minutes later they were in The Merchant Hotel’s reception, waiting for the widow to appear. When she did Craig sighed inwardly at the sight of an older, suited man by her side. She’d brought a lawyer. Mara McAllister nodded the detectives through to the back room of the cocktail bar, specially opened at the manager’s request.

  “We won’t be disturbed in here, gentlemen.” She took a seat, nodding at the man by her side. “This is Johnny Corbett, my family’s solicitor.”

  Craig was busy taking in everything about her so Liam asked the question that he knew his boss would ask. “When you say your family, Mrs McAllister, do you mean the McAllister family solicitor?”

  She shook her head. “I mean my family; the Kennedys. Before my marriage I was Mara Kennedy.”

  Kennedy. The name made Liam sit bolt upright. The Kennedys were the wealthiest family in Northern Ireland. If he’d thought Colin McAllister was rich with his big farm, the Kennedys knocked his wealth into the ha’penny place. Craig wasn’t impressed by her money but he would admit, although only to himself, to being impressed by what he saw.

  Mara Kennedy had the sleek sensuality of a cat paired with an ice-blonde beauty he’d seen more frequently in Scandinavia. With her obvious intelligence it made for a potent mix. It explained why Mitchell Purvis was under her spell, although from where he was sitting the farm manager wouldn’t have stood a hope in hell.

  But this wasn’t a speed-dating event and his heart belonged to someone else so, as Liam appeared to have been struck dumb suddenly, Craig decided that it was time for him to speak.

  “May I ask you something, Mrs McAllister?”

  She turned and smiled at him, a slow, playful smile that threatened to disconcert him again. He didn’t let it. “It depends what it is, Mr…?”

  “Superintendent Craig.” It made her glance at her solicitor askance and confused Craig even more. He forged on anyway. “Where is your son? We understood that you’d brought him to town for a few days.”

  She frowned slightly, wrinkling her perfectly smooth brow. “He’s upstairs with my sister. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” Craig stopped abruptly, his intended next question disappearing and a different one forming in his place. “Why do you think we’re here, Mrs McAllister?”

  He was playing a hunch. Her reaction to his rank had said she hadn’t thought their visit was due to something serious enough to warrant a senior officer, but the presence of her companion said it was something that she’d thought might implicate her. If she’d murdered her husband she would have anticipated both points instead of just one. After a confused glance at Corbett she began speaking hesitantly.

  “Because of Colin’s…” She stopped, only restarting on her lawyer’s supportive nod. “Colin’s business dealings.”

  Liam had recovered from his awe and he slipped in a question. “You mean the farm?”

  It resulted in more confusion and a whispered aside with her brief. Eventually she answered with “Not the farm. No.”

  Liam nodded and sat back. It was a gesture that told Craig to ‘have at it’ in the shorthand th
at they’d developed over the years.

  “What other business is your husband involved in, Mrs McAllister?”

  “Kennedy. Please. We’re divorcing.”

  He didn’t pretend surprise, instead expanding the original question. “And is that business the reason for your divorce, or is that because of your affair with Mitchell Purvis?”

  She looked shocked and angry all at once. Behind the emotions he glimpsed vulnerability and immediately steeled himself against it; female vulnerability had tripped him up too many times through the years.

  “How did you-?”

  At least she wasn’t going to deny it. When her next move was to shake her head Craig thought that he might have been wrong.

  “Mitchell was a mistake.”

  Ouch. But not a denial.

  “And your husband’s business?”

  The shake changed to a nod. “That’s why I’m divorcing him.”

  “Please elaborate.”

  She gripped the edge of her chair, her cool façade melting. “I don’t know the details, but I’m sure Colin is involved in something illegal.”

  Interesting.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I found money in our kitchen, money that has nothing to do with the farm. Wads of cash. At least fifty thousand. I stopped counting after that.”

  “When did you find it?”

  “A week ago.” Tears filled her pale green eyes, making her resemble a cat even more. She shook her head desperately, as if it would make everything go away. “At first I thought he just hadn’t banked it. Colin’s terrible with money, and anything technical. Then I realised there was no way the farm was making all that money legitimately.”

  They were entering dangerous territory where Mara Kennedy could incriminate herself. He needed to caution her, so he did. She nodded as if she’d expected as much, but it didn’t stop her talking.

  “As soon as I realised I consulted Johnny.”