Shadow Sins (DCI Wilson Book 2) (10 page)

CHAPTER
26

Detective Constable Moira McElvaney was having what could be described as a bad day. She was not happy with herself for agreeing to Devlin’s request that she maintain his confidence. DCI Wilson was right.  Devlin used the authority card in trying to gain her compliance. Perhaps there were the vestiges of Catholicism still in her that made her feel guilty for betraying those who represented her Faith. The second area of disquiet for her was working on the line of enquiry contrary to the line that the DCI had laid out at the briefing. She wasn’t good at going behind people’s backs and she felt that she was not being upfront with her colleagues. Office politics was not one of her preferred sports. It would have been stupid not to agree with Wilson that there was a good possibility someone within the team was reporting to the powers that be in HQ on their every move. And at the rear of her mind was the business with the Superintendent. This would have been a good week to take a holiday or at least go sick. She spent the afternoon looking for the real Father John Gilroy. He was born in the town of Tullamore in County Offaly in the South of Ireland. After attending the local school run by the Christian Brothers until his eighteenth year, he had attended University College Galway where he had received an Arts degree while at the same time studying for the priesthood. He spent four years in a seminary just outside Dublin and then six months as a deacon before being ordained in September 1975. The only mention on the Catholic Church websites was his current position as the parish priest of Saint Cormac’s Church in Belfast. He had no record with the police. Not even a traffic violation. All of that information had been easy to ascertain from College, Church and police records, but it told her nothing about Father Gilroy the man, nor anything concerning his movements. He took up his current post one year previously. The twenty years between being ordained and his arrival at Saint Cormac’s were up to now a mystery. She was forced to go to the sites of the Department of Social Welfare and her very own favourite, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs. Even priests had to file tax returns. She watched as the machine whirred away and finally copies of Father John Gilroy’s tax returns appeared on the screen. She took out a pad and began to take notes. The last tax return made by Father Gilroy had been seven years previously. At that point he was a parish priest in Coalisland, a small town near the west bank of Lough Neagh. There were three tax returns relating to that parish. Before that, nothing.  Moira was beginning to think that Wilson might be on to something. There were too many missing years in Father Gilroy’s curriculum vitae. She switched off the computer and looked at the files on her desk. Some life, she thought.  If only my husband hadn’t turned out to be such a prick. Thankfully, there had been no children, although something deep inside her told her that she should conceive. According to her mother all men were pricks including her father. Although she had doubted this conclusion, she was beginning to see some sense in it. Like every other single woman on the Force was the object of the odd throwaway remark from her male colleagues. She developed stock responses to the ‘are you getting any’ kind of remarks, and she was famous for her put downs of fellow officers who thought that she could be bedded for the price of a couple of drinks. She stared over at Wilson’s office. He wasn’t there, and she realised that she missed the sight of him. However, Wilson was shacked up with Kate and that was that. She turned and stared through the office window. Somewhere out there was someone who was as kind and gentle as her boss. She smiled to herself. This was so bloody clichéd, so bloody Cosmo, so bloody Bridget Jones. Falling for the boss when he’s already in a relationship. She thought about returning to her small flat in Central Belfast. Come on, girl, she said to herself. It’s another night in with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a good movie. So bloody Bridget Jones.

CHAPTER 27

It was late evening when Wilson sat in Chief Superintendent’s Spence’s office. As soon as he arrived the Chief Super poured two large measures from the bottle of Bushmills Malt he kept locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Cheers,” Spence said raising the glass.

“Cheers,” Wilson replied and both men drank together.

“I love the warmth,” Spence said as the amber liquid descended towards his stomach.

“Is the fact that Fatboy hasn’t been invited significant?” Wilson asked.

“I wanted to have a little chat before calling him up but unfortunately everything that’s to do with you must involve him. That’s the word from above, and it’s more than my career is worth to frustrate Roy Jennings. Especially since I have one foot already out the door.”

“I’ve been thinking about giving this shit up,” Wilson said drinking deeply from his glass.

Spence sat impassively.

“I’m tired of seeing people like Fatboy moving ahead and doing nothing in the process. I’m fed up with the Lodge Brothers taking care of each other. I was never a political and I don’t want to start now. Add to all the internal shit we have to wade through the problems of dealing with the psychopaths, sociopaths, the dopers, the pimps, prostitutes, muggers and burglars and I’m left wondering what the fuck am I doing coming in here every day.”

“You need a holiday,” Spence said sipping his Bushmills.

Wilson smiled. “Is that what they taught you on your management course? One of your co-workers claims to be fed up dealing with a bunch of arseholes at work and the scum of the earth and the solution is two weeks in a crappy hotel or apartment on the Costa. They should fire the management trainer who came up with that one.”

“You’ve got more than a few pounds put away from the sale of the Marwood Park house. Rent a yacht and sail around the Caribbean.”

“I can’t sail.”

“You know you love this job.”

“Aye, but maybe, just maybe I’m sick of it,” Wilson held out his glass for the refill. “What’s the chat about?”

Spence refilled the glass. “Message back from the DPP. They want to haul Joe over the coals. Somehow I get the feeling that Jennings has been putting his oar in. It’s important that we treat our own miscreants the same as any other. It looks like he’ll have to spend some time behind bars.”

“I’m not up to date on the sentencing,” Wilson raised his second glass and sipped from it. He had no intention of heading home pissed.

“I had to look it up myself,” Spence replied. “On indictment 10 years imprisonment
and on summary conviction 6 months imprisonment or fine not exceeding the statutory maximum. He’s finished in the PSNI.”

“What about his pension?”

“It looks like he might keep it. There are some precedents. Drink up it’s time to call Chief Inspector Harrison to join our merry band and I make it a point of principle never to drink with someone I don’t respect.”

Wilson downed the residue in the glass and passed it to Spence who placed the used glasses in the bottom drawer beside the bottle of whiskey and locked the drawer.

Spence punched the phone numbers of Harrison’s extension. “Chief Inspector Harrison would you please join me in my office,” he grimaced at Wilson as he spoke.

Half a minute later, there was a knock on the office door and Chief Inspector Ronald ‘Fatboy’ Harrison waddled into the room. He did a double take when he saw Wilson already seated.

“Good evening, Sir,” Harrison said formally. “I was not aware that DCI Wilson was already here. Perhaps in future it would be preferable where we are both to attend that the invitation to DCI Wilson would be made through my office.”

“Are you telling me how to run my own Station?” Chief Superintendent Spence said testily.

“Certainly not,” Harrison reddened. “I’m just trying to establish the protocol.”

“Sit down, man,” Spence said. “There are more serious issues than protocol.”

Harrison pulled over a chair without arm rests and sat down heavily.

“We are going to arrest Superintendent Joseph Worthington to-morrow morning,” Spence said.

“Why not arrest him now?” Harrison cut in. He glanced at Wilson. “Worthington has friends within the Force, who might warn him, and he might take flight.”

“Only if he grows wings,” Wilson said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean DCI Wilson,” Harrison scowled. “If he were warned, he might become a flight risk.”

“The only people aware of this arrest are sitting in this room. Do you intend to warn Worthington, Chief Inspector Harrison?” Spence asked.

“Certainly not,” Harrison replied. “I was thinking of someone else.”

“I see,” Spence said. “Are you suggesting that I might warn Superintendent Worthington?”

“I didn’t say that,” Harrison blustered.

“But you may have been thinking it,” Spence cut in quickly.

Wilson couldn’t help smiling at this point. Fatboy was flopping around on his chair like a beached whale.

“I wasn’t thinking of you,” Harrison blustered. “I was thinking of DCI Wilson.”

“That is a very serious allegation, Chief Inspector,” Spence said. “Do you have any reason for suggesting that DCI Wilson would neglect his duty? After all, he does report to you. Are you prepared to back up your allegation? If not, I suggest that you apologise immediately to DCI Wilson.”

Harrison bent his head in defeat.

“I’m waiting,” Spence said.

“DCI Wilson,” Harrison drew in a large breath. “I am sorry for suggesting that you might warn Superintendent Worthington that he was about to be arrested.”

“Apology accepted,” Wilson said simply. He turned to face Spence and nodded a thank you. “Sir, I am presuming that Superintendent Worthington will be called to the Station with his solicitor and arrested while in the building.”

Spence frowned. “I’m afraid that will not be the case,” he said after a short pause. “I have been instructed by DCC Jennings that you are to proceed to his house and arrest him there. It appears to be in the interest of the Force that no favour be shown.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” Wilson interjected. “We even permit ordinary criminals to come to the Station to hand themselves in. It would simply be a common courtesy to treat a former colleague in a similar manner. His wife would certainly be present at his house, and an arrest is embarrassment enough.”

“Those are my instructions,” Spence said with a hint of tiredness in his voice. “Secondly, the DCC wants you to be the arresting officer.”

“Is this some sort of sick joke,” Wilson said rising from his chair. “The arrest can be made by any officer in the Force. I’ve worked with this man for three years. It’s barbaric to expect me to be the one to bring him in.”

“Those are my instructions and I am simply relaying them,” Spence said.

Wilson looked sideways at Harrison and saw a smirk on his face. He would have given a year’s salary to knock that smirking face through the window and into the street. However, if he did so, he had no doubt that he would not only be thrown out of the Force, but he would join Joe Worthington wherever he was going.

“Very well, Sir,” Wilson said. “But I would like it put on record my extreme reluctance to follow this order. The Superintendent has lost his career and may even be forced to spend some time in jail. It is excessive to degrade and embarrass him.”

“Make sure that he’s released on bail before the evening,” Spence said. “If there are any papers to sign, bring them to me immediately.”

‘Sir,” Wilson said. “Will that be all?” The room seemed to suddenly be without air and he wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible.

“Yes,” Spence said in a voice drained of energy.

Wilson strode to the door and left.

“You would do well to cut yourself off from that disaster area,” Harrison said as soon as the office door closed. “Tomorrow or the next day, Wilson is going to screw up and when he does he’ll pray for the treatment that Worthington will get.” Harrison pushed his vast bulk out of the chair. “When Wilson goes down, he’ll take all those who support him with him. Someone as elevated as yourself might end up as collateral damage.”

“Get out,” Spence said and he had to bite his tongue not to add ‘you sack of shit’.

CHAPTER 28

It was almost eight o’clock when Wilson reached home. He spent an hour sitting in his office trying to calm himself. The Squad Room was empty, and he sat with the lights off. He had always known that the job was shit but he never thought it would descend to the depths of having to arrest his colleague in his own home. DCC Jennings had proven himself to be a bastard on too many occasions for this to be a singular occurrence. Gradually, he managed to regain some level of calm. He thought about a trip to the pub on the way home but then thought the better of it. He was barely inside the door when Kate rushed to meet him. She whipped off her apron, threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

“I assume that drink has been taken,” Wilson said.

“Not yet,” she smiled and planted another kiss on his lips. “The sound of your voice on the phone alerted me to what a bad day it had been, so I decided that you needed some cheering up.” She tossed the apron on the back of a chair and took him by the hand. “The lamb and vegetables are in the oven. I figure we have a good half-hour before it’s ready. A pre-dinner drink takes ten minutes. That gives us twenty minutes to screw each other’s brains out. You up for it?”

“Kate McCann I love you,” he picked her up and started for the bedroom.

“That man’s a complete shit,” Kate forked the last of her dinner into her mouth. She listened patiently to Wilson’s story and commiserated with him for the task ahead. “Some day he’ll get his comeuppance.”

“I’m not so sure,” Wilson poured the last of the Saint Emilion Grande Cru into their glasses. “On another subject, you must be psychic. The smoked salmon and the lamb must have been bought before you realized I was having a bad day.“

“Ah,” Kate sipped her wine. “It’s good to see that your detecting is still up to scratch. The meal wasn’t exactly about your hard day. It was part of a plan to soften you up.”

“And the jumping on me.”

“That was because you had a hard day, and I wanted you to enjoy the meal,” she cleared away the plates and left them in the kitchen sink before returning with two Tartufos as a desert.

“I am sufficiently softened up and also a little apprehensive as well as intrigued.”

“Good because my mother is coming to stay with us next week,” Kate said quickly.

Wilson stopped with a spoon of chocolate ice cream in mid-air.

“What’s wrong,” Kate said. “Didn’t you realize that I had a mother? After all most people do have them.”

“It never came up in conversation,” Wilson said. “I suppose you want me to leave while she’s here.”

“Don’t be an ass. I’ve told her all about you and since I’m over thirty, the sleeping arrangements are none of her damn business. She’ll take us as she finds us.”

“Okay, so you have a mother and she’s going to visit us. Would you care to divulge any other details so that at least I can see whether we have anything in common.”

“My mother has lived in the South of France for the past fifteen years. She makes periodic visits to Belfast but they are usually of short duration. She says she left Northern Ireland because she was sick of people shooting and bombing each other. Of course, the ‘Troubles’ didn’t produce a single scratch for either her or her friends. The real reason she went to the South of France was the weather here, and the food there.”

“Is there any specific reason for this visit?” Wilson asked.

“You can take the worried look off your face. My mother doesn’t do the check out the fiancé thing.”

“Fiancé?”

“Okay, she doesn’t do the check out the partner thing either.”

“Partner?”

“Ian, I have been particularly nice to you this evening, and if you want it to continue you are going to have to stop pissing me off.”

“Promises, promises,” Wilson smiled. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just trying to develop the ground rules. Like, for instance, who am I? In your mother’s mind that is.”

“Well I didn’t think I would get away with flatmate, so I went for partner. Satisfied?”

“Sort of, enough to get the coffee at least. After that you might try being nice to me all over again.”