The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (13 page)

She wanted to race across and congratulate him, for finally, after four months of politeness, kindness and gazing at Carmen with puppy dog eyes, giving her the kick up the ass that she deserved. Instead she perked some coffee and beckoned Ken across to her desk.

“Ken. Could I ask you something, please?”

Being the gentleman he was Smith was across the room and smiling down at Nicky in a flash.

“Yes, Nicky. What can I do for you?”

She asked an inane question about a report he’d filed and nodded him to a seat, pouring them both a coffee. As they sipped and chatted she glanced meaningfully at Carmen’s bent head.

“Has Madam been spikey today?”

A hurt look flashed across his face and she had her answer. More than just being spikey, Carmen had managed to hurt him in some way. With a little urging Ken confided what had happened when he’d gone to open her car door. When Nicky gave a little smile he bristled.

“All I did was what any gentleman would do. I don’t see what was wrong with that?”

Nicky calmed him down. “There was nothing wrong with it at all. In fact it was very sweet, especially when there were so many journalists around. But…”

He looked bewildered. “But what?”

“I have the impression that Carmen hasn’t been treated well by men and she doesn’t know how to handle real charm.”

Ken only heard one thing, that Carmen had been hurt. He saddled up his white charger and readied to ride over to her desk. Nicky grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No.”

“But you said…”

“I said she’d been hurt by men, not that you were one of them. She’s got to learn that she can’t use all men as whipping boys for the ex that ‘done her wrong’.”

He re-took his seat, glancing longingly at Carmen’s curly head. Nicky whispered confidingly.

“Do you want to ask her out?”

Ken’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. Do you?”

A faint blush crept up his neck. “Well…”

“OK then, here’s how to get what you want. She’s feeling guilty about how she treated you, so for the first time in months you have the advantage. Don’t lose it. She deserves to suffer a little bit, so stay as frosty with her as you have been and watch what happens over the next few days.”

“But she…”

Nicky smiled wisely. “She likes you and you’ve been nothing but nice to her. She’s in the wrong and she knows it. Let her grovel a bit.”

Ken shook his head glumly. “She won’t.”

Nicky glanced across at Carmen just in time to see her glance away; she’d been watching them. It confirmed everything that Nicky thought.

“She will, mark my words. Now, the Super’s office is empty. Take your coffee and work in there until he and Liam get back. He won’t mind.”

As Ken went to object, Nicky raised a hand, halting him.

“Just do as I say and watch. Operation Carmen is about to start.”

***

Adrian Cooke had just entered Reilly Suite’s staff-room and slipped on his white coat when Craig and Liam walked in. He stared at them curiously and then pointed to a sign on the door.

“Sorry, this is the staff-room. If you’re looking for a patient, sister can help.”

Craig pulled out his badge and held it up for the doctor to see. “Police, Dr Cooke. We need a few words.”

As Cooke stared at the symbol of authority, Liam was staring at Cooke, impressed. Adrian Cooke was six-feet-two of solid muscle. His pumped-up biceps barely squeezed into the arms of his white coat and the flat-buttoned shirt he wore struggled to conceal the six or eight pack below. He was shorter than him but Liam was pretty sure that Cooke could take him in a fight. Eleanor Rudd wouldn’t have stood a chance. Craig knew what Liam was thinking and as he glanced at Cooke’s muscled hands he imagined them circling a woman’s throat, but his face gave nothing away.

The doctor gazed at Craig’s badge and then at both men with a puzzled look on his face.

“What about?”

Craig saw nothing in his body language that said he was about to run and nothing that screamed guilty. Cooke just looked genuinely puzzled.

Craig waved him to an armchair and sat opposite. “Do you know a nurse called Eleanor Rudd?”

Cooke glanced from Craig’s face to Liam’s and back again, then he did something that surprised them both; he laughed. Too loudly. A host of questions raced through Craig’s mind. What sort of laugh was it? Sarcastic? False? Deflecting? Probably. It was also a laugh that said ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? Of course I know her. Why do you ask?’

And what about the body language that accompanied it? Fight or flight? Was Cooke about to bolt for the door? No, he was lounging back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A mite too careless to be genuine but in that second Craig knew they didn’t have a murderer in their sights, a liar yes but not a killer. Adrian Cooke might have known Ellie Rudd and be up to his neck in drugs, but he wasn’t responsible for killing her, he would bet his badge on it.

Craig’s slight shake of the head made Liam’s heart sink; Adrian Cooke wasn’t their perp. They were going to ask questions anyway so Craig continued, pushing past the doctor’s surprise.

“Where were you last Thursday, Dr Cooke?”

“On leave. Hill-walking in the Mournes. Why?”

The first lie and not a blink – he was good. Liam’s eyebrows shot up. Hannah Donard had said Cooke had come to the linen room when she’d screamed, now he was saying he’d been up a mountain that day! Craig ignored Liam’s expression and continued smoothly.

“Did you have a phone with you?”

Liam snorted at the question. What the heck was the boss playing at? Everyone carried a phone. But Cooke confounded him by shaking his head.

“No, sorry. The guide had one but I deliberately left mine at home. I get bleeped and called all day at work; it’s lovely to have some peace now and then.”

Another lie. No-one went anywhere without their mobile, even if they kept it turned off. Cooke was lying to put them off checking its GPS. Craig had already guessed he was going to say it so he continued smoothly, phrasing his next question to elicit a yes or no.

“Did you have a companion on the walk?”

Cooke nodded. “Yes, my girlfriend Abigail. She introduced me to hill-walking months ago. It’s great fun.”

Too much information, a sure sign of someone covering their ass.

“Where is she now?”

Cooke shrugged. “At work. Look, can I ask why you want to know all this?”

Craig shook his head. “Not yet. What is Abigail’s full name and what does she do?”

“Abigail McIvor and she’s a solicitor.”

Liam sighed loudly, earning a sharp glance from Cooke. A bloody lawyer; that was all they needed. Craig nodded Liam to check out the name and he slipped out of the room while Craig carried on.

“When did you leave for your trip and when did you return?”

“We went on Wednesday morning and returned last night.”

More lies.

Cooke folded his arms defiantly, stretching his white coat tight across his chest. “I refuse to answer more questions unless you tell me what this is about.”

Craig shook his head. “In a moment. And if you don’t want to answer them here we can always go to the station. I have a patrol car waiting outside.”

Cooke unfolded his arms hastily and shook his head. “No, no. It’s not a problem. Carry on.”

“Did you see a news bulletin or read a newspaper while you were away?”

“Yes to the first and no to the second. I never read papers, they print nothing but crap. I saw the BBC News in the hotel at night.”

“Then you’d have seen that a young woman was found dead.”

Cooke narrowed his eyes, in a show of remembering. “In a hospital, wasn’t it?” As he said the words the expression on his face changed to one of exaggerated shock. “You’re not saying…? No, it can’t be. It can’t!”

He closed his eyes and shook his head as if it would make the knowledge disappear. But you can’t un-know something; once it’s there it’s there. Cooke’s eyes re-opened and he gasped out the words.

“Ellie? It was Ellie?”

Craig nodded, his eyes on Cooke’s face as he did. What he read there was what he’d known he would read one minute through the door – Adrian Cooke hadn’t killed Eleanor Rudd but he was a Class A liar. He hadn’t been up the Mourne Mountains that day; he’d been exactly where Hannah Donard had said. But why lie, unless he thought it would stop them digging into his life? He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Liam re-entered the room waving Abigail McIvor’s confirmed I.D. They’d interview her to break Cooke’s alibi so the good doctor wasn’t off the hook.

“Tell me about your relationship with Ms Rudd.”

Cooke was shaking his head mournfully, vying for the best actor Oscar, so Craig repeated the question in a louder, sterner voice, shocking him back to earth.

“We…we dated for a while.”

“How long?”

“Two years on and off.”

“That’s more than a while, Dr Cooke. What made it on and off?”

Cooke tightened his lips in the way novelists usually described as being ‘sealed’.

“Silence isn’t an option. If you don’t want to speak ill of the dead, your sensibilities do you credit, but don’t worry, we already know a great deal about Nurse Rudd’s life. So I’ll ask you again, why was your relationship with Eleanor Rudd on and off?”

Cooke dropped his head and mumbled. Liam moved closer and repeated his words.

“He says there were other men, boss.”

Craig leaned forward. “Who were they, Dr Cooke?”

The cuckold shook his head and Craig suddenly barked, making him jerk upright.

“This isn’t a bloody game! A woman’s dead and we’re trying to find her killer. Unless you want to be charged with obstructing a police investigation, answer the question.”

Cooke shouted his next words. “I don’t know all their names.”

“Then tell us the ones that you do.”

Just then the staff-room door opened and a student entered. Cooke hid his face quickly as the girl stared at Liam and then at Craig. Liam steered her gently back out the door.

“But I need to get to my locker.”

“Room’s occupied, pet. Come back in an hour.”

As the door closed, Craig urged Cooke on and he gabbled out two names. “Prof Taylor, they’ve been at it for ages.”

Tim Taylor! No wonder he’d looked shocked when he’d found out Rudd was dead.

Liam nodded. “That confirmed what the sister said.”

Cooke was still talking.

“And there was some guy she met in a bar – Joe or Joey I think. She didn’t tell me the rest.” A sour look crossed his face. “Her slut girlfriends will know, especially Hannah Donard; they used to go on the hunt all the time.”

Interesting that Donard hadn’t mentioned that to Annette. Craig stood up, beckoning Cooke to do the same.

“Come along, Dr Cooke.”

Cooke’s face fell. “But I’ve told you everything I know. I had nothing to do with Ellie’s death!”

Craig shook his head. “You probably didn’t, but you’ve just lied to the police.”

Cooke went to object and Craig raised a hand to stop him. “Please don’t waste my time denying it. There’s also the small matter of your illegal drug use to discuss. The Drugs Squad will want a little chat.”

***

John Winter’s Apartment. Lisburn Road. 12 p.m.

Craig sipped at his extra strong coffee and gazed around John’s living room.

“This looks…different.”

He was used to having work conversations amongst the rose coloured walls and stainless steel instruments at John’s lab. Instead they were sitting in his once characterless bachelor pad, now a cushion and flower-filled nest courtesy of Natalie. There were ornaments on every surface where once dust had gathered happily undisturbed, and pictures of people Craig didn’t recognise dotted all around. The strange thing was that John seemed happy about it! In fact, he looked positively euphoric. John, who was rarely seen in anything less formal than a shirt and tie, was wearing a T-shirt and track-suit bottoms and wiggling his bare feet on a rug that Craig had never seen before. The dedicated pathologist, who’d once spent all weekend working in his lab, had only crawled out of bed ten minutes before!

John took a gulp of coffee and grinned inanely, in a way that would have done Stan Laurel proud.

“I know.” He waved a hand around the room. “Isn’t it great? Really homely.”

Craig realised that if John actually liked Natalie’s floral kitsch he was probably beyond saving, so he said nothing, just smiled. After a short pause he restarted on the case.

“Steroids. Run me through what they do to someone.”

John stared into space as if he was flicking through some celestial formulary, searching for drugs beginning with ‘S’.

“OK, steroids…” He halted abruptly and stared at Craig. “Why? You’re not thinking of taking them are you? I know you like to keep fit, but…”