The Slowest Cut (21 page)

They stood in the doorway and watched the man. It was interesting how much information could be gleaned without someone uttering a word. Ryan Carragher was tall, taller than his father; perhaps it had come from his mother’s side. His hair was thick and dark and fell to the nape of his neck, and his shoulders and arms were muscled, saying that he was fit. Craig’s sharp eyes took in his clothes at the same time as Annette’s; jeans and trainers, the uniform of the young all over the world. Craig wondered what Carragher was thinking. If he was looking for distraction from the events of the past few days he would find plenty out on the Dock.

When Ryan Carragher turned around they learned even more. He was wearing a dark T-shirt and on its front was the same logo as in Frederick Archer’s sketch; The Red Kite. Craig was becoming more curious about the restaurant by the hour. What was its connection to their case?

That was where Craig’s luck ran out; Ryan Carragher didn’t look anything like the young man in Archer’s sketch. Where the young man had been pale and slim, Carragher was tanned and well built, and on his cheek was a large scar so livid that it couldn’t possibly have been missed.

Annette’s eyes widened when she saw the logo and Craig shot her a look that said ‘not yet.’ He wanted to see what Ryan Carragher told them before they gave anything away. Craig walked forward with his hand outstretched and Carragher shook it, his face wearing a puzzled look. His confusion wasn’t about the handshake, Craig was sure of that. It was generic, as if he was confused about recent events in his life.

Craig motioned him to the sofa. “Thank you for coming in, Mr Carragher. Did you get a cup of tea?”

The younger man gave a weak smile. “I’m tea-ed out, thanks.”

“Right then. My name is Superintendent Craig and you’ve already met Detective Inspector McElroy. We’re two of the detectives handling your parents’ case.”

Carragher nodded, watching as Annette handed Craig a coffee then sat down.

“Are you both working on their cases, or one each?”

It was an unexpected question, but valid.

“We’re part of a team that is working on both your parents’ cases.”

Carragher stared at him. “Why? Do you think their deaths are related?”

Craig glanced at Annette, momentarily confused. What had Carragher been told about his parents’ deaths? He asked the question and Carragher filled-in the gaps.

“My step-mother was found dead in the playground of her school on Monday. Then my father was found dead three days later, I don’t know where. The officers didn’t say but I assume they suffered some sort of accidents.”

Craig scrutinised the man’s face, searching for lies. “Who notified you of the deaths, Mr Carragher?”

“Uniformed officers. They were very vague. I went to the mortuary and identified my father’s body but only his face was uncovered and the doctor didn’t go into details about how either of them had died.” Carragher gave Craig the dazed look that he’d seen often in the next-of-kin, but something about it made Craig feel uneasy. “I suppose I should have asked for more information, but I assumed an accident or maybe heart attack, for my father.”

Irritation flooded through Craig for a moment, then he realised. Uniform couldn’t have given a cause of death until there’d been a post-mortem, and John might have withheld the mention of murder in case it prejudiced their case, fudging it with ‘cause unknown’. Either that or John’s head had been elsewhere all week, which was more likely.

Craig’s ire subsided as he remembered Liam saying Ian Carragher had found it hard to accept his wife had been murdered. He may not have told his son; if people were in denial there was little that you could do. His mood changed to optimism. The fact that Ryan Carragher seemed to know nothing could be useful.

Craig changed tack to a more conversational tone. “Could you tell me a bit about your father and mother, Mr Carragher, and your early upbringing?”

Carragher paused for a moment, as if searching for an ulterior motive for the question, then he shrugged, like a man with nothing to hide. “It was pretty ordinary, really. My father was a surveyor and we moved around a bit with his job. My Mum stayed at home with me and my younger brother.”

“Jonathan isn’t it?”

“Yes. He’s twenty-three; eleven years younger than me. Bit of an accident I think but they doted on him.” His face darkened. “Unfortunately my mother Marianne died in 1994, when Jonathan was three-years-old. Breast Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

Carragher nodded. “It was hard, probably even harder on Jonathan. He grew up without a mother.” He brightened slightly. “Although Tian Liu was a great help.”

Craig saw Annette shift imperceptibly at the mention of the Chinese name. He nodded her to ask the question.

“Who was Tian Liu, Mr Carragher?”

“She was our au pair and a live-in nanny for Jonathan. Dad hired her when Mum got sick.”

Craig interjected. “How old was she?”

“In ‘94? About twenty I think. Yes, that’s it. She was twenty.” He smiled, remembering. “I remember because I had a huge crush on her and she told me that I was six years too young; I was fourteen.”

“How long did she live with you?”

“Until Jonathan was four or five I think. I left home at sixteen to go to catering college. In 1996.” He sneered. “Dad married the bitch not long before that.”

Craig raised an eyebrow and motioned Annette to ask.

“You mean your step-mother, Eileen?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you call her the bitch, Mr Carragher?”

“Ryan, please. And I call her that because that’s what she is, was. I hated her from the day I met her. My Dad was a nice man and she dominated him completely. Undermined and harangued him until he would have done anything for a quiet life.”

Craig frowned, watching Carragher’s face carefully as he ran through the list of petty humiliations Eileen Carragher had subjected his father to. The more he talked the more uncertain Craig became that Ryan Carragher knew nothing of his father’s other life. He lifted the folder Annett had brought and then tuned back into what Carragher was saying.

“Jonathan bore the brunt of it. Especially when she sacked Tian Liu after they got married. Jonny really missed her; she was the only mother he’d known for years.”

Annette was asking all the right questions so Craig just sat back and watched.

“When did she sack her?”

“As soon as she got her feet under the table.”

’95 or ’96. Interesting.

Craig interjected. “Do you see much of your brother nowadays?”

Ryan shook his head. “Not much. He went away to Uni in England to study History and Chinese.”

Chinese again.

“He said he wanted to specialise in oriental history and he needed to speak Chinese for that, but I think part of it was about Tian Liu. It was mainly Cantonese he learned and that was what she spoke.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Annette asked the question in such a conversational tone that Carragher answered without a thought. “Last week, actually. He’s back in Belfast for a while staying with friends.”

“Do you know their names?”

“Sorry, no. They’re much younger than me so I don’t pay much attention.”

The atmosphere in the room was pleasant and grew more so as Carragher talked about his mother and the father, and the brother that he obviously loved. What had happened to make such a normal family so dysfunctional? Eileen Carragher? One person; was that really all it took?

After five more minutes chatting, Craig slipped in a question. “That’s an unusual T-shirt. What’s the logo?”

Carragher looked down at his T-shirt, stretching it out so he could read what was on the front.

“Oh, this? I just grabbed it this morning because it was clean. I got it years ago from a restaurant Tian Liu used to take us to. It was huge on me then. I used to sleep in it.” He smiled wistfully. “It was her favourite place to eat. She said it did the best Cantonese food in Belfast.”

“Did?”

“Well, it still might do for all I know. I never get out of my own place long enough to try any others.”

Craig sat forward purposefully and Annette shot him a questioning look that he ignored. Instead, he removed two sheets of paper from the folder she’d brought.

“Thank you, Mr Carragher. I think that’s almost it for today. We’ll need to speak to you again when we have more information.”

“Fine.” Carragher made to stand up and Craig motioned him back to his seat.

“Before you go, there are just a couple more things. Did you know a Dr Gerry Warner or a Mr Alan Rooney by any chance?”

Carragher heard the past tense immediately. Warner and Rooney must have bitten the dust as well!

Craig had used it deliberately, to see how Carragher would react, but nothing about his behaviour suggested guilt. He hadn’t committed the murders; Craig would stake his reputation on that. Ryan Carragher used the present tense in his answer just in case it had been a trick.

“Yes. I know both of them. They were friends of my step-mother mainly, although my father knew them as well.”

Ian Carragher had known Alan Rooney, the man his wife had been cuckolding him with for years! Craig nodded and then slid the sketches across the table. “Final thing, I promise. Could you look at a couple of images for us?”

“Sure…I think. Are they anything to do with my Dad’s death?”

The omission of his step-mother from the question said, ‘I hated her’, loud and clear.

“No, not directly, but we think the people in them might be able to help with our enquiries.”

“OK, then. Fire ahead.”

The first sketch Craig turned over was the aged-up photograph of the young girl from the video. He scanned Carragher’s face as he stared at it then leaned in to peer more closely. Recognition filled his eyes; it was followed quickly by a puzzled look. Annette interjected excitedly.

“You know her?”

“No…well, maybe. I’m not sure. She looks too young.”

Craig spoke in a calm voice. “Too young?”

Carragher looked at him, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “For a moment I thought that she was Tian Liu. But she isn’t. Tian Liu would be forty now and this girl’s only about twenty.”

“Is age the only reason you don’t think it’s her?”

Carragher shook his head. “No. She looks very like her, but there’s something about her features as well.”

He stared for another moment then put the photograph down triumphantly. “I know what it is! This girl’s related to her somehow. And she’s mixed race; Tian Liu was pure Chinese.” He chuckled. “This girl looks like Tian Liu’s love child with a white man.”

It was what they already thought, but Ryan Carragher had just told them who the girl’s mother was. Craig pushed him further for confirmation.

“You’re saying she looks enough like your old nanny to be her daughter with a white man?”

“Yes, yes. I suppose I am.” Carragher shook his head. “But that’s impossible. After Eileen sacked her, I heard Tian Liu went back home to Hong Kong. She probably married a Chinese man and has kids of her own by now.”

Maybe.

Craig thanked him, then set the other sheet of paper face-down on the table and glanced at Annette. His message was clear. ‘Watch Carragher’s face as I turn it over.’

Annette did and what she saw was exactly the same as Craig. The moment Ryan Carragher saw the sketch of the young man his eyes widened in recognition. He hid the look quickly, but not before they’d both seen it. He glanced away, avoiding Craig’s gaze.

“Do you know this man, Mr Carragher?”

Carragher leapt to his feet, readying to go. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

He glanced at his watch in the universal mime of ‘I have somewhere else to be.’

Craig smiled inwardly and rose, motioning him towards the door. “The Inspector will show you out, Mr Carragher. Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

He extended his hand and shook Carraghers for long enough that the young man had to meet his eyes. Craig’s stare said he knew that he’d recognised the man in the sketch, and Carragher’s blush said that he knew he’d been caught-out.

“Do we have your contact details, Mr Carragher?”

“Yes. I gave them to the Inspector.”

“Right. Goodbye then.”

Craig waited until he heard the lift doors closing then he telephoned Davy at home.

“Sorry, Davy. I need you back in for an hour. We’ve just got a new lead.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The C.C.U. 4 p.m

“I want you to find me a recent photo of Jonathan Carragher, Davy. Driving licence, student card, whatever you can get. And I need to locate a Chinese woman of around forty years old, called Tian Liu. She was over here from Hong Kong working as a nanny, somewhere between 1990 and 1996. There must be something on her at immigration, or the Chinese Embassy in London?”

Davy smiled weakly at Craig and waved him away from his desk. He’d been stretched out on the couch in Maggie’s apartment just settling down to watch a DVD, when his mobile had rung, ruining their lazy Saturday afternoon. He’d been trying to watch ‘Elysium’ for months now and each time he pressed ‘play’ he was interrupted. He gave up. He was doomed never to see Matt Damon reach his goal.

He’d told Maggie to go on and watch it without him, in the hope that she’d be so grateful that she wouldn’t make him watch some girly rubbish tonight. Maggie Clarke was a news journalist with the Belfast Chronicle and they’d been dating for fourteen months, ever since they’d met on a murder case at Stormont. Not the most romantic of introductions, but things were going really well. Except, for a hard-nosed reporter Maggie showed a disturbing desire to watch slushy Rom-Coms in her time off, no matter how often Davy said no.

Craig took the hint and wandered off towards Nicky’s desk. He was just filling the percolator and setting out three mugs when a loud clicking sound drew his gaze towards the doors. Nicky was storming across the grey-carpeted office faster than he’d ever seen her move. Annette saw her coming and ducked down behind her cubicle wall, leaving Craig to greet her alone.

“Oh! Hi Nicky. I didn’t expect to see you in today.”

Nicky lifted the percolator from his hand without a word and steered Craig towards his office, closing the door hard behind them. Craig didn’t know whether to laugh or object, so instead he stared mutely down at her blue-tipped hair and waited for her to speak. The VAT issue was at the front of his mind but he was saying nothing, in case her mood wasn’t about that at all.

“Sir.”

Nicky’s husky voice was firm but unreadable, although her one word address said she wasn’t taking any crap. Craig glanced at her face in reflex and glimpsed Annette’s silhouette at his half-glass door. He willed her to come in. No such luck. She was taking the discretion part of valour seriously today.

Craig tried to break Nicky’s gimlet gaze, searching for somewhere else to look and trying hard not to stare at her silver lame leggings and frilly top. Which strange fashion magazine had she been reading this week?

“Sir.”

Oh God. She’d said it again; that meant he was in real trouble. Craig willed himself to bluff it out, rushing to his own defence before she said it a third time.

“Now, listen, Nicky…”

“No, sir. You listen.”

Craig wasn’t going to argue. Years with girlfriends, a sister and an Italian mother had taught him that arguing with women was a zero-sum game. Never do it unless you’re prepared to fight to the death and ignore their tears, and he never could do that. So Craig did as he was told; he listened. But instead of the stream of invective he expected to hear, Nicky merely stared into his eyes for a moment longer then reached up, turned his cheek firmly towards her and kissed it lightly. Then she said the words that told him she’d worked everything out.

“I know what you did, sir.”

She stared at him again, as if waiting for him to cave in and admit his evil deed. Craig said nothing so Nicky kissed his cheek again and said. “Thank you. You’ve saved our lives.”

Then she spun round and yanked open Craig’s office door, smiling as Annette almost fell in. Nicky hugged her as well then clicked her way quickly off the floor, leaving them both blushing in her wake.

Davy peered up from behind his computer screen, puzzled. “W…was that Nicky? Why didn’t she say hello?”

Craig wandered over to him. “Don’t take it personally, Davy. She didn’t say hello to me either.” Craig sat down and linked his hands behind his head, still smiling at the brief interlude. It was so typically Nicky Morris that he wanted to laugh. Annette did. She was still laughing when she joined them at Davy’s desk.

“Right. What have you found?”

Davy squinted at Craig sceptically. He’d only had five minutes! If he hadn’t been so good at his job he might have thought the boss was taking the piss.

“OK.” He turned a screen towards them. “Here’s Jonathan Carragher in 2011 w…when he was at Uni. And here’s the s…sketch Annette’s witness produced.”

Craig’s eyes flicked between the two images and he nodded. There was no doubt that it was the same man. The young man who had bought the knife that had killed the Carraghers was their youngest son, Jonathan! Craig corrected himself. He was Ian Carragher’s son, not Eileen’s.

Annette spoke first. “It’s definitely Jonathan Carragher, sir. So the sunglasses weren’t hiding the fact he was Chinese. He’s as Caucasian as us. He must just have been wearing them to hide his identity. Pity he forgot about the logo on his hold-all.”

Davy leaned forward curiously. “The Chinese Restaurant logo? W…What about it?”

Craig answered. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Ryan Carragher was wearing a T-shirt with it on the front. Apparently they do a range of merchandise you can buy.”

“Only in the s…shop, or on-line as well?”

Craig shook his head slowly. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Can you check it out?”

“OK. But if Jonathan Carragher bought the knife that killed his parents…”

Annette interrupted. “The type of knife that killed them. We won’t know for sure until we have an exact match.”

Davy shrugged. “W…Whatever. The type of knife then. That means he must have killed them.”

“Whoa. Not so fast.” Craig raised a hand to still their speculation. “It’s interesting certainly, but it’s not a slam dunk yet. What have you found out about the woman?”

Davy tapped on his keyboard and another face appeared on the screen. It was the passport photograph of a young Chinese woman.

“That w…was Tian Liu’s photograph back in 1992, when she first came to Belfast. S…She was eighteen in it.”

“She started to nanny for the Carraghers two years later, sir.”

“Good. Davy, anything on her nowadays?”

Davy shook his dark head. “No. It’s pretty s…strange actually, and I can’t be certain until the embassy gets back to me, but I can’t find anything on her after ’95. It’s like s…she dropped off a cliff.”

Craig’s heart sank. He knew instantly what had happened to Tian Liu, but he needed to check something first.

“Davy, can you put the aged-up photo of the little girl from the video beside Tian Liu on the screen?”

Davy tapped again and the two women appeared side by side. Tian Liu at eighteen and their mystery girl. Annette gasped. They were almost identical.

“She’s her daughter all right. But her father was white.”

“Who? Ian Carragher, sir?”

Craig nodded. “That would be my guess, Annette. Lonely widower with a pretty nanny; he wouldn’t be the first. But we won’t know for sure until we find the girl and compare DNAs.”

Davy shook his head firmly. “Not true, chief. I can give you a pretty good likeness of their possible offspring from Tian Liu’s and Ian Carragher’s photographs. Give me ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Davy. That’s brilliant. Also…”

Craig hesitated slightly. He asked a lot of Davy and he was about to ask more, but he knew Davy was capable of it.

“Ryan Carragher is in contact with his brother, I have no doubt about that. He told Liam that Jonathan was coming to the funerals and the only way he could have known that was if they’d been in touch. So…”

“You w…want me to see if I can find Jonathan Carragher’s phone number by tracking back from his brother’s?”

“Can you?”

“Yes. But it will take me until Monday. I’ll need to speak to the mobile phone provider and that’s hopeless at the w…weekend.”

“OK. It will have to do. My bet is that Ryan phoned Jonathan as soon as he left us today. About half-an-hour ago.”

Davy made a note of the timing and then waved them both away. “Give me ten minutes to play with these images.”

Craig did as he was told and beckoned Annette to one side. “Nicky knows, Annette. But how?”

Annette shook her head. “God knows. Nicky is the most streetwise person I’ve ever met. Either the VAT man said when he called her, but I honestly don’t think he would have. Or she worked it out by herself.”

“Even a hint would have been enough for her to latch onto. She’s like a bloodhound when she gets a trail.”

Annette smiled. “Sherlock Morris. But even so, sir, all she would have guessed was that someone had paid her bill, she couldn’t have known it was you…”

As Annette said it her voice tailed off. Of course Nicky would have known. Who else but Craig would have cared enough to do it and been that generous? Nicky knew Craig well enough to know it’s exactly what he would have done, and one look in his eyes would have been confirmation.

Annette pointed an accusing finger at Craig.

“She knew because you told her.”

Craig spluttered out his coffee. “I did not!”

“Not by what you said, but in your response when she stared you down. She did stare you down, didn’t she?”

Craig blushed to the roots of his hair. Nicky had got him with the oldest interrogation trick in the book. She’d stared at him and he’d caved in, in some miniscule, fraction of a second way, telling her everything she’d needed to know without uttering a word.

“Clever girl. Pity she’s not a detective, there wouldn’t be a murderer who wouldn’t confess.”

They laughed for a moment and then Annette sipped at her coffee thoughtfully, giving Craig a pointed look.

“What’s on your mind, Annette?”

“It’s Liam and Jake. Newcastle sounded pretty rough. It’s bound to have affected them both.”

Craig nodded. “I told them to see the counsellor once it’s all wrapped up.”

“Which they won’t, of course. Well, Jake might; the younger men seem more evolved, but Liam will think it’s all mumbo jumbo and soldier on.”

Craig nodded. “OK. I’ll have a word and try to get him to talk to someone.”

“You too.”

“I didn’t find the prison.”

“But you saw everything that they did.”

Craig frowned and Annette raised her hands in peace. “OK. I’ve said my bit. I know better than to push any of you stubborn bunch.” She grinned. “I’ll ask Nicky to push you instead.”

Craig was just about to object when Davy beckoned them over, smiling triumphantly at his work. Each of his three screens displayed different images. The first held images of Tian Liu and Ian Carragher, the second their possible male offspring and the third the female. Craig glanced from screen to screen several times before speaking.

“That’s remarkable, Davy. Really remarkable.”

Davy blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s just a programme, boss. It applies algorithms based on s…sex differences and age and…” He extended his long arms in his latest favourite gesture. “Voila, as they say.”

Annette was staring in silence at the third screen. It held six images of female children. One of them matched their mixed-race girl exactly. She pointed to it.

“There she is.”

Craig nodded. There was no question that the young man and woman they were looking for were both Ian Carragher’s children. His son Jonathan with his first wife Marianne, and his daughter with his children’s nanny, Tian Liu.

It raised all sorts of questions. Where was Tian Liu now? Craig suspected that she’d never returned to Hong Kong after she’d given birth. She was most likely dead, and her daughter with Carragher had ended up in a porn video being beaten by a boy not much older than herself.

If the girl was mixed up with Jonathan Carragher then how had they met, and did they even know that they were half-brother and sister? Had they killed the Carraghers and Alan Rooney together? The girl couldn’t have been raised by the Carraghers; from what they knew of Eileen Carragher she would never have allowed it. Mothering her new husband’s bastard daughter would have been step too far.

And Ryan hadn’t recognised her, impossible if she’d been raised in their father’s home. Even if he was away at college he would have seen her on visits home. So; what? The girl was adopted by someone else after she was born? Or farmed out to relatives?

Craig shook his head. It was getting confusing and they were all tired. Time to call it a day and come back fresh tomorrow. Maybe by then they’d have found Gerry Warner. He hoped for Warner’s sake that they found him alive.