The Visitor (#3 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (35 page)

‘
Liked him’. Liam smiled at John’s gangster terminology. The Doc had been watching too many crime movies again.

“I agree. I don’t think Lewes is our man.”

Craig updated them on Melissa Pullman’s death and John nodded. “If Murdock did her harm and it was linked to operating, that would explain the amputation of his left hand. Her death could be your answer.”

Des continued. “Anyway, the note itself will probably yield nothing, just like Evie’s. But we’ll run all the usual checks anyway.”

An angry look crossed John’s face. “I bet there were notes left with the first two women as well. If Davis destroyed them then he’s an even worse bastard than we thought.”

Craig nodded. “They’ve been trying to point us towards something for months. And so far we’ve missed it.”

He paused and Liam interjected. “What’s with the Ketamine, Des?”

“It’s a horse tranquilizer, but it’s also used as a street drug, called Special K or Ket. It’s a clear liquid that can be drunk or injected. Medium doses paralyse in ten minutes. A higher dose puts you in the ‘K-Hole’, where you can’t do anything but lie still and stare at the ceiling. If it’s ingested with Cocaine the combination is known as CK1 - a fashionable death.”

“The shit people put in their bodies never ceases to amaze me.”

“And we never drink at all. Ha ha.”

“The Ketamine must have subdued Murdock enough to avoid a struggle, Des. Although the blow to the head will have helped I’m sure. That’s excellent. Thanks, both of you.”

Craig stood up, ready to go. “We’re going to head back now. We can charge Tommy’s men with the Rohypnol and attempted kidnapping. The people from Sarajevo have positively identified Ralph Coyle and Rory McCrae as the two men they chased. And we’ve got Gerard Bonner for tailing Dr Stevens. But the most we can get Tommy for is conspiracy. That’s only if the others will give him up, and there’s no sign of that happening any time soon. They’re a loyal bunch of idiots, I’ll give them that much.”

“If stupidity was a crime, they’d be lifers, boss.”

“How long can you hold Tommy, Marc?”

“Another few hours. Then we’ll either have to charge him with something, or let him go.”

Liam chipped in. “I’ll try his crew again, and if they cough then I’ll do him on conspiracy. But if they won’t, it’ll just have to be a stiff warning for Tommy this time.”

Craig nodded. “A conspiracy charge would be insignificant to a hard-timer like Tommy anyway. And I don’t think he managed to do anything to Murdock but follow him. We could toss his place, but if we turn up drugs, which we will, it’ll blow Karl’s operation on the Demesne. Check if he saw anything when he was tailing Murdock, and then let him go, Liam. Everyone’s covered by protection and he needs to mourn his daughter. But make it clear that he’s not to touch Brian Murray, or we’ll lock him up permanently.”

“Right you are then.”

“If I get anything else I’ll call you immediately Marc.”

As they reached the door John remembered something. He followed them out quickly.

“Sorry, but there were two other things. Although Alan Davis seemed to die of a heart attack that can easily be mimicked by drugs. So I’ll have another look at him, just in case our man had something to do with it.”

Craig raked his hand down his face, almost laughing with disbelief. “OK. And?”

“Murdock had a laceration on his right cheek, identical to Evie’s. I didn’t see it at the scene with all the mess.”

Another part of the staging, but it was significant.

“Thanks John. We’ll investigate Davis’ death later. Until we get this killer I’m more concerned about future deaths than past ones. But we need to catch a break on this soon, before we all end up on your table from stress.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wednesday. 3pm.

Laurie Johns was bored sitting at home. She’d weeded the garden, visited her mother, and shopped and lunched with friends three times this week already. She really needed to get back to work. So when Charles McAllister’s phone call came, she was pleased to hear from him.

“Sister Johns, I wonder if you could assist me?”

“I’d be very happy to, Chief Executive. I’m going mad with boredom at home.”

“Thank you. Look, the builders need to start over at St Marys on the 29
^th
. So they need to finish Maternity by the 19
^th
and move onto the rest of the M.P.E. And work in Maternity has rather ground to a halt.” He added hastily. “Very understandably, of course. But, well, we really need to progress things now. Time is money.”

His tone became persuasive, softening his strong accent. “We need someone clinical to advise us on the best positions for the Unit’s new close-circuit cameras. Could you possibly help with that today?”

“Yes certainly, I’d love to. When do you need me? I can be there in an hour.”

“That’s brilliant, Sister. I thought I’d ask you before anyone else.”

Who else
could
he have asked? Stupid man.

“Just go along to Maternity and someone will meet you there at four. It might be me, if I can get away. And thank you again Sister.”

She loved the importance of her title, and he’d used it three times. So she decided she quite liked Charles McAllister. And she couldn’t remember seeing a wife at his introductory drinks...

She took a good thirty minutes choosing her outfit. After all, it wasn’t often she got to wear her normal clothes to work. Or anywhere else that Nigel might see her nowadays, she thought sadly. She was going to make the most of it. And if she didn’t see Nigel, then a builder or Charles McAllister would be a nice diversion.

The linen trousers and top she chose suited her dark colouring perfectly, and she made herself up discretely. Not like the slutty make-up those young nurses trowelled on. She saw them leaving her Unit every evening dressed like tramps. If she had her way she’d scrub all their faces.

Grabbing her bag and phone, she glanced out of the window at the protection officers’ car. No. She’d had quite enough of their supervision, thank you very much. It was all a lot of drama for nothing. No-one was after her. She’d
done nothing wrong. They should go after Beth Walker if they wanted to kill someone - she deserved it.

She left through the back door, walking briskly to the car port. Then she gunned her yellow convertible, turning left outside the gate to avoid her over-protectors. Backtracking onto the Drumbeg Road and Upper Malone, she meandered through the quiet country lanes to the sound of Celine Dion. She loved telling people that she lived in ‘Upper Malone’. It was shorthand for prosperity in Belfast. And it said so much about a person. It said a lot more about Laurie Johns than she could ever know.

The eight-mile drive to the M.P.E. took her down leafy roads and over quaint stone bridges. Past the flowers of Lady Dixon Park, and through suburban BT9. After twenty minutes she turned into Elmwood Avenue, towards the M.P.E. It was a sunny day and still quiet after the Easter Holidays - the area was much nicer without students or noisy school-children. Laurie Johns had never been young.

She drove into the staff car-park, stopping at the mark she’d drawn, six inches from her name. Then she slipped on her sunglasses, fluffed-up her hair and climbed elegantly out of the car. Heading briskly for Maternity.

***

Nicky popped her head around the door, just as people filtered in for the four o’clock briefing. “Two things, sir. Firstly, the court has phoned and the Warwick summations have just finished. The Judge is instructing the jury. And secondly, there’s an urgent call for you. It’s Joe Rice. Can I put him through down here?”

Craig nodded and went out to the corridor to take the call. “Yes Joe, what can I do for you? We’re just about to start. Are you caught in traffic?”

“No, sir. But I thought I should let you know, I think we’ve found Murdock’s primary scene.”

“Where?”

“At the back of the M.P.E., by the builder’s Portakabin. Just behind the old Dunmore Medical Centre.”

Craig visualised it. It was near the consultant’s offices, where Iain Lewes and Katy had been on the evening before Evie’s death.

“Good work Joe. Right, stay there and call the C.S.I.s. Give John a bell too please. We’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.”

He went back into the room. “Sorry everyone, the briefing’s postponed. Liam, come with me - Joe thinks they’ve found Murdock’s scene. Annette, I need that information on Melissa Pullman.”

“I’m just waiting for something to come through, sir. I should have it in thirty minutes.”

“OK. Meet me there with it. And bring the D.N.A. results too please.”

***

On first inspection the patch of blood looked quite small, only about twelve centimetres across. Not a big monument for Nigel Murdock’s fifty year life. Then the C.S.I. pointed out that, judging by the probe she’d used, blood had seeped down through the gravel for at least thirty more. The 3-D image she created left no doubt that someone had bled considerably here.

“We won’t know the exact blood volume until we do the seepage calculations, sir. But several litres I’d say. I’ll get it to you ASAP.”

The blood had been found by a piecework joiner, calling to collect his wages at the Portakabin. The scene was certainly private. Hidden between the Portakabin and the rear entrance of the M.P.E. It would have been easy to kill Nigel Murdock there unseen.

They pieced together Murdock’s final movements. He’d gone to his first-floor office at about eight on Sunday evening, to do some dictation. Then he’d left the tape for his secretary, to type up the next day. That was always his approach with private patients.

As his P.A. pointed out dryly. “His ordinary patients wait six weeks for their stuff, even with me chasing him. But the quicker he completes his private letters, the quicker he gets paid.” She said that his voice had sounded slurred towards the end of the tape, adding sarcastically that it ‘wouldn’t have been a first for him’.

The C.S.I.s struck lucky. The cleaners hadn’t been in the office since Friday, so Murdock’s cup was still lying on the floor. He’d been drinking coffee as he dictated. They sampled the fluid but Craig already knew what they’d find – Ketamine. Someone had followed Nigel Murdock there on Sunday night, well prepared and intent on murder.

If this was the primary scene, then he’d been abducted from his office on Sunday night. Probably just after his drug-filled dictation. Craig stared up at the first floor – a fire escape gave easy access for the killer. A strong man could have dragged or pushed a drugged Murdock down the steps, completely unseen in the dark. It would fit with the bruises and lacerations John had found. Gravity would have helped, but the killer’s strength must still have been formidable.

Just then John appeared through the street entrance, and walked straight over to the C.S.I. kneeling beside the patch of blood. “Georgia, can you get some of that over to Des for D.N.A., please. And bag some of that gravel as well. Thanks.” He spotted Craig and loped over to him.

“Hi Marc, this makes perfect sense. This gravel is fine enough to match the scratches on Murdock’s face. And that amount of blood around such a small circumference would fit with bleeding from the incision. It would have seeped down rather than spread outwards, because of the porous nature of the ground here. The lab will confirm that. The location would have given plenty of cover as well - three walls and a locked entrance gate. But he would have had to move the body before anyone came here on Monday morning. Two moves?”

Liam overheard the question. “Just one, Doc. The security guard says no-one would’ve been here from last Friday lunchtime until tomorrow. They had a few days off. Some people were heading up to St Marys today for a big meeting. Work’s gearing-up to start over there on the 29th.”

“Check who was at that meeting and what time it ended please, Liam.”

“Already done. McAllister and various doctors, including Lewes, were there.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s scheduled to end about now. Greenwood gave the tradesmen the days off before he went to Dublin for his conference. He’s a bit of a control freak on the money side apparently. Doesn’t like them hanging around swinging the lead. They all knew about it last Friday, so anyone
working on the project knew this place would be empty from Friday until tomorrow. Including Randle, McAllister and Greenwood.”

Joe Rice re-joined them. “Make that, everyone except the piecework joiner, sir. He hadn’t been needed for two weeks, so that’s why he didn’t know. He lives in Lisburn and was taking his wife into Belfast shopping today. He just dropped in on the off-chance, to collect his wages. He found the puddle of blood and called us immediately.”

“The privacy would have given Murdock plenty of time here to bleed out, Marc.”

Craig nodded, agreeing. “And as long as he’d been moved before tomorrow morning no-one would ever have seen him here.” He turned towards the hospital. “Some of those windows are filthy, so I doubt the secretaries would have seen much through them, even if they had looked out. The Portakabin would have obscured their view as well. Whoever the killer is, he really knows this place.” He paused, thinking for a moment.