Authors: Rob Kitchin
‘I don’t know.’ Brady shrugged. ‘I can have a think, but again it could be loads of places – my local church, the
DHC
, where my apartment is. The list is endless.’
McEvoy was climbing the stairs to the incident room carrying the two lists supplied by Brady. The first detailed the names of 26 former inmates. The second included 15 locations of possible future attacks, the residential addresses of family members and old friends, the
DHC
on Gardiner Street, his local church, the house he was brought up in, and his old primary and secondary schools. His mobile phone rang.
‘McEvoy.’
‘It’s Barney. Several of the people in the pub remember a man with a beard, dressed all in black, who was sitting by himself. He was near to the end of that table that divided the bar in two and had a perfect view of the toilet door. He didn’t order any food, just nursed a glass of Coke while seemingly reading a novel. He visited the toilets not long before Peter Killick was found and when he came back out he just collected his stuff together and left.’
‘I always go for a piss before I leave a pub as well,’ McEvoy said without enthusiasm, coming to a halt on a landing. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘One of the witnesses said she thought she saw him quickly wipe the table clean where he was sat.’
‘And did he?’ he asked with more interest.
‘Difficult to know; just about every person in the place seems to have put their hands on the surface since then. It’s a bloody disaster. I’ve got a couple of them trying to construct photofits. I think he’s our man though. The way they describe how he was acting – constantly looking about the place, shifting on his seat and fidgeting; where he was sitting.’
‘Right, okay, get hold of Dr John. See if we can pick this guy up walking away from the place. There were at least four cameras on that side street. They were focused on doors but maybe they caught him in any case?’
‘I’ll get onto him now and I’ll also circulate the photofit once it’s ready. We also need to appeal for anyone who was in the pub that lunchtime but left to come forward.’
‘Send the photofit on to Bishop as soon as it’s ready. He can use it in the next press conference. Any more on Peter Killick?’
‘We’ve managed to track down the two people he had lunch with. They both worked with him in the Department of Health and Children. They headed back to the office when he went to the toilet. He was going on to some meeting in the Custom House so they didn’t wait for him. Family Liaison is round with his family at the moment. He was married with two young children aged five and eight. Poor bastards.’
‘Jesus.’ McEvoy leant over the railing and stared down into the stairwell. Three more lives thrown into tragedy and chaos for no other reason than to satisfy the psychotic fantasies of a madman. ‘Look, we’d better have another team meeting. Everything’s changed. Can you round up the others? We just need the DIs for now.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Johnny Cronin hissed. ‘He had his throat slit and his wrists slashed? Thank God I didn’t have to deal with that one.’
‘You think it’s worse than being burnt alive?’ Jenny Flanagan asked.
‘At least they were both unconscious, not like Laura Schmidt,’ Barney Plunkett said. ‘Imagine looking along that sword, wondering if the sick bastard is going to ram it through the back of your head?’
‘Have you finished?’ McEvoy said irritably, looking up. ‘They’re all terrible ways of dying. Do we know where Padraig is?’
‘He said he was on his way,’ Plunkett answered.
‘Right, okay, well let’s make a start in any case. I’ll fill Padraig in when he arrives. As you all know, there’s been a fifth murder. Peter Killick, aged 35, an assistant principal officer in the Department of Health and Children. He was killed in The White Horse pub on George’s Quay. Dermot Brady couldn’t have committed that murder because he was being held for questioning at the time. Which means he’s not The Raven and our killer is still on the loose. We need to …’ McEvoy trailed off as the door opened and Charlie Deegan entered the room, a satisfied smirk on his face.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ McEvoy snapped. ‘You’re suspended.’
The other three occupants in the room swivelled round to view the intruder.
‘I was never suspended,’ Deegan replied coolly. ‘That was just your fantasy. As of now I’m back heading up the investigation into the death of David Hennessey. I’ve already spoken to Padraig O’Keeffe.’ He sat down on the edge of a table.
‘You’re what?’ McEvoy said incredulously.
‘I said, I’m back heading up the David Hennessey investigation. So, where are we at? I hear The Raven’s killed again.’ He raised his eyebrows and pulled a wry smile.
‘Don’t push your luck, Charlie,’ McEvoy hissed, the red mist starting to descend. ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m going to find out. Don’t go anywhere,’ he said, heading for the door.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of going anywhere.’
The door slammed shut. Plunkett, Cronin and Flanagan turned their backs on Deegan, whispering to each other. Deegan shook his head dismissively and gazed out of the window.
Bishop’s secretary jumped in her seat as the door burst open.
‘Is he in?’ McEvoy asked angrily, heading for the door into Bishop’s office.
‘He’s busy preparing for a news conference.’
‘Good. I need to talk to him.’ He knocked once on the door, pushed it open and entered the room. ‘What the hell is Charlie Deegan doing back on duty?’ he snapped. ‘And why is he back in charge of the Hennessey case?’
Bishop looked up, startled. ‘What?’ he asked, confusion and annoyance in his voice.
‘I said, I wanted to know why Charlie Deegan is back on the Hennessey case. I thought he was suspended.’
‘Well, you thought wrong, Colm.’ Bishop snapped back, his face starting to flush red. He pushed his chair back from the desk. ‘I’ve already told you that this whole thing is bigger than just the murders! We’re already under the media spotlight without one of our senior investigators being suspended from the case. At the end of the day, what did he do? He pulled in a suspect for questioning without telling you first! Someone who at the time we believed was The Raven.’
‘And while he kept that information to himself another murder was committed,’ McEvoy stated, the fight starting to go out of him, knowing that there was little hope of getting Deegan removed from the case.
‘Look, Colm,’ Bishop said, following McEvoy’s tone, trying to placate him, ‘it wasn’t my decision, okay, but you need to see the bigger picture. We need experienced officers working on this case, and whatever you or I feel about Charlie Deegan, he’s experienced and he gets results. You’re just going to have to swallow your pride and build bridges with him. I’ve got other things to worry about, like a press conference in an hour and briefing the Assistant Commissioner. I need to get prepared and you need to find a killer.’
‘Jesus,’ McEvoy muttered, heading for the door. ‘I don’t believe this.’
‘And Colm?’
‘Yes?’ He turned at the door.
‘Next time, wait until I tell you to come in.’ The implication was clear, McEvoy was lucky not to have received a different, less accommodating reaction. ‘And go and get measured for a uniform some time today,’ he added. ‘You’re going to need it. The world thinks we have a scarecrow heading up things. We need you to smarten up your act.’ It was meant to sound humorous, trying to close the encounter with some light heartedness, but it came out flat.
McEvoy looked down at his ill-fitting suit, nodded and closed the door behind him. He apologised to the secretary and left Bishop’s office. Bursting in there had been a stupid thing to do; something he’d never done before. No doubt it would come back to haunt him at some point. Bishop might have been reconciliatory, but he didn’t forget misdemeanours.
McEvoy pushed opened the door and walked to the front of the room, refusing to make eye contact with its four inhabitants. ‘So where was I?’ he asked, as if all he had done was taken a quick break to go to the toilet. He sat on the edge of a desk and ran a hand across his thinning hair. ‘We need to identify the man all in black in The White Horse,’ he continued, ‘and to cross-check his photofit with that from Maynooth. We’ll also need to release the photofit to the media, see if anyone recognises him. Forensics will also need to go back through the samples and see if they can find any other matches across any of the five sites.
‘The killer has, for some reason, targeted Dermot Brady. It must be someone that knows him pretty well, knows about his life history. That could be one of several hundred people by the sound of it, but it’s a start. He’s supplied a list of a number of people from Mountjoy that will need checking out. We need to track them down and to eliminate them from the enquiry. It’ll need rigorous checks. We also need to get somebody to sit down with Brady and make a list of everyone he knows. Get him to put them into different categories – people who were good friends, fair-weather friends, acquaintances, people he barely knew, and so on. Then get a team to start to work through that list starting with the good friends and people linked to
DHC
. This person also knew Laura Schmidt. Persuaded her to go out to Glencree. I want them all interviewed face-to-face. Draft in more people if you need to.
‘Brady has also provided a list of 15 locations where the next murder might happen based on where the others have occurred. I’ve already organised that those places be put under 24-hour surveillance from midnight. Otherwise, it’s just a case of carrying on with investigations, rattling people’s cages and following any leads. Any questions?’
‘Brady isn’t working with anyone?’ Deegan asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ McEvoy said evenly, keeping his distaste in check. ‘There’s no evidence that he is – he’s a loner.’
Deegan nodded but didn’t say anything else.
‘Right, okay,’ McEvoy said. ‘Let’s get back to it. Barney, you’d better get back down to The White Horse and find out what’s going on. Make sure that photofit is distributed as soon as you’re happy with it. Charlie, can I have a word.’
Plunkett, Flanagan and Cronin filed out the room casting inquisitive glances at McEvoy and Deegan.
McEvoy approached where Deegan was still sitting. He waited for the door to close.
‘Well, it seems you were right,’ McEvoy said. ‘You’re back on the case. I’m hoping that we can act professionally, put our differences behind us and work together to catch this bastard.’
Deegan didn’t say anything, forcing McEvoy to continue.
‘But that means working as a team. And it means keeping me informed of what’s going on in your investigation. No solo runs. Is that clear?’ He wanted to punch the smug bastard. ‘We need to support each other if we’re going to stop him killing again.’
Deegan nodded slowly. ‘Sounds fair enough,’ he conceded.
‘Good. Right, well, you’d better get back to your team.’
Deegan pushed himself off the desk and left the room.
McEvoy watched the door swing shut behind him. Deegan was about as sorry as Göring was at the Nuremberg trials. He’d just have to hope that Grainger, Murphy and O’Keeffe would put a brake on some of his excesses and keep McEvoy in the loop. He looked at his watch and cursed. It was coming up to a quarter-past six. He pulled his mobile from his pocket.
‘Hello?’ Caroline answered.
‘It’s Colm. Look, I’m tied up at the minute. I promised Gemma I’d take her out for a meal and then go onto the cinema with a couple of her friends. I don’t suppose …’
‘I’m already ahead of you,’ Caroline interrupted. ‘We’re just getting ourselves ready. Mam and Dad are also here. They’re coming out with us as well. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. She knew you’d be tied up, she’s been watching TV. It’s just about the only thing they’re showing on
Sky News.
’