The Midnight Killing, page 2
‘Why are you interested in a suicide?’
‘It’s not all that it seems. Something isn’t right and the boss wants it looked at carefully as the body was found in the grounds of his old school. He wants to ensure we cover all bases.’
ACC Boyne was new to them. He had replaced ACC McCausland and was quick to shout out orders, expecting his detectives to jump to his command while still trying to be one of the team, and engaging in the kind of banter McCausland would have cringed at.
‘Sure, pick me up. I’m still at home.’
‘I’m right outside.’
‘Of course you are.’ There it was again, that smile he elicited from her without so much as an ounce of effort. She grabbed her coat, threw her keys in her bag and headed out into the drizzle to meet him.
As soon as she got into Danny’s Audi A4, he launched into the job. ‘Best not to let the widow know we suspect foul play. It could pan out to be nothing sinister.’
‘You said the body was found at a school?’
‘Hanging from the branch of a bloody big tree that sits at the top of a hill in the grounds of Osbourne House Grammar.’
‘Right, so what makes you suspicious?’ she asked.
‘The rope for starters – it didn’t look right – and then the scene itself. Why break into school grounds to do the deed? Why not go off somewhere remote like Cave Hill or Belvoir forest? Then again, I could be barking up the wrong tree.’
Rose groaned at his weak attempt at a joke.
‘So, what do you think we should be looking for with the wife?’
‘I want you to read her emotional state and I want to find out if she had any concerns about how her husband had been acting.’
‘And if we find that it’s not a suicide?’
‘Then it’s about looking for the usual – motive and opportunity. You have to ask why someone would want it to look like suicide. Staging a death to look like suicide is considered, planned, and executed with a lot of difficulty. So, if it isn’t a straightforward suicide, that means someone has gone to an awful lot of trouble and we need to find out why.’
Rose reached over and turned up the heater. ‘The pathologist is going to be looking for evidence of bruising, blood or DNA from another person. The body will tell its own story.’
‘Yeah but we might as well get ahead of the game.’
‘Where’s his family home?’
‘Ballycoan Road. Do you know it?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s near the old Belvoir Park Hospital. What do we know about the deceased?’
‘His name is James McCallum. His ID was in his wallet, which the SOCOs found along with his phone in a pocket. He was an architect and had his own practice based in Stranmillis. DS Tania Lumen and DS Jack Fitzgerald went around to break the bad news to his wife shortly after ten thirty. She told them she woke up at 6.50 a.m. to find him gone. She thought he’d left early to go to the gym or to get a head start on work.’
Rose knew that no matter how it came – suicide, accidental death, a road traffic accident, or murder – no one was ever prepared for the knock on the door from the police.
‘Money trouble? Business about to go tits up?’ she asked.
‘Possibly. We haven’t started to dig yet, but of course that will be one line of enquiry.’
They drove along Milltown Road, past the Belvoir housing estate, and on towards Hospital Road. The house, though tucked away in a lane off the main road, was easy to find.
‘Number forty-seven, here we are.’ Danny slowed down and pulled into the driveway.
‘Nice place,’ Rose said.
The house was designed to look like it had been set into the surrounding field without disturbing anything, and trees, shrubs, and bushes seemed to be pressing in on the structure. A Mercedes SUV sat in the driveway, parked neatly to the side as if the owner didn’t want anything to obstruct the perfect view of the house. A double height door dominated the entrance way.
‘Looks the part of an architect’s home,’ Rose said, getting out of the car.
‘Yeah, certainly does. Like something you’d see on Grand Designs.’ Danny reached for the doorbell.
The door was opened by a blonde-haired woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Her pretty face was set in a scowl, as if she was furious with the world.
‘Yes?’
‘Mrs McCallum?’
She nodded, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘Forgive the intrusion. I’m DI Danny Stowe and this is Dr Rose Lainey. I rang earlier. Is it okay if we have a word?’
‘Sorry, of course, come through. I was expecting my sister.’ Emma McCallum was wearing a white cotton shirt with smart dark denim jeans and tan ballet flats. Her dark blonde hair was clipped back from her face, while her freckled skin appeared to be devoid of make-up. She looked shell-shocked and disorientated, as if she’d woken up in the wrong life.
‘No need to apologise. We appreciate that this is a difficult time, and you should be wary opening the door, in case the press come calling,’ Danny said.
‘The press? Jesus, I hope not.’
‘Well hopefully they won’t, but sometimes, I’m afraid, they turn just up on spec, hoping the family will give them an interview.’
They followed Emma into the hallway. It was wide and bright, painted in a shade of austere concrete grey with a huge cage-effect of light bulbs hanging overhead.
‘We can talk in the kitchen. My mother has Grace out in the garden. We are still trying to take it in, and poor Grace can’t understand. She’s been distraught most of the morning.’
‘Grace is your daughter?’ Rose asked.
‘Yes, she turned eight a few weeks ago. God, it seems like another life now. We’d a big party for her in the garden; everything was perfect. That’s why I can’t get my head around this. There is no reason for James to kill himself. I keep thinking he wouldn’t do that to us, especially not to Grace.’ She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold.
They sat at the marble-topped kitchen table and Rose looked around the stylish kitchen. Everything was tidy and looked brand new, making it feel like a show house waiting for prospective buyers.
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Emma offered.
‘Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble,’ Danny said as he took out his notepad.
Rose nodded. ‘That would be lovely, thanks.’
Emma busied herself at the coffee machine, inserting little pods while they could hear the gurgling of steamed milk. The view to the garden was picture perfect. The patio area was designed like a courtyard, complete with cobbled paving and oversized planters. A wooden swing-set and a tree house sat to the left and the lawn looked freshly mowed even though it was late October. The garden was full of plants, shrubs, bushes, and trees, all perfectly landscaped. The soft thud of a football being kicked about could be heard, along with the petulant tone of the young girl’s voice. It was sad to think that the child would be growing up without her father.
Emma turned to face them. ‘I suppose you want me to tell you about James.’ She poured coffee into three identical cream pottery mugs and then opened the pantry cupboard in search of biscuits.
‘Yes, that would be helpful,’ Rose said.
‘God, I can hardly believe this has happened. It doesn’t feel real yet. Our life will never be the same again. How do you explain to your child that their father is dead and that he died on purpose? That he chose to do this to us? To leave us? It’s horrendous. I’m angry with him. That probably sounds awful.’ Emma started to cry, but quickly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Having recovered herself, she placed the coffee in front of them before sitting opposite and placing her hands around her own mug, as if seeking warmth.
‘No, not at all. It’s perfectly natural to feel resentment and anger,’ Rose said.
‘Thanks for this,’ Danny said, helping himself to one of the shortbread biscuits.
Rose sat forward. ‘We appreciate how awful this is. Suicide can be one of the most difficult deaths to process for loved ones. You’ll need support to get through this. There’s no instruction manual – no right way or wrong way to grieve this loss – so go easy on yourself. I’m sure the Family Liaison Officer has been in touch.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, she was here earlier. She offered to stay but I declined. I need to do this my way. I don’t want someone shadowing me, getting in the way and making me feel watched.’ Emma stared into her coffee. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It wasn’t as if he was under stress with work or anything. We’ve a good life.’
Danny took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup down. ‘Anything you can tell us might help to build up a picture of James’ state of mind. We need to try to understand his motivation.’
She started to cry. ‘The truth is there is no reason why James would do this. He had everything to live for.’
Emma took a tissue from inside the sleeve of her shirt. ‘I don’t know … what can I say about him? He was loving, very generous and kind, but sometimes …’ She paused. ‘I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. It’s difficult to explain without suggesting that James was depressed, but there were times when I’d sense something going on beneath the surface. As if there was part of him locked off from me. Do you know what I mean?’
Rose nodded.
‘Of course, we all have parts of ourselves we don’t share, but if you knew James, you’d understand how that was so not like him. When those times came, he withdrew. That’s the best way of describing it. He removed himself from me.’
‘Had James been acting like that lately?’ Rose asked gently.
‘No, if anything things were better than normal. Really good.’ Rose glanced at Danny. They both knew that sometimes, in planning a suicide, the victim experiences a euphoria, a relief that they know their suffering is going to end – that they have planned their death and are prepared to go.
‘Sorry if I’m not making much sense. I suppose it’s because none of this makes sense to me. None of it feels real. James had everything.’ She looked around at the state-of-the-art kitchen with wrap-around windows looking out onto the courtyard with the garden beyond.
‘His father died a year ago and he struggled with it. I always felt that James’ father had too much influence on him. Stuart was the kind of man used to getting his own way. He was a successful businessman and when he retired, he found it difficult to put his day in so he would often call in to the office to see James. They were close. As far as James was concerned, his father was the first person he turned to for anything in life. When Stuart died James went through a period of grieving, as you would expect, but he seemed better in recent months. I thought that bad spell was behind us.’
‘You can never tell how grief affects people. The stresses and strains of life are bad enough without the loss of a loved one to amplify it all,’ Danny offered.
‘James always worked hard. He could have gone into his father’s property business, but he forged his own path. He’s a dedicated father – was a dedicated father – and he always made me feel so loved. As I said, I’m struggling to accept that he’d do this to us.’
‘Where did you two meet?’ Rose asked.
‘It was through work. I’m an interior designer. We were both on the same project – a house in Crawfordsburn – and we clicked. He wasn’t like other guys. More considerate, settled, and sure of himself, in a good way.’
‘And James’ car? It was here – unmoved – when you woke this morning?’ Danny asked.
‘Yes, he didn’t take the car.’
So they needed to establish how he got to the school, Rose thought.
‘How long have you been together?’ Danny asked.
‘Eleven years in total. Married for nine years. Everything was perfect.’
She looked towards the garden.
Danny turned round on the stool. ‘Can I ask how your finances are? Have you any money worries?’
She looked to the side. A subtle glance. ‘No, everything is grand. No money worries at all. We’ve always lived within our means and we both earn good money.’
‘One more thing,’ Danny said. ‘Did James have a connection with Osbourne House Grammar?’
‘Yeah, that was the school he went to.’ She turned as the glass door opened and Grace entered with her grandmother, a woman who looked to be in her early sixties with shoulder-length grey hair. ‘Mummy, it’s raining. I don’t want to play anymore.’ Her cheeks were flushed pink and her curly blonde hair was in a messy ponytail. She stared at Rose and Danny with the same narrowed blue eyes as her mother, as if questioning why they were in her home.
Emma walked over to her, bent down and said, ‘That’s okay, sweetheart. These people just need to ask me some questions about Daddy.’ She turned to Danny and Rose. ‘This is my mother, Anne,’ Emma said. ‘She’s keeping Grace occupied while I deal with everything. Go on through to your playroom and I’ll follow you up in a minute. I just have to finish off here,’ she said to her daughter.
The child walked out of the kitchen, followed by her grandmother.
‘What about James’ mother. Is she still alive?’ Rose asked.
‘Yes. She’s devastated. She’s coming over later with his sister. We’ll make the funeral arrangements together.’
‘If you think of any questions you might need answered, please call us,’ Danny said, handing her his card.
Emma nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘And if there is anything else that you think we need to know, or if something occurs to you that you think, looking back on it, was out of the ordinary, then—’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. Call you.’
‘Right, we’ll leave you to it. Thanks for your time,’ Danny said.
‘And again, we are so sorry for your loss,’ Rose added as they walked up the hallway.
Emma nodded, her face contorting as if she was about to cry again.
Back in the car, Rose said, ‘Did you catch the way she hesitated when you asked about money trouble?’
‘Yeah, we need to look into that. Maybe the perfect life is a façade and James McCallum was struggling with his finances. I’ll get DS Gerard Kinley to look at that.’ They pulled out onto the leafy Hospital Road, with banks of trees creating an overhead canopy against the rain.
Danny turned onto Milltown Road and fell quiet for a few moments before saying, ‘So, Rosie, have you thought any more about staying in Belfast?’ His tone was even as he looked straight ahead at the road. ‘We don’t know what we’re dealing with, yet. There’s something not quite right about this case and I’ve a haunch that there is more to this than suicide, and if this pans out the way I think it will, we could definitely use your expertise. I could have a word with Alastair. Make sure he knows we can’t afford to lose you.’
‘What makes you so sure I want to stay?’ she said with a smile.
‘Come on, we both know I’m great to work with. Why would you want to give up the opportunity to spend time with me?’ He smirked. ‘Besides, you’re wasted in that prisons job. You can’t deny that you enjoyed bringing the Mulligan case to a close.’
Sure, she wanted to stay, but she found she was wary of telling him. She didn’t want him to think that she was giving up her London life because of him. He had always been out of reach. A no-go area. She never trusted getting too close, fearing it would destroy the cover she had created once she had left Belfast and her old self behind. Danny had never known Roisin Lavery, the girl she was before she had moved to Liverpool and met him at university there.
‘I’ve a meeting with Boyne this afternoon so one way or another I’ll know where I stand work wise. Deciding to move here permanently might be a step too far but we’ll see what happens,’ Rose offered.
‘Sure, but don’t rule anything out just yet,’ Danny said as he hit the indicator. He was focused on the traffic, but she thought she could detect an earnestness in his voice.
CHAPTER 3
It was after lunch before Danny reported back to ACC Boyne and updated him on his initial findings.
‘The pathologist needs to do his bit and then we’ll know where we are but, in the meantime, I’ll do a bit of digging. It could all be a waste of time and James McCallum will be reduced to another suicide statistic but just in case …’ he trailed off.
Boyne was wearing one of his flash Hugo Boss suits with a crisp white shirt beneath it. Unlike his predecessor, McCausland, Boyne seemed to want to be admired. Danny could sense he was the type of boss to feel hurt if he wasn’t asked to join the team in the pub once in a while. The kind who likes to feel he’s one of the boys.
‘That’s fine. Best make sure we don’t miss anything. We don’t want to make assumptions and then find it’s something more sinister. I’ve already had the school’s Dean on to me. He doesn’t like corpses hanging around his school. Bad for publicity, he says.’
‘Yes, sir. We’ll be thorough.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yeah, I wanted to speak to you about Dr Lainey, the forensic psychologist.’
Boyne raised his eyebrows. ‘What about her?’
‘With the success of the Mulligan case I was thinking that we should hold on to her.’
‘Hold on to her?’
‘Use her expertise, make her an official part of the team, like.’
Boyne sat back in his chair as if giving it some thought.
‘Would you say she’s a valuable asset?’
‘Without a doubt, sir. The Mulligan case wouldn’t have been brought to a successful conclusion without her insights and involvement. I, for one, would be keen to have her stay on. We work well together.’
‘That’s neither here nor there. Lainey’s involvement wouldn’t be to partner up with one detective. If she was to stay, we’d use her skills and knowledge across the board, as and when required.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘I’ll think about it. That will be all, then. Back to it and keep me updated.’
The incident room was quiet for a change and Danny’s desk was clear apart from his computer and a few bits of paperwork that needed dealing with. Unless Lyons came back with something out of the ordinary, they would have this one wrapped up before the day was over. Then it would be back to the basement office where Danny was responsible for trawling through historic cold cases. What had at first been a punishment of sorts for messing up the Lennon case, had become a source of great interest for Danny. The allure of trawling through old case notes, and potentially shedding new light on long neglected files had got under his skin. In part, it was down to the Mulligan case. The satisfaction of bringing it to a close had inspired him to keep working as part of the Historical Enquiries Unit, if only on an ad hoc basis.
