“Just use your natural authority. I’ll call the Royal, check in on Crabbie, call forensic and get a new team down here pronto. Now, go!”
Lawson found a clean sheet in a linen closet and I called the Royal Victoria Hospital. They looked for Crabbie in Casualty but he had already discharged himself and was on his way back to Carrick, which was typical of him. Crabbie was one of the good guys: solid, dour, competent, hardworking, uncomplaining – a thousand men like him and you could do anything: feed the world, build a bridge across the Bering Straits, terraform Mars. There wasn’t another like him in Carrick RUC and I’ll bet at the Royal he didn’t even ask the nurses for high-dose opiates, which is what I would have done. I hung up and called my old mate Frank Payne from forensic and told him about the behaviour of CI McCann, to which he was suitably outraged.
“Kids today, eh, Francis?”
“You can say that again.”
“So you’ll send a team down pronto?”
“Aye. I’ll scratch your back and you scratch my back.”
“If you mean I’ll owe you a favour, yes. But I’m not going near that hairy back of yours, it’s like Mirkwood in there.”
“Just hold the fort there, Duffy, and I’ll have a team down there in half an hour. Sunnylands Estate?”
“Yeah.”
“Fucking nightmare there, is it?”
“Not as bad as some of the estates in these parts. To describe it as a UVF-ridden shithole filled with whores, druggies and scumbags would be ungenerous.”
“Aye well, do me a favour and don’t let the crime scene get contaminated, eh? I’m just back from an arson in Larne and them boys from Larne RUC were tramping size tens all over the shop.”
“Typical. You know what they say, Frank? What’s the difference between Larne and a yoghurt?”
“Dunno.”
“You leave them both alone for sixty years and the yoghurt will grow a culture.”
“Hilarious, Duffy, don’t give up the day job.”
I hung up with Frank and next I called my boss, Chief Inspector McArthur, explaining to him that we needed half a dozen constables for witness canvassing and crowd management. It was a relatively slow day at Carrick RUC, so he said that that shouldn’t be a problem as long as it didn’t involve over-time.
“I don’t think over-time will be necessary, sir. I’d be surprised if anyone saw anything at all, sir. Not anything they’ll admit to us. We should have the canvassing done in an hour or two.”
“And how’s Sergeant McCrabban? I heard he was attacked?”
“He’s already discharged himself, sir.”
“I hope he doesn’t put a claim in.”
“He won’t, sir. This is John McCrabban we’re talking about here.”
Another police officer might have taken three months off on disability or even sued the station for compensation, but Crabbie wouldn’t do either of those things.
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Sir, I’m also pretty sure Sergeant McCrabban won’t be pressing charges so could you please have Mrs Deauville released from the cells and brought up to the CID Incident Room? Maybe have a WPC give her a cup of tea?”
“That’s not going to be possible, Duffy.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“Inspector Dalziel sent her up to Castlereagh Holding Centre for processing.”
“Castlereagh? For a stabbing?”
“Stabbing a police officer.”
Dalziel was no doubt cock-a-hoop over his arrest but this wouldn’t do at all. If Mrs Deauville was processed at Castlereagh we wouldn’t get to interview her for two or three days and as every tedious fuck will tell you, the first forty-eight hours are the most important in any criminal investigation.
“Sir, can you do me a favour and patch me into Kelly at the switchboard?”
“Of course, Duffy, see you later.”
“… Switchboard, this is Kelly.”
“Kelly, this is Sean Duffy, listen to me, someone’s off in a Land Rover taking a Mrs Deauville to Castlereagh Holding Centre. I want you to find out who it is and tell them to come back to Carrick RUC. OK?”
“Yes that’s right, Sean, Constable Pollock’s driving her up to Castlereagh.”
“You get on the blower to Pollock and tell him to turn the Land Rover around and come back to Carrick.”
“Sean, this is Inspector Dalziel’s arrest,” Kelly said dubiously.
“That’s OK, I’ll deal with Inspector Dalziel. Just get that Land Rover to turn round and return to the barracks.”
“OK, Sean, I’ll do it but I don’t want Inspector Dalziel giving me a hard time.”
“He won’t. Patch me through to his office will you, Kelly?”
“OK, Sean.”
A short pause …
“Inspector Kenneth Dalziel, admin, Carrickfergus RUC.”
“Dalziel, it’s Duffy.”