The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER THREE

Monday, 13th August. Afternoon 

"Maybe one of the guests hung back and hid somewhere until the rest had left." Detective Simon Miller, slight build,astute, smartly dressed in a grey suit, white shirt, green and maroon tie, tended to be the first to break any silences at the debriefings. 

"Always possible," Chief Inspector Sheehan agreed, "but there were barely a dozen guests. Surely the judge would have noticed if one of them hadn't left with the others?" 

"Yes," Miller said, "that's true, Chief. But maybe when he went back to check, yer man could have been waiting for him with the truncheon. It would have been easy to surprise him and do the deed." 

Sheehan shrugged. "Plausible, but we've no evidence to support it.Plus, the guest would have had to hang around for a long time. Doran told me that the guests left not long after eleven and that he had been talking on the phone to the judge well after one." 

Miller's eyebrows went down. "Oh!" 

"Doesn't necessarily rule it out, though," Sheehan said, his tone placatory. "We'll keep it on the table for the time being." 

"What about the Real IRA?" suggested Declan Connors, a strong,solidly built man, well over six feet, and also in his forties. He was popular  with the team, but criminals tended to find him formidable and intimidating."A judge, a police truncheon. They trying to make a statement, do you think?" 

Sheehan looked dubious. "Nobody has claimed responsibility for the killing. You know how they like to trumpet from the rooftops their so-called retributions against the British State? We can wait a day or two, I suppose,but I don't think it's them this time." 

It was customary for the Serious Crimes Unit to meet almost every day during serious cases. Sheehan believed passionately in sharing knowledge and ideas, convinced of the value of several heads gnawing at a problem as opposed to one. The Serious Crimes Room was large, with sufficient space to accommodate several desks equipped with phones and laptops, and banks of filing cabinets with box files and other papers stashed on top of them. On one wall near Sheehan's desk were two large whiteboards on which photos and other paper evidence were posted and, near that, a small table with a coffeepot, kettle, and some mugs. A couple of banks of fluorescent lights hung down on wires about three feet from the ceiling, giving the room a bright, airy feel. 

Right now, the team members were seated at their desks. Sheehan had been debriefing them about the judge's murder. Bill Larkin, the forensics liaison and member of Sheehan's team, was at his usual place beside the white evidence boards, taking them through what little there was in the way of forensic detail. 

"Did you find any documents in the judge's study after I left, Bill, or anywhere in the house?" Sheehan asked. 

Larkin shook his head. "No, Chief. Bit funny that. Went over his desk with a fine-tooth comb for secret compartments or shelves. Gave it the full McCoy. But there was nothing there ... well, there were the sort of legal papers you would expect to find in the desk but none of his private stuff.Definitely odd. Everybody has private stuff." 

"No safe?" 

"Thought about that, obviously. We didn't find one, and we did a heck of a thorough search. That's not to say there isn't one. If you pay good money to have a concealed safe installed, then the chances are that concealed is what it's going to stay." 

"Worth another search, d'you think?"

 Larkin shrugged, grimacing. "I'll get the team back, if you like, Chief,but I wouldn't hold out much hope. We tried everything we could think of."He shook his head, lips still tight. "There might not even be a safe, or it might be in another premises altogether."