The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wednesday, 15th August. Mid-morning 

Edwin Doran's face was a mass of purple bruises when he opened his door for Sheehan and Stewart. One arm was in a sling, and he was limping as he stood aside to usher the detectives into his apartment.The two-bedroom apartment was on the second floor of a large terraced house. The sitting room was reasonably spacious but quietly furnished—cream painted walls, plain beige carpet, a small maroon leather sofa and matching armchairs facing a forty-inch flat-screen television that stood in a corner just left of a small marble fireplace. A couple of doors leading out of the room were closed but would obviously open to the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. One wall was shelved from top to bottom, each shelf loaded with books. They were large and heavy legal tomes for the most part, although one shelf was lined with leather-bound fiction classics. Obviously the room of a serious student. 

At the wall opposite the entrance door was a functional knee-hole desk with three drawers down each side. On the middle of the desk's surface rested a laptop, with a printer on the right. On the left was a three-tier stack of trays holding some papers and files. And on both sides of the laptop were small ornamental jugs filled with ballpoint pens, pencils, and a paper opener. Efficient, space saving, a desk that had clearly seen a lot of use. 

"Pleash sit down, Detectivesh," Doran said, having trouble pronouncing the words. His swollen jaw was clearly still painful. 

Sheehan sat in one of the armchairs while Stewart sat on the sofa. Doran lowered himself painfully into the other chair. Sheehan waved a sympathetic hand. "Sorry to see you like this, Mr. Doran. You'll forgive me if I say you don't look great." 

Doran's swollen lips allowed him only a semblance of a grin. "I look a lot better than I feel." The words were slurred but reasonably clear. 

"I can imagine." 

"Doctor says it'll pash quickly. Jush bruises. Be right ash rain tomorrow." 

Sheehan cocked an eyebrow. "Aye, right!" Then he said, "Officer Johnston says you told him to contact me?" 

Doran nodded vigorously. "Yesh. My attackers almost beat me to death, wanting to know where the judge's other safe is." 

"Other safe?" Sheehan parried. He refrained from mentioning that the team already had suspicions that one existed. 

"Yesh. The biggest guy kept hitting me and kicking me, shouting at me over and over, 'Where is it? Where is it?'" 

Stewart winced as she wrote in her notebook. 

Sheehan said, "Oh dear, that must've been painful. Did you tell them where it was?" 

Doran turned a strained face to him. "How could I? I didn't even know of its existence." 

"Is there one?" 

Doran shook his head. "I don't know. Those thugs seemed to think there is. Thash why I contacted you. Maybe theresh another safe somewhere." He was still struggling with his pronunciation and, aware of it now, he made a determined effort to speak more clearly. "It occurred to me that the judge might've been holding something on someone and was murdered for it, and that the killer is now trying to recover any damaging information the judge might have left in this other safe." 

Sheehan nodded. "Feasible. Thanks for letting us know. Did your attackers say anything that might've given you a hint as to who they were?" 

"No. Apart from the constant questioning about the safe's whereabouts,they said nothing."

 "Can you tell us anything about them? Heights? Accents? Anything?" 

Doran pondered this. "Well, they all wore balaclavas. I thought sure they were loyalists who were going to shoot me, although I had no idea why.It was terrifying. So I wasn't paying a great deal of attention to details." He thought back to the incident. "I was in a bare kind of garage. Empty. Just a few shelves with car polish and stuff. One guy, he was average size, maybe five-nine, held me by the arms while the leader hammered me. He was a good deal bigger than the other two and was obviously the boss." He paused again. Then he went on, "Uh, accent? He wasn't ordinary working class, of that I'm sure, but he was definitely from Northern Ireland. The other two spoke very little but their accents were very raw Belfast." Doran gave them another lopsided grin. "Hardly narrows it down." 

Sheehan chuckled. "I guess. We'll initiate some enquiries, see if any neighbours saw the car, check out if it shows on any nearby CCTV cameras." He shrugged. "But I wouldn't hold out a lot of hope. Criminals are very savvy these days. They seem to have a better knowledge of where CCTV cameras are than the police." 

Doran nodded. "I understand. I suppose letting you know about the safe was my primary purpose for contacting you. If you find the safe, its contents might give you a lead on the thugs who assaulted me." 

"You think they were specifically focussed on the safe?" 

"Seriously so. The big guy was getting more and more frantic when I couldn't tell him where it was. At the end, when it began to sink in that I didn't know anything, I think he was just battering me because he was frustrated." 

"I don't suppose you have any sense of where they might've taken you?" 

"No. I was very scared when they threw me into their car, although I did try to count turns. But they were driving too fast. And I have a feeling they drove back on themselves a couple of times to stop me trying to memorise the route. I got lost and confused almost right away." 

Sheehan stood up. "Well, sorry again you had to go through that. But you were right to contact me. This gives us a whole new line of enquiry."He extended his hand. "Thanks again for the information. It's been very useful. If you think of anything else...." 

"I'll be sure to call you right away," Doran interjected, taking the chief's hand. He extended his hand to Stewart as well. "Thank you for coming to see me. I hope you catch the culprits." 

"Thank you again, Mr Doran," Stewart said. "And sorry you had to experience this suffering," she added, shaking the man's hand before following her superior out into the corridor. Struck by a thought, she turned back, "Oh, Mr Doran, were you able to get any further with that list of suspects?" 

Doran slapped his forehead with his free hand. "Of course. Stupid of me. I have it here." He went to the desk and lifted an A4 page. "I'll put it in an envelope."

 "No. No need," Stewart said. "It's fine as it is." 

Doran handed her the sheet. "I was intending to send it to you today but..." He lifted his injured arm, his swollen lips attempting to smile. "...I got distracted." 

Stewart smiled and said, "Thanks again, Mr Doran," adding as she left,"and get well soon."