The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Thursday, 16th August. Late morning 

Another frustrating day or so had been spent by the team, not only interviewing the principal suspects in the case, but speaking to peripherals—neighbours, acquaintances, possible witnesses—the usual slow, relentless search for even the tiniest morsel of information or evidence that might move the investigation forward. When they got a text from Stewart to go to the Serious Crimes Room for another debrief, they were happy to drop what they were doing and come in. 

The debrief had already started when Bill Larkin, carrying a manilla file,slipped into the Serious Crimes Room and tiptoed over to his desk. In answer to Sheehan's quizzical glance, he winked and held up a triumphant thumb. Wonder what that's about? Sheehan thought, puzzled. He gave Larkin another glance, but the forensics officer already had his head down, sorting papers from the file he'd been carrying. Sheehan shrugged mentally. We'll know soon enough, I suppose. Aloud he said, "Carry on, Sergeant." 

McCullough, notebook in one hand and fiddling with a ball-point pen in the other, said, "We couldn't have been more thorough, Chief." He glanced at McBride. "Right, Malachy?" 

McBride nodded confirmation.

"He's seriously clean, but..." He paused to ensure that he had the room's intention. "...I wasn't as far out as some of you seemed to think at the last debrief." 

"Okay, Sarge," Miller said, grinning. "We're all ears." 

"Well, the scene-of-crime officers who checked Redmond out did a first-class job. The teacher was highly respected and there seemed to be no breath of scandal. But, like the chief suggested, I took my young trainee here—" He grinned at McBride's mock scowl. "—for a wee drink at The Bridge Bar near where Redmond lived. The place was almost deserted, but there were two old guys there, so we joined them and bought them a couple of drinks. That got them going. We chatted about football, snooker, this bloody stalemate up at Stormont, until one of them asked if we'd heard about the murder." 

"We pretended we hadn't," McBride said, "and asked the normal questions anyone would ask. They didn't know a lot about the actual killing, but one of them said he'd known Redmond for over thirty years." 

"That was our cue to order another round of drinks," McCullough interjected, adding with a grin, "although my young colleague took rather longer than he should have to figure that out. Anyway, while he was getting the drinks, I asked the old guy if he thought there was anything iffy in Redmond's past that might have got him killed." 

"The old guy thought about it," McBride chipped in, "and I was back with the drinks before he'd even gotten around to saying he didn't think so.But there was something about the way he said it made me think he knew more than he was saying." 

"You shoulda seen the way my man here worked him," McCullough said, beaming at his young partner. "If he quits the police, he has a great career as an actor waiting." 

McBride looked embarrassed. "Will you quit, Sarge," he said. 

"I'm telling you," McCullough said, "he easily got him to tell us that there had been a small incident in Redmond's past, although the aul' fella tried to stall, saying that it was a long time ago and he didn't see what it might have to do with anything." 

"Thanks to my senior colleague finally discovering where his pocket was," McBride said, "and putting another couple of pints in front of them,it was easy enough to push the old guy. Turns out that Redmond had been caught thirty years ago soliciting for homosexual favours in a public toilet in Portadown. He should have been arrested, but the patrol cop was from Belfast and knew the family well. It was hushed up. Rumours flew around for a while, but mostly in Portadown. Redmond was teaching in Belfast at the time, and somehow the rumours didn't seem to get that far. He was lucky to keep his job."