Killer In The Cloud (Mike Wesley Series Book 1) Page 2
Crawley was a firm, but fair sort of man, he understood the officers below him had tough jobs to do, but the political aspirations he had meant he couldn’t be seen to squander the Gardaí budget, so when his secretary informed him about a call from officer Michael Wesley in the Kilcrew station, he was fully expecting to hear requests for extra overtime budgets his predecessor Pat Burns was so fond of making and was preparing to refuse them as politely as he could.
To his pleasant surprise, that turned out not to be the case. Mike explained his proposed adjustments and the Superintendent was genuinely impressed, but he wasn’t about to let Mike know it. “You know you should have brought this proposal to Sgt. O’Rourke?”
He was fully aware of the fact, but knew from past experience that if O’Rourke didn’t come up with an idea himself, he would look for every reason possible not to proceed with it, or he would go to Crawley and pitch the idea as his own, taking all the credit. “Of course Sir, I tried his extension a couple of times but got no answer. It could be our phone that’s the problem, I called you next because we’d like to get to work on it as soon as we can.”
Crawley didn’t buy Mike’s story for a minute, but he was aware of O’Rourke’s failings when it came to dealing with lower ranking officers and understood why he had gone over his head.
“Alright Mike, I’ll speak to the bosses and let you know what we decide. Send me over a written layout when you can and next time, speak to Sgt. O’Rourke before coming to me.”
Mike grinned. “Absolutely Sir, I’m emailing it to you now and I’ll get on to our maintenance guy to check our phone extensions are all working properly in future. Thank you for taking the call.” He hung up and exhaled, grateful the conversation was over.
***
The day lingered on and with every hour that passed, Mike’s apprehension grew. He was expecting O’Rourke to call and go on a rant for going over his head, every time the phone rang, he was on tenterhooks. It wasn’t until six o’clock that Crawley’s extension number 224 flashed up on the station phone. Mike sat down and took a deep breath before lifting the handset. “Hello Kilcrew Garda station,” giving his official greeting, in a bid to back up his malfunctioning phone story.
“Hello Mike, Eamon Crawley here, we’ve reached a decision regarding your proposed amendments to current shift patterns at your station.” Hearing Crawley’s tone, Mike wasn’t feeling very confident about what was coming next. “And after reviewing the spreadsheet you sent, we’ve decided to implement the changes. I agree that your time should be used more efficiently and this looks like it could achieve that.”
It was a vital first step towards saving the station and Mike was delighted, “Thank you sir, you won’t regret this.”
Crawley replied in a lighter tone than before, clearly having laid it on earlier for effect. “Make sure I don’t Mike. Also, I’ve spoken to Sgt. O’Rourke, he agrees with me and will be available to give any assistance you may require.”
“Thank you again Sir, we’ll get organised from tomorrow morning.”
Crawley gave a slight snigger. “Actually, I thought you could start from tonight, no time like the present.”
Mike’s face dropped. He knew he couldn’t ask Gregory or Helen to work on through the night. Helen had family to get home to, Gregory would kick up a fuss and it was his own idea after all.
“Okay sir, I’ll take the first night shift.” Crawley laughed. “Good lad, every silver lining has a cloud and all that.”
Mike forced a laugh and hung up. He was as happy about the approval as he was dreading the long night ahead, but there was no going back now. He called Gregory and Helen and told them the news, explained that he would do the first night shift and asked which of them wanted the morning off. Helen offered to take the first day shift and dropped him in fresh coffee supplies before going home, so Mike refueled on caffeine and prepared for his first night shift.
***
The residents of Kilcrew parish were quiet that night and Mike was glad of the fact. He took the car out on patrol in a bid to make sure the new night-time Garda presence was felt. Aside from having to attend a minor collision on the outskirts of the town just after midnight, all was calm.
***
For the following ten weeks, life got into a nice rhythm. The three-person squad was coping well with the new shift pattern and as a direct result of the night patrols, minor offences were down. Mike was feeling pretty good about his work, but that was not going to last.
Chapter 4
Rebecca was settling into life back in Kilcrew. She rented an apartment beside a betting office on the north side of town. It wasn’t much, but it suited her needs, despite the noise from the street being something of a distraction while she worked from home during the day.
The job at the Herald wasn’t as hectic or exciting as her previous role, but she was glad to be earning again. When she first arrived into the newspaper’s office, she was struck by its small size. It was an open plan room with only two private offices, one for the editor and another, which served as a meeting/interview room. There was no kitchen, which meant the nearby coffee shop got plenty of business from the staff. There were several desks positioned around the main room, all of which were taken by other journalists. “Apparently, freelancers don’t warrant their own desks,” she thought as she got the grand tour from the teenage intern.
When she sat down with the paper’s editor, Sean Murray, she was greeted with a warm welcome. He quizzed her about her time in London, but stopped short of asking about her dismissal. He understood it may be a sensitive issue and wanted to gauge her on her writing and nothing else. He continued on, describing the stories he wanted her to focus on while at the Herald, which mainly consisted of fluffy, feel good articles about local events and the people involved, but he also told her to keep an eye out for anything she might find interesting. “A bit of scandal never does any harm.”
As he spoke, she couldn’t help but think scandal would be hard to find around Kilcrew. Nevertheless, she was looking forward to getting back to writing and the fact that she could work mainly from home was an added bonus.
***
Over the weeks, she found her rhythm. She was producing attention-grabbing articles on less than stimulating topics and her editor was feeling increasingly confident that she could handle more and more. Despite several dinner invitations from certain journalists, also working for the paper, her social activities were non-existent and for now she didn’t mind that. Her life was all work, until one night she was walking through Main Street in the rain and saw the face of a man she hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Chapter 5
It was September 1st and Mike was on the night shift. He was busy filling out some details of an earlier arrest into the Garda PULSE database when the phone rang. Given the late hour, he expected it to be a home disturbance or possibly a motor incident. It was neither. On the other end of the line was Sgt. David O’Rourke. “Wesley?”
He recognised the abrupt tone. “Yes Sgt., what can I do for you?” Kill them with kindness was always Mike’s way, it drove people like O’Rourke up the wall and Mike enjoyed winding him up more than most.
“Just wanted to give you a heads up on a meeting I attended earlier today.” The Sgt. now had Mike’s full attention and he sat up in his chair bracing himself for some bad news. He was right; it was bad, very bad. O’Rourke continued.
“Firstly, let me be the first to congratulate your team on a job well-done. Judging by the lack of arrests coming from your station, it appears crime is down in the area.”
As surprised as he was, Mike gladly accepted the compliment. “Thank you very much Sgt., the increase in the night patrols seem to be having a positive effect.”
Then O’Rourke hit him with a “But” and Mike braced once again. “Seems, being the operative word. You see Mike, unfortunately lower arrest rates, while good for the department’s image, only serve to bolster the case for fewer personnel to be b
ased in the area. Now, I’m telling you this as a friend Mike, if you or the other two have been letting friends off with warnings to keep the figures low, stop it now, because if things carry on as they are, my vote will be for the station’s closure and once I’m Chief Super, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, understood?”
Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“How the hell are we supposed to increase the arrest rates when crime is down? Our system is working, surely that’s the whole idea?”
“Listen Mike,” O’Rourke began in his annoyingly condescending tone. “Arrest numbers are what count upstairs, low numbers are perceived as officers not doing their jobs. Now, you can cry all you want about low crime rates, but the bottom line is, if you don’t get your station on the radar for the right reasons, you and your two little friends will be moving on. Oh and don’t bother calling Crawley again. He’s not going to be around much longer and I’ve already briefed him on the station’s failings.”
Mike could barely stop himself from telling the Sgt. to go fuck himself, but he took a deep breath and held his tongue. “Thank you for the call Sgt., I’ll inform officers Keane and Walsh first thing.”
He hung up before he burst with anger.
“Asshole!” Mike shouted as he slammed his fist down on his desk, knocking over a stationery holder and sending its contents to the floor. He sat back in the chair, cursing O’Rourke and racking his brain for ideas on what else he could do to get the station off the closure list, but he was too angry to think of anything useful.
After a few minutes fuming, he calmed down and stood up to tidy all the pens, paperclips and staples he had sent flying. As he gathered them he realised he couldn’t recall the last time he had even used a paperclip so, he decided to free up some desk space and stuff them all into a drawer. As he pulled the handle of the top desk drawer, he noticed it was locked. He grabbed his former bosses keys and tried some of the smaller ones until it opened.
Inside the drawer he noticed another set of keys. The keys were on a large ring that looked older than he was. Curious, he took them out and realised they were the keys to the old holding cells downstairs, used during the building’s garrison days and with his new senior status he now had access to them. An honor previously reserved for the rank of Sgt.
As it was a quiet night and he welcomed the distraction, he took a walk down the corridor towards the door leading to the staircase. None of the keys had been labeled so it was a case of trial and error to find the right one for the door. It didn’t take long as the cell door keys all looked similar whereas the regular door keys had newer type locks.
He opened the door and hit the light switch inside to his left. The first thing that hit him was the cold air, the second was a large cobweb. Brushing it off, he noted to himself, he must have been the first person down there in some time. He recalled asking Sgt. Burns about what was kept in the basement back when he started at the station, only to be told, “Bad memories.” A statement he thought nothing more of until that moment.
With every step, he felt the air get cooler and as he reached the bottom, he turned on a second light switch to his right. When the light finally came to life, he could see a row of cells to his left. There were four in total, as basic as you could imagine, with no windows they were little more than simple, iron cages. They were painted blue and were flaking and swollen with rust.
Seeing a flicker to his right, he turned his attention to the door on the other side of the room. The door had a small frosted glass window, through which the light was just about visible. He walked towards it and once again played mix and match with the keys until he heard the latch click open.
As he walked in, he looked up to see the light fitting was damaged, causing the light to flicker on and off. To his left was an old coat stand adorned by two outdated Garda overcoats and in front of him were metal shelves holding rows of old boxes containing stacks of paper and envelopes. The walls were poorly rendered and large sections of plaster had come away due to damp, exposing the stone wall beneath. Not exactly what he imagined an evidence storage room should look like. It was small, dark and because it was such an old building, there was no heating. As a result most of the boxes were in poor condition, some even had mould spores growing on the sides.
He noticed an old two-bar electric heater in the corner, which he figured kept the cell’s occupants from freezing in the winters, back when the cells were in use. Reading some of the dates on the boxes, he was fascinated at how far the files went back, many of them listed as unsolved. “I suppose police work wasn’t very efficient back then,” he said out loud. Just then, the station phone started ringing. He rushed out, locked up and darted back up the stairs to answer it.
There’d been a drink-driving incident just outside town and he was needed. “So much for my quiet night.” He turned back to lock the basement door, called the Edgeworthstown station for some extra men and headed out to attend the scene.
Chapter 6
Over the next couple of nights, Mike was having trouble getting to sleep. The night shift wasn’t easy for some, but he never had trouble with it before. It wasn’t the brightness creeping through his curtain that was keeping him up; it was Sgt. O’Rourke’s words, ringing in his ears. “Get your station on the radar.”
He got to thinking about his visit to the station’s basement and the old boxes full of case files he had seen. He couldn’t get them out of his mind and by the third day of restless sleep it came to him.
“What if I could solve an old case?” He thought as his eyes opened. If he could build a strong enough case to reopen even one, it could make all the difference and the more he thought about it, the more realistic the possibility felt. Eventually, he drifted off, imagining how good it would feel to actually do it.
***
Later that afternoon Mike stirred from his sleep, showered, made some lunch and headed to the station with a newfound focus. He knew what to do. It would take time and a bit of luck, but if he could find an unsolved case, preferably a murder case, and solve it, he would surely get the station on the radar for the right reasons as O’Rourke put it.
Officer Kean was finishing up some data entry when Mike arrived. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her or Gregory about O’Rourke’s phone call and knew it was time he did.
“Hi Helen, busy day?” He asked, in a cheerful mood.
“Hey Mike, no not really, one arrest for public urination, he’s not long gone. I’m just finishing up the paper work on it now.”
Mike smiled. “Public urination, the joys of being a cop! Anything else?”
Helen sat back in her chair. “Ah, I caught a woman doing 56 in a 50 zone out by Briars Hill, but I let her off with a warning.”
Mike’s expression shifted and he adopted a more formal stance. “That’s something I wanted to speak to both you and Greg about.”
Helen looked concerned. “Really?”
Mike continued. “Yes, I got a call a few nights back from Sgt. O’Rourke, nothing major to worry about, but it seems our low arrest rates are not going down well with the head honchos up in Abbey Street.”
Helen’s concern turned to annoyance. “Are you serious?”
Mike raised his hands. “Look I know, it’s bollox and I told him as much, but if he sticks the boot in, we’ll be gone by Christmas. So no more warnings, take names, make arrests and fingers crossed we’ll be ok. I’ll give Greg a call in a bit and explain the situation.”
Helen turned back to her computer and finished typing her report. “What do you think will happen with the review? We just got a new house. I really can’t face moving again.”
Mike looked over towards the basement door.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll do everything I can to keep our jobs here. Now, go on and get home to your daughter,” he said with a smile.
Helen grinned, thinking about spending time with her two-year-old daughter. “All done.” She stood up and grabbed her coat. “I’ll see you t
omorrow then.”
Mike was heading for the kettle to get some coffee brewing. “Take it easy, it’s a wet one out there.”
As soon as Helen was out the door, he put down the coffee jar and headed straight for his computer. He logged onto the Garda database and ran a search for unsolved murder cases in the last 30 years in and around the Kilcrew area. “No point going back too far, the witnesses would all be dead,” he thought to himself.
The search only took a second and to his surprise, it only found one case, only dating back to 2004.
“That’s strange,” he thought as he looked at the screen. “I’m sure I saw more downstairs.” Wondering why the older cases weren’t in the system, he ran an internet search on the PULSE database. After a bit of digging, he discovered that it was introduced back in 1999 and due to the vast amounts of data and administrative man hours required to input the information, only cases deemed to be of high importance were digitised and logged into the system.
Knowing what he had to do, he put his coat on and went down the stair to the basement. He thought he saw something in the far cell to the left, but told himself it was just the flickering storeroom light creating a shadow on the wall. “Old buildings, always trying to spook people,” he thought as he opened the storage room door and began looking through the files.
Before too long, he had a pile of unsolved cases all of which came from boxes marked DNP, which he deduced stood for Do Not Proceed. He carried on sorting the folders looking for murder cases when he noticed most of the cases marked DNP were of a sensitive nature, involving family members of wealthy business owners and in some cases, members of the church. As he had never heard about them growing up, he immediately suspected some underhand deals were struck to keep these cases away from the public and as much as it annoyed him, given the dates, he knew all parties concerned were likely dead or had long moved away. He had little choice but to continue eliminating cases until he was left with four, the earliest of which going back to 1984. He had plenty to get started on, five unsolved cases and all he had to do was solve one.