desk. The look on Nicky’s face said she thought she was in trouble. Craig never summoned her; she usually anticipated his needs before even he knew them.
Craig read her expression and jumped in before Nicky had time to speak. “You’re not in trouble, Nicky. I just noticed you looking out of sorts and wondered if it was something that I’d said or done?”
She shook her head vaguely. “Nothing to do with work, sir. Just life.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No, not really. There’s nothing you can do.” Nicky stood up and pushed her chair against his desk. “Was there anything else?”
Craig scanned her face. It was blank; no hint of what was troubling her written there. There was no point trying to force it out of her. He would have to find out some other way.
“No. That’s fine, Nicky. Thanks for coming in.”
Nicky dragged her feet back to her desk and Craig watched her hunch forward over her work, her shoulders slanted in defeat. He knew that whatever was bothering her was none of his business, except that he was fond of her and she needed help. So she would get it, even if she didn’t ask for it. That made two of his friends who were having difficulties with their day.
***
“Gerry Warner.”
Liam boomed the name across the open-plan office as if he was announcing the winner of a Grand Prix. Davy took the bait.
“W…Who’s he, when he’s at home?”
“The bloke Eileen Carragher was having dinner with on Saturday night.”
“Right. I s…suppose you want me to run his name now?”
“Aye. You do that while I get us coffee. He trained at Brookville College between ’76 and 78’. He’s a teacher, don’t know what of, and he’s on the college fund-raising committee.”
“Fine. That’s all I need.”
By the time Liam returned with two white coffees Davy had pressed print. He handed him a warm sheet of paper and Liam perched on his desk, reading it as they drank. Gerry Warner, Head of science at Maurena Grammar School in Lisburn, eleven miles away. He was sixty-four years of age, divorced with two kids, both grown up and away. Liam stopped reading halfway down the page and tapped urgently on Davy’s screen. Davy pushed his hand away protectively.
“Get your grubby mitts off my touch-screen. It took me a year to get the boss to fund that.”
“I need you to check something else for me.”
“W…What?”
“A hunch. Find out where Gerry Warner and Ian Carragher did their degrees.”
“Please.”
Liam squinted at him then squeezed the word out. “Pleeease.”
Davy’s fingers flew across the screen then he sat back and gawped. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Now, now. Watch your language. I’m a sensitive soul.”
Jake had joined them out of curiosity. Liam knew Annette was sitting stubbornly at her desk, dying to know what he’d discovered, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of showing it.
“Liam’s just found out that this guy Gerry W…Warner and Ian Carragher, the victim’s husband, went to Queens at the same time to do their Physics degrees. Warner went on to do a doctorate and teaching certificate, and Carragher became a s…surveyor.”
Jake beamed at Liam as proudly as if he was his Dad. “Well done, sir.”
“Well done for what, Liam?”
They turned at the sound of Craig’s voice and Jake beckoned him across the floor.
“Liam had a hunch, sir.”
“Another one! You’re batting one hundred today, Liam. What’s this one about?”
“Carragher lied. He knows Gerry Warner a damn sight better than he let on.”
“Update me.”
Liam ran through what they’d found, ending with. “He lied for a reason, boss.”
Craig nodded. “You’re right. There’s dirt here somewhere and both the Carraghers and Gerry Warner are involved. Get Warner in for interview, Liam.”
“What about Ian Carragher? He lied to me.”
Crag shook his head. “No, not yet. Not until we have his wife’s I.D. Even then we need to remember that
Craig read her expression and jumped in before Nicky had time to speak. “You’re not in trouble, Nicky. I just noticed you looking out of sorts and wondered if it was something that I’d said or done?”
She shook her head vaguely. “Nothing to do with work, sir. Just life.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No, not really. There’s nothing you can do.” Nicky stood up and pushed her chair against his desk. “Was there anything else?”
Craig scanned her face. It was blank; no hint of what was troubling her written there. There was no point trying to force it out of her. He would have to find out some other way.
“No. That’s fine, Nicky. Thanks for coming in.”
Nicky dragged her feet back to her desk and Craig watched her hunch forward over her work, her shoulders slanted in defeat. He knew that whatever was bothering her was none of his business, except that he was fond of her and she needed help. So she would get it, even if she didn’t ask for it. That made two of his friends who were having difficulties with their day.
***
“Gerry Warner.”
Liam boomed the name across the open-plan office as if he was announcing the winner of a Grand Prix. Davy took the bait.
“W…Who’s he, when he’s at home?”
“The bloke Eileen Carragher was having dinner with on Saturday night.”
“Right. I s…suppose you want me to run his name now?”
“Aye. You do that while I get us coffee. He trained at Brookville College between ’76 and 78’. He’s a teacher, don’t know what of, and he’s on the college fund-raising committee.”
“Fine. That’s all I need.”
By the time Liam returned with two white coffees Davy had pressed print. He handed him a warm sheet of paper and Liam perched on his desk, reading it as they drank. Gerry Warner, Head of science at Maurena Grammar School in Lisburn, eleven miles away. He was sixty-four years of age, divorced with two kids, both grown up and away. Liam stopped reading halfway down the page and tapped urgently on Davy’s screen. Davy pushed his hand away protectively.
“Get your grubby mitts off my touch-screen. It took me a year to get the boss to fund that.”
“I need you to check something else for me.”
“W…What?”
“A hunch. Find out where Gerry Warner and Ian Carragher did their degrees.”
“Please.”
Liam squinted at him then squeezed the word out. “Pleeease.”
Davy’s fingers flew across the screen then he sat back and gawped. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Now, now. Watch your language. I’m a sensitive soul.”
Jake had joined them out of curiosity. Liam knew Annette was sitting stubbornly at her desk, dying to know what he’d discovered, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of showing it.
“Liam’s just found out that this guy Gerry W…Warner and Ian Carragher, the victim’s husband, went to Queens at the same time to do their Physics degrees. Warner went on to do a doctorate and teaching certificate, and Carragher became a s…surveyor.”
Jake beamed at Liam as proudly as if he was his Dad. “Well done, sir.”
“Well done for what, Liam?”
They turned at the sound of Craig’s voice and Jake beckoned him across the floor.
“Liam had a hunch, sir.”
“Another one! You’re batting one hundred today, Liam. What’s this one about?”
“Carragher lied. He knows Gerry Warner a damn sight better than he let on.”
“Update me.”
Liam ran through what they’d found, ending with. “He lied for a reason, boss.”
Craig nodded. “You’re right. There’s dirt here somewhere and both the Carraghers and Gerry Warner are involved. Get Warner in for interview, Liam.”
“What about Ian Carragher? He lied to me.”
Crag shook his head. “No, not yet. Not until we have his wife’s I.D. Even then we need to remember that
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