Collusion

‘Problem is, Colm, that thing I said earlier about not saying something you later rely on in court? That’s the truth. You sit here now and say nothing but “no comment”, it makes you look guilty. I’ll think you’re hiding something, and so will a judge, and so will a jury. This isn’t shoplifting we’re talking about, Colm. It’s not stealing a car, or even punching some poor bastard in the mouth outside a pub. We’re talking about murder, here. We’re talking about a life sentence.’

Speers stood up. ‘Detective Inspector Lennon, I must ob—’

‘Thirteen, fourteen years, minimum. You’ll be in your thirties by the time you get out.’

A high whine came from Devine’s throat.

‘And it’ll be hard time. It won’t be a young offenders’ place, no holiday camp like you’ve been in before. It’ll be Maghaberry. You know who Declan Quigley was mixed up with? Their boys in Maghaberry won’t let that go. You’ll be lucky to—’

Speers stood and slapped the table. ‘Don’t you dare threaten my cl—’

‘You’ll be lucky to make it halfway through the sentence. So stop telling me “no comment”, for Christ’s sake. Tell me what happened that night. This is your last chance to get out of this, Colm. Stop messing around and tell me or you’ll wind up in—’

‘I never done it!’ Tears sprang from Devine’s eyes.

Lennon sat back. ‘Then tell me,’ he said.

Devine’s shoulders hitched as he sobbed. Speers sat down and put an arm around them. ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he said. He stared back at Lennon. ‘You have the right to be silent, no matter what the officer says.’

Lennon said, ‘Tell me, Colm.’

Devine sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘Brendan was my mate. Since we were wee lads. We went to school together. We were supposed to go to Ibiza next year. He’d just got a job. He was going to pay for me and everything. It’s not fair. It was just a fight with the Huns, that’s all.’

Lennon sat forward, lowered his voice. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘We were just chucking stones and bottles, the usual stuff. The Huns was throwing them back.’

‘By “Huns” you mean Protestant youths from Donegall Pass.’

‘Aye,’ Devine said. ‘No one got hurt, like. No one even got hit. Then the peelers came, and we ran. Me and Brendan got split up from everyone else and the car came after us. We went into this alley. We could hear the cops coming behind us. We were trying gates to see if any of them wasn’t locked. We got to this one near the far end and it was open. Brendan went in front of me and it was dark, I could see nothing. Then I heard him falling, a crack like he hit his head. Then I skidded, it was all slippy, and I landed on my back. Then something heavy was on me and I couldn’t breathe.’

Devine shuddered as a fresh wave of tears came. ‘Oh God,’ he said, his voice a thin wisp of air.

Speers sat silent, staring into space.

Lennon said, ‘Take your time.’

Devine sniffed back the tears. Next thing I know I’m lying there and my head’s busting, and I’m freezing cold. I could hear this screaming coming from somewhere, like a madwoman. Then it stopped. All of a sudden, like. It took me a while to get up, I was dizzy. I felt around for Brendan. It was still pitch black. I found his shoes, and I felt up his leg. He was shivering, I remember that.’

‘And?’ Lennon asked.

‘And I looked up,’ Devine said, his eyes far away. ‘Someone was there, at the back door. I don’t know if he could see me, but I could see him. Just the shape of him. I couldn’t see his face.’

Lennon waited. ‘And?’

‘And I ran.’

Devine’s eyes came back to the present. He looked at Lennon. Before he could say anything more, the interview-room door burst inward, followed by a red-faced DCI Gordon.

‘Terminate this interview,’ he barked. ‘Now.’

Gordon flicked the tape player off and leaned back in his chair. ‘So?’

Lennon sat with his head in his hands, knowing it was useless. He said it anyway. ‘So, I don’t think Brendan Houlihan or Colm Devine killed Declan Quigley. I think someone else was there. I think he was there to kill Quigley. I think Houlihan and Devine were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he disabled the two youths and carried out the murder. I think he killed Brendan Houlihan and planted the knife on him. I think he would’ve killed Colm Devine too, if he’d had the chance.’

‘You’re telling me you believe this kid’s story?’ Gordon asked.

‘Yes, I believe it,’ Lennon said. ‘And I believe the same man who killed Declan Quigley and Brendan Houlihan also killed Patsy Toner last night.’

Lennon listened to Gordon’s breathing for endless seconds. Eventually he took his hands away from his eyes to see Gordon staring back at him. Gordon pressed the eject button, removed the tape, and tossed it into the wastepaper bin.

‘You look tired, Detective Inspector Lennon.’

‘I am tired,’ Lennon said. You know what it cost me to be a cop? My family haven’t spoken to me in more than fifteen years. Not one of my sisters. I only get to see my mother because she’s too far gone to remember why she cut me off in the first place. I walked away from my family because I thought it was the right thing to do. I saw the misery the paramilitaries and the thugs who operated under their protection caused in my community. The cops could do nothing about it because the people hated them even more. I thought if I joined up I could change that. Even if it was just a little, maybe I could make it better.’

‘What’s your point?’ Gordon asked.

‘My point is …’ Lennon shook his head. ‘There is no point. Not any more.’

Gordon leaned forward, his hands crossed in front of him. His grey eyes gave nothing away. ‘Detective Inspector Lennon, you are no longer a member of my Major Investigation Team. I will speak with CI Uprichard about your reassignment. In the meantime, I suggest you take leave, effective immediately, while I consult with CI Uprichard about your conduct in recent days, and any disciplinary action that may be necessary. Do you understand?’

Lennon stood. ‘I understand.’ He walked to the door.

‘I told you to leave it, son,’ Gordon called after him. ‘I did everything I could for you, but you wouldn’t let it lie.’

Gordon’s voice faded as Lennon marched down the corridor. He reached his own office and closed the door. He stood at the centre of the room, silent, his fists clenched, deciding on his next move: he went looking for Dan Hewitt.

39

The Traveller lay on the bed, the phone against his ear. A half-hearted rain shower pattered against the window. Horns blared below on University Street.

‘Good job on Toner,’ Orla said. ‘Pity you fucked up on Quigley.’

The Traveller sat up, ignoring the protests of his shoulder. ‘How do you mean?’

‘There was another kid there. He turned himself in this morning. He told them there was another man there. He saw you.’

The Traveller thought fast. ‘I never saw another kid,’ he lied.

‘Don’t bullshit me. You knew he was there, and he got away.’

‘He never got a proper look at me,’ the Traveller said.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Orla said. ‘He told the cops there was someone else there. It means they could be looking for you.’

The Traveller stood and went to the window. A car overtook a cyclist, cutting too close, almost causing the rider to fall. Smokers stood outside an old house that had been converted into offices, hunching their shoulders against the rain. ‘So what now?’ he asked.

‘What now?’ Orla’s voice hardened. ‘What now is we clean up your mess for you. We have a friend who can take care of the kid for you, make sure he has an accident in his cell tonight. But first, you have a job to finish.’