Free Death to Pay by Derek Fee Page A

haven’t collated all the sheets from the uniforms but at a guess I’d say we’re goin’ to draw a blank.’
    ‘That’s not what I wanted to hear,’ Wilson said.
    Davidson snorted. ‘This fucker must be some sort of ghost. It’s a tight-knit community, and they’re normally on the look out for strangers. I’m a bit confused that nothing has turned up.’
    Wilson pointed to the scene of crime scene photos. ‘The living room looks like a slaughter house. There’s blood and brain all over the place. Please don’t tell me that the murderer didn’t get blood on his clothes. It’s just not possible. So someone walked out of the Rice house covered in blood, and no one noticed him. I don’t buy it. Go back to the streets. Interview everybody again. Somebody must have seen whoever came out of that house. There’s some auld biddy sitting at her window watching who walks up and down. Find her.’
    ‘You’re living in the past, Boss. The auld biddy that used to sit by the window, now sits in front of a 40 inch colour flat screen TV provided by the Social.’
    The other members of the squad laughed and the tension was dissipated somewhat.
    Wilson slapped his hand against the whiteboard. ‘We’re under the cosh and the clock here. There are going to be people on the streets to-night and every night until we find who killed Lizzie. Sammy is staying quiet for the moment, but don’t count on it staying that way. I don’t credit Sammy for a high level of emotional intelligence so this mourning that’s going at the moment is only to shore up his support in his enclave. As soon as Lizzie’s in the ground, Sammy is going to be out there competing with us to find the killer. And I don’t want him to succeed where we failed. Ronald, how are you doing on Lizzie’s background.’
    Ronald McIver was sitting on the desk closest to the whiteboard. ‘Lizzie was no saint, as I’m sure we’re all aware. Back in the seventies and the eighties she was right in the middle of the ‘Troubles’. She headed up the women’s branch of the Ulster Volunteer Force in the Shankill and by all accounts, she was involved in a lot of unsavoury stuff. She was lifted a total of seven times and questioned about burnings and harassment, but she was never charged. She always produced cast iron alibis. So most of what I’ve managed to put together has come for contacts in the press. I tried a few old contacts in the paramilitaries, but nobody wants to talk about Lizzie except to say that she hasn’t been involved for the past twenty years or so.  In terms of people bearing a grudge against her, you could probably fill the Ulster Hall.’
    ‘It just get’s better and better,’ Wilson said. ‘We need to turn up some leads soon.  Which means that you guys are going to have to work your socks off until we develop a definite line of enquiry. So get to it. More interviews, check CCTV, talk to the women who were at bingo with her. Was she nervous? Had she been threatened? Bring me something.’
    The group broke up slowly and moved back to their desks wordlessly.
     
     
    Wilson was aware that he was transmitting the tension that he was feeling to the rest of his team. But that was part of being a team leader. Creating tension could be a bad thing, but it also could be good. It would depend on the person. Moira would put her back into the investigation, and it would be difficult to get her out of the office. She was also intuitive, which made her the best detective on the team. Peter Davidson would go into his shell until something broke. He was seldom the member of the team that sniffed out a lead. But he was a good solid detective in following up. Ronald McIver would continue to pound the computer keys and man the phones. Every team needed a researcher and that fitted Ronald’s character and his fear of the streets perfectly. Harry Graham would plod along making sure that the murder book was kept up to date and ensuring that all the rules and