Creatures of the Chase - Yusuf. L. M. Ollie
ones?’
Munroe shrugged, ‘Because I always do; you know that. So, what’s up Vic?’
‘Births, deaths, marriages – I need you to check some names and dates.’
‘Sure, provided you can give me as much info as possible I can usually get the rest pretty fast.’
Yakinchuk paused to consider the best point of attack. ‘Okay, let’s start with Richard Develin.’
Munroe stared at him. ‘You mean Richard Mayfair Develin?’
‘Yeah so … Do you know him?’
‘I know of him, yes. You’re wasting your time Vic; he’s covert. Word is that he’s one of MI6’s favourite sons.’
‘Then word should also have it that he’s dead.’
Munroe swung around in his chair and began keying in the relevant data before pressing the send button. All he got back in the initial swoop was the obituary; the same one Yakinchuk had seen. ‘Christ Vic, he was only fifty years old.’
‘The obit doesn’t say it but I have reason to believe that he left behind a wife and one or maybe two kids.’
‘Why doesn’t it mention a wife and kids?’
‘Because I don’t think he wanted the whole world to know about them.’
‘Well, births, marriages, even death; they’re all public domain so, if they’re recorded, we should be able to access the information. I’ll give it another go.’
‘Try southern Ireland specifically.’
Munroe nodded as he called up the blank request form and keyed in as much information as he knew; which wasn’t much although it would prove sufficient. ‘Okay, here we go,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘Tipperary county, Ireland; that’s were the marriage is recorded. Groom: Richard Mayfair Develin. Bride: Sarah Winthrope Churchill. They were married, ah … oh Christ, they were married on December twenty-fourth last year.’
‘The same day he died,’ Yakinchuk said sadly. ‘Why does her name sound familiar?’
‘Let’s check it out. Sarah Churchill might be a fairly common name but the Winthrope should cut the field down nicely.’ Munroe pressed the send key then looked up at Yakinchuk. ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Vic?’
‘Let it all roll first.’
Munroe stared at the computer output, totally dumbfounded as the results of his search came through. ‘This is crazy,’ he exclaimed. ‘There was a local girl - Sarah Winthrope Churchill who died New Year’s Day 1980 in a car accident out on old Highway Five. There’s another who married Develin and … ready for this Vic, a Sarah Winthrope Churchill Develin who married Merhot Mauphet Capritzo in February this year. The ceremony took place at Cavendish Hall, Tipperary County, Ireland.’ He swallowed hard as the full impact of the information hit him. ‘Didn’t Capritzo die in Ireland?’
‘He did; at Cavendish Hall, Tipperary County, in February of this year.’
‘God, I think I need a drink,’ Munroe declared, revolving free of his chair. He unlocked a steel filing cabinet then pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside was a veritable treasure-trove of alcohol. ‘What will it be Vic?’
When he turned Yakinchuk was reaching for the phone. Moments later he was through to Records. ‘Hello Betty; Vic Yakinchuk. Do me a favour honey; could you pull everything we have on a fatal automobile accident on New Year’s Day; victim’s name - Sarah Winthrope Churchill. It happened out on old Highway Five so it should be … Yeah, on my desk would be fine; thanks.’
Yakinchuk sat staring straight ahead, his mind in chaos. Over and over again he could hear Maggie’s words – Wild she’ll be with raging green eyes and hair the colour of fire. She will bear his name though their union is of the devil. Beware of her for it is very like she has killed once already and will do so again if needs must.
‘What do you know about how Capritzo died? I know you guys must have kept a close eye on him over the years.’
Munroe shrugged. ‘Yeah sure we did although most of the time Capritzo flew under the radar if you take my meaning. He knows … I mean he knew too many people in high places so we always had to be very, very careful. Cause of death is listed as “misadventure” but I don’t know the details. Hey, look what I found; a bottle of Irish whiskey. Now that’s what I call apropos.’
He poured out two glasses; handing one to Yakinchuk. ‘I think a toast is in order so here goes; to Richard Develin and Merhot Capritzo; two extraordinary men and to this woman, Sarah Churchill who must be even more extraordinary.’
Yakinchuk stood up. ‘To extraordinary people,’ he said sadly as he toasted the memory of a living, breathing Richard Develin. He took a gulp of the whiskey then let the liquid slowly burn its way down his throat.
Munroe was watching him closely. ‘Are you okay Vic?’
‘What I want to know is why would Capritzo go to Cavendish Hall? What connects Develin and Capritzo other than women of course?’
‘Women; you mean other than Sarah Churchill?’
Yakinchuk quickly told Munroe the story of Susan Kojak. ‘Capritzo sent a young girl he knew had a heart condition into the proverbial lion’s den and she got chewed up real bad by Develin despite what the official report says.’
‘You’re working on your gut instinct Vic,’ Munroe replied as he watched Yakinchuk walk towards the windows. ‘You can’t prove it.’
Yakinchuk stared through his reflection to the street below. ‘I followed Develin and Emery out to the airport.’ He paused, trying to find the rights words. ‘You know, I’ve forgotten this until now. How could I forget something so ….’ He swallowed hard.
‘When I arrived, Develin was on the tarmac saying goodbye to Emery. He had his back to me and ah … I heard Emery ask him something about what he was doing to the girl just prior to her death.’ Yakinchuk ran both hands across his face. They were shaking. Slowly he turned to face Munroe. ‘Do you know what Develin said? He said he was practicing.’
‘Jesus,’ Munroe said as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Did he see you?’
‘Oh yeah, we had a lovely chat.’ He smiled almost shyly. ‘Got to tell you Stan; he scared the shit out of me.’
‘Have you ever met Capritzo?’ Munroe asked.
‘No. I don’t even know what he looks like.’
‘Give me a minute,’ Munroe said as he jumped up from his seat and hurried into the room next door. Moments later he was back with a several large photo albums.
‘Develin and Capritzo were both extremely camera shy but I’ve got a few photos here in my rogues gallery.’ Checking the index first, Munroe flipped though the heavy pages before coming to rest on page seven. ‘There he is.’
Yakinchuk leaned in closer to examine the first of several clandestine photos of Capritzo taken by the Bureau over the years. Tall and slender with jet black hair and a widow’s peak; black eyes and pale skin. In one photo he was looking straight at the camera, immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit, just like Develin. ‘He’s an evil looking bastard.’
‘He was fucking evil period.’
‘Have you got any photos of Develin?’