Five Little Words

by Jackie Walsh

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was my mother.’

  ‘Maggie, but… how do you know?’

  ‘Because no one else would. If she opened that card and read it she would have taken it. I know. She would not have let me see it.’

  ‘But why wouldn’t she say anything?’

  ‘Mam has been trying to protect me from the rumours since my father died: how some people thought it wasn’t an accident. Noel used to tell me how she spent the first few months defending my honour. I told her not to listen to the rumours. That we knew the truth and nothing else mattered.’

  ‘Oh God Conor, I’m so sorry. I…’ I go to him and, with my son on my shoulder, I wrap my arms around him. Conor holds us. ‘We still don’t know who sent it,’ I say. He unlocks my grip and looks at me. ‘Laura, it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter who sent the card.’

  ‘But do you not want to know?’

  ‘Why, what difference would it make? I know who my friends are. I know the people who have stuck by me.’ Conor walks over to the computer. ‘And now one of those friends is in trouble.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ I say. But there’s no response. Conor is still trying to digest the murky information on the screen in front of him.

  ‘You’ll have to show it to the detectives, Conor. Vicky took these photos and now Vicky is dead.’

  Conor is silent. I can tell he’s listening and not listening at the same time, his mind racing around in circles. Maybe I should leave him alone for a while.

  ‘I’m going upstairs to change this little man,’ I say, walking out of the room.

  After a few minutes, Conor follows me up to the nursery that Shay will eventually move into. It has been decorated in blues, creams and yellows. There are cuddly toys, bean bags, a rocking horse and a cartoon painting of the brewery with animals looking out the windows on one of the walls. And, of course, the solar system. Conor had it all commissioned specially. Some of the aspects are painted on the ceiling, others hang from strategically placed wires. The sun takes centre stage. The moon hangs to its right. A myriad of planets float across the room, all ready and waiting to entertain Shay when the time comes. When it gets dark the whole thing glows. It’s pretty special to see.

  ‘You didn’t show those photos to anyone else, did you?’ Conor says, standing over me. The smell of his aftershave mingles with baby powder creating a kind of confusing smell.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Well, don’t. Wait until I have a word with Noel.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘He’s my friend, Laura. He’s Shay’s godfather. The least I can do is talk to him about it first. Tell him I saw the photos. Get his side of the story before those out-of-town detectives get their hands on them. He’s supposed to be leaving for Oman in two days.’

  Conor leaves the room and by the time I come downstairs, he’s already rung Noel.

  ‘He’ll be here shortly,’ he says. ‘I’ll speak to him in the office.’

  Damn it. If he speaks to him in there, I’ll hear nothing.

  ‘Don’t talk to him in there, Conor, that makes it all seem very official. He’s your friend. You stay here. I’ll bring Shay upstairs. I want to lie down for a while anyway. My head is splitting from all this.’

  Conor walks over and hugs me. ‘Okay, Laura, thanks.’ He looks older all of a sudden, a lifetime of worry showing in one moment.

  ‘It will be okay, Conor,’ I say, rubbing my hand against his cheek. The skin is cold beneath my touch. I kiss his lips but they don’t react. I hate seeing him like this.

  ‘Will you be okay?’ I say.

  Conor nods.

  I walk over to the crib to get a blanket. Conor is staring out the window with his hands stuck into the pockets of his trousers. I hit the reverse button on the baby monitor.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The buttons on the monitor flash all the way to red.

  ‘What’s up, matey?’ Noel has arrived.

  Conor coughs. Then a brief pause. Then I hear his voice.

  ‘This isn’t easy, it’s a bit sensitive, actually.’

  ‘Ooh.’

  ‘Jesus… how do I say this?’

  ‘Say what, man? You’re beginning to freak me out here. What’s going on?’

  More silence. Then: ‘Where did you get those?’

  Conor must be showing Noel the photos on the laptop.

  Shay is being rocked from side to side with more vigour than is necessary, so I place him into the centre of the bed and move back over to sit beside the monitor. I’m so nervous I’m afraid to open my mouth in case my heart falls out.

  ‘They were on a USB that was sent to me belonging to Vicky Murphy.’

  ‘Vicky Murphy? Who the hell sent you that?’

  ‘Not the point.’

  Typical cheater, trying to move the attention to the messenger. I’m glad Conor didn’t fall for it. I’m picturing him glaring at Noel. Waiting for an explanation. The monitor is showing no activity. I’d say Noel doesn’t know where to look.

  After a couple more minutes of silence the light flashes red again.

  ‘Well I guess you know now. I can’t deny it happened. But it’s over, Conor. It was only for a short while and both of us regret it. I’m sorry it happened. I’ll never be able to forgive myself, I—’ Noel is ranting on. I can almost hear a violin in the background.

  ‘Did you know?’ Conor interrupts him.

  ‘Did I know what?’

  ‘That Vicky had these photos.’

  ‘No. Christ. No.’

  Suddenly Noel seems to register the consequences and says to Conor: ‘Shit, Conor, I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with what happened to her. I didn’t even know she had these. Fuck. What was she doing with them? Did someone…’

  Noel stops, mid-sentence. If he’s acting, he’s good. But then again, he is good. He’s been having an affair, for Christ’s sake. Acting on a regular basis. Lying to everyone around him, including Conor, his best friend; the kind of friend who’d move his child’s christening forward just so he could be godfather. Conor must be so upset to find out that Noel has been lying to him. They’ve been friends since they were both at school together and his loyalty after Seamus’s death clearly means a lot to Conor. They holidayed together, supported the same football team and went to the games together. They were each other’s best men at their weddings, for God’s sake.

  Shay whimpers a little, kicking his legs and waving his arms. He must be looking for me. Taking him off the bed, I rock him gently from side to side. The last thing I want is for his cries to drown out the monitor.

  ‘It’s okay, Shay. Mammy’s here,’ I whisper. Then I kiss his warm forehead.

  ‘What would you do with this information, Noel?’ Conor is back on.

  ‘I’d… I don’t know, I…’

  ‘Would you show it to the police?’

  ‘You can’t do that, Conor. Come on. It was just a stupid affair. It’s over. No one got hurt.’

  Silence.

  ‘Look Conor, please don’t show the police. I’m sorry. I can’t take it back but I can make up for it for the rest of my life. I’ll make it up with Shay and…’

  ‘Don’t bring Shay into it, Noel.’

  ‘Sorry, but I promise it’s over. You have to forgive me. And I had nothing to do with Vicky Murphy being murdered. You know that! You know me, Conor. You’re only going to bring untold grief to Abbie and Olive if you show that to the police, and for what? Nothing. No one will gain from you doing that. Please, Conor.’

  Noel sure can beg. I’m barely able to breathe listening to him. I hope Conor doesn’t fall for all that crap.

  ‘Just go, Noel. I can’t think straight.’

  ‘I really am sorry, Conor. It was bad of me not to tell you but—’

  ‘Just go. I’ll call you later.’

  There’s a bit more said in the hallway but I can only hear mumbles. Then the door closes. Reaching my hand out, I switch off the monitor
and lie down on the bed with Shay resting beside me. His eyes stare at me. His little hand stretches out as if trying to touch my face. I take his hand and kiss it, waiting for Conor to come up to the bedroom. When he doesn’t arrive after twenty minutes, I decide to go down and see how he is. He must be so confused, not knowing what to do. Should he put his years of friendship ahead of doing the right thing? It must be hard being faced with that decision.

  I wiggle off the bed and put Shay in his cot. A blue light appears, flashing in and out of the room.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  ‘Go back upstairs Laura.’ Conor orders me out of the hallway.

  ‘No, what’s happening? Why are you doing this?’ I scream at the detectives, gasping for breath between each word. My eyes fill with tears. The younger detective is putting handcuffs on Conor’s wrists. The older guy is reading him his rights.

  ‘Stop it. It wasn’t him. He did nothing.’ Everything is spinning around me. I grab the handrail to stay standing. ‘He did nothing. It was Noel… Noel killed her.’

  ‘Go back upstairs Laura.’ Conor’s voice is getting more agitated. But does he think I’m just going to stand here and let them take him away?

  ‘I have proof,’ I say. I hear the handcuffs clicking closed. The older guy steps in my direction.

  ‘Mrs Caldwell, could you go back upstairs please, this isn’t helping.’

  ‘But he didn’t kill her.’ I hear my voice fading as Conor’s voice pierces through the buzzing in my head.

  ‘It will be okay Laura, take care of Shay, I’ll be home soon. I’ll be back tonight.’

  The next thing I know they’re gone. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here in the hallway. But I fear if I let go of this handrail, I might fall and break into tiny pieces. My eyes are fixed on the hall door where my husband was hauled out by two detectives from Dublin.

  I think of Shay. Shay! I run up the stairs and check he’s okay. He is. I take a few deep breaths, just like I’d been taught to do whenever living seemed impossible. Breathe in Laura.

  What will I do? What can I do? My tear lands on Shay’s rosy-pink cheek. ‘It’s my fault Shay. This is all my fault.’ The words escape my lips like whispers in the night. It’s here. Karma has found me.

  * * *

  The house is silent. I carefully step down the stairs, Shay gripped tightly to my chest. When I get to the kitchen I switch on the light and wait for someone to call. I thought the phone would be hopping by now but it seems nobody knows yet. I consider ringing Maggie but decide against it for the moment. I don’t want her calling over here. I need my sister. Amanda. The phone rings. Leave a message. Always the same.

  The laptop sits open on the counter. I tap the keyboard bringing the photos of Olive and Noel back onto the screen. My head feels heavy. I lift my phone and try to call Amanda again but still no answer. My phone rings. It’s not Amanda. I don’t recognise the number. My head throbs as I answer it. Fear hijacks my body. What am I going to hear now?

  ‘Laura… Laura.’ A deep voice says.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Laura, this is Detective Fintan Ryan. First of all, are you okay?’ The sound of his voice unravels my strength and I begin to cry.

  ‘Laura?’

  ‘Fintan. What’s going on?’

  ‘Laura, I don’t want you to panic. Conor asked me to ring you to see if you’re okay, if you need anything. The detectives are speaking to him now. It could take a while but you’re not to worry.’

  I almost laugh at this request. ‘How can I not worry? They arrested my husband.’

  Fintan’s voice softens. ‘I know it looks bad Laura, but it will get sorted.’

  ‘How, how will it get sorted? He didn’t kill Vicky Murphy, Fintan, you know that.’

  ‘I know. I know Laura. Look, hang in there. I’ll be back to you as soon as I’ve any news.’

  ‘Fintan, I need you to call here. Can you come over now? I have something to give you. Something that might help Conor.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ll show you when you get here, can you come?’

  ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  I close down the file and remove the USB.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  It’s been over an hour since Detective Fintan Ryan left with the USB and I still can’t find any peace. Outside the window, I watch the darkness thicken around the forest at the end of the garden. Pat left the cottage earlier, not long after Noel called. I saw him shuffle down the driveway when I was in the bedroom. I doubt he’s back yet.

  Suddenly I remember I have the key. Should I go down there? Pat said Conor had a motive. But why does he think that? Maybe the answer is in his cottage. But I can’t go down there now, it’s dark, what about Shay? I’m sorry I didn’t ring Maggie earlier. She could have watched Shay while I searched the cottage, I don’t have time to wait for her to come over now. I’m tossing plans around in my head. Sitting here adding to the darkness is not helping Conor. I need to do something.

  Shay is burped, changed and huddled into a baby sling that someone gave to us as a gift. I never thought I’d use it but I hadn’t allowed for this scenario.

  With my baby comfortably stuck to me, I walk to the end of the garden holding a torch for guidance. The light from the house is shedding some brightness but the closer I get to the forest, the darker it gets and the more nervous I become. A cold breeze brushes past like a ghost trying to frighten me. I wrap my arms around Shay to protect him. The key, heavy with risk, is in my other hand.

  When I get to the door, I look around to make sure we’re alone. We are. Nothing but the birds sleeping in the trees and the insects below my feet. My heart is in my mouth as I put the key into the lock and turn it. Bingo.

  For a moment I hesitate. What if Pat comes back and finds me here? I don’t care. I want answers. I glance behind me to see if he’s coming but I doubt I’d see him if he was. Everything is so dark. I step inside. Shining the flash-lamp onto the wall I locate the light-switch and flip it on. I sigh with relief. A part of me is surprised it works.

  A damp musty smell hits me in the face. The hallway is tiny, with bare stone walls. There are three doors, all closed. With one hand protecting Shay, I push on the first door.

  The bedroom door creaks. My nerves are on edge but I have to keep going. I look around the room to see if I can see anything that might help me. It’s a tiny space. Pat must find it strange coming into our house – the big needless spaces. I wonder if he resents Conor ending up in all that luxury while he struggles to put a decent blanket on his bed. It’s just a single, steel-framed bed with one hairy blanket on top. A small glass, the base coloured with whiskey debris, sits on top of a pile of books by the bed. A makeshift wardrobe lies against the wall, in which Pat’s Sunday suit and shirt hang alongside a jacket and an old worn Ballycall GAA Club jersey. It must have been his own one from days past. Conor told me Pat and his dad started up the club. Judging by the state of the jersey, that was a long, long time ago. The material is thick like wool, heavy with a worn discoloured collar and a hand-stitched crest. I put my hand on the hanger to turn it around and see the number one sewn onto the back. Keeper.

  I’m on edge. Conor is probably in an interview room now answering questions he should not be asked. Why does Pat think he killed Vicky? Why does he not believe he left to go to the brewery that night? I wonder what will happen if Conor tells the detectives about the black-market beer. He’s going to have to if he’s to clear his name of murder. Then a thought flashes into my head. If it’s black-market, there’s probably no evidence it took place at all. Conor will have no alibi.

  I quicken my search leaving the bedroom and pushing open the door to the kitchen. In front of me stands a dresser with lots of drawers. Shit, this could take time. I kiss Shay’s head. ‘Are you okay little man?’ But he doesn’t stir. His soft breath landing on my skin comforts me. ‘I’ll have you home soon baby. We’re doing this for Daddy.’

  P
ulling out drawers and opening presses, my eyes rapidly search through everything in front of me, the continuous reminder of Pat’s lonely life. One cup, one plate, one pot, one everything.

  Shay is still asleep on my chest. He hasn’t even whimpered. Stretching my neck, I look to see if there’s anything on top of the kitchen presses. I hear a thud outside and my heart stops. I freeze. I listen but I can’t hear anything. My nerves have me sick but I remind myself Conor must be even more nervous.

  I’m about to close one of the drawers when I notice a lodgement book. Bank of Ireland. I don’t know why but it piques my interest so I take it in my hand and open it. I stare wide-eyed at the name on top of the slip. Pat is lodging money into Erin Murphy’s bank. Vicky Murphy’s mother.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  I’m exhausted. Every bone in my body is tired from shaking and shivering with fear. I’m sitting by the window waiting for Pat to return. My mind is in overdrive. I need to speak to Pat to find out what is going on. Why is he giving Erin Murphy money every month? I’m sure the detectives will be interested in this information but first I have to find out what it means. I don’t want to hand a shovel to the men who are trying to bury my husband.

  Is Pat Vicky’s father? Hence the need to point fingers. Or did he kill Vicky and is now trying to divert attention from himself? One way or the other, I’m sitting here until he returns and I’m going to make him tell me.

  I’ve heard nothing from Conor, or Fintan yet. But I expect Fintan will contact me before this day ends. Which it’s going to in two hours. Shay is asleep upstairs in his cot. The monitor sits on a ledge beside me. I wonder does Maggie know her son has been arrested. Hardly. She would have been over here by now, crying and panicking and making the tension in the air unbearable.

  When I couldn’t get an answer from Amanda, I sent her a text telling her Conor had been arrested. She hasn’t texted me back yet. Amanda is probably having a great night entertaining clients, eating and drinking and laughing. No time to check her phone.