Kirby pushed the desk forward to extricate himself and ambled to the front of the room. He handed her the bag, dramatically.
She glanced in at the blade. ‘Looks new, but get it to the lab straight away.’
‘Will do.’
‘Isabel Gallagher had a blade in her hand. Jesus, this could tie the two cases together.’
Kirby took the evidence bag, puffing out his chest, delighted with himself.
Lottie said, ‘Isabel used to work at Bubbles Day Care, where Joyce had Evan cared for. That’s another link.’
‘A coincidence?’ Boyd said.
‘Possibly, but let’s see if the lab can match the blade to the one found in Isabel’s hand.’
‘Sure.’
She continued. ‘I found a speck of blood on a radiator at Joyce’s home. Any results back on that?’
‘The lab is running a DNA check against a hairbrush and a child’s toothbrush. Be a day or two.’
‘I need to know now.’ She slumped down on a chair. ‘Was there anything found at the Foleys’ house to lead us to the identity of who might have taken the boy?’
‘Maybe he just wandered off?’ Lynch said.
‘Didn’t I leave you at Anita Boland’s house?’ It had only just struck Lottie that Lynch wasn’t where she should be.
‘You asked Garda Thornton to take over for a couple of hours because I was required here.’
‘So I did.’ Lottie clapped a hand to her forehead. ‘Okay. But I want eyes on Gallagher at all times. Monitor his movements. We don’t want any more impromptu television appearances. Which reminds me, did his TV debut elicit any noteworthy response from the public?’
Garda Brennan scanned pages spread out on the desk. ‘The usual crackpots with conspiracy theories. It’s distracting from the appeal to find Evan.’
‘I could swing for Jack Gallagher. Do you have anything concrete to report, Garda Brennan?’
The guard shook her head slowly. ‘Nothing.’
‘We still need to follow up each call. We might hear something about Mr Gallagher himself.’
She filled in the team on her conversations with Michael Costello and AJ Lennon. ‘Jack moved from Lennon’s to Quality Electrical five years ago. I heard no evidence of any wrongdoing, except that he likely got Isabel to leave her job at Quality Electrical. What else have we got?’
‘We need to pin down the timeline for Isabel’s murder,’ Boyd said. ‘We only have Gallagher’s word that she was alive when he left for work.’
‘What if he killed her the previous night?’ Garda Brennan sat forward, her face alight with enthusiasm.
Lottie shook her head. ‘She rang her mother around seven yesterday morning. Jack might still have been there then. The post-mortem confirms she died within the two hours before her body was discovered. The pathologist can’t be more accurate than that. It’s still possible he had time to kill his wife before he clocked in at work.’
‘It took him twenty minutes to do a ten-minute drive,’ Boyd said. ‘He had a window of opportunity there, or he could have doubled back home after clocking in and before he reached the second property on his calls.’
‘There is no one to confirm he was actually at the first property.’ Lottie thought for a moment. ‘But would he have had time to clean up and dispose of his bloody clothing? And if he did, where did he do it? And where is the murder weapon?’
‘A man who can stab a woman to death in front of his own child is capable of doing anything in any timescale.’
Lottie considered that. ‘Triangulate Jack’s phone to confirm he actually went to his first job yesterday morning.’
Boyd said, ‘His phone is with tech now, so the GPS should let us know where he went. If he hadn’t switched it off, that is.’
Lottie stared out at her team and wished she had more bodies to help.
‘Wait a minute,’ Lynch said. ‘I saw Jack Gallagher with a tablet earlier. He was on it in Anita’s garden before I left.’
‘The sly bastard,’ Lottie said.
‘Who was he communicating with?’ Boyd said.
‘Haven’t a clue.’ Lynch shrugged. ‘I’ll see if I can get my hands on the device and check what app he was using.’
‘Do it, Lynch,’ Lottie said. ‘Keep a close watch on him. And if he leaves the house, I want him followed. Radio for support if you need it. Okay?’
‘Sure thing.’
Lottie took a few deep breaths to restore her equilibrium.
‘We have two investigations running concurrently. My main priority at the moment is finding four-year-old Evan Breslin and his mother. Alive. The razor blade found in Joyce’s car might well be a link to Isabel’s murder, as Isabel had one in her hand. The women may have been acquainted via the day care, because Isabel worked there for a few months. I want to know everything about both of them.’ She knew Lynch was the ideal person for this work but she had to use her as FLO. Shit.
As if Lynch had read her mind, she said, ‘If I had a decent laptop and mobile internet at Anita Boland’s house, I could make myself useful while keeping an eye on Gallagher.’
‘Organise it. And remind me to send a few others on the next FLO course. I can’t be wasting good detectives while real work is necessary.’
‘I can help out,’ Garda Brennan said.
‘Right. Send Thornton back to base.’ She looked at Kirby. ‘Was Sinéad Foley’s house and day care checked thoroughly?’
‘I can confirm the kid isn’t hiding in the attic or the garden shed.’
‘Any security cameras?’
‘One inside the day care unit itself, and another in the garden where the kids played. Nothing of interest on them.’
‘Jesus, a kid doesn’t just disappear into thin air.’ But she knew they did, all the time. ‘I need to confirm Sinéad’s husband’s movements, and I’ll have another word with Nathan Monaghan. Do you all know what you have to do?’
Heads nodded, chairs screeched across the floor and mutters grew into chatter. She checked her phone and found a notification from McGlynn.
‘SOCOs have found a razor blade beneath the hall radiator in Joyce Breslin’s house!’
The chatter died away.
‘Kirby, fast-track that blade you found in her car.’
‘Will do.’
‘Has anyone traced Kevin Doran yet, the handyman?’ Blank faces stared back and Lottie remembered it had been McKeown’s job. ‘Someone take it on, and don’t lose sight of the fact that our priority is finding Evan alive.’
The noise in the room rose again, and above it all Lottie heard the tentative voice of Martina Brennan.
‘What if he’s already dead?’
She groaned. The young woman had a lot to learn.
42
Jack felt like he had a shadow stalking him; no matter which way he turned in the house, there was a pair of eyes stuck to him. The detective was back and she was like a leech he couldn’t shake off.
He knew he’d made a mistake with the tablet. Goddammit. How could he have been so stupid? Lottie fucking Parker would know by now that he had it. That wasn’t good. Not good at all. The FLO, Lynch, had left for a meeting shortly after, leaving a big hulk sitting there drinking copious amounts of tea, talking non-stop to Anita about the good old days. Give me a break, Jack had yelled in his head. And just when he had decided to escape, the detective was back. Nothing for it but to be brazen.
He pulled on his jacket and had the zip halfway up his chest when she came into the hall behind him.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘Out.’
‘You should stay here with your daughter. You can’t leave everything to Anita.’
‘She loves caring for Holly. I’m suffocating in here. I need fresh air.’ All of that was true, but it was not all of the truth.
‘Just the same, you should stay here.’
‘Why?’ He stepped closer. ‘To look at the four walls?’
‘Who were you communicating with on th
at tablet?’
‘None of your bloody business.’
‘Why didn’t you hand it over to Inspector Parker at the station?’
‘She asked for my phone and I gave it to her. A tablet isn’t a phone last time I looked.’
‘Why do you need to carry around a tablet plus a phone?’
God, she was persistent. ‘I need it for my freelance electrical work.’ He moved to the door.
She was behind him in one step. ‘Are you prepared to hand it over?’
He paused, one hand on the latch, the other on his pocket. ‘Unless you have a warrant, I’m keeping it. And if you insist on harassing me, I’ll call my solicitor.’
Lynch wasn’t to be deterred. ‘Where are you headed to?’
‘What are you? My jailer? I’m a free man, so I’m off out to get some air. Tell Anita I’ll be back later.’
Opening the door, he stepped outside, ignoring her calling him back. She could piss right off and leave him alone.
The day warmed up and Kevin was sorry he didn’t possess a light jacket, because he was sweltering. Standing under the trees across from Anita’s house, he watched with interest as Gallagher burst out the front door, followed by a woman with her hair in a short ponytail. She was calling him back, but he walked out the gate, turned for town and kept on going.
Stepping out from the trees, Kevin caught sight of the woman going back into the house. He dipped his head and quickened his pace. He had to talk to Jack at some stage, and now seemed as good a time as any, when there was no one else around.
At the corner by the pharmacy, Jack paused and Kevin held back, watching. Jack turned right, up by the canal. Perfect. Kevin followed, his breathing laboured. When he was right behind Jack he put out a hand to touch him.
The big man whirled round, fist raised. Kevin ducked.
‘Why are you sneaking up on me like that? I might have landed you in the canal.’
‘Sorry, Jack. I’m scared. After what happened to Isabel and all—’
Jack clutched a handful of his jacket at the shoulder and dragged him to his chest. Spittle landed on Kevin’s face as the big man’s voice raged. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut. Say nothing, a voice warbled in his brain.
‘What do you know about what happened to my wife?’
‘I swear to God, I don’t know a thing. The guards, they’re everywhere. I’m terrified they might think I did it.’ Kevin couldn’t breathe as Jack slid a hand around his throat and pulled him up to his face.
‘They’re asking about you. Why do you think they’re doing that? They must think you killed her.’
‘I swear I’m telling you the truth. I’d never hurt her.’ Kevin couldn’t stop the snot running down his nose. Jack made him feel like a useless kid. ‘She was good to me.’
‘Oh yeah? And wasn’t I good to you? Making up jobs for you to keep her happy. Now that I think about it, there might have been some sort of kinky business going on between the two of you.’
‘Don’t say that. Don’t disrespect her like that.’
‘Disrespect? I’ll give you disrespect, you little weasel.’
Kevin almost fell to his knees as Jack released his grip on his throat. The relief was only temporary. A thump landed on the side of his head and a fist punched him in the chest. He heard a thunderous splash and realised he was in the rancid water.
‘Help!’ he yelled.
‘You can fuck off if you think I’m going to help you, you piece of shit. And stay away from my daughter!’
Kevin flailed around in the canal, trying to get his feet on the bottom, but there was nothing there. Water gushed over his head and he swallowed a mouthful. That was when he remembered he couldn’t swim.
Maria Lynch stood on the step, seething with rage. She thumped the door jamb as Jack hurried away. That big hulk was as guilty of murdering his wife as McKeown was guilty of cheating on his. She was about to turn back inside when she saw a man step out from the trees across the road and set off after Jack.
Who was he?
She ran inside and fetched her coat and phone. ‘Be back in five, Anita.’
‘Where are you off to?’ Anita sat by the buggy where Holly lay fast asleep. For a moment Lynch wished her youngest was as good.
‘Won’t be long. Don’t open the door to anyone until I get back.’
‘You’re scaring me now.’
Lynch forced a smile. ‘Absolutely nothing to worry your head about.’
The anxiety leaped from Anita to settle on her own shoulders, but she kept going.
Walking quickly, she tried to spot Jack or the man who had come from the trees. At the pharmacy, she glanced towards town and then up the canal path. There they were, seemingly embroiled in a heated argument. Should she approach or remain where she was? She hesitated, but the decision was taken from her when the man toppled into the water. Jack stepped back before setting off at speed.
‘Feck.’ She broke into a run.
Reaching the bank, she saw the man’s hands shoot up from the water before submerging again. Bubbles formed on the malodorous mess. She tore off her coat, kicked off her shoes and, without stopping to think of the danger, jumped in.
The ice-cold water swallowed her breath, and she gasped. She waded towards where the bubbles were decreasing in intensity. Her feet were losing their grip on the muddy bottom the further she moved away from the bank, until there was only water beneath her. Grappling around in the mess of weeds and reeds, she tried to locate him. Nothing. She inhaled a deep breath, held her nose and ducked underneath.
It took a second to see through the silty haze. There he was, his face contorted, hands flapping. She grabbed hold of his coat and began to haul him upwards. He was a dead weight, and fighting. She had to get him to the surface quickly.
Bringing her face close to his frantic one, she indicated upwards. He seemed to relax, and she flipped her feet wildly and began to ascend. Her head broke through the water and she gulped huge gasps of air.
‘You got him!’ someone yelled.
A small crowd had gathered on the bank. Thanks for the help, she thought, dragging the man towards them. Arms reached out and he was hauled through the thick reeds and up onto the path. Another pair of hands found hers and she gladly let them take her weight until she was on solid ground. She lay looking up at the blue sky, gulping air.
‘You okay? We called an ambulance.’
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
Turning onto her knees, she watched as a woman wrapped her coat around the shivering man. He would live. Now she had to find out all she could about this person for whom she had risked her life.
* * *
He lay shivering in a foil blanket while paramedics took his vitals. Lynch peered down at the face she did not recognise.
‘Hello? Can you hear me?’
His eyes remained closed as he was lifted onto a wheeled stretcher and pushed along the narrow towpath. Two ambulances had reversed onto the entrance to the path, rear doors open, a small crowd huddled beside them.
Once the stretcher was hoisted inside, one of the paramedics slipped an oxygen mask on the half-drowned man.
Lynch allowed herself to be bundled into the other ambulance and a blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her arm. When the paramedic was satisfied she wasn’t about to die on him, she called Lottie and told her where she was headed and why. The door closed and she heard the engine jump to life. She lay back on the plastic-covered pillow and closed her eyes.
43
Boyd watched as Lottie fled the office. Where was she off to?
He went to the door to call after her, but she’d already disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor. He turned back and sauntered to Kirby’s desk. The smell of fried food wafted towards him. ‘What are you at?’
‘Accessing the National Driver Vehicle files to trace who owned Joyce’s car before Lugmiran Enterprises, because I can’t find anything on that company.’
Boyd drummed his fingers on the desk while Kirby worked.
‘Right, I have a name and address,’ Kirby said triumphantly. ‘Frank Maher.’
‘I’ll go with you if it’s not too far. He might help us find Joyce and her little boy.’
‘Right.’
‘On condition that I drive,’ Boyd said quickly. He was sure to end up with grease in his lungs if he went in Kirby’s car.
‘On condition I can stop at McDonald’s. I’m starving.’
‘No way I’m letting you eat in my car. Come on. We won’t be long.’
* * *
Frank Maher lived down a narrow road at the side of the canal, not far from the convent school. Four old terraced houses lined the lane. Further down, over the supply bridge, Boyd saw the shimmer of ambulance lights flashing. Someone must have fallen in, he thought. Once the sun came out, the silly season started.
The door opened.
The man looked to be in his eighties, tall and willowy, with a slight hunch probably formed from having to constantly bend his head to enter doorways. He seemed genuinely happy to have someone other than his dog to talk to. The old collie raised its head, then, finding its master’s guests uninteresting, returned to soak up the heat from the Aga stove with its door wide open.
It was positively boiling in the house.
‘I’m Frank, and he’s Bosco.’ The man cleared newspapers from one chair while Kirby lifted a basket of folded laundry from another.
‘Frank,’ Kirby began once they were uncomfortably seated, ‘we’re here about a car you used to own. A black Ford Focus.’ He recited the licence plate number.
‘That’s long gone. I haven’t driven anything this five years. Didn’t pass the eye test so couldn’t renew my licence. Stupid rules and regulations. I only ever drove to Tesco. Now I have to be waited on hand and foot by my poor niece. Not that she minds, though what would I know? Youngsters are used to putting on a face in more ways than one.’ Frank chuckled.
‘Did you sell the car?’ Boyd said.
‘Aye, lad, I did. On one of those websites. Best Deals, I think.’
Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller Page 19
