Jack Gallagher stood with his back to the roaring fire. ‘Have you found Isabel’s killer?’
‘Why don’t you tell me, Jack?’
‘How many times do I have to say, I had nothing to do with it.’
Lottie planted herself squarely in front of him. Lynch was by the window, her face etched with tiredness and agitation. ‘Head on home, Detective Lynch. Garda Brennan will take over for now.’
Lynch’s weary eyes lit up. ‘Thanks.’ She gathered her belongings and left.
Garda Brennan stood by the door. Anita flopped onto the couch without lifting the jackets flung there. Lottie envied the woman being able to sit down in her own home, as tiredness trekked slowly up her leg muscles. But she didn’t envy the sorrow-creased lines etched around the woman’s eyes.
‘Have you found the bastard?’ Gallagher said.
‘Will you sit down, please?’ Lottie indicated the armchair to his right. When he was seated, she sat opposite, relieved to take the weight off her feet and doubly glad of the coffee she’d had earlier in Costello’s office to keep her head clear.
‘Jack, I want to know all about Kevin Doran.’ She went straight to the heart of her visit.
‘What’s this about?’ Gallagher rubbed the knees of his trousers to a shine.
‘Earlier today at the canal, you had an argument with Doran and he ended up in the water.’
‘So what? I told the other one, Detective Lynch.’
‘Oh my God. You pushed him in the canal?’ Anita cried. ‘How could you, Jack?’
Lottie kept her focus on Gallagher. ‘What did you talk to Doran about?’
‘He was following me.’
‘Why? What did he want?’
‘Said he was afraid your crowd were going to pin Isabel’s murder on him. It was him, wasn’t it? I should have drowned him when I had the chance, but I’ll kill the bastard yet.’
‘You are not going to kill anyone else.’
He looked up, eyes wary. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Lottie pressed on. ‘Where did you go after you argued?’
‘Nowhere.’ Gallagher shrugged. ‘I walked. Needed to clear my head. My wife’s been murdered, in case you’ve forgotten.’
She ignored his sarcasm.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Anita said, rising.
‘Stay here,’ Lottie ordered. Anita flopped back on the pile of coats. ‘Jack, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
Jack kneaded his hands into each other, his eyes troubled.
She knew she was close to uncovering something crucial. She could feel it in her aching bones. ‘Where did you go after you left Kevin in the canal? This time, I want the truth.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? I just kept walking.’
‘Detective Lynch informed me that you have a tablet and I think you received a message from someone. Who was it?’
‘What message?’
‘I can find out myself, but I’d rather you told me now.’
He seemed to reconsider, maybe thinking he’d been backed into a corner. ‘It’s not connected to Isabel’s murder.’
‘My team has spent nearly two days trying to find Kevin Doran and you can walk out the door and meet him. I want that tablet.’
‘The tablet has nothing to do with Doran.’
‘Hand it over.’ This was ridiculous. Techie Gary could access the tablet remotely if she asked him.
He glanced at Anita, his face pumping purple. Please don’t let him say he has a woman on the side, Lottie thought.
‘I … I was seeing someone.’
Lottie groaned. Anita gasped.
‘Not like that,’ he said quickly. ‘She’s just a friend.’
‘Why the need for a secret device, then?’
‘I didn’t want Isabel to get jealous. She might have checked my phone.’
‘Jack!’ Anita cried.
Lottie said, ‘I’m sure you had your poor wife under so much control she had no way of checking anything.’
‘That’s a lie!’ Jack roared.
‘You need to start telling me the truth.’
‘I am. Fuck’s sake.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, then his face relaxed and his hands dropped to his knees in defeat. ‘Her name is Tanya Cummings. And she is only a friend, no matter what you think.’
‘What is this about, Jack?’ Anita said, her eyes boring holes through her son-in-law.
‘I’m sorry, Anita, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.’ He turned, glaring at Lottie. ‘Go on, check her out if you want.’
Anger like molten lava threatened to consume Lottie. ‘You can’t go picking names from a hat for an alibi.’
‘We met for a few hours this evening. Just went for a drive. Nothing else.’ Then it seemed that her words dawned on him. ‘Why do I need an alibi?’
‘We found the body of Joyce Breslin earlier at the Bardstown property you were supposed to be working at yesterday morning. Care to tell me about that?’
‘What?’ A nervous tic twitched his lips. ‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’
‘Did you know Joyce Breslin?’
The high purple hue on his cheeks faded and Lottie thought he was about to pass out.
‘I … I don’t think so.’
She brought up Joyce’s photograph on her phone. ‘Will this help you to remember?’
Anita leaned over to glance at the photo. ‘Isn’t she that missing woman? God, is she dead? What about her little boy?’
Gallagher barely glanced at the photograph. ‘Don’t know her.’
‘I think you do,’ Lottie insisted, ignoring Anita trembling by her side.
‘You’re making this shit up,’ Gallagher growled. ‘My wife’s body is lying in some steel drawer in the bowels of a mortuary and I thought you’d come to tell me you’d found her murderer. All you’re doing is throwing out accusations. You’re a fool.’
He stood up, his bulk towering over Lottie where she sat. She wasn’t about to be intimidated. She rose suddenly, stepping into his space.
‘Where were you this evening from the time Detective Lynch saw you leave the canal until just before eight p.m.? And don’t dare lie to me.’
‘I told you. I was with Tanya. You can ask her if you like. I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t family. That’s all.’
Anita cried out. ‘Jack! What have you done? You persecuted my daughter and all the time you were shagging someone else.’ She drew her hand back and slapped him so hard, the sound reverberated around the room. ‘You’re a bastard.’
He caught her wrist. ‘Anita, you need to understand. I’m sorry, but I found it hard to cope with Isabel’s moods. Especially after Holly was born. I just needed a friend.’ Releasing her, he made for the door.
Garda Brennan made herself fill the space. ‘Stay where you are, Jack.’
Anita choked back a cry. ‘I hear Holly. I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me, Inspector.’
As she ran out, Jack turned back and slumped onto a chair.
Lottie had had enough of this shite. ‘You’re coming to the station and we will continue this conversation under caution. Do you wish to call your solicitor?’
‘At this hour of the night?’
‘Up to you.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’
He was pathetic. ‘I have a job to do. And I intend to do it no matter what you or anyone else thinks of me.’
‘I want to say goodnight to Holly first.’
Was this the first time he’d displayed any interest in his daughter? No way was Lottie letting him out of her sight.
‘There’s no need to disturb her.’
‘Right then. You win. Let’s get this charade over with. I’ll fetch my coat.’ He marched towards the door, and fair dues to Garda Brennan, she stood her ground once again.
‘Your coat is on the couch,’ she said.
Both women escorted him out of the house. As Lottie st
ared at him in the back of the squad car, she hoped she was making the right move at the right time.
58
With Jack waiting for his solicitor, Lottie phoned the DOCB and was informed that Chris Dermody was not at his Dublin address. She emphasised the importance of finding him – Evan’s life could be in the smuggler’s hands.
Divers had continued their search of Lough Cullion, where Joyce’s car had been found, without success. They hoped to resume at first light. Woods and forests were being meticulously combed, farms and sheds throughout the county being checked. It was increasingly likely that the little boy could have been whisked off to Dublin, if Dermody was their man. The Ragmullin force had been flat out, and now she had to trust in the bureau.
Nathan Monaghan’s solicitor was unable to make it in to the station until early the next morning, so he’d agreed to spend another night in the cells. Lottie had to admit he was being very cooperative. Or maybe he was just terrified of Chris Dermody.
Jack Gallagher was another kettle of fish altogether.
His solicitor, Lilian Regan, arrived and promptly conferred with her client in the interview room. Lottie had a feeling this was going to go belly-up.
‘My client is prepared to give you the contact details for Tanya Cummings,’ Regan said.
‘I have that information, thanks.’
The solicitor continued. ‘He will also consent to remaining at the home of Anita Boland until such time as you have evidence with which to charge him or release him from suspicion of his wife’s and Joyce Breslin’s murders. Seems to me you’re on a fishing expedition, Inspector, trying to hook in my client with no bait. To clarify, you have absolutely no proof of any wrongdoing.’
‘He pushed Kevin Doran into the canal. The man ended up in hospital.’
‘Is he pressing charges?’ The solicitor smirked.
If I knew where to find him, Lottie thought, then maybe. ‘Detective Lynch had to jump in and save Mr Doran. We will be pressing charges, Lilian.’
‘This is bullshit,’ Gallagher said.
‘I asked you this at Anita’s house and I’ll ask you again. Where were you this afternoon up to eight p.m.?’
‘With Tanya Cummings. Have you not spoken with her yet? She works in Lennon’s in case you don’t know.’
Lottie sighed. Lennon’s again! There was only one of her, and her team was stretched. She’d sent a uniform to Cummings’ home address, but he’d come back with the news that she was not at home.
‘Do you know Joyce Breslin?’
‘No.’
‘Her son went to Bubbles Day Care, where Isabel used to work.’
‘How does that mean I know this woman?’
How indeed? What was she missing? Perhaps she was totally wrong in her conviction that Jack was involved in both murders.
‘I am holding your client for further questioning, Miss Regan. His DNA and fingerprints will be run against those found at the Bardstown site where the body of Joyce Breslin was discovered this evening. His van will also be forensically examined.’
‘Get a search warrant,’ Lilian said.
Jack threw his arms in the air and let them fall heavily on the table. He glared at Lottie. ‘You’re trying to stitch me up.’
She walked slowly from the room, leaving both of them staring after her.
* * *
In her office, Lottie fetched her jacket and bag. Her agenda for the night was simple. Home. Eat. Sleep. Hopefully tomorrow her brain would be clearer and things might fall into place. Her heart contracted as she thought of Evan. The little boy was still missing, despite the force doing everything imaginable to find him. It was not looking good. She despaired for the poor little mite, but she was no good to him if she was dead on her feet.
Kirby and Boyd bustled into the office just as she was escaping.
‘Thought you two had absconded.’ She hid a yawn with her hand.
‘Don’t go anywhere yet,’ Kirby said. ‘Not until you see this.’
‘It’s late. We’ve all had a curse of a day. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’
‘Won’t take long.’
‘That’s an evidence bag,’ she said, noting the bag in his hand.
‘From the house on Castlemain Drive.’
‘Ah, Kirby, you know I’ve enough cases on the go. Bones found on a hill, two murdered women and a missing boy.’ She glanced from one man to the other. ‘In case you’ve both forgotten.’
‘You’ll want to see this,’ Boyd said.
He took her by the elbow and led her to his desk. Refusing the chair Kirby pulled out for her, she remained standing.
‘Get on with it.’
Pulling on gloves, Boyd proceeded to open the bag. Carefully he extracted a folded blue silk scarf.
‘Don’t tell me you took this from a potential crime scene?’
‘Gráinne okayed it.’
‘Who the hell is Gráinne?’
‘The lead SOCO on site. They’ve packed up for the night. Said they’ll be back at first light. Kirby will try and get the electricity company to reconnect the house. We left two uniforms in a car outside it.’
‘SOCOs have generators and all that jazz, don’t they?’ Her head buzzed with exhaustion.
‘Most of their equipment is where Joyce’s body was found. Gráinne’s team decided it was best to commence a full examination of the scene tomorrow.’
‘Do you know how much all this is going to cost? We even had SOCOs and uniforms out on Misneach. The super will blow a gasket. I’ll be filling out reports and balancing budgets until kingdom come.’
‘Sorry,’ Boyd said, looking anything but.
‘Right.’ She eyeballed him. ‘Did you examine this crime scene Kirby found?’
‘I didn’t go up the stairs. I’ll head back in the morning. Gráinne says they’ll be there at seven.’
‘You will be here at or before seven, Boyd.’
‘Right, whatever. Now, look, at this.’
She rocked on her heels while he unfolded the scarf. Then she stood still. ‘What the hell?’
‘Yeah.’
She stared at the blades. ‘A razor blade was found in Isabel’s hand. Another under the radiator at Joyce’s house and one in the envelope in her car.’
‘That led us to Castlemain Drive, where we found these. Another connection,’ Boyd said.
‘Now all we need is to find a blade with the bones on Misneach Hill and we have a complete puzzle with no answers.’ She was so tired and hungry, she wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious.
‘The bones have been removed from the hill,’ Kirby said, ‘and sent to the state pathologist. Regarding the Castlemain house, I was looking into its ownership, so I’ll get back to that now.’
‘No, Kirby, go home and get some sleep. Do it first thing in the morning.’
He didn’t need any further encouragement.
* * *
When Kirby had shuffled off home, Lottie explained to Boyd what had happened in their absence.
‘Listen to this. Nathan Monaghan is not Evan’s father,’ she said.
‘Why didn’t he tell us before now?’ Boyd said. ‘That’s vital information. It means the boy could have been abducted by his real father.’
‘If we only knew who he was. I’ve tasked the night shift with trying to find out. Might be on his birth cert, if they can locate it.’
‘Why haven’t the bureau found this Dermody character? They have more resources than we do.’
‘They will find him.’
‘Do you believe what Monaghan said about Dermody’s threats towards Evan?’
‘It has a ring of truth to it,’ Lottie said. ‘The bureau say Dermody has been in Mountjoy on two occasions. Once for armed robbery and another time for possession of Class A drugs.’
‘Could he have taken Joyce?’
‘Possibly, or someone from his clan. If they did, they’d have known Evan would still be at Sinéad Foley’s late in the evening.’
‘Dylan Foley says that someone must have taken his door key at the gym. Apparently that was where he first met Nathan. Could Nathan have taken the key? Or is Dylan somehow involved? Hell, is Sinéad involved too? It’s a mess of questions without answers.’ She yawned, feeling sick. ‘Our main focus of attention must be getting Evan home safe.’
‘Home to what?’ Boyd said. ‘His mother is dead. Nathan, the man he called Dad, will be locked up for his involvement in smuggling. Evan is an orphan, for all intents and purposes.’
Lottie’s heart broke for the little boy. ‘Child protection services will care for him until we find his real father.’
‘We need more resources, Lottie.’
‘Of course we do. Would you ring McKeown? You’re the most amiable of the lot of us on the phone. I want him here first thing tomorrow. He can sort out his personal life later. And tell him to stay away from Lynch. We have enough drama without inviting it into the office.’
‘Will do. You don’t see Nathan Monaghan as the killer, do you?’
She clenched her teeth and thought for a moment before saying, ‘We checked his movements for when Isabel was murdered and Joyce disappeared. There’s no way he could have been directly responsible for either. He was back in the country when Evan was abducted. We need to talk to Chris Dermody to see how or if he is involved.’
‘It’s late. Everyone is working flat out to find Evan. We’re even searching the lake. But you have to admit, Lottie, it’s looking very bleak for the boy.’
‘That’s why I won’t be able to sleep.
‘Come on. Out of here.’
‘Just a minute,’ she said as her desk phone rang. ‘Hello. Yes. Go on.’
She listened, pen poised to take notes. ‘That’s brilliant. Thanks a million. Make sure you get a full statement.’ She hung up.
‘What was that about?’ Boyd said. ‘You look excited.’
‘That was Garda Fuery. He was talking to a farmer about a kilometre from where Joyce’s body was found who saw a navy van come down the road earlier this evening, around six o’clock. He hadn’t seen it head up there. But he took the licence plate number. And guess what?’
Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller Page 26
