Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘What do you mean?’ A minute ago, Frank had said Costello wanted to fix Joyce.

  ‘He loved a challenge. He always wanted to make the impossible possible.’

  ‘Kevin and Dervla were here too. Kevin must be around Michael’s age. Tell me about their relationship.’

  ‘It was fiery from the start. We took in Dervla when she was only about five, and a few weeks later Kevin arrived. He was aged about ten when he came to us. He’d been adopted but it hadn’t worked out, and I think he was in one of those awful industrial schools for a while. Broke the lad in a terrible way. We had to work hard with him, giving him lots of attention. That meant we had less time for Michael. He became sullen and mean. But after a while he seemed to take Kevin under his wing and it was like they were best buddies. It was a small miracle.’

  ‘Why the change in Michael’s behaviour?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘I didn’t know at the time, but I think I do now. I believe he used Kevin for physical abuse. Time and again I found Kevin with cuts to his arms and legs. It had started with Dervla too.’

  ‘What did you do about this abuse?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘Nothing, I’m sorry to say. Whatever was going on, it calmed Michael down and that made life easier for us. I’m ashamed. I turned a blind eye to what was going on.’

  ‘It’s criminal,’ Lottie said.

  ‘I just wanted to keep a calm house. When they got a bit older, he took them on trips up to Misneach. He always talked about the soul healing itself through pain.’

  ‘He forced children to cut themselves?’

  ‘I suspect so. Dervla might tell you about it.’

  Lottie had seen the telltale signs on Dervla’s arms when she’d brought the little bone into the station. ‘Frank, we found the bones of a child up on Misneach. Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘God, no.’

  ‘The car you sold, did you ever see Michael driving it?’

  Frank looked away, caressed his dog. ‘My car wasn’t in his league. Michael always drives something flashy.’

  ‘You previously told my colleague you’d never heard of Lugmiran Enterprises. Are you sure?’

  ‘Is it connected in some way to all that’s happened?’

  ‘The car was registered to this company. Also a house where we believe Joyce lived for a time.’

  ‘What does it all mean?’

  ‘Please, Frank, it’s important. Anything you know about this Lugmiran is important.’

  ‘Let me think. Ah, unless it has something to do with the sacred hill.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It might be too far-fetched.’

  ‘I’ll take far-fetched at this stage,’ Lottie said.

  ‘There was an ancient god called Lugh, and Ail na Mireann means stone of division. It’s rumoured to be on Misneach. Does that help?’

  Another link to the hill where the bones had been discovered. ‘Michael knew all this?’

  ‘It was him who told me about it. He was fascinated by all that.’

  ‘Was there a relationship between Michael and Joyce?’

  Frank rubbed the dog’s furry neck and kissed its head. ‘I’d say there was something there all right. When Joyce left, Michael told me not to worry, he’d look after her. She never came back to see me and I never saw them together.’

  ‘Did Michael ever have children?’

  ‘God, I hope not.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because if he did, I’d fear for their safety.’ Tears sprang up in the old man’s eyes. ‘Michael doesn’t know how to love anyone. How could he love a child?’ Sobs broke from his throat and the dog whined in sympathy.

  Lottie was building a mental picture of Michael Costello and shivered to think that he had been in her home and talked to her family. ‘Frank, do you know of Kevin’s true parentage?’

  ‘Aye, I do. I got a copy of his adoptive birth cert when the social workers brought him here that first day, all those years ago. It was a bulky file for a ten-year-old, but it held the background of all his troubles. I think we were given the file so that we’d know who we were taking in.’

  ‘But an adoption cert doesn’t show the names of the birth parents.’

  ‘No, but his original birth cert was attached to the file. Probably by accident.’

  ‘Did you ever tell Kevin that you knew who his real parents were?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  He kept his head down, allowing the dog to nuzzle his wrinkled chin. Lottie wasn’t buying his innocence.

  ‘You told Michael, didn’t you?’

  Frank squeezed the dog and the animal whimpered. ‘I don’t think he ever saw the cert, but I might have shouted it at him one time.’

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘Michael was in his late twenties or even thirties – I’m not good with ages. Kevin was still living here at the time. Michael was gloating, telling him how he was making a success of his business, that Kevin would always be a nobody. God forgive me, but I let fly at him.’

  ‘What did you say?’ But she knew.

  ‘I told him Kevin’s father was a millionaire businessman. Not that you’d think it to look at him.’

  ‘Did you say the name?’

  ‘I probably did, because Michael saw red. Stormed out and rarely called round after that.’

  ‘What about Kevin?’

  ‘Next day he upped and left. Never laid eyes on him again.’

  ‘I’ll need that birth cert.’ Lottie tried to wrap her head around this information. She had one last question. ‘Do you know of a Ciaran Grimes?’

  Frank didn’t hesitate. ‘I don’t.’

  There was nothing else to do here. She had to put it all together and save Evan, if he was still alive. She felt hollow inside as she stood up, a crick in her neck from leaning downwards. At the door, she heard Frank’s croaking voice.

  ‘Inspector, I think I might have done something else stupid.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘I phoned Michael this morning, after you were here. I told him you were asking about Kevin, that you knew where he lived. God, I hope I didn’t put Kevin in any danger.’

  Boyd nudged her to say nothing. It would be the kind thing to do. But she knew that being kind rarely got her results.

  ‘Kevin was attacked in his home this morning. He’s fighting for his life. That, Frank, is your fault.’

  74

  He was still in control. Nothing was impossible for the smartest man on earth. He was cleverer than the lot of them put together.

  No need to panic. He rarely panicked.

  But after he’d received the phone calls earlier, Michael Costello knew he needed to accelerate his plans. First Dervla, the fucking bitch, trying to blackmail him over some phone she said had belonged to Isabel Gallagher. Then he’d got Frank’s call.

  Kevin.

  That whiny little bastard knew nothing. Costello had racked his brains but couldn’t take a chance on something unknown being revealed later.

  He’d had no problem dispensing with him. Easy and timely. He’d actually passed the detectives’ car on the road after the kill. It felt good to smash the stone into his skull. It surprised him how satisfying the rush was, and he’d relished scoring the skin with his knife before thrusting it into the bastard’s flesh.

  It had been the same with Isabel. Her flesh had felt soft and supple as he’d sliced her throat and knifed her back. He mourned the fact that he hadn’t taken longer with her, but the baby wouldn’t shut her mouth and it’d ruin his plan to frame interfering Jack if he killed the kid. Fathers didn’t murder their kids, did they? Not unless their name was Michael Costello. He smirked at that.

  Joyce had been a different story. The years he’d kept her holed up in that house. Clever of him to situate her in a housing estate, hiding in plain sight. He liked that. Ingenious. It had been good while it lasted, but the night he’d lost it, he really had lost it. Stupid kid had annoyed the fuck out of him.
How many times had he told her not to call him Daddy? What if someone found out about his secret? He’d run down the stairs, grabbed the knife and used it on her in her cot. Threw the pillow over her face for good measure. She wouldn’t call him Daddy ever again. The rush had been so high, he’d wanted to kill them all.

  But Joyce had a way with her. She’d learned from the best, he supposed. He’d moulded her well during her time at Frank’s. Brought her to Misneach many times, and the others too. Controlled them all by introducing them to the magic of the blades. Initiated them into discovering a pain they could not live without. He was a genius.

  But now he knew that what he’d done the night he’d killed his daughter had been a mistake. Joyce had always had a rebellious streak and a backbone buried beneath the layers of cuts he’d inflicted to teach her a lesson.

  That night, he’d come down from the high of the kill too quickly and allowed her to talk him into letting her and the boy live. She’d dictated the burial on their sacred hill. His one moment of weakness in a lifetime of control.

  He’d given her the car and told her to get out of his life. And then she’d had the audacity to try to blackmail him! Her and that Isabel bitch. How had they even become friends? Ha, Isabel hadn’t been too happy when he’d told her who she had for a brother. Her face! She’d been easy to coerce into cutting away her pain with a blade while she worked for him. That was until Jack came knocking on her door. Bastard.

  The women thought they could blackmail him over the fortune he was making from the drugs. Idiots. And holding what happened that November night over him. Planning to tell the guards everything if he didn’t pay up by Friday.

  ‘Well, bitches, it’s almost Friday, and you’re both dead.’

  He threw a bundle of food wrappers into the black bag. He’d been safe until Lottie Parker poked her nose in. Hadn’t he done her job for her, leading her to Jack Gallagher? Why had she not charged that prick by now?

  It was all down to the kid. Evan. Stupid name. ‘Fucking hell!’

  He marched around the house stuffing what he could into the bag. Anything that would leave evidence the kid had been here. He wasn’t going to make another mistake.

  When he was certain he had the house clear, he threw the refuse sack into the boot of his car and went back inside the house to make sure his plan was rock solid.

  He’d killed Isabel and tried to frame Jack. Caught up with Joyce at the lake with the tracker he’d placed on her phone. She wouldn’t be able to collect the kid from day care, and he knew her partner wouldn’t be home till late. He’d paid his employee Ciaran Grimes to steal the door key from Dylan Foley. That had been the easy bit. Then all Michael had to do was walk into Foley’s house. Knock out the wife if she was in the way and take the kid. But no force had been necessary. The woman wasn’t around and the kid seemed to recognise him, which was good. He hardly whimpered.

  It was easy after that. Grimes’s girlfriend, Carla, cared for the boy during the day, while he and Grimes carried on working, beyond suspicion.

  And now he’d paid Grimes and Carla enough to get to the Costa del Sol and stay there, with the promise of further payments if they kept their mouths firmly shut. The two had scuttled off with the sports bag full of cash and Michael knew he was still in control. One last job and he could go back to being who he was meant to be. A successful, upstanding Ragmullin citizen.

  He stared at the boy.

  ‘Well, kiddo, it’s you and me now.’ But not for long.

  ‘Are you my daddy? My real daddy?’ Two blue eyes, round and wide as coat buttons, stared up at him.

  He kept his hands clenched in case he lashed out. He didn’t want another screaming match.

  ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll stick a knife in it.’

  The child snivelled and sniffed, snot running from his nose. Gross.

  ‘Mummy wouldn’t let me get a dog. But if I’m really good, I’d love a dog.’

  ‘Your mummy is dead as a dodo. We’re going on a trip.’

  ‘I get car sick without Teddy. I want Teddy.’

  ‘Fuck you and your bloody teddy,’ Michael muttered as he picked up the boy, feeling absolutely nothing for him. If he was a dog, he might feel a little regret at what he was about to do.

  Outside, he threw Evan onto the back seat. ‘Seat belt. I might have to drive fast.’

  ‘What’s a dodo?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, give me patience.’ He fired up the engine and drove off at speed.

  75

  Boyd hung up the phone. ‘Squad car arrived at Costello’s house. There’s no one home.’

  ‘He’s not at his office either,’ Kirby said.

  ‘Does anyone there know where he is?’ Lottie said.

  ‘No one’s seen him all day. He didn’t turn up this morning.’

  ‘Where do we look next?’ Lottie paced circles, prodding her forehead with a finger.

  ‘What about Sinéad and Dylan Foley?’

  ‘They’re in the clear.’ McKeown spoke up. ‘Michael Costello used the same gym as Dylan, even though I can’t find him on any security footage close to the place that evening. But it means he’d know Dylan’s routine. And get this. Ciaran Grimes was the last client Dylan Foley saw on Monday evening. I asked Dylan if Grimes could have taken the key, and he said it was possible because he was flustered trying to get notes ready for his meeting straight afterwards.’

  ‘And we were scouring useless CCTV from all the premises close to the gym. Damn.’ She didn’t even want to know why Grimes was seeing Dylan. It was probably made-up anyhow.

  ‘Didn’t I send a car to Grimes’s house?’

  ‘No one there, and he didn’t turn up for work today,’ Kirby said.

  ‘His girlfriend is a hairdresser,’ McKeown said, ‘and she hasn’t been at work since last Saturday.’

  ‘Oh my God, what have they done with Evan?’ Lottie tugged at her sleeve, pulling out threads. ‘Find out what they drive and issue an alert to airports and ports for their car and Costello’s, though I don’t think Costello will run. He thinks he’s too clever to be caught.’

  ‘What is his motive?’ Boyd said.

  ‘By process of elimination, he must be Evan’s father. We have DNA for almost everyone else involved, and no match. Lugmiran could be something to do with Misneach Hill, and that was a favourite spot of Costello’s, according to Frank. When we eventually succeed in unpicking the layers of that company, I’m sure we’ll find it was set up by Michael Costello.’

  ‘And that means he owns 14 Castlemain and the car Joyce was driving,’ Boyd said.

  Lottie continued. ‘We can assume he installed Joyce in the house in Castlemain after her time at Frank’s. A child was stabbed in that house and her body buried on Misneach. That crime is the root cause of what’s happening now. His motivation is in there somewhere.’

  ‘But where is he?’ Boyd said.

  ‘Michael was in foster care for years and Frank told us he liked to cause pain to his foster siblings. The only one I can think of right now who might know where he’d take Evan is Dervla Byrne.’

  * * *

  Dervla fidgeted like a child waiting for the dentist.

  ‘Leave me alone. I told you everything.’

  Lottie pulled the chair from the far side of the table and sat beside her. ‘Michael Costello. Tell me about him.’

  ‘He’s a prick.’

  ‘We think he may have abducted Evan Breslin. Evan is only four years old. I saw how you felt when you brought me that child’s bone. You care, Dervla. So do I. I want to find Evan. It’s possible that Michael murdered Joyce and Isabel, and that he almost killed Kevin. He probably killed the child whose bones you found. I need to find that little boy before Michael murders him. Where would he take him?’

  ‘Michael is a bully. He liked to cut us and then make us cut ourselves.’ Dervla rocked, holding her arms around her waist.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to suffer like that, but I need to know more about him.’<
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  ‘Did you get the phone? It was Isabel’s. Kevin was minding it for her. I think Joyce was trying to warn her. But Isabel was already dead.’ She paused to catch her breath, her eyes wild.

  ‘Warn her about what?’

  ‘About Michael. Joyce knew what he was like but Isabel was never in care. She had no idea what he was capable of.’

  ‘Where would Michael go when cornered?’

  Without hesitation, Dervla said, ‘Misneach. That’s where he took us when he wanted to show us he was in control. He destroyed Kevin’s life just because he could.’

  ‘He wouldn’t risk going there after all the activity on the hill yesterday.’

  ‘I think he would. He is arrogant enough to assume he can get away with anything. Where’s Kevin now?’

  ‘He’s in hospital. I don’t know any more at the moment.’

  ‘Poor Kevin. Will he get better?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Lottie felt the young woman spoke with little true emotion. Had Michael succeeded in cutting most of her empathy away? The bastard was a destroyer of lives.

  Dervla said, ‘I found the little bones on Misneach. Kevin often went up there seeking healing, even though we both feared the place. That’s weird, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you know about those bones?’

  ‘Nothing. Kevin told me he’d been there one night a few years ago. He stayed hidden for fear of being seen. But he was certain some kind of ritual was going on. Was that what it was? Offering up a child?’

  ‘No, I think it was two people covering up a horrendous crime. Are you the only person Kevin told?’

  Dervla tugged at a piece of skin on her finger, causing it to bleed. ‘I don’t know, but I think he tackled Michael about it recently.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Because Michael called to my house late one night. Terrified me. Told me to keep my mouth shut about Misneach. At first I thought he meant about the time when he used to bring us there, but then, when I thought about it, I realised that maybe Kevin had let slip about the night he’d hid out there, and that was what he meant.’