Murder on Clare Island

by Valerie Keogh

  Seeing where his thoughts were going, Andrews nodded. ‘Jarvis is meeting Sergeant Brady, he’s been there for years, if anyone knows anything he will.’

  Reluctant to go to Toormore House to interview Sylvia with this new idea running through their heads, they sat in the lounge and drank coffee, the pots supplied on a regular basis by a smiling Daisy. Plates of scones appeared mid-morning, accompanied by home-made jam and butter. They all looked, intending not to eat but the smell was tantalising and, as always, one after the other they gave in.

  West had just taken his final bite when his phone rang. It was Jarvis and he sounded worried. ‘I’ll put you on speaker, Sam. Ok, go ahead.’

  ‘Is Garda Hall there?’

  ‘No, just Andrews, Kelly and me. What’ve you found out?’

  The sigh came loud through the speaker. ‘It’s not good. Sergeant Brady was very informative. There was only one reported rape in May of that year. It was brutal and the girl was hospitalised.’ His voice cracked. ‘She needed surgery and afterwards...well it seems she never spoke again. She committed suicide five years later and shortly afterwards her mother took a dive off the Cliffs of Moher.’

  There was silence. Kelly, remembering the brutality of Sylvia’s rape was convinced it was Breathnach.

  ‘Did you get her name?’ West asked, dreading the answer, suspecting it before Jarvis’s said the words.

  ‘Sinead Hall. Eamonn’s older sister. There was only the two of them, Sergeant Brady said, and they were very close. Hall was really cut-up about the rape and then her suicide but he never spoke about it. Brady assumed he’d come to terms with it.’

  ‘They never found who was responsible for her rape, did they?’

  ‘Nope,’ Jarvis said, ‘she wasn’t able to tell them anything. DNA evidence was collected, of course, and it should still be available. They eventually put it down to a transient; the case wasn’t closed, but it was certainly shelved.’

  ‘Ok,’ West said, ‘get back here, Sam.’ He put his phone down looking worried. ‘We need to find Hall. He must have found out that Breathnach raped Sylvia and guessed he was responsible for his sister’s rape too.’

  ‘But who would have told him?’ Andrews asked. He looked at Kelly. ‘Did she mention telling anybody else?’

  Kelly frowned. ‘No, in fact, I was under the impression she’d never told anyone, apart from Breathnach, of course.’

  ‘Why now?’ West put in. ‘Breathnach has lived around these parts for the last twenty-five years.’

  Kelly’s eyes opened wide, and she grabbed Wet’s arm. ‘I bet Finbarr knows. Sylvia wouldn’t have told him, but you’ve met him, he’s sly as a fox, I bet he found out. It would explain his attitude to his father.’ Her grip on West’s arm tightened. ‘Do you remember a comment he made the first time you spoke to him when you asked who would have wanted to kill his father. He said, ‘tell them Eamonn’ or something like that. Eamonn brushed it off, but maybe that’s what Finbarr was referring to. Eamonn said he’d met up with him when he took over this position. What if Finbarr let it slip, and Eamonn put it together.’

  West and Andrews, looking grim, agreed. It was a definite possibility.

  Kelly gasped. ‘Oh God,’ she cried, startling both men. ‘Easter. Sylvia was raped at Easter, in March. His sister was raped in May. If Sylvia had reported Breathnach, if he’d been stopped then, his sister would still be alive.’

  West jumped up. ‘That’s why he’s missing, he’s going to try and kill Sylvia. We’ve got to get there.’

  They found Daisy in the kitchen peeling potatoes; she looked up and wiped her hands on her apron.

  ‘We need to get to Toormore House. It’s urgent,’ West said. His tone of voice said it all. Daisy didn’t hesitate; she reached up, took her car-keys from a hook and handed them to him. ‘It’s parked around the back,’ she said.

  The car was a battered, and very old, Ford Fiesta. West, looked at the key-ring for the fob to open the door, and realised it didn’t have one. With a shake of his head, he inserted the key in the lock and then reached through the car to open all the other doors.

  He drove quickly and on the way theorised about what happened. ‘Hall left his boat at the marina and killed Breathnach. Then he returned to the marina and sailed to The Quay where he bumped into us. What a perfect alibi we gave him, eh? It was just his bad luck that his sergeant fell and broke his leg and we became so involved in the case. He probably hoped his tale of a dramatic accident would have been believed and that would have been that.’

  The gate was closed but they didn’t bother trying to get someone to open it, parking the car they ran to the house. West pressed the doorbell several times, paused for a second, and pressed it again. The housekeeper opened it with a face like thunder. ‘What in heaven’s name do you think you’re at?’ she spat at them. ‘One ring is...’

  What one ring was she never got to tell them, West interrupting her bluntly. ‘Where’s Sylvia? She may be in danger.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Edel said, unimpressed, ‘she’s with Garda Hall.’

  32

  ‘Where are they?’ West asked. ‘In the studio?’

  Finally grasping the fact that something was wrong, Edel frowned. ‘No. At least, not now. They were there for a while but when I looked in to see if they wanted a drink the room was empty. Their coats are gone. They must have gone for a walk.’

  The cliff path.

  They turned, and with West leading the way, ran around the side of the house to the start of the path. The curve of the path made it impossible to see far ahead. They kept running and after few minutes rounded a bend to see Hall, alone, walking slowly toward them, his head down.

  Their feet were loud on the stony path, and hearing them, Hall looked up, immediately starting to run toward them, shouting, ‘Help, come quickly, there’s been an accident.’

  ‘Where is she?’ West asked, gripping the man by the arm.

  ‘Oh God, it was terrible,’ Hall said, covering his eyes with his hands. ‘We were walking along the path, Sylvia wanted to show me the scene she planned to paint next, and suddenly the path gave way and she fell over.’

  ‘Show us where.’ West said, his voice hard. His grip still firm on Hall’s arm, he turned him back, and when Hall seemed reluctant to move, gave his arm a rough wrench.

  ‘It’s not far,’ Hall said, starting to move. He shook his head and snuffled. ‘What a tragedy.’

  West caught Andrew’s eye. They had no proof it wasn’t more than that. Gut instinct didn’t count.

  Kelly, tears filling her eyes, couldn’t believe such a brilliantly talented woman would die in such a senseless way. Killing Breathnach was one thing, he was a monster after all, but Sylvia was a victim. Just like his sister. And he’d killed her.

  ‘It was here,’ Hall said, pointing to a spot where the pathway had indeed given way. But West’s keen eye saw moss on the stones; the path had given way a considerable time ago.

  Andrews, leaving Hall in West’s grip, moved closer to the side to peer over. The cliff here was steep, there was no gentle gradient to cushion her fall, and far below, the wild Atlantic waves bashed the cliff base. She wouldn’t have had a chance. He was turning away, his face grim, when he heard a cry. In disbelief, he peered over the cliff again, stepping closer despite Kelly’s warning to take care. ‘She’s there,’ he shouted back to them, ‘my God, she’s standing on a narrow shelf.’

  Andrews stepped back and, dropping to the ground, shuffled forward to the edge on his belly, leaning his head over to call to the woman below. He had to shout to be heard over the noise of the wind and waves. ‘Sylvia, we can see you. Don’t move. Don’t look up. Are you hurt?’

  The answer was faint. ‘No.’

  ‘Ok,’ Andrews said, ‘we’re going to go and get help. You have to hang on, ok?’

  West was in a dilemma. He needed to get to somewhere there was a phone signal, but he couldn’t leave Hall. He was capable of anything. ‘Stay with Peter,’
he called to Kelly who nodded, and then pushing Hall ahead of him, he ran back to the car.

  ‘Get in,’ he said to Hall, opening the passenger door and pushing him in before running around and jumping into the driver’s seat. Keeping his phone in his hand, he flicked a glance at every few minutes as he drove at speed along the road to The Quay. If she fell...it didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘You’re under arrest, by the way,’ he said to Hall, and he read him his rights. ‘You understand your rights as I have told them to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hall said.

  ‘Why?’ West asked, taking a turn too fast, hitting the soft edging and almost going off the road, swerving back with a grunt.

  Hall waited a moment, and then said softly. ‘Breathnach raped my sister, destroyed her life, my parent’s lives. He deserved to die.’

  It was difficult to argue the case, except for one thing. ‘You’re a Garda Siochana. You swore to uphold the law. You could have had him in prison, for a long time. That would have been justice.’

  Hall laughed, the sound bitter and twisted. ‘He forced her to perform oral sex on him, can you imagine that? She was fourteen. Then he raped her with such brutality her vagina was torn to shreds. Not content with that, he sodomised her, perforating her rectum. She had problems the rest of her short life because of that. After, when he had no more use for her, when she lay semi-conscious on the dirty floor of an abandoned building, he left her there, like discarded trash.

  ‘And you think a few miserable years in a cushy prison would have been justice?’

  West checked his phone, still no service. ‘Why Sylvia?’

  ‘She knew who he was; could have stopped him and saved Sinead. But she did nothing and then,’ he laughed again, ‘she married the bastard.’

  West checking the phone breathed a sigh of relief. A signal. He pulled over, dialled the emergency number and asked for the Coast Guard. Quickly and precisely he gave them the details. ‘One of my colleagues is speaking to her but she seems quite calm. She’s standing on a very narrow ledge. There’s no manoeuvrability.’

  Hanging up, West did a u-turn and sped back to the house. Pulling Hall from the car, he headed to the front door and rang the bell. Edel answered, her usual expression of long-suffering replaced with a worried look. ‘Is she ok?’

  ‘Is Jim here?’ West asked, ignoring her question, pushing Hall before him.

  Edel nodded.

  ‘Get him,’ West said, and then when she didn’t move, raised his voice slightly. ‘Now.’

  Only seconds later, Jim arrived. He looked askance when he saw Hall being gripped tightly. ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘I need you to watch this man for me,’ West said, ‘he’s under arrest for the murder of Eoin Breathnach, and the attempted murder of Sylvia. I need to get back. She’s on a ledge on the cliff; we have a coast guard helicopter on the way.’

  Jim hesitated, just a moment, disbelief replaced by acceptance, and then nodded. ‘I’ll lock him in the pantry.’

  West left him to do just that and sped back to the cliff-top.

  Andrews was still lying on his belly looking down at Sylvia. He’d continued talking, knowing she probably couldn’t hear what he was saying, but also knowing the sound of his voice told her she wasn’t alone.

  Kelly, standing back, looked pale but she smiled as West put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

  ‘The coast guard are sending a helicopter from Galway. They should be here in a few minutes,’ he told them both.

  Andrews relayed the information to Sylvia, shouting loudly, determined she would hear this piece of news at least. ‘They’ll have you off there before you know it,’ he said.

  Five minutes later they heard the distant sound of the helicopter, the sound growing reassuringly louder. Kelly and West stood on the cliff-side waving until their action was acknowledged by a flash of light.

  The coast-guard helicopter crew were skilled at maritime rescue and within minutes of their arrival a man was lowered by winch. They battled the strong Atlantic wind for a moment before he was lowered alongside the cliff, and seconds later, he and Sylvia were heading to the safety of the helicopter. Those on the cliff-top breathed a sigh of relief. Andrews rolled over and took a minute before he shoved himself away from the edge and stood up. ‘A close thing,’ he said, shaking West by the hand, and grabbing hold of Kelly for a hug.

  ‘Let’s get back to the house. Jim Higgins has locked Hall in the pantry for us. I read him his rights, so he’s officially under arrest for murder and attempted murder.’

  ‘So we were right?’ Kelly said, falling into step beside West.

  West put an arm around her. ‘It’s not always a good thing to be right, you’ve discovered. But yes, we were right. His sister’s rape was even more brutal and sustained than Sylvia’s. It tore the whole family apart.’

  They were almost at the house when they saw Finbarr, his face grey with shock racing toward them, Roger Tilsdale puffing several feet behind.

  ‘She’s all right?’ Finbarr said, grabbing West’s arms.

  West, surprised at the strength of the young man’s grip hastened to reassure him. ‘She wasn’t hurt, Finbarr. A few scrapes and bruises. That’s all. The coast guard will take her to hospital to be checked over, but I’d imagine they’ll release her within a few hours.’ He patted the man’s shoulders. ‘She was incredibly brave, you know, kept cracking jokes.’

  Finbarr didn’t release his grip, in fact West felt the fingers digging deeper. ‘Jim says it was Eamonn. That he pushed her over. Why would he do that?’

  Reaching up, West removed the hands and turned him toward the house, ‘Let’s get back inside. We’ll sit down and talk.’

  ‘Shocking, it’s all shocking,’ Roger Tilsdale said, still puffing, but putting an arm around Finbarr’s shoulder, and leading him home.

  The front door was open when they arrived, Jim standing in the doorway watching for them. ‘I saw the helicopter,’ he said, ‘she alright?’

  Seeing West nod, he breathed a sigh of relief and directed them toward the lounge. ‘We’ve lit the fire. Edel is making tea and sandwiches. Sit.’

  They all did, finding space, sitting silently. Penny Tilsdale, her eyes wide with disbelief, had been roped in to help in the kitchen. She carried in a tray of cups and saucers, depositing them noisily on the coffee table, apologising unnecessarily for the noise and then disappearing, mouse-like. Moments later, she returned with a heavy teapot and milk-jug.

  She stood with them, finding nowhere to put them and looking like she wanted to cry. Taking pity on her, Kelly stood and helped. Edel brought sandwiches, balancing the plate in one hand and tossing a pile of papers from a small table to the floor with the other. She moved the small table toward the centre of the room and then with a help yourselves, she left.

  Kelly knew her role. The only woman in the room, it necessarily fell to her to play mother. She poured tea, added milk, tucked a sandwich onto every saucer and handed them around.

  West, watching her with a measure of amusement, thought it was a brave person who was going to refuse to take it. He certainly took his, although there was far too much milk in the tea and he wasn’t keen on cheese sandwiches. But he ate it, drank the tea and then waited for someone to say something.

  It was Finbarr who started. He held the saucer in his hand as if not too sure what to do with it and said, ‘So Eamonn killed Eoin and tried to kill my mother, is that right?’

  West put his cup and saucer on the floor. ‘Before we go into that, can I ask you something?’

  Puzzled, Finbarr nodded.

  ‘Were you aware Breathnach was your biological father?’

  Tilsdale gasped. ‘What? That’s preposterous.’

  Finbarr merely shrugged. ‘Their relationship puzzled me, so I did some digging a few years ago. Sylvia has drawers full of papers, newspaper cuttings, gallery programmes. You know the sort of stuff. I went through it all and discovered she’d had an u
nhealthy interest in him, way before they were married.’ He sighed, chewed his lower lip and continued with a catch in his voice. ‘The oldest photo was one celebrating the completion of the housing development in Westport, months before I was born. Then I remembered the way she couldn’t bear to have anyone touch her, even me,’ he added sadly. ‘Add to that the look of intense dislike I’d see on her face when his name was mentioned, and how she never made any secret of the fact that she’d married him for his money. Even to his face. And the way he never retaliated. And I kinda pieced it together.’

  ‘You never told her you knew,’ Kelly said.

  The young man laughed softly. ‘Do you know why?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Because I didn’t want her to confirm my suspicions. Truth is an over-rated quality if it forces you to face up to something best kept hidden.’

  ‘But you did tell someone,’ West said.

  Finbarr looked up, surprised. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he said, and then his face fell. ‘Oh God, I told Eamonn. A few months ago. He was criticising me for hanging around, doing nothing. He was in uniform, looking all smug and entitled, and he bloody-well looked down on me.’ The cup rattled in the saucer he still held, Tilsdale, reaching over, took it from him. ‘I wanted to wipe that smug look from his face so I told him. And it worked, he looked shocked.’

  West listened quietly. Shocked, of course he was. After all the years, he had discovered the identity of the man who had destroyed his sister.

  Finbarr looking puzzled, said, ‘I don’t understand. He killed Eoin because he’d raped Sylvia?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ West said with a sigh, ‘didn’t you know about his sister?’

  Frowning, the young man ran his hand through his lank dark hair. ‘She was much older than Eamonn. I heard she committed suicide. He never spoke of her.’

  ‘She was raped, never got over it.’ West met his gaze. ‘They never found who did it.’

  Finbarr gulped. ‘Eoin?’

  ‘We don’t have any proof, yet, but the circumstances are similar. We’ll have the DNA checked. But it’s a pretty safe bet that he was responsible, yes.’