‘So far as I could see, they didn’t have one. But they were driving a black VW Touran and the windows were all black, so it sounds very much like the black people carrier that Horgan’s witness saw outside the Pearses’ house when they were abducted. They took a left at the end of the road, heading towards the city, although of course they could have turned off in any direction.’
‘What did they look like, these two fellows?’
‘Well, like I say, big. But they both had plastic shopping bags over their heads, like the Rubberbandits, so I couldn’t see their faces. They were both wearing the same – white shirts, short black coats. They looked like the kind of fellows you’d see on the door of a pub or a nightclub on a Saturday night.’
‘I’ll have a bulletin put out for them right now. How’s Nessa doing?’
‘Still about the same, but the ambulance has just turned the corner, thank God.’
‘Listen, Kyna,’ said Katie. ‘Wait till the first patrol cars arrive to cordon off the place where she was shot, then go to the hospital and stay with her. I’ll have Patrick contact her next of kin for me.’
She put down the receiver and punched out Superintendent Denis MacCostagáin’s number. Oh dear Jesus, she thought, Detective Garda Goold is so young. Please don’t let us lose another one, not like Brenda McCracken.
And as she waited for Superintendent MacCostagáin to answer, she couldn’t help but wonder what Eoghan Carroll had in store for him. Not another live cremation, she prayed. Not another beheading. Not another self-congratulatory act of pure sadism by the High Kings of Erin.
***
Two Garda patrol cars were already at The Grove when Katie arrived, although the ambulance had just left. Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán was standing beside her own car with the door open, ready to follow it, but she was still talking to one of the gardaí.
As Katie came up to her, she could see how shocked she was. Her face was pale and she was trembling, and her mouth was puckered like a child who is just about to burst into tears.
‘I’ll be going to the hospital now,’ she said. ‘The paramedics said it was touch-and-go, like. They couldn’t be sure, but they thought that the bullet might have severed her spinal cord. Even if she survives, there’s a strong possibility that she’s going to be totally paralysed.’
Katie gave Kyna’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Her instinct was to hold her close and allow her to let out all of her distress by sobbing, but she was a superintendent and Kyna was a sergeant, and this was a crime scene, and other officers were watching.
One of the gardaí came up and said, ‘I’ve located the spent cartridge case, ma’am. Just over there, by the fence. I’ve put a marker next to it so. Looks like 9mm Parabellum.’
‘Well, that narrows it down to sixty per cent of every handgun in the world,’ said Katie. ‘Have you found any other forensics?’
‘There’s a white shirt button which looks like it’s been torn off, but that’s all. I’ve marked that, too.’
‘Okay. Good man yourself,’ said Katie. ‘The technical boys will be here soon, but keep looking around.’
Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán said, ‘I’ll call you as soon as I know any more about Nessa.’ She climbed into her car and drove off, just as Detectives O’Donovan and Horgan arrived and pulled into the kerb on the opposite side of the road.
The bloodstained pavement where Detective Garda Goold had been shot was cordoned off now, and two officers were stretching a groundsheet over it in case it starting raining again, but the bloodstains wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. Even if she didn’t die, thought Katie, Detective Garda Goold’s life had effectively been brought to an end.
She was still standing there, feeling helpless and bitter, when Detectives O’Donovan and Horgan came across the road.
‘So, what’s the story with Nessa?’ Detective O’Donovan asked her. ‘Is she going to be okay?’
Katie shook her head. ‘She’ll be lucky to survive. Or then again, maybe she won’t.’
‘Jesus. That poor, poor girl. I really liked her. She had so much enthusiasm, you know? What about this ex-boyfriend fellow?’
‘Eoghan Carroll? God knows. According to DS Ni Nuallán he was hauled off by two men who looked like bouncers, in a similar type of vehicle to that the Pearses were taken off in. They were both wearing shopping bags like masks.’
‘Sounds like them High Kings of Erin again, then, doesn’t it? What the hell kind of a game are they playing at, that’s what I’d like to know. Did you ever know any criminal go to this sort of length to nobble every potential witness?’
‘Much more to the point, Patrick, how did they know that Eoghan was a potential witness?’ asked Katie. ‘How did they know we were on our way here to talk to him? How did they know that he was staying with his parents, and where they live?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ said Detective O’Donovan. ‘I wouldn’t have the first idea.’
‘Well, neither have I, or else I wouldn’t be asking you. But I don’t have any doubt at all now that someone inside Anglesea Street is tipping off the High Kings of Erin about every step we’re taking to gather evidence against them.’
‘But come on. Why in God’s name would anybody at the station want to do that?’
‘Blackmail, bribery, who knows? Bryan Molloy said it could be somebody with a gambling problem. Anyway, listen, let’s go and talk to Eoghan’s parents and see what they have to say about what happened.’
Katie and the two detectives went into the house, where Mrs Carroll was sitting in the corner being comforted by a female garda, while Mr Carroll stood by the window, with his hands in his pockets, morosely smoking. The house smelled of cats and cigarette smoke and was decorated in beiges and browns, with chocolate-brown armchairs and a patterned beige carpet, and a reproduction over the fireplace of an autumn scene in the Wicklow Mountains. Even the cat in Mrs Carroll’s lap was brown. She was stroking it so quickly and furiously that it looked as if she were trying to get it to catch fire.
‘Mr and Mrs Carroll?’ said Katie. ‘Hello there. I’m Detective Superintendent Maguire.’
‘Detective Superintendent?’ said Mr Carroll, with smoke leaking out of his nostrils. ‘The top brass, hey?’
‘One of my detectives has been shot and critically injured, Mr Carroll. Apart from that, there’s every likelihood that your son’s abduction may be connected with a number of other very serious crimes, including murder.’
‘Those men won’t hurt him, will they?’ asked Mrs Carroll. ‘They said they wanted to have a word with him, that’s all.’
‘To be honest with you, Mrs Carroll, I simply don’t know what their intentions are,’ Katie admitted. ‘But I’ve put out a wide-scale alert with a description of Eoghan and the two men and their vehicle, so I doubt if they’ll be able to get very far.’
Mr Carroll coughed and then he said, ‘Who are those scumbags? What would they have wanted to talk to Eoghan about? You said it was connected with some other crimes, like. Eoghan hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?’
‘He was a possible witness to a fraud,’ said Katie. ‘That’s all I can tell you at the moment.’
But Mrs Carroll said, ‘Pauly – you saw on the news that couple that was burned to death on the beach at Rocky Bay.’
‘So? Yes, that was terrible, like. Terrible. But what did that have to do with our Eoghan?’
‘The woman that was burned, Pauly, that was Meryl.’
‘Meryl? Not Meryl Collins that Eoghan was engaged to? You’re codding me!’
‘No, it was her all right. Eoghan told me because he was worried about why she was killed.’
‘What did he have to worry about?’
‘They were out together, him and Meryl, a couple of days back, and they found this fellow lying by the side of the road. The fellow told them he’d been kidnapped but managed to get away, but Eoghan thought that maybe Meryl and her husband were killed because of that.’
�
��He was out with Meryl? What in the name of Jesus was he doing out with her? She’s a married woman – well, she was, God rest her soul – and Eoghan’s a married man!’
‘They were only having a drink together for old times’ sake, Pauly, nothing more.’
Mr Carroll’s cigarette had burned right down to the filter so he crushed it out in a brown glass ashtray, shook out another one and lit it. ‘Well, thank you very much, Mary, for sharing your secrets with me! What else has been going on in this house that I don’t know about?’
‘Eoghan didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. And he was afraid you might report it to the police or do something rash, and apart from that he didn’t want his Patsy finding out.’
‘Jesus, woman, don’t you ever learn that secrets bring nothing but trouble? If I’d have thought that Eoghan was in any kind of danger I would have got him out of here. But now what? He’s been taken away to God alone knows where and a guard’s been shot.’
He turned to Katie and blew out smoke and said, ‘Women! Jesus! What can you do with them?’
Katie said, ‘If you could just tell me exactly what happened when these men came to take Eoghan.’
‘They took him, that’s all. They came to the door with those bags tied around their heads, the two of them, and they bust their way in and they took him. There was nothing I could do.’
‘Did they knock on the door?’
‘No, they rang the doorbell. I thought it was the coal delivery, from Blackpool. They should have delivered our coal today.’
‘Horgan, stick some evidence tape over the doorbell, would you?’ said Katie. ‘We don’t want anybody else touching it until the technical team have taken a print.’ Then she turned back to Mr and Mrs Carroll. ‘What did they say, these men? Did they say anything at all?’
‘Only to Eoghan,’ said Mrs Carroll. ‘They said, “Come on, you, there’s some people want a word with you!” That’s all.’
‘So what did Eoghan do? Do you think he knew who they were, or that he might have been expecting them?’
‘I don’t think so. Not at all. Well, you couldn’t tell who they were, could you, with those bags on their heads? They were enough to scare you half to death. Eoghan was sitting at the kitchen table, working with his laptop. When they busted in, he asked them who they were and what the hell they thought they were doing, but they just grabbed hold of him and dragged him right out of the house, even though he was kicking and fighting, like. They spilled hot tea all over the floor. Well, look at it.’
‘Don’t mop that up yet, Mrs Carroll,’ said Katie. ‘There may be footprints in it.’
Mrs Carroll nodded, but then she suddenly started weeping, bending forwards and clutching her cat so tightly that it wrestled its way out of her arms and jumped on to the floor.
‘Oh, dear Mother of God, what are they going to do to him? What are they going to do to my Eoghan? Oh God, what in Heaven’s name tempted him to go out with that girl again? Now she’s dead and Eoghan’s been taken and the whole world feels like it’s coming to the end!’
Mr Carroll went over and stood behind her, patting her on the back and saying, ‘There, there, girl, don’t you worry. They won’t hurt our Eoghan. What’s he done to upset those fellows? Nothing at all. The worst they’ll do is give him a few clatters and Eoghan can take care of himself, like. You know that.’
He took another drag on his cigarette and looked across at Katie and shook his head as if to say, Women! Jesus, Joseph and Mary! What can you do?
31
Katie stayed at The Grove until twenty past three in the morning, although there was no real need for her to do so. Shortly after two o’clock it started to rain again, that very fine prickly rain that can soak through a woollen sweater in minutes, and when the technical team arrived they erected one of their blue vinyl tents over the pavement. They set up floodlights, too, and three of them got down on their hands and knees in their white Tyvek suits and combed the Carrolls’ front driveway and their scrubby little front garden. Another two went inside to lift any prints that the kidnappers might have left on the doorbell button and to take photographs of the tea-spattered kitchen floor.
Donald Mullen from RTÉ turned up just before 1 a.m., with his ENG cameraman and a sound technician. He was wearing a short black rain cape with a pointed hood, like a weary middle-aged leprechaun, and there were creases under his eyes as if he had just got out of bed. He was followed shortly after by Francis Byrne, a portly freelance reporter from the Examiner in a trench coat as tight as a sausage skin. He had flaking red cheeks and a comb-over, and he looked and smelled as if he had been drinking for most of the previous evening. Katie recognized him from the press bench at the District Court.
‘So – the High Kings of Erin have been at it again, Detective Superintendent?’ was the very first question he asked her.
‘Who told you that?’ Katie retorted.
Francis Byrne tapped the side of his nose with his biro. ‘Sorry, ma’am! Can’t possibly reveal my sources.’
Donald Mullen’s cameraman switched on his light and for a few seconds Katie was blinded.
‘Do you want to tell us what happened here, ma’am?’ asked Donald Mullen, holding out his microphone.
Katie brushed the rain from her hair and turned to the camera. ‘I’m sorry to say that there was a shooting here in Carrigaline yesterday afternoon and that a detective garda was seriously injured. She was unsuccessfully trying to prevent the abduction by two unidentified assailants of a man who had come back here from England to visit his parents.’
‘Can you give us the name of the detective garda who was shot?’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘The officer was taken to the University Hospital for emergency treatment and I’m still awaiting an update. We’ll be able to release the name as soon as the next of kin have been informed.’
‘But what about the fellow who was abducted?’ asked Francis Byrne. ‘Who was he?’
‘His name is Eoghan Carroll. He lives in England permanently these days but his parents still reside here in Carrigaline. He’s an audio engineer.’
‘An audio engineer? So why was he abducted?’
‘At this moment in time, we’re not at all sure.’
‘But what exactly was the Garda’s interest in him?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if your detectives arrived to find Mr Carroll in mid-abduction, they must have been coming here to talk to him for some reason – maybe arrest him even. Don’t tell me they were just passing and saw him being abducted by chance? Apart from the coincidental timing, The Grove is a dead end, like.’
Katie said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give you any further details yet.’
‘But didn’t you believe that Mr Carroll might have information that could help you in your investigation into the High Kings of Erin? That’s true, isn’t it? And that being the case, it looks like the High Kings of Erin have stolen another march on you, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Francis, you can come up with as many suppositions you like, but I’m not going to make any further comment, not right now. At the moment, my main concern is Mr Carroll’s safety and most of all the condition of the officer who was shot here.’
Francis Byrne stuck out his lower lip like a disappointed baby and shrugged. ‘Oh well. I know you have to take care of your own. But there’s no doubt, is there, that this was the work of the High Kings of Erin and that they’re running rings around you? That’s two local businessmen kidnapped, with one of them decapitated, a man and his wife burned to death on a beach, one garda blown to smithereens and another shot. The High Kings have even been on the phone to you, boasting what they’ve done, but how much nearer have you got to feeling their collars?’
‘How do you know they’ve been on the phone to me?’ Katie demanded.
The rain fell softly and silently between them, illuminated by the TV camera so that Katie would appear on the screen as if she were veiled.
Again Fr
ancis Byrne tapped his well-chewed biro on the side of his nose. ‘Can’t say, ma’am. But you’re not denying it, are you?’
‘Not denying it, not confirming it. Now, unless you have some information that might assist me in my inquiries, I suggest you go and breathe your secondhand Murphy’s fumes over somebody else.’
‘Oh, you’re a hard woman, Detective Superintendent. Everybody says so.’
‘I hope for your sake that you didn’t drive here,’ Katie told him. ‘If you so much as open a car door, I’ll have you breathalysed.’
Francis Byrne gave her a leering smile. ‘I’m happy to say that my auld doll drove me here, and the most intoxicating drink she ever takes is Barry’s Tea with a cough drop in it.’
***
Katie had been asleep for less than half an hour when her front doorbell chimed. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the clock beside her bed. Seven thirty-seven a.m. Who on earth could it be at this time of the morning? It couldn’t be connected with work because they would have phoned her first. It was gloomy outside and it was raining hard, so it wouldn’t be the window cleaner, either.
She had made up her mind to ignore it when the doorbell chimed again, and then again. She hesitated for a few seconds and then she threw back the quilt and sat up. Mother of God, what did this person want so urgently? She was wearing only a Cork GAA T-shirt, so she stood up and went across to the door where her thick pink flannelette dressing gown was hanging.
‘All right!’ she called out, her voice still hoarse from sleep. ‘I’m coming!’
She walked along the hallway, scratching her scalp and trying to tidy her hair. She turned off the alarm, but before she opened the door she said, ‘Who is it?’
‘Sorcha. Sorcha Kane, from next door.’
Katie immediately slid back the bolts and the safety chain and opened the door. Sorcha was standing in the porch, drenched, wearing nothing but a long white nightdress that was spattered all the way down the front with blood. She had long brown hair, thick and tangled and knotted, which half covered her face. In spite of that, Katie could immediately see that her right eye was crimson and completely closed up, and that a small triangular flap of skin had been torn open on the bridge of her nose, as if she had been hit with a signet ring.
Taken for Dead (Kate Maguire) Page 26
