The Scholar

by Dervla McTiernan

  ‘I need a few more bodies, if you can spare them,’ Cormac said. ‘We have to interview the lab employees, and it would be better to get through them all on the same day.’

  There was a short pause before Murphy spoke. ‘It goes without saying, detective, that I rely on your judgement. I don’t second guess my senior officers’ investigative decisions.’

  ‘Sir.’ Cormac said the word automatically. Murphy was rolling over. He had seen that he couldn’t hold the investigation back, and that Cormac’s next steps would almost certainly provoke a response from the Darcy family, so he’d quickly defaulted to a bit of arse-covering. So far, so predictable.

  ‘I can’t give you more resources. We are overloaded at the moment, and you have plenty of people. Set up your interviews and keep me informed as you see fit.’

  Cormac left Murphy’s office a few minutes later, feeling more unsettled than satisfied. Why did he feel like Murphy had just laid a trap and was sitting back to watch him spring it?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Cormac took the time to grab lunch before he drove to Carline Darcy’s apartment building. He felt like he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke to her, but he hit the café in the middle of the lunchtime rush. It was noisy and chaotic. The tables were all taken, the few that looked close to finishing up had already attracted a number of impatient hoverers, ready to pounce the moment a chair was pushed back. Cormac settled for a pre-made sandwich from the fridge, took it with him and ate it on the riverside walk beside the Corrib, leaning on the railing and looking down into the water. He thought over the day so far, tried to put a finger on why he felt so unsettled. The meeting with Murphy had thrown him. It had felt as if Murphy had already known every detail of what Cormac had reported to him. Disconcertingly, it had felt as if Murphy knew more.

  When he was finished, Cormac picked up a car from the station and made the short drive over to Carline Darcy’s apartment. He was still deep in his own thoughts, so when he passed Paul Lambert just as Paul took the corner at the Dock Road, it took him a moment to recognise the boy. Cormac looked in his rear-view mirror, in his wing mirror, but Paul had already disappeared around the corner. Cormac pulled in outside the apartment building and thought about turning the car and going in search of Della Lambert’s little brother. But the Dock Road was one way. He would have to drive around the block and by then Paul would have taken one of the many narrow roads or laneways that led into the centre of the city. What had brought the boy here? It had to be Carline.

  Cormac parked and made his way to the apartment building. This time the door was shut and the lock engaged. Cormac pressed the intercom. Carline Darcy answered, listened to him give his name and the reason he was there, then buzzed him through without comment. When he reached the fourth floor she opened the door to him before he knocked, then held it wide and gestured for him to walk straight through.

  ‘I can offer you water, detective, or tea, coffee?’ She stood beside the breakfast bar, the window behind her perfectly framing the view of the docks and the moored boats beyond.

  ‘Thank you, no,’ Cormac said.

  Carline was dressed simply. A pair of skinny jeans, a fitted white T-shirt that looked brand new, boots that looked like they’d never walked a Galway street. She wasn’t wearing makeup and she was clearly tired, but she looked like a girl who had pulled herself together. It would have been easy to miss the very slight tremor in her hands.

  ‘Shall we sit?’ Cormac asked. He gestured towards the table.

  Carline didn’t move. ‘Could we … I’d be grateful if we could make this quick. It’s been a busy week.’

  Cormac nodded slowly. He pulled out one of the breakfast bar stools, leaned against it as he flipped through a notebook. ‘We first spoke on the night of Friday the twenty-fifth of April,’ he said.

  ‘The night you came to notify my friends of my death.’ She interrupted him. The words were confident, sparring even, but there was a tired rasp in her voice.

  ‘Exactly that,’ Cormac said. He tried to hold her gaze. ‘When I spoke to you on that night you denied all knowledge of Della Lambert.’

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I didn’t. How could I have known that Della was the girl who had died? You didn’t know yourself, no one did. You just asked me if I knew who the victim was and I told you the truth.’

  Cormac nodded slowly. ‘That’s true, Carline. Are you telling me now that you did know Della?’ He waited for her nod. ‘How did you meet her?’

  ‘We were in the same tutorial group in the first few months of first year. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we were friendly acquaintances for a time.’ Her arms were tightly folded across her chest, those betraying hands tucked into her armpits.

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  A hint of tension in her face. She wasn’t sure how much he knew. ‘I … can’t recall,’ she said. ‘Or at least I can’t be sure.’

  Cormac waited for her to elaborate but she was being oh-so careful now. No rushing in with explanations to smooth out an awkward silence.

  ‘Did Della ever come here? Spend time in your apartment?’

  Carline shrugged lightly. ‘I’m sure she did. All of my classmates spent time here at one time or another. I have parties, occasionally. More last year than this.’

  ‘And did you ever visit Della’s apartment?’

  She made a show of thinking about it, tilting her head to one side. ‘Where did she live, the Cornstore? I may have. In fact, I think I did. Della borrowed some of my books, I called by to collect them, went in for tea.’ And just like that she’d explained away any DNA evidence they might find in the apartment. Not that they had a sample for comparison’s sake, not that they were ever likely to get it unless he got black and white proof of her guilt. The Darcy family attorneys would be all over him like a bad rash if he even suggested it. Carline was watching him, with a hint of frustration in that perfect face. She couldn’t read what he was thinking.

  ‘Did you stay in touch with Della after she left college?’

  ‘For a time. Della would come along to college gatherings. She was lonely, I think. Sometimes I felt she regretted leaving college as she did.’

  ‘Why did she leave, Carline? She must have spoken to you about it. It seems like such a drastic decision, for a girl with so much potential.’

  Carline swallowed, blinked. ‘I don’t know why she left. Whatever the reason, Della must have thought it was worthwhile.’

  ‘Della came to the Darcy laboratories. She spent time with you there.’

  Another head tilt. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You never saw her at the lab?’

  ‘No. Security is very tight. Della wasn’t a student, and she wasn’t working there. She wouldn’t have been permitted access.’

  Cormac held her gaze. ‘I have a witness who says she did visit you there. That she did more than visit. That she worked alongside you for hours at a time, and very frequently.’

  Carline shook her head but she was paler now. ‘That’s not true,’ she said. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘You’re telling me that if I speak to the lab employees, not one of them will tell me that they saw Della with you?’

  Carline took a breath, gathered herself. ‘I’m telling you that I never spent time with Della in the laboratory. I … I think I would be surprised if any of the employees at the lab would say otherwise. Partly because it’s not true, and also because they’re not supposed to talk to anyone about the work carried out in the laboratory. It’s all highly confidential. Everyone signs a non-disclosure agreement. I expect that if you were to question Darcy employees in relation to their work in the lab, the company would have to call in our lawyers.’ She paused, permitted a crease in her perfect brow. ‘Perhaps I should ask a lawyer to be present for this discussion. Do you think that would be appropriate?’

  ‘This is a murder investigation, Carline,’ Cormac said. His tone was gentle, b
ut his words were clear. ‘We will question the employees, and they will speak to us. And if you feel you need to speak with a lawyer, you shouldn’t hesitate to make a call.’ He gestured to where a mobile phone was sitting on the kitchen counter. She looked towards it, hesitated. He wondered if calling a lawyer would mean calling her grandfather. If it would, that might explain her hesitation. He pressed on.

  ‘You say that you can’t remember when you last saw Della Lambert. Have you seen her since Christmas?’

  ‘I can’t recall.’

  ‘I think you did. I think you saw Della, and you gave her a gift of a very expensive cardigan, the one she wore on the night she died.’

  Carline stayed silent for a long moment, and when she spoke her voice was steady. She had found a reserve of strength from somewhere. ‘I may have, if I saw Della and she admired it. As I’ve said, I really don’t recall. Or possibly she picked it up at a charity shop. Every so often my wardrobe gets excessive, I suppose, so I clear it out.’

  ‘Did you pay Della Lambert? Give her money, a salary, or a gift?’

  A pause. Then, ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t give Della Lambert half a million euro, in exchange for her assistance?’

  ‘What sort of assistance?’

  ‘Helping you in the laboratory.’

  She laughed, but it was brittle. She hadn’t expected him to get so close to the truth.

  ‘Please. I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I don’t need anyone’s help.’ She shook her hair back from her face, chin high. ‘Least of all Della Lambert’s.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I have work to do, detective. I’ll have to ask you to excuse me.’

  Cormac nodded. ‘I hear you’re sitting your finals. A four-year degree in only two years. Must be a lot of pressure. How disappointing it would be, if your results didn’t quite meet expectations.’

  Her lips compressed, but she said nothing, just showed him silently to the door. He paused in the threshold.

  ‘Why did Paul Lambert come to see you, Carline?’

  The self-possessed, self-contained young woman of a week ago was unravelling. Now he could read every thought that crossed her mind. There was shock first – she hadn’t expected the question – and then she thought about lying, and finally decided to tell the truth, or at least a version of it.

  ‘He thought I knew what had happened to his sister.’

  ‘And why did he think that?’ Cormac asked.

  ‘You’d have to ask him.’

  The obfuscation was so clumsy, so obvious. He should bring her in now, really, shouldn’t he? She was on the point of breaking – one firm push would send her over the edge and start her talking. Why was he hesitating? Was he afraid of what he might find? Or was it the meeting with Murphy that held him back, his feeling that he might have missed something there? As he stood there, undecided, Carline Darcy, pleading eyes holding his gaze all the while, slowly closed the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Cormac second-guessed his decision not to bring Carline in all the way down in the lift. When he reached the street he found that the decision had been taken out of his hands. A man and a woman waited for him there, leaning conspicuously against an unmarked car parked just outside the apartment building. They were young, maybe mid-twenties, and dressed alike in neatly pressed slacks, collared T-shirts and jackets, as if they would really have preferred the uniform, and had opted for the next best thing. They weren’t subtle. Cormac didn’t need car or the clothing to figure out that they were police, and that they were there for him.

  ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Cormac said.

  They exchanged a glance, then reached for badges and briefly flashed them.

  ‘Detective Garda Michael Moltoni, and this is my colleague, Katherine Naude.’

  ‘Kat,’ the woman said, interrupting her colleague and offering her hand for a shake.

  ‘We’re with Internal Affairs,’ Moltoni continued. ‘Can we have a word? We can drive you back to the station now, if you prefer.’

  Moltoni and Naude. Not exactly Irish names. Was that why they’d chosen IA? Once an outsider, always an outsider?

  Cormac put his hands in his pockets. ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any need for that.’ He glanced both directions. The street was deserted. The sun was setting, the streetlights had come on, and night was beckoning. ‘I think we can get it done here, don’t you?’

  Another exchanged glance and again Moltoni took the lead. ‘If that’s your preference.’ He leaned back against the car again, working too hard at looking confident and casual. ‘Do you know why we want to talk to you?’

  Cormac snorted, shook his head. ‘I’d say I’ve a fair idea, but I’m not about to do your job for you, so why don’t you just spit it out, all right?’

  ‘We’ve been informed that you are investigating the death of Della Lambert, who was killed in a vehicular collision on the night of Friday twenty-fifth of April,’ Moltoni said. ‘We’ve also been told that your partner, Dr Emma Sweeney, found Ms Lambert’s body, and that Dr Sweeney is also a witness to your investigation. That she has given evidence. Is that correct?’

  Cormac blew out a long breath. ‘It is,’ he said.

  Moltoni nodded. There was a suggestion of relief in his face. Maybe glad to avoid a confrontation? But Cormac wouldn’t argue what could be so easily proven. He needed to choose his battles more carefully.

  ‘I think you know the rules as well as I do, DS Reilly. You should have handed the case off to your colleague from the get-go, but certainly from the moment you became aware that your partner had not only found the body but was also a witness in the case.’

  Cormac nodded. Looked past them and out across the water beyond. ‘Is it to be a suspension?’ he asked.

  Moltoni hesitated. He seemed thrown by the direction the conversation had taken. He had expected more of an argument. ‘Not a suspension,’ Moltoni said. ‘Nothing so formal.’ Then he added, as Cormac laughed, ‘At least not for now. You’re off the case, and we’ll have to look into the work you’ve done on it so far. Make sure you haven’t breached procedure any more than we have identified so far. But it’s been strongly recommended that you take some leave.’

  ‘I see.’ Take some time off, long enough for the case to run its course. See how it all turned out. He told himself that he should be relieved. It could have been worse. It seemed there wasn’t an appetite to go after him, if that could be avoided. And maybe that made sense. The previous April, when the media pack had gathered and howled, they’d had to build Cormac up as the model officer, hadn’t they? What complications would it cause if it were publicly known that he had been put on suspension just over a year later?

  ‘Who’s going to take over the case?’ Cormac asked. It would have to be O’Halloran. Hackett wasn’t due back from holidays for another few days.

  ‘It will be looked after,’ was all Moltoni said.

  Cormac laughed again, shook his head. He wondered who had set them on him. It could have been Moira Hanley, it might have been Murphy. Hanley’s motivations were easy enough to discern – that would be plain old-fashioned resentment and revenge. Murphy was harder to figure out. A favour to John Darcy? Or did he just see Cormac as a threat, and this case as an opportunity to take him out?

  ‘We do have questions for you,’ Naude piped up.

  Cormac looked at his watch. ‘I’m on leave. If you want to talk to me, why don’t you make an appointment?’ He was almost at his car when he turned back to them. ‘Carline Darcy is waist-deep in this thing,’ he said. ‘Waist-deep.’ They looked back at him dumbly. Cormac got into his car and drove away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  When Cormac Reilly left her apartment, Carline sat for a while, eyes closed tight and fingers pressed to her ears. The apartment was very quiet, but his questions lingered, echoed and refused to leave her in peace. She’d wanted to tell him the truth, had come so close when he’d asked about Della, but then she’d opened her mouth and th
e lies had come pouring out. Carline’s fists pummelled her legs, once, then again. She’d lied because that was what it took to preserve her chance at a future. Selfish, selfish bitch that she was. But she’d lied too because she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she had done. His questions had forced her to realise, for the first time, how utterly wrong she had been. She should have told him but guilt and self-disgust and an absolute conviction that he would never understand had stopped her. How could she explain that she had never seen Della as vulnerable? Carline had had money and a powerful family, but Della had been the strong one all along.

  Carline looked towards the closed door to the outer hall. Maybe she should follow him. She could go after him now, try to reach him before he got to his car, tell him everything. Carline sank her head back into her hands. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until she’d thought it all through, and she was at least in the right place to do that. The apartment was so quiet. Mark and Valentina wouldn’t be back. They would go straight to the college bar after their last exam, then on to their end of exams dinner. For once Mark hadn’t pressed her to join them. In a few hours it would grow dark. And she felt safe here. She should be able to think clearly, if only her head would stop aching.