Valentina shook her head. ‘What about her?’
‘What was the nature of Carline’s relationship with Della?’
Valentina made a face. ‘As far as I know there isn’t much to tell. They were in the same class for a while, they were friendly enough. Then Della dropped out and that was the end of it.’
‘We were told that they might have been seeing each other,’ Fisher said. Carrie glanced his way. She really needed time with the file; this was the first she’d heard of that suggestion.
‘What, you mean like romantically?’
‘Possibly,’ Fisher said. ‘Or it may just have been friendship.’
‘If you think they were having sex you’re on the wrong track,’ Valentina said. ‘Carline wasn’t into it. I don’t mean she wasn’t a lesbian. I mean she wasn’t into sex at all, with anyone. That sort of intimacy, it freaked her out.’
‘They spent a lot of private time together,’ Fisher said. ‘Time alone in Della’s apartment. And Carline deliberately kept those meetings quiet from you, from her other friends. Why do you think she would do that?’
Valentina didn’t hesitate. She answered the question with her tear-stained face tilted upwards, chin high and angry. ‘It would have been about work. It would have been about her grandfather. About her whole stupid family. To Carline they were the bloody Kennedys. Everything Carline did, she did because she was trying to earn a ticket to Camelot. Nothing anyone told her could convince her that it wasn’t real.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Carrie didn’t beat about the bush. She was still horribly conscious of time slipping by. She took control of the case room quickly, pulled everyone together and updated them in unemotional terms. Carline Darcy was dead. Cormac Reilly was taking some time off – glances were exchanged at that bit of news – and she was now running the case.
‘I don’t want any of you reading anything into DS Reilly’s absence,’ she said, knowing it was useless but feeling like she had to make the attempt. ‘You’re all aware that Dr Sweeney found Della Lambert’s body. More recently we’ve become aware that she is a witness to some other key evidence. For those reasons Detective Sergeant Reilly has decided it would be appropriate for him to step back from the case, and I support that decision. The timing is unfortunate, but I’ve no doubt you’ve made excellent progress under DS Reilly, and I want to hit the ground running from here.’ She got a nod from an amped-up-looking Rory Mulcair and a sneer from Moira. Fisher looked confused. Dave McCarthy, usually the most cynical man in any room, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, concern written all over his face.
‘I’ll be meeting the Superintendent shortly,’ Carrie said. ‘He’s going to want answers and he’s going to want them now. From this moment on we are investigating both deaths, and we need to start seeing results. Pull in,’ Carrie said, and gestured with her hands, gathering the team closer to the front of the room. ‘I want a recap. Let’s go over what we know, see what leads we haven’t run to the ground. Let’s see what connections we have already made between the two cases, look at what new evidence we have as a result of this second death.’ Carrie took up position leaning against the wall at the top of the room, nodded at Fisher to begin. There were a few more exchanged glances, maybe a momentary hesitation.
‘Right,’ Fisher said. He walked towards one of the noticeboards, where someone had already pinned a photograph of Carline beside one of Della. He turned back to the room, lay one hand flat on the noticeboard beside the two photographs.
‘We know that Della Lambert and Carline Darcy were friends,’ Fisher said. ‘They spent time alone together in Della’s apartment. We don’t yet know if the relationship was romantic or platonic.’
‘Right,’ Carrie said. ‘What else?’
‘DS Reilly took a statement from Mark Wardle, one of Carline’s roommates. Wardle’s theory is that Carline and Della had a sexual relationship, which Carline kept secret.’
‘All right,’ Carrie said. ‘Anything to support that theory?’
Fisher shrugged. ‘Only Wardle’s statement. His theory is that Carline didn’t want her grandfather to find out she was in a lesbian relationship, for fear he would cut her off. Look, if you ask me Wardle’s a fantasist. I listened to the recording of that interview. He wasn’t very convincing.’
There was a moment’s silence. Dave McCarthy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Yeah, but there’s the money,’ he said. ‘We found hundreds of thousands in Della Lambert’s apartment. That had to have come from Carline Darcy and that’s got to be blackmail.’
Fisher looked like he was about to argue for a moment, then he shrugged, nodded to acknowledge the point.
‘Anything else I need to know before I see the Super?’ Carrie asked.
‘We know that Della had access to Darcy Laboratories,’ Dave said. ‘She had Carline’s ID in her pocket. Hard to understand why she needed that, even if she was Carline’s girlfriend.’
The room moved on to a discussion of the possible reasons why Carline might have provided Della with her ID, from simple left it behind by accident to more complex motivations. Carrie was only half-listening.
‘Let’s move on,’ Carrie said. ‘Where are we on the money now?’
Fisher shook his head. ‘Nothing new. We don’t know anything more than we knew a few days ago. Della made the lodgements herself, that’s all. We’ve been able to confirm that through the bank’s security footage.’
‘Well, there won’t be any objection now to getting Carline Darcy’s bank statements,’ Carrie said. ‘Let’s get working on a subpoena. If we can show a withdrawal that matches the money Della was holding or lodging we’re a step closer to proving that she was paying her off.’
There were nods of general agreement, then a pause as everyone waited for Carrie to speak. But Carrie had had no time with the case. She didn’t know the file, and didn’t know the working theories. She needed time. Time that she couldn’t take.
Fisher read the hesitation on her face. ‘I think it all comes back to the lab,’ he said after a moment. ‘We need to confirm whether or not Della Lambert spent time there. Getting answers there has to be our first priority, right?’
He was probably right, but Carrie wanted a conversation with Brian Murphy before she tackled the fraught process of getting a warrant for the Darcy facility.
‘What have we got from the Dock Road scene?’ Carrie asked. ‘Is the report in from the scene of crime lads yet? What about time of death?’
Moira Hanley hit a few keys on the keyboard in front of her. ‘It’s starting to come in now,’ she said. ‘Preliminary estimate of time of death is between 9 p.m. and 10 p.m. last night. Nothing else from the pathologist yet, but we’ve got the first of the trace evidence reports.’
Carrie gave her the nod, and Moira clicked on a document and started to scroll quickly through it.
‘Lots of trace at the scene,’ she said. ‘Difficult to tell if any of it came from the killer until they’ve processed it.’
‘All right,’ Carrie said. ‘Let’s wait to hear. Anything else?’
‘I’ve got something.’ It was Rory Mulcair. ‘There’s a camera down the street. One of ours so it’s a good picture. It’s right at the edge of the shot, but you should see this.’ There was excitement in his voice, enough so that the room fell quiet as he clicked and scrolled, found what he was looking for. ‘Throw me the cable, will you Moira?’ he said. She passed it over and he plugged his computer into the network, nodded in the direction of the electronic whiteboard. Moments later, a grainy black and white image flickered into being.
It was security camera footage from somewhere on Dock Road. The camera must have been installed high up on the side of a building. They had a bird’s eye view down the length of the street; Carline’s apartment building was just inside the limits of the picture. They were looking at the street at night, a handful of cars parked roadside on the apartment side of the street. The image time-skipped every five seconds. A car appeared briefly as
it drove through the scene. A moment later another car appeared, and parked outside the apartment building, facing away from the camera.
‘Watch,’ said Rory. He zoomed the image in much closer, and the picture lost its clarity. The number-plate was too blurred to read. Rory zoomed the picture back out a little, and they watched as a tall figure with long dark hair climbed out of the driver’s seat and disappeared into the building. The time stamp said that it was 9.15 p.m. ‘She comes out again at 9.45 p.m.’
‘Christ,’ said Fisher. ‘Is that the murderer? How did she get in? A key?’
Rory Mulcair shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Look.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘You can see a crack of light. I’d say the door was propped open.’
‘The time is right,’ Carrie said. ‘But let’s keep an open mind. Rory, can you zoom in again on the car? Can we get a clearer picture?’
Rory froze the video, then clicked and scrolled and the image zoomed in, too far initially, so that the whole thing became pixelated, then further out, until he had the best available view of the number plate and the back of the car.
The number plate was still indistinct, though curves and shadows suggested certain letters and numbers and ruled out others. But the left rear brake light had a crack, and its light diffused in a distinctive pattern.
‘It’s a Mazda3,’ Rory said. ‘And is that a G? It looks like a Galway reg to me.’ He clicked and scrolled, clicked and scrolled, but the clarity of the image did not improve.
‘There’s a crack in the brake light on the left-hand side,’ Moira Hanley said. ‘Look there, can you see it?’
Everyone in the room leaned closer, Carrie too. She was concentrating on the image, so she very nearly missed Peter Fisher’s flinch when he turned to stare at the screen.
‘Send it to the tech guys,’ Carrie said. ‘Tell them it’s priority one. I want that image cleaned up. And Fisher? A moment with you please, outside.’
He followed her out into the corridor, and she gestured for him to shut the door behind him.
‘Tell me,’ she said.
She saw him think about it, consider whether or not to tell her.
‘Peter,’ she said.
He blew out a breath. ‘It’s the brake light,’ he said. ‘When I interviewed her, Emma Sweeney had just cracked her brake light. She drives a Mazda3 too.’
Carrie felt her stomach sink to the floor. Then she went to find Brian Murphy, and make her report.
‘How did he get it so wrong?’
‘Sir?’ Carrie said.
‘I’m talking about Reilly. You’re telling me he saw the girl yesterday afternoon, and a few hours later she’s murdered in her own apartment? He’s supposed to be one of the best. I put my confidence in his judgement and this is the outcome?’
‘I’m very new to this case, but nothing I’ve seen so far suggests that DS Reilly was at fault in how he ran it. There was no reason to think that Carline was in danger.’
Murphy turned hard eyes in her direction. ‘Except for the minor fact that his girlfriend is the main suspect, something he either missed completely, or actively covered up.’
Carrie held his gaze. ‘That evidence only came to light in the last hour. There was nothing prior to the video to suggest that Emma Sweeney was in any way involved.’
‘Except that she found the bloody body in the first place!’ Murphy exploded. ‘It should have been you on this case from the very beginning.’
Carrie nodded. ‘Yes sir, I’m sure you’re right. But it’s mine now and I should get on with it, shouldn’t I?’ She stood, unwilling to waste time on a postmortem, and asking herself why it was that Murphy had gone along with Cormac running the case from the beginning. It was out of character for a man as politically astute and as motivated by self-preservation as Murphy was. Carrie didn’t dislike her boss. He’d given her opportunity when she’d asked for it, and he was relatively hands off and not, despite the evidence of the last five minutes, prone to histrionics. But she had no illusions about him. Brian Murphy never did anything without first making sure there was a better than even chance he would come out smelling of roses. So why had he taken the risk on this?
‘Keep Cormac Reilly away from this case,’ Murphy said. ‘I don’t want his fingerprints anywhere near it from now on. If he so much as makes a phone call, arrest him.’
When Carrie O’Halloran left him, Fisher returned to the case room, dragging his feet. A few heads turned but he ignored the unspoken questions and returned to his desk.
‘Fisher.’
He turned his head to see Moira Hanley looking at him, phone in hand.
‘Reilly’s on the phone. He wants to speak with you,’ Hanley said. Every head within earshot turned in their direction.
Fisher felt himself flush. ‘Transfer it over here, so,’ he said.
Hanley looked at the phone, then back at Fisher. ‘Can’t transfer it,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to come here.’
She held out the handset. It was connected to the phone on her desk. He’d have to stand right beside her, have her listen to every word he said, and at that distance, probably everything Reilly said too, all with every eye in the squad room on him. He wouldn’t do it.
‘Tell him I’ll call him from my mobile,’ Fisher said. Then, painfully aware that every ear in the room had tuned into the exchange, he took his phone and went out into the corridor, and called Cormac back.
‘Fisher,’ Cormac said, answering on the first ring. ‘I’ve been trying to get DS O’Halloran on the phone. I’m on my way in from Athenry. Look, can you check the scene reports? I need to know if they found a computer in Carline’s possession. A laptop, brand is Acer, casing black, and it should have the markings from some left-over adhesive on the top right corner. It was Della Lambert’s computer.’
Fisher hesitated, and the silence went on a little too long.
‘Fisher?’ Cormac said, his tone impatient.
‘DS O’Halloran is with Superintendent Murphy,’ Fisher said. ‘I can ask her to call you when she gets back to the case room.’ His tone was too formal. He could almost feel Reilly’s antennae go up.
‘What’s going on?’ Reilly said.
‘Uh, DS O’Halloran has just been in to let us know that she’s taking over the case.’
‘Right,’ Reilly said. ‘Carrie will be running the case from here on. She’ll need to make the call about bringing Paul Lambert in. And we need that laptop examined. I think what’s on it will prove that Della was doing Carline Darcy’s academic work. That’s what all the money was for.’
‘Christ. Really? But with Carline dead …’ It went without saying that it was very unlikely that Carline had been the murderer.
‘Yeah,’ Cormac said. ‘Look, Fisher, I need to get off the phone. Emma’s in the lab. I don’t want her near the place while all of this is going down. I want to bring her in to the station. I think the answers to all of this will be on that laptop, but we might need some help interpreting it. Emma can help us with that.’
He was about to hang up.
‘No,’ said Fisher. ‘You can’t do that.’ It came out, hurried and urgent, before he’d had a chance to think through what he was going to say.
There was a long silence.
‘Fisher, what exactly is going on in there?’
Fisher hesitated, glanced behind him, took another couple of steps down the corridor. He should end the call now. He could claim that he was being called back into the room, then he could wait for Carrie O’Halloran, have her deal with this mess. Instead, he dropped his voice and said, ‘There’s video footage from last night, outside Carline Darcy’s building. It’s from a distance so it’s not exactly clear, but it’s good enough that we can see a car pull in outside the apartment building just before the murder. A woman gets out and goes into the building. She’s in there from 9.15 p.m. to 9.45 p.m., which is consistent with the time of death. The car, it’s a Mazda3, and it has a broken brake light. The woman is wearing a green c
alf-length coat, and she has long, dark hair.’
There was a long, long silence.
‘Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go there and tell Emma anything that you learned from Paul Lambert. She can’t even know that there’s been a breakthrough in the case.’
Another silence. ‘I’m going to hang up now,’ said Cormac. ‘And Fisher? When they ask you about this phone call, if you don’t want to risk your job, tell them everything.’
He hung up, and all Fisher heard was dial tone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Cormac immediately dialled Emma’s number. It rang out again and again. He checked the time – 1.30 p.m. If she was at lunch she would have answered. She must be buried in the lab. He hung up and concentrated on driving as quickly as he could through the traffic. He needed to get to her. Needed to know she was safe. There was no way, just no way that Emma had murdered that girl. He would have known it, couldn’t have slept every night next to a woman who could do that and not known it.
Except she’d killed before, hadn’t she? Images from that scene came to him unbidden. The blood splatters on the wall and floor. The gaping wound of a throat cut so deeply that the pathologist had said the victim must have bled out in seconds. But that had been so different. That had been a desperate act in defence of her sister’s life. This was cold-blooded murder. And for what? What possible motive could Emma have to murder Carline Darcy? No. This was bullshit. If that was her car in the video feed – and for Christ’s sake, was he really going to convict his own girlfriend of murder on the back of a shitty image he’d heard about second hand? – then there would be an explanation.
But she’d lied, hadn’t she? On the very first night she’d lied to Carrie, had said that she didn’t work late often, when she was at the lab virtually every evening. It was a small lie but it was out of character. He’d known that, right from the beginning, and he’d explained it away. Had he been doing that all the way through this investigation? Finding a way to normalise things? Had he explained away every piece of evidence that could have led to Emma’s door?
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