by Brothers
‘Well, if he was still alive he would,’ Kelly answered. He calculated quickly in his head. ‘He’d be in his late nineties. I’ll do deaths register, first here and then Liverpool,’ Kelly said.
‘He’s not buried up in the plot?’ Louise questioned. She knew Kelly would have been thorough, but when he didn’t know he was looking for the uncle, he might have overlooked it.
‘He wasn’t in the family plot.’ Kelly answered. ‘Nor anywhere close,’ he added. ‘I have Timothy Fitzpatrick coming down this morning. I might get a few answers out of him.’
‘Right,’ Louise said. Every new investigation started for her like a new book. Shiny covers, fascinating blurb and surprising endings, promising gripping detail with twists and turns. She couldn’t wait to delve in, crack the spine and devour the clues.
‘Grand, I’m going to grab a shower at home and then head back up to the estate,’ Kelly said.
Louise pulled back her black hair into a tight ponytail and drained the remainder of her coffee, she rubbed her nose, remembering the body odour from moments earlier.
‘You do that,’ Louise said.
Chapter 2
Monday Morning – 2016
‘Tell me again why I never came to Kilkenny with you before.’ Robert admired the rolling patchwork fields as they rounded the last few roads on their journey.
‘I honestly don’t know.’ Tim liked to be honest, but when it came to Kilkenny, Fitzpatrick Estate and anything to do with his past there, it was safer to be silent. That was how it was. There were far too many things left unsaid, and those that were said, hurt deeply. He had never actually told his father or his mother that he was gay, he didn’t need to, his father’s cutting remarks about his fanciful city ways demolished any chance of acceptance and consequently his visits home were brief and infrequent when his parents were alive. ‘It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here myself.’ His shoulders stiffened and his hands gripped the steering wheel, almost a little too tightly; Robert noticed. Tim shuffled in his seat and stretched forward over the steering wheel to stretch his back. Long journeys played havoc with his sciatica. ‘I really don’t like the sound of this Detective Kelly fella,’ Tim said. Robert hadn’t needed the explanation. ‘The message he left was a little…’ Tim struggled to articulate what he was feeling; the words he wanted to use were much more vulgar than he would care to admit. ‘A little smug, or something, you know?’ he added. ‘As though, this dead body is something to do with me.’
‘They have to talk to everyone, I suppose.’ Robert felt for him, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Tim this agitated. That first day that Tim had walked into his office, all those years ago, he had known that they were kindred spirits, two peas in a pod. It helped of course that Tim, the young budding architect, needed Robert, the young budding engineer, to make his design work and, for the past forty years, that was pretty much how their relationship had continued to work. ‘You know, to rule you either in or out.’
‘Mmm,’ Tim answered, opting for silence as his response. ‘Every year for the past five years…’ He stalled at a junction two miles from the estate, while he considered which road he would take. Nothing looked familiar. ‘Jesus, everything looks a whole lot different, I’m not sure if it’s this crossroads,’ he swung his head from left to right, searching for familiarity, inching the car forward, ‘or the next, for my left turn. I don’t remember any houses being on these roads.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Robert said, fumbling for his phone. Urban sprawl was one of his pet hates. ‘I’ll do Google Maps, just to be sure.’
‘No, no need,’ Tim said. ‘It’s the next junction I think.’ He edged across the road, unsure with his decision but reluctant to rely on a map to get him to his home place. ‘What was I saying?’
‘You were saying something about the past five years.’ Robert was holding his phone at arm’s length. ‘It really is a sign of old age when your arm isn’t long enough to read your phone.’ Robert chuckled at his own joke, Tim joined him, albeit tentatively.
‘I was saying, these are the tenants, or should I say, the new owners, that have emailed me for the past five years asking me to sell and it was a lot easier to ignore all those emails, knowing that I would never have to meet them,’ Tim said. ‘You know, this place is cursed. Nothing good has ever come of it.’ Tim shook his head, partly to show his disappointment and partly to shake away the memories. ‘The last thing I thought I’d be doing when I finally signed the papers to sell the place a couple of months ago was being summoned back here to answer questions about a discovery of human remains. I mean seriously, talk about rotten luck.’ Impatiently Tim increased his speed.
‘Do you think they’ll want to speak to Rose?’ Robert asked.
‘I hope not, but,’ Tim paused, ‘I mean, if she has to come back down, she will, I just hope she doesn’t have to.’ He paused again. ‘And what’s worse is,’ his annoyance danced from his mouth, ‘this, Detective Kelly, said in his message to meet him up at the farmhouse, I would have much preferred meeting him in the station. So it looks like I have no choice but to meet the new owners,’ Tim paused and drew a deep breath. ‘And see the old house,’ Tim added, his face darkened at the thought of it. ‘The charm of Fitzpatrick Farm,’ he sighed.
‘You’ve got that face again. Are you all right?’ Robert paused. ‘Actually don’t answer that platitude. I know you’re not.’ Robert was sympathetic. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Try as he did, Robert knew that there were some things that Tim could never articulate. Tim’s loyalty to his sister, Rose was immeasurable and Robert had accepted that it wasn’t Tim’s story to tell, whatever the story was. His curiosity through the years had never bettered him, even though he had his suspicions, and today of all days he wasn’t going to change that. ‘That’ll do for now.’ Robert rubbed his shoulder. ‘We’ll be back on the road before you know it; we might even call into Rose on the way back home,’ Robert said, trying to appease him.
‘That’s the start of the land there now.’ Tim was relieved he had found his way. Their silver Passat swallowed up the remainder of the road as they reached the next junction, the junction Tim was hoping to meet, O’Connor’s Corner. Four police vehicles lined the ditch that bordered the land and a Garda checkpoint flagged them down.
‘I’m to meet Detective Kelly at Fitzpatrick Estate,’ Tim volunteered the information as the Garda approached.
‘What’s the name?’ The Garda placed his hand on the roof and bent towards Tim’s open window.
‘Timothy Fitzpatrick.’
‘Is that so?’ One of the Garda’s eyebrows raised slightly higher than the other one, Sean Connery style. ‘I suppose, you’ll know where you’re going so.’
Tim pressed his automatic window to close and drove through the junction under the watchful eyes of uniformed people in high visibility jackets. Rounding the bend, Tim was surprised by the beautifully crafted iron gates swooping from the tall pillars. A large metal plaque with ‘Fitzpatrick Estate’ engraved, hung from metal rings. It hadn’t looked like that in his day.
‘Impressive,’ Robert stated, as the gates slowly opened to a curvy drive that was bordered by an impeccably groomed, waist-height hedge.
‘Pretentious, more like,’ Tim answered. ‘We only ever called it The Farm, never The Estate.’
‘Those who have money say they don’t, and those who don’t say they have,’ Robert teased.
The drive wound its way up to the gravelled courtyard and stopped at the entrance to the old farmhouse.
‘This hill was hell on a bike,’ Tim said softly as his engine revved in the wrong gear.
‘Bloody hell, it’s like Downton Abbey,’ Robert exclaimed as the tyres crunched to a standstill to the side of the imposing granite house.
‘Exaggerate much,’ Tim kidded at Robert.
‘Well, maybe not Downton, but you have to admit, it’s pretty impressive,’ Robert said.
‘It never looked like this when I
was here, I can assure you.’ Tim scanned the surrounds looking for clues of his past, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he scanned for clues of the present. His memory of the farm was far greyer than the technicolour picture that stood in its place.
‘Did it smell like this?’ Robert joked as the whiff of slurry poured through their open doors.
‘Worse,’ Tim said. ‘It looked and smelled much worse.’ His voice wasn’t jovial this time. His eyes darted to the side of the sheds. He couldn’t tell, with the hedges along the pathway grown, whether the cottage below still stood.
‘Hello.’ Tim quickly turned as Marie McGrath, the owner of the house, approached.
‘Timothy Fitzpatrick.’ He outstretched his hand.
‘Marie McGrath. It’s lovely to finally meet you.’ She ran her fingers through her greasy hair in an attempt to appear a little more presentable than she felt. The gentlemen that stood in front of her were so well-groomed and handsome, she felt somewhat inadequate in her jeans, fleece jumper and wellingtons. ‘You’ll have to forgive our appearance; it’s all hands on deck at the moment, we haven’t had much time for anything, since, well, since everything happened.’ She glanced in the direction of the bottom field, drawing Tim and Robert’s attention there also. ‘Michael is just out on the farm. He’ll be in shortly.’
‘I think they want to see me below.’ Tim was anxious to get closer to the scene. He had no intention of meeting Michael McGrath, if he could avoid it, and even less intention of stepping foot inside the old house, although there was a small spark of curiosity as to what it may have looked like inside.
‘Oh, they’ll know you are here.’ Marie waved towards the activity in the field below. ‘You may come in for a cup of tea first.’ Marie motioned them to follow her inside. ‘The state pathologist is still at the scene.’ She spoke as though it was a common occurrence in these parts. Detective Kelly isn’t down there yet either, and anyhow, he’ll call up here first,’ Marie said. Marie’s children, Jack and Eve appeared on the steps behind her.
‘Will you run down for Daddy, Jack?’ Marie pointed towards the sheds. ‘Evie, come and say hello.’ Both Marie’s children hovered around her.
‘Oh please, don’t interrupt him,’ Tim said awkwardly.
‘Nonsense.’ Marie had a relatively assertive but kind voice. A voice that was familiar with directing children. ‘We are delighted to have visitors, aren’t we Evie?’
Eve nodded in agreement as she flashed the guests a front toothless smile. Her long curly blonde hair bounced rebelliously across her eyes and with her pudgy hand she pushed it away.
‘If you are sure we are not imposing,’ Robert said as he threw Tim an uneasy look.
‘Not in the slightest, please, Michael is on his way.’
Reluctantly, Robert and Tim followed her as she ushered Evie ahead of her, Jack had run diligently in the direction of the sheds.
‘Your boots, Eve.’ Marie’s voice was firm. ‘Leave them outside.’
Eve stopped still. It wasn’t the first time she had to be reminded.
‘Oops, Mummy, I forgot.’ Her eyes were wide with amusement as she giggled at her mistake, then she turned and directed her next question at Tim. ‘Do you want to take off your shoes too?’ Eve shook her leg to dislodge the mucky boot as she waited for him to answer.
‘Oh you scamp.’ Marie laughed. ‘Our visitors haven’t been playing in the fields. Their shoes are perfectly fine.’ She mouthed sorry to Tim and led her visitors to the kitchen. ‘So, this is your first time back in a good number of years then,’ Marie said.
‘It is,’ Tim answered, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t avoid going inside. It had been decades since he last stepped over the threshold and his shoulders stiffened as he imagined himself, a teenager again. There had been a reason neither he nor Rose had any desire to be back. ‘There hasn’t been any need to come down; really, the management company have looked after everything,’ he said.
‘Well, it’s lovely to finally have you both here,’ she smiled at Robert, ‘even if it is in such bizarre circumstances.’ Marie paused, brushing her white shoulder-length hair from her eyes. She didn’t want to make a wrong impression, it had taken them numerous years to get Mr Fitzpatrick to agree to sell and she didn’t want him to leave, regretting his decision. ‘Eve, love, will you pop up and brush your teeth.’ She pulled out a kitchen chair and gestured for Tim and Robert to sit down. Robert sat at the head of the oak table and Tim took a chair beside him.
Eve wasn’t fooled; she knew her mother wanted to talk about adult things, so she stalled as long as she could.
‘How old are you?’ When standing, Eve’s elbows rested comfortably on the table top and she leaned her chin on her hand waiting for Tim to reply.
‘Eve!’ Marie exclaimed.
‘No it’s a fair question.’ Tim smiled at Eve across the table, she was beginning to remind him of his niece when she was younger. ‘I’m sixty-two, and Robert is sixty-five. How old are you?’
‘I’m eight and Jack is eleven. My mum is twenty-one.’ She widened her eyes and lifted her eyebrows for effect; she had seen her daddy do it often. Marie shook her head and smiled and even though Eve’s charm was hard to deny, she threw a warning look at her daughter to finish up her questions and do what she was told. ‘Are you a grandad?’ Eve grabbed a freshly baked bun from the cooling rack beside the oven knowing by the look on her mother’s face she wasn’t going to get away with much more.
‘No.’ Robert caught Tim’s eye as he answered. ‘But we are both uncles.’
‘That’s cool. Where do you live?’ Eve sprayed some crumbs from her mouth as she blurted out her questions. She didn’t dare look in her mum’s direction but she could feel her stare from where she stood.
‘Dublin.’ Tim could see she was stalling for time and couldn’t help but go along with her. ‘I used to live here though, when I was your age.’ Tim anticipated her response: a wide smile; crumbs filling the gaps where her teeth should be.
‘No way!’ Eve exclaimed in disbelief. ‘In my house?’
‘Way,’ Tim answered. ‘But it wasn’t as pretty when I lived here.’ He glanced at Marie, hoping the compliment would reach her, as she carried a plate of baked fancies to the old oak table by the double doors. He cringed as he visualised the state of disrepair he had left the place in. He was sorry now. ‘You really have restored it so beautifully.’ Tim’s eyes wandered around the room. He couldn’t remember the kitchen ever having as much daylight in it before. ‘Was that window always there?’ A stream of white light flowed through the slatted blinds, creating dark angled stripes on the otherwise white porcelain floor.
‘That was one of the more modern features we installed.’ Marie was proud of how the house looked. ‘It’s such a pretty view from here.’ She looked out over the farm and down the hills to her brother-in-law’s, George McGrath’s farm below. The McGrath’s had lived in this part of Kilkenny for centuries. ‘That’s Michael’s homeplace down there’. She pointed down and across the fields to where George McGrath’s house stood. ‘We tried as best we could to keep as much of the original features, and married them with a bit of modern stuff as well.’ She continued to set the table. ‘Of course there’s still so much we want to do.’ She hoped that didn’t sound like a criticism to Tim of the state they had found the place in.
‘It really is unrecognisable,’ Tim said sheepishly. He wondered what she had thought of the place when she first saw it. ‘With living in Dublin, I, or I mean, we never really got down that much.’
Marie threw her daughter a final warning look and as Eve left the room, Marie poured some tea into Tim and Robert’s mugs, cleared her throat and began to speak. She could tell by the anticipation in Tim and Robert’s eyes that they were eager for more information.
‘Sorry you were bombarded with all those questions.’ She smiled, shutting the door behind her daughter. ‘I was waiting for her to leave so that I could tell you, Detective Kelly, he was
here earlier this morning and just nipped back to the station for a few things, he said I’ve to give him a ring when you get here.’ She had learned the hard way not to have sensitive conversations in front of her chatty eight-year-old.
‘Marie,’ Tim was anxious to meet the detective and get back on the road to Dublin, ‘if you don’t mind, maybe you’ll give him a ring there now.’ And if he could avoid meeting Michael McGrath, all the better.
‘Of course.’ Marie patted her head for her glasses and slid them down to her nose. She scrolled through her recent calls and pressed connect when she found the station’s number. She smiled at Tim as she listened for the call to be connected. ‘Detective Kelly, please.’ Her tone was clear and concise, Tim noted as she spoke down the phone to whoever answered. She walked out of the kitchen to continue.
‘She seems nice.’ Robert spoke softly as the door closed behind her. ‘Crazy being back here after all these years, I’d say?’
Tim barely acknowledged his ramblings with a nod.
Robert watched him with sympathetic eyes. ‘You can see for miles from this window.’ Robert stood by the sink and turned on the tap to rinse his cup. Tim didn’t answer. He had never stopped to take in the view when he was a child; he was too busy ducking out of the way of his father’s fists. ‘Tim.’ Robert knew Tim’s thoughts were far from undulated hills and idyllic childhood memories. Tim still didn’t answer. ‘Tim.’ Robert spoke more firmly.
‘Yes.’ Tim shook his head as though trying to banish what was inside of it. ‘What, yes, the view, yes it’s lovely. Sorry, I was miles away.’ It was surreal to think that he, Timothy Fitzpatrick, was sitting in Fitzpatrick House, drinking tea once more, after all this time.
‘You know, I don’t think he ever forgave me.’
‘Who didn’t?’ Robert said. He glanced at the door, hoping neither Eve, nor Marie would return too soon. He was eager for Tim to speak to him, talk about how he was truly feeling and he knew that it was a hard thing for Tim to do.
