‘You are aware of the newspaper reports linking you to Grace Dowds’ father Stephen?’ Anna asked going straight in as planned.
‘Yes, Stephen and I have worked together in the past.’
Thomas leaned in close to Finnegan across the table, ‘You see our problem is that we have two dead girls, and you are showing up as a connection in both cases. Help me out here Rory, help me understand,’ he placed another photo of Grace on the table. It was from the crime scene, her head twisted away from the camera at an unnatural angle. ‘So, you’ve definitely never met Grace, is that right?’
Finnegan looked down at the image of Grace in her prom dress. ‘Possibly. I couldn’t say for sure.’ He leaned back on his chair and appeared cocky, a bit too relaxed and sure of himself. It was an act. Anna could put money on the fact that inside his mind was running on over drive and he was panicking, hoping Murphy would dig him out of whatever hole he was headed for.
‘You won’t mind if we take a closer look at some of your little business parties? CCTV cameras, that sort of thing. To check that everything is kosher, like?’ Thomas said with a smirk.
‘You have nothing on me, and there is no reason for you to be looking into my business. Now if that is all officers, I need to get back to my grieving wife, if you don’t mind leaving us to it.’
‘Oh now, sure, we’ve just a few more questions and then you are free to go. What’s the harm in helping us out Mr Finnegan? Surely you are as keen to help us out as much as possible?’ Anna said, keeping her voice pleasant and neutral, as if they were all good friends, on the same side.
‘These parties that Esme waitressed at – we’d like a full list of anyone who attended as a guest or employees who worked at them.’
Finnegan looked to his lawyer.
‘Something that’s been bothering us Rory, as you know, Esme’s phone records show that you and she conversed a lot. Would you care to share with us the details of your conversations?’ Thomas put the question to him. ‘I’m sure you will want any suggestion that you may have been having an affair with your wife’s younger sister explained away.’
Anna watched him look to his solicitor for guidance again. Murphy gave a slight nod of his greying head. Finnegan’s expression changes, it alters his whole being. He’s no longer the swaggering professional out to give a helping hand in getting justice for his wife’s baby sister; now he’s eagle sharp, his eyes steel, and his shoulders hunched as if he is a tightly wound up spring ready to throw the first punch. Not someone you’d want to cross. Definitely not someone a seventeen-year-old girl could handle if things got out of hand.
Thomas leans forward, ‘Perhaps Esme came on a little too strong. You felt what? Threatened? Under pressure? Hard to resist and when it all goes down she starts to feel guilty. Cries that she can’t bear sharing you with her sister, can’t live with the betrayal.’
‘Esme had a bit of a crush on me. What can I say? I tried to let her down gently but you know how young girls get.’
‘No, I’m not sure how young girls get. Maybe you would care to fill me in?’ Anna said.
‘She looked up to me, and I suppose, I spoiled her a bit.’
‘Did you give her money? Buy her gifts?’
Finnegan looked to his lawyer before answering, ‘On occasion yes. But it was all harmless. She was like a little sister to me.’
‘That sounds a lot like grooming to me,’ Anna said sitting back.
Murphy glanced up sharply from his notes and cleared his throat, ‘I don’t like allegations being tossed around. Watch what you say to my client Detective.’
Anna ignored him.
‘Did you ever have sex with Esme?’ she asked, leaning in closer to Finnegan.
For the first time, he seemed rattled. A shine of sweat coated his forehead.
Murphy piped up, ‘My client does not have to answer that question.’
‘Sounds to me like you were grooming her, buttering her up before getting your end away. Have a thing for sisters, do you?’ Thomas said.
‘I love my wife. Esme was only a kid, a teenager.’ He looked to Thomas, ‘You know how girls are these days, all short skirts and flirting. She might have chased after me, but I didn’t do anything wrong.’ He wiped his hand on his trouser leg. They had him over the ropes with this.
Thomas leaned back on his chair, ‘You see, Rory, here’s the problem, too many phone calls, buying her gifts … and then we get wind from a reliable source that you and Esme may have shared a little bit of nookie. What was it? A kiss and a fumble? Or did you have sex with her?’
Murphy looked apoplectic, practically rising up from his chair in rage, ‘My client does not have to listen to this nonsense.’
Anna decided it was time for another change of tack while he was vulnerable.
‘Well, back to Stephen Dowds, how well do you know him? Is it purely business?’
‘He’s a business associate. I buy my cars from him.’
‘Papers are saying you helped to get his political career of the ground. That you bank rolled him all the way to the city council and beyond before he fell at the last hurdle.’
‘People in this place still vote according to how their grannies and grandas voted. Green or orange. I’m open to change, to see things done differently.’
Thomas shifted on his chair, ‘Wouldn’t hurt to have someone close on the planning committee if you are looking to buy land and develop it.’
Finnegan shrugged his shoulders. ‘No crime in having friends in high places.’
Anna closed her notebook, ‘I think we’re done here, Mr Finnegan but we’ll most certainly be in touch. Go home to that wife of yours and maybe have a little think about your dead sister-in-law. If anything should come back to you that you think might be relevant, let us know.’
Later Anna and Thomas watched the tape back. ‘Do you believe him?’ Thomas asked.
‘What?’ Anna asked turning towards him, ‘That he didn’t have sex with her?’
He nodded.
‘He didn’t out right deny it. He’s hiding something, but we can’t know for certain if it was a full-blown relationship. Did she hit on him or did he lead her on? He could have had a hold over her in some way. A young girl with a major crush on her sister’s husband-to-be – could have the potential to blow up.’
‘He knows we can’t hold him. His lawyer is one of the best and if we set a foot wrong he’ll be down on us before you can say guilty as charged. What do you make of him?’
Anna considered his arrogance, the way he had looked at her when they first met as if he routinely assessed women to decide whether they were worth his time.
‘I certainly don’t like him. I’d say he is full of himself, and that he is one of those men who thinks he loves women, but really, he is only interested in how good they make him look. I don’t know if I see him as our killer though.’
‘He is definitely hiding something. We need surveillance on him and maybe with enough rope he’ll hang himself.’
Anna agreed, though she doubted McKay would sanction surveillance. Finnegan was hiding something all right but she couldn’t decide if he was trying to protect his marriage or his business.
Anna headed back to the office to track down Russell and Manus. They were in charge of logging every member of staff working at both events. So far, one still eluded them, the man called Luke Nead.
‘Where are we with the search for the rogue security guard?’ Anna asked.
Manus Magee stood up, ‘So far we’ve drawn a blank. He wasn’t working that night and none of the other security staff recall seeing him.’
‘What about the wages clerk, did she have anything of interest to say about him?’ Anna asked.
Russell shook his head, ‘Genevieve’s her name, and she didn’t give us anything worthwhile. He was always paid cash in hand, same as other casual staff. He had no address logged with them. If they needed him in, they called him on the mobile number,’ he paused to stretch and yawn, ‘We�
�ve put a trace on it but it’s been either switched off or conveniently disposed of.’
‘Did the firm say if he usually went AWOL?’
‘Yeah, they said they weren’t always able to use him. Apparently, he takes himself off on hikes up the Mournes. No signal. Camps out for a couple of days and then collects his messages when he’s back within signal.’
‘Keep on it. We need to track him down. At this stage, it’s the best bet we have,’ Anna said.
Manus scratched the back of his thick neck, ‘No mention of family or girlfriend, even though he’s supposedly a good-looking fella. They seemed to like him well enough. No concerns. Always did his shift and gave them no trouble.’
Anna sighed, ‘Why keep such a low profile, no known address, and not responding to calls? Something’s going on with him. Get Genevieve from the security firm, to come in and give a description. Make it official, see if she suddenly remembers anything that might be of help.’
Seeing Declan was a mistake. She knew that much, but when he came calling, she always let him in. Tonight, was no different. She could smell whiskey on his breath. His shoulders looked lost in his jacket and she could see that he was wired. There was a restlessness about him that she recognised in herself – that sense of need to crack the case, to be one step closer to finding the killer.
‘You brought Rory in for questioning. Why? I’ve told you they are looking at the wrong man. He’s my daughter’s husband for fucks sake! I might think he’s a prick, a jumped up little asshole but he didn’t kill Esme!’
Anna tried to push past his wheelchair to block his path into the living room. ‘You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too dangerous. My frigging career would be over if this got out.’
‘Don’t, Anna. What we have, has got nothing to do with the case,’ he said softer. Anna felt like she was pouring acid into an open wound, but she needed to wake him up to the fact that his son-in-law wasn’t all he seemed.
‘Look Declan, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Finnegan may have been depositing money into Esme’s account. Something was going on.’ Anna could see this was torturing him.
‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ he asked quietly.
She knew he would ask that. ‘Declan, you know why. You shouldn’t be involved as it is. Even though this case has brought us together, if there is anything real between us we have to draw a line. It’s a murder investigation and I’m breaking every rule ever written by letting you in on what is going on. It has to stop.’
‘Rory isn’t the link. You said yourself you don’t think he’s guilty of murder.’
‘Yes, but you have got to question why he was paying Esme, and we can’t ignore the link to Grace’s family.’ She let her words seep in. Carly’s description of seeing Rory and Esme together in a possible embrace was always at the back of her mind. While she longed to tell Declan, to make him see the possibilities, she knew she had to hold back. Not for the first time she wondered how she had allowed herself to become entangled with Declan. She was compromised, and if McKay or Thomas got wind of the relationship she would be off the case and disciplined to boot. She didn’t need internal investigation. Not again. The fallout from her mother’s death had left something of a black mark on her record. Anna didn’t think her career would survive a second strike.
‘I’m not saying Rory is the murderer, but he is up to something and we need to rule him out. You know that most murder investigations get murky, things are thrown up that may have absolutely no link to the main crime, but if you lift a rock and dig around with a stick you find all sorts.’
She didn’t want to hit him with the double blow that his wife was having an affair with one of her colleagues. Dr Fintan Swanton, from the QUB modern languages department. Anna had seen something pass between them when she had spoken to Isabelle in her department office. Thomas had done a bit of digging, or flirting more like, with the Dr Isabelle Wells’ department secretary and had been told of the little inter-departmental relationship.
It was more than obvious that the marriage wasn’t exactly happy, but she didn’t think he’d welcome the knowledge of Izzy’s affair, even with his entanglement with Anna. Spouses could lead separate lives, but at the end of the day they were still connected on a deep level.
He reached over and took her hand, ‘I’m sorry. This is all so …’ he searched for the words, ‘fucking crazy. I’m going out of my mind with frustration.’
25
Genevieve Marston didn’t look happy about being brought into the station at six o’clock in the evening.
‘Look I’ve told your lot already. I don’t know much about him. Nice enough fella. Polite and well turned out. Likes his clothes I’d say, always dressed smart, like. Never gives any lip like some of them.’ She sat forward on the chair as if she was frightened to make herself too comfortable.
Anna folded her arms, ‘You said he isn’t always easy to get hold off. Did he ever give an explanation for this?’
‘Sure, he likes to go camping. Said he likes hiking in the mountains, nature and all that. No harm in getting your head showered every now and then. Except I’d prefer to do it on a beach with a cocktail in my hand, not up Slieve Donard on a blustery day getting the head blew off me.’
‘Did he go on these trips alone or with anyone?’
Genevieve shrugged, ‘How should I know? We scarcely pass the time of day with each other. He calls in to collect his pay and we have a bit of a chat. That’s it.’
Anna was frustrated. They desperately needed to talk to Luke Nead. ‘You don’t have an alternative number or address for him?’
‘No, like I said before, I send out a text to the casual workers and if they are free they text back. First to come back to me, are the first to get the job. Simple.’
There was one aspect of Genevieve Marston’s description that niggled Anna. Luke Nead liked to go hiking, enjoyed nature. It wasn’t a wild leap to think he might know a thing or two about wildlife and birds.
‘Genevieve, we are going to need a detailed description of Luke Nead from you.’
She rolled her eyes, ‘Fine, I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but I’ll do my best.’
The vigil was planned for 8.00 p.m. at the front of the City Hall. The organisers were handing out candles while a group at the front began singing hymns. Anna and Thomas pushed their way through the crowd.
‘Bloody fanatics,’ Thomas hissed, ‘Nothing like a rally to get the good people of Belfast out on the streets.’ The crowds were gathering, awaiting the orchestrated mourning and candle-lit vigil organised by Aidan Anderson, the city’s Lord Mayor and self-appointed Belfast saviour.
They were standing in Donegall Square, part of a quadrangle of the city’s main shopping area, where Belfast City Hall stood at its centre, headquarters of the city council. The City Hall building looked splendid with the Continental Autumn Market wrapped around the front of the building. It was decked out with twinkling lights and aromas of roasting chestnuts, crusty bread and baked potatoes. A girl pushed past eating a burrito; Anna’s stomach rumbled. It had been another long day, with uninspired canteen sandwiches and coffee being their only food.
Thomas steered Anna towards the back of the crowd. ‘They eat this shit up. One minute they are out protesting over the right to fly a flag and the next they are holding paper cones with a candle lit in memory of a dead girl they have never met.’ Thomas said, his mouth close to Anna’s ear in a conspiring way, as they pushed their way through the crowd. It was a cold, sharp, clear night. The town was full of shoppers and the decision to call a vigil in memory of the dead girls hadn’t gone done well with the Superintendent. Their officers were out in force to deal with the crowds.
The City Hall looks like something from the front of a Christmas card, all twinkly lights and packed full of shoppers and those wanting to take in a bit of the festive cheer. The continental market was pulling in a good crowd. The stalls were full of craft tat, silver b
ells, autumn harvest wreaths, scarves and hats. Burritos and marshmallows on sticks dripping with lilted chocolate. Kids were whinging at their mas and das for chocolate covered crepes, a bag of Turkish delight and another go on the merry-go-round. Jesus, his head was splitting just listening to them.
The crowd seemed to swell and he found himself caught up in a riptide of people before a pretty girl smashed into him.
‘Oh, sorry, I near took the legs off you with my bag. Swear to God, I don’t know my own strength!’ She smiled at him, her blue eyes, behind a pair of oversized geeky glasses, flashing with merriment. He could tell she was appraising him, taking in his Lacoste shirt, his North Face padded jacket and his freshly shaved face. He never had any problem attracting girls. They all seemed to like what they saw.
‘Sure, no harm done. Can I help you?’ he asked, giving her his smile. The special one, the girls all liked. He took the over-packed Topshop bag from her, while she steadied herself, rearranging her other bags of shopping and positioning her handbag across her body, the strap sitting between the velvet clad swell of her breasts. She clocked him noticing her breasts and gave him a half smile before automatically drawing her parka coat tight around herself.
‘Aww thanks, you’re so kind after me near taking you down with my shopping. I’ve been in town all afternoon and I think I’ve near enough spent all my wages!’
‘You’re just right, pretty girl like you deserves to be spoilt.’
She blushed, as he knew she would, smiling shyly as she took the Topshop bag back from him.
‘Are you here for the vigil?’ she asked.
‘Nah, not really, but since I’m here, I might as well stick around to see what the craic is.’
‘It’s awful, what’s happening – those poor girls being killed. Me and all my friends are scared to death to go out on our own.’
‘You should be careful, right enough. Stick together, I’d say that’s the best idea.’
Little Bird: a serial killer thriller Page 17
