‘No, Francis, I promise. And thank you.’
Detective Dooley was waiting for her in her office. With one shirt tail hanging out and his red tie crooked, he looked like a schoolboy who had come out second-best in a playground scatter.
‘Horgan, of all people,’ he said, as she hung up her coat. ‘He was such a messer, always making us laugh. I mean, Jesus and Mary and holy Saint Joseph tonight, why would anybody want to shoot him? It was on the TV news only about half an hour ago, although they didn’t name him. I saw you there, too.’
‘I’ll tell you all about it after,’ said Katie. ‘Right now, I’d rather get back to business.’
‘You don’t even have a breeze who the shooter was?’
‘Not really, no. Denis McBride said the bullet was probably came from some Russian or Eastern European sniper rifle, but at the moment it’s anybody’s guess who fired it, or why, or even who they were aiming at. It might not have been Horgan.’
‘You mean it might have been you?’
‘As I said, let’s talk about it later,’ Katie told him, sitting down at her desk. ‘Tell me about this really great lead we’ve been given.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Detective Dooley. ‘This young couple came into the station about an hour ago. They’re downstairs now, in the visitors’ room. They didn’t see your appeal for themselves but a friend of theirs did and told them about it and they put two and two together, like.’
Detective Dooley prodded at a white mobile phone and then handed it to her. There was a selfie on the screen of a boy and a girl, both about eighteen years old, their hair tousled by the wind, both grinning and making thumbs-up signs. Behind them rose a grassy slope and on the slope three horses were grazing, two chestnuts and a bay. The horses were at least thirty metres away, and partly obscured by the boy’s head and right shoulder, but their coats were shining in the sunlight and as far as Katie could tell they were all in a fair condition, not swaybacked or moth-eaten. In the background she could see the thin blue strip of the sea, so they were clearly standing on a cliff top.
She peered at the selfie even closer. ‘How about this,’ she said, shaking her head, because there was more in the background than horses. On the right-hand side, half of the rear end of a large dark-green horsebox was visible. Two men were standing next to it, smoking. One wore a red tartan shirt and a pale-brown cap, the other a plain white collarless shirt and a black waistcoat. They had their backs turned away, so their faces were hidden, but Katie could make out the first six digits of the horsebox’s number plate, 131-C-74.
‘That is the cliff top at Nohaval Cove,’ said Detective Dooley. ‘And that is an Annard Renault Midlum 7.5 tonne horsebox. I’ve checked it out with the RSA and it was registered in March 2013 to one Paddy Fearon of Spring Lane Halting Site.’
Katie studied the picture closely. ‘This was taken in the summer, by the look of it.’
‘July the eighteenth. They’d been dating each other exactly a month. Between you and me, I think they’d been looking for somewhere to have it in the open air. But then this horsebox and these two rough-looking fellers showed up and threatened them, so they did a legger.’
‘I’d like to ask them a few questions,’ said Katie. ‘Does this phone belong to them?’
‘Yes, but I’ve already sent a copy of that selfie to my own laptop.’
‘Good,’ said Katie, standing up. ‘I don’t want to start counting any chickens, but I think you may be right. This could be just the break we need.’
Detective Dooley accompanied her to the doorway, but just as she was walking through it he said, ‘Ma’am?’
‘What is it?’
He touched his left cheek with his fingertips. ‘Sorry – but I think you have some blood on your face.’
* * *
When Katie and Detective Dooley walked into the visitors’ room, the young couple were holding hands and looking anxious.
‘We won’t have to stay here much longer, will we?’ asked the boy. ‘I should have been back at work an hour ago.’
‘No, we won’t keep you,’ said Katie. ‘I just wanted to have a quick word with you before you left. I’m Detective Superintendent Maguire, and you are?’
‘Michael – Michael Calvey, and this is Shelagh McGee.’
Katie handed Michael the mobile phone. ‘I really appreciate you both coming in to show us your picture,’ she said. ‘We don’t know for sure yet, until we’ve made further enquiries, but you could have given us some very important evidence.’
‘One of our pals saw it on the telly, about them horses being slung off the cliff at Nohaval Cove, and he remembered us talking about it and them two fellers chasing us off.’
‘Detective Dooley said this happened in July.’
‘That’s right. We was only trying to spend a bit of time together, like. We’re both of us still living at home with our families and it’s a nightmare. Always my younger brothers knocking at my bedroom door and saying are you shifting her?’
‘Same in my house,’ said Shelagh, blushing. ‘With me it’s usually me mam knocking and asking us if we want a cup of tea or a piece of cake, but you know she’s only checking on us.’
‘So you went to the cliff top at Nohaval Cove to get some privacy?’
‘Well, that’s right, like,’ said Michael. ‘It was a grand warm day and all but usually there’s nobody up there because it’s hard to get to, you know? I had my bike then, my Yamaha 125, so there wasn’t any problem.’
‘What time of day was this?’ asked Katie.
‘About three in the afternoon. We’d had burgers at McDonald’s and then we decided to get out of the city and take a walk by the sea.’
‘When did the horsebox arrive?’
‘Not so long after we did. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes later, something like that. We could see it coming along the track beside the field and we was thinking to ourselves what in the name of Jesus is somebody bringing a horsebox out here for? Well, you saw it in the photo, it was a big one, too.’
‘It parked right up close to where we was sitting,’ put in Shelagh. ‘Then these two fellers got out and they stared at us like what do you think you’re doing here? If a look could kill you, like. But Mikey said don’t pay them any mind, this is a free country and we’re just as entitled to be here as they are, and maybe they won’t stay very long.’
‘But then they let out the horses?’ said Katie.
‘They did, yeah, and the horses was just wandering around chewing the grass, like, and the two fellers had a smoke, and that was when we took the selfie. I don’t think they saw us taking it, though, they was too busy having some kind of a discussion. We’d already decided to mosey off anyway, because the whole point of us going there was to be on our own.’
‘Did they say anything to you?’
‘Oh, did they!’ said Michael. ‘Your man in the red shirt finished his fag and then he came over to where we was sitting and said, “Eff off, the pair of ye!” Just like that. Just, “Eff off!” So I said, “Oh yeah, boy, and supposing we don’t?” So he said, “Are ye looking to get yourself mangled, because you’re going the right way about it?”’
Shelagh took hold of Michael’s left hand between both of hers. ‘I think Mikey was ready to claim the feller, but I knew he wouldn’t stand a chance and that’s not saying that he can’t stand up for himself. So I said, “Let’s go, Mikey,” and so we did.’
‘Did you look back when you were leaving to see what those two were up to?’
‘I turned around the once,’ said Shelagh. ‘They was still standing there glaring at us.’
‘And you could still see the horses?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. But I just wanted to get away from there as quick as we could. I was really freaked, I tell you.’
Katie stood up. ‘Michael – Shelagh – thank you both for coming forward. You’ve been really helpful. We can contact you again if we need to?’
‘You won’t be putting our names in the pa
pers or nothing?’ asked Michael.
‘No, we won’t be doing that. And I doubt if we’ll be asking you to appear in court as witnesses, either. Your selfie is the most important evidence you’ve given us. At least we have somewhere to start looking.’
Detective Dooley escorted the young couple along the corridor to the reception area and saw them out of the building. Katie was waiting for him outside the visitors’ room when he came back.
‘We’re going to have to play this one very, very careful,’ she said. ‘You know what Spring Lane is like. Even if we manage to find this Paddy Fearon, he’ll probably say that he’s never owned a horsebox in his life, or that he’s not really Paddy Fearon at all but somebody else altogether, and that’s if we can manage to interview him without having rockers and bottles thrown at us or some saintly social worker from Pavee Point accusing us of racism.’
‘Well, of course,’ said Detective Dooley. ‘I wasn’t planning to rush around to Spring Lane mob-handed. I’ll start to ask some discreet questions among the Travellers first. There’s a couple of young girls I know from the halting site who think I’m a DJ. And I’ll also see if I can’t locate this horsebox. With any luck it won’t have been resprayed or scrapped or burned out on some farm somewhere.’
‘DI O’Rourke has some good contacts in the Traveller community,’ she said. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’
She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to talk to Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin about Horgan and then I think we’ll probably have a station meeting. I expect we’ll be holding a media conference, too, once Horgan’s next of kin have been informed.’
Detective Dooley shrugged and nodded, but said nothing. Katie went up to him and straightened his tie. ‘Come on, Dooley,’ she said gently. ‘There’s always a risk involved in this job. That’s part of the reason we do it. Tuck your shirt in, take a deep breath, and try to remember the last time Horgan made you laugh.’
‘He always used to say that if he got killed, he’d throw a mickey fit.’
‘Oh, I doubt if he’s doing that,’ said Katie. ‘I’ll bet he’s sitting outside the pearly gates right now, itching to tell Saint Peter one of his terrible knock-knock jokes.’
* * *
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin was sitting at his desk looking glummer than ever. Detective Inspector O’Rourke was in his office, too, as well as Superintendent Pearse and Sergeant O’Farrell and the keen new press officer, Mathew McElvey.
‘Well, Katie, this is a fair shock and no mistake,’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin. ‘Francis here tells me that you weren’t hurt at all, and that’s a blessing.’
‘I’ve been wracking my brains trying to think who might have done it, though,’ said Katie. ‘Like, the list of possible suspects is almost endless, but why now, and why there?’
Superintendent Pearse finished making an elaborate performance of blowing his nose and then he said, ‘You’re right. The timing is a puzzler. On top of that, how the devil did they know you were up at Dromsligo at that particular time and what car you were in?’
‘I have no idea,’ Katie admitted. ‘Not unless we have another mole in the station.’
‘They could have been waiting for you outside the station here and followed you,’ said Superintendent Pearse. ‘That would have been risky, though, with all the parking restrictions around here. There’s that loading bay in Eglinton Street, right opposite the car park entrance, but even if they hadn’t been moved on or given a ticket, they would have been picked up on CCTV. In fact, I have Sergeant Byrnes going back through all of today’s footage right now.’
Detective Inspector O’Rourke held up a torn-off sheet of notepad and said, ‘I have all the details of Horgan’s next of kin here, ma’am. I don’t know if you feel up to informing them yourself, or if you’d prefer me to do it. Apparently his girlfriend’s rung the station already asking for him, but she was told that he was unavailable.’
‘Where do they live?’ asked Katie.
‘Old Youghal Road, Mayfield.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll go up there myself. I’ll take Kyna Ni Nuallán with me. She’s good at breaking bad news.’
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin peered at his watch and said, ‘If you can be back by seven, Katie, we’ll be having a station meeting in the conference room. I’ve already been in touch with the Cork Counselling Centre and they can send a therapist around if anybody feels the need for one. After that we’ll be holding a short media briefing.’
‘That’ll be at eight, in time for the nine o’clock news and the newspaper deadlines,’ added Mathew McElvey. Katie thought he looked more like a junior sales assistant in the Bedding Department at Brown Thomas than a Garda press officer, and she was convinced that he plucked his eyebrows. All the same, he was very clever at keeping the media happy without giving away too many operational details.
She was turning to leave when Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin said, ‘Katie, one more thing,’ and got up from his desk. He took her out into the corridor and along to the glass-enclosed staircase at the back of the building, where they wouldn’t be overheard.
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, ‘you’ve had an update from the Ombudsman’s office.’
‘That’s right,’ he told her. ‘They’ll be sending two of their people down on Thursday morning to ask you some questions about Bryan Molloy. He’s not only alleging that you bullied and harassed him. He’s also accusing you of concocting false evidence against him. He says that you bribed one or more criminal informants in Limerick and he claims that he can produce witnesses to prove it.’
Katie stood with her mouth open, barely able to believe what Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin had just said to her. ‘That man is a living outrage. I really mean it. You know yourself what a gowl he is.’
‘No comment, Katie. He really turned things around in Limerick, fair bows, and he’s always been straight with me.’
‘Yes, but you’re a man and you played golf with him.’
‘True. But I think he quite fancied you if the truth be known.’
‘Well – I’m not going to start worrying about him now,’ said Katie. ‘I have much more important things to be doing. Like, I have to tell Mr and Mrs Horgan that they’ve lost their only son, and I have to tell his girlfriend that the baby she’s carrying is going to be born an orphan.’
‘Oh no, is that true?’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin. ‘That’s tragic.’
‘He told me on the way to Dromsligo. He said he didn’t know what he was going to do about it. He liked the girl but he didn’t want to marry her.’
‘Lord lantern of Jesus, it’s enough to make the angels weep. And talking of that, what’s the story with the flying nun? Do you think there’s any link at all with that sister who was killed at the Mount Hill Nursing Home?’
‘I won’t get a post-mortem report from Dr O’Brien until late tomorrow at the earliest,’ Katie told him. ‘We haven’t even been able to identify her yet, as far as I know. She might have belonged to a different order altogether. I’m hoping that Kyna Ni Nuallán will be able to give me an update. I sent her off to apply for a search warrant for the gardens at Bon Sauveur Convent before I left for Dromsligo. She should have it by now.’
‘Oh yes, the child’s jawbone,’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin. ‘Come and have a word with me as soon as you know that you have your warrant. It’s going to take us a day or two at least to set up a search team. Of course, if we find anything at all we’ll have to be calling in RMR Engineering to carry out a ground-radar survey, and if they find anything at all we’ll have to be calling in the forensic archaeologists.’
He waited while a female garda came clattering down the stairs, smiling at her briefly and then returning to his default gloomy expression.
‘There goes my annual budget, in other words,’ he added.
12
Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán was waiting for her in her office, holding a blue
plastic folder and staring out of the window. Katie came in and closed the door behind her, then she walked over to the window and stood facing her. Neither of them spoke, but they looked intently into each other’s eyes, trying to interpret what they were feeling.
It had started raining again and the rain made a soft pattering sound against the glass.
Without a word, Katie took Kyna into her arms and held her close. Kyna dropped her folder on to the carpet and held Katie, too. They kissed, tenderly but chastely, both with their eyes open, as if they needed to see one another as close as possible.
‘Thank God you’re safe,’ said Kyna, touching Katie’s cheek and then stroking her hair.
For a moment they pressed their foreheads together and then Katie gave Kyna’s hand a quick squeeze and walked across to her desk. Kyna bobbed down to pick up her folder and followed her.
‘You managed to get the search warrant?’ asked Katie.
‘Here you are. All signed and stamped. His Honour Judge Monaghan took a little persuading, on account of us wanting to dig up the grounds of a convent, which has only ever been tended by nuns. But I think he was persuaded when I mentioned all of the children’s skeletons that were found at Tuam. If he’d refused to grant the warrant, he would have had to explain why he hadn’t granted it and His Honour Judge Monaghan doesn’t like having to explain himself to anybody. Even more than that, he doesn’t like scandal.’
‘Good,’ said Katie. She took the folder, opened it up and quickly scanned the search warrant. ‘In fact, this is more than good. He’s not only given us the authority to search the convent gardens, but the convent building, too. How did you manage to persuade him to do that?’
‘I convinced him that we might find some very important supporting evidence if we could search the entire premises. Maybe there’s still some left-over clothing that belonged to the children who were taken in there. Or maybe we can find ledgers that list all of their names and tell us what happened to them. Like, you know, which children were adopted, and which children died, and what did they die of, and what happened to their remains?’
Blood Sisters Page 9
