The Blue Pool

by Siobhan MacDonald

  “Hello ev-ev-everybody.” His stammered greeting broke the silence. Thin lips breaking into a nervous smile.

  “Sit down, Nathan,” The skinny man said, pointing to a chair.

  Nathan Queally sat down, resting his hands on the table. At that point, Kathy noticed the scar. Rough and jagged across his right hand. Some terrified creature did that. Some woman lashing out to protect herself. The skin on Queally’s hands looked coarse and scaly but his finger-nails were clean. Fastidious type, thought Kathy.

  “And this is Inspector Stephen Shaw,” Richard said taking a step back, as if in deference to a superior.

  “Good morning, all,” said Stephen Shaw. His voice was deep. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down.

  Richard sat himself next to Nathan Queally, and all of a sudden the room seemed to shrink. Kathy felt it closing in around her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near this creature who was sitting barely four feet away. The cloying smell of old-fashioned aftershave wafted across the table.

  The table was all wrong. The occasion demanded the formality of a long conference table rather than the conviviality of this narrow one. It felt uncomfortable. Across the narrow channel between them, Kathy could hear Queally’s shallow breath, see the pin pricks of perspiration on his nose.

  Inspector Stephen Shaw took a notebook from his trenchcoat. A biro fell out of his pocket onto the floor. Slowly, he bent down to pick it up. Out of his other pocket he pulled a mobile phone. He studied it carefully a moment, pressed a few buttons, and set it on the table in front of him, face down.

  Kathy experienced a sudden and desperate moment of panic. Why had she come here? Did she really need to know the details of what had happened? This was the question she’d asked herself so many times. Okay, she wanted to know what had happened but not go through the process of knowing it. And she only wanted to know if it wasn’t too awful. Because once she heard it, she couldn’t un-hear it. Once she knew it, she couldn’t un-know it.

  Stephen Shaw cleared his throat. Her stomach flipped. It was too late now. “Richard, I’ll let you kick off,” he said, flattening out the spine of his notebook.

  “Thanks, Inspector.” Richard squared his shoulders. “As you already know, ladies, Mr Queally here presented himself to the police station in Limerick city, earlier on this week.” Richard sounded officious and stiff. As if on best behavior, in front of his superior officer. “Nathan has some information regarding our friend Sarah. The same information he gave to Ava and Penny, yesterday. And Nathan has asked for the opportunity to talk to all of you today as well.”

  Richard puffed his chest out.

  “Nathan, before you start, let me introduce my sister, Charlotte.” Richard gestured in Charlotte’s direction. Nathan Queally nodded, not brave enough to proffer a hand.

  “And Ruth and Kathy, Sarah’s other friends.”

  “Ladies,” said Nathan Queally, blinking in their directions.

  Kathy shivered.

  “I w-want to t-tell you all about that d-d-day. The way I re-remem-ber it, as best I c-can. It was some t-time ago, and I may get some s-stuff not quite right. But I’ll t-t-try my best.”

  That stammer was dreadful. Kathy wondered if it was genuine.

  Richard poured Queally a glass of water. He slid it towards him. Professional, thought Kathy. Detached. No judgement or revulsion.

  “I first saw you g-girls at the B-Blue P-Pool. I was watching you…” The makings of a smile formed at the corners of his mouth. Kathy felt herself go really cold. She squirmed. Nathan Queally’s rabbit eyes fastened onto hers.

  “I watched you all, taking out the row-boat and m-mucking about on the w-water.”

  Kathy struggled to look at him. You weirdo. You creepy slimey weirdo, she thought.

  “I was working up at the B-Blue Pool, you see. In one of the c-cabins, like. The O’Hagan’s. It was a tricky job. Getting that patio door in on my own.” He took a sip of water.

  Kathy always felt they were being watched. She’d been right all along.

  “Never worked up around those p-parts b-b-before. Not until that autumn. I never worked too f-f-far away from home. Not with Alice being the way she was, like. Grand part of the world though. P-peaceful like. A man can hear himself think.”

  He took a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.

  “You were watching us?” said Ruth sharply.

  God, how Kathy envied Ruth’s courage, the way she went for it. Unafraid. Accusing him already.

  “Well, not w-w-watching exactly,” he cleared his throat. “I c-c-couldn’t help noticing all the comings and goings over the few days. Like the guys who dropped ye back late in the night. A strange bunch of guys, I thought.”

  Kathy spotted Ruth shooting her a smug look. Would Ruth be proved right after all? Were the guys from the north of Ireland involved in this?

  “That was the n-n-night I stayed over myself. I wouldn’t normally s-stay away overnight like that. Not with Alice and all. But her sister said she’d stay the n-night with her.” He took another sip of water. By now Queally was sweating heavily. A clump of his sparse combed-over hair had come loose and flopped over his forehead.

  “The girl. She reminded me of Alice,” he lowered his voice. “The way she was when she was younger like. S-S-Slight. Blonde hair. Even around the mouth.”

  Jesus. He was talking about Sarah. The familiarity with which he spoke, sent a wave of revulsion through Kathy. What had this guy done with her? Kathy looked again at the scaly hands.

  “I s-s-saw you all leaving the following morning. After you’d gone, things went really quiet. Just me, my cup of tea, my smoke, listening to the singing of the birds.” He paused. The stutter was beginning to fade the more he concentrated. “I went back inside to finish up in the O’Hagan cabin. I wanted to finish up there as soon as I could and get on with my other jobs. I went b-back inside and started my work, drilling and hammering away and I never thought no more about it. I couldn’t say for definite but I’d say that must have been about ten. That’s when I’d normally stop for my first break. I like routine, you see.” His head bowed again.

  Stephen Shaw was busy with his notebook. Kathy couldn’t tell if he was writing or doodling. Her heart was beating very fast.

  “Carry on, Nathan,” said Richard. He was listening as intently as the rest of them even though he’d surely heard this all before. Was this the same story Queally had told Ava and Penny Nugent yesterday? The exact same story? Word for word? Having listened to this story once, was Richard now listening for discrepancies or over-rehearsed descriptions? Were they all part of some elaborate trap to catch Queally out? Is that why Detective Stephen Shaw was listening so avidly, checking for any slip-ups?

  “Yes. Yes, sorry,” said Queally. “The n-next thing anyways, it must have been about lunch-time. I’m in the kitchen heating up a tin of soup and I hear shouting. The window was open to let all the dust out. At first, I thought it might just be a b-bird squawking or shrieking, I wasn’t sure. After all, as far as I knew I was the only one left at the cabins.”

  Queally stopped, as if to reflect on what he’d said. To get his story right. “Some people don’t like the l-lonesomeness. I do. I like working alone, in my own time.”

  He was certainly taking his own time now. He was picking over his story with such precision that it occurred to Kathy that this freak could be taking some perverse pleasure in all of this.

  “Nathan, you heard noises,” prompted Richard.

  “That’s right, Sergeant Moran. I heard it – the n-noises again. Someone shouting. Yelling. Is that someone larking about or someone in trouble, I wondered? I sometimes get these things wrong, in the past I got into into… s-situations. I get things wrong. I’d be the person who’d end up in bother.”

  So, Queally had a persecution complex. That fitted. A whiner. Unable to shoulder blame.

  “I remember s-standing there with my ear-defenders around my neck, s-standing like
an eejit with the drill in my hand, wondering what to do. Well to be honest, I didn’t feel like getting involved in anything.” He sipped his water. “There wasn’t any need to anyways, it didn’t last too long. Whatever the shouting was all about seemed to be sorted quickly enough. ‘Keep your head down and keep out of it, Queally,’ says I to myself. ‘You’ve troubles enough of your own to worry about.’”

  His fingers were twisting one around another.

  “Next thing anyways, I hear the mad s-screech of tires and someone t-tearing out of the place like a s-scalded cat. It sounded like the bloody grand prix outside. ‘Nothing to do with you, Queally,’ says I again. ‘Get on with your work.’ Which I did. I finished up that patio door, and tidied up around it, and made a start on my other jobs. That was fine, until I ran out of s-smokes. So, off I head down to the pub to get a pack. Only as I pass the girls’ cabin, I notice something. ‘Something’s not right there,’ I says to myself. The back door to the girls’ cabin is open. Not a little bit open but half-way open…” Queally took a noisy glug of water.

  The meeting-room is silent now. The clock is ticking loudly on the wall. Kathy’s heart feels just as loud.

  “There’s no one around,” Queally continued. “No cars, n-nothing.” Queally stared out through the French windows as if trying to place all the fragments of memory or his concocted story in order. “Odd, I thinks.” He looked to Richard now for reassurance. “Whoever left that door like that, they surely didn’t meant to. They were in one hell of a hurry. I’d better close it, says I. The place would be overrun by wildlife in no time if I left it like that. I didn’t think too much more about it. I didn’t expect that… I thought I was doing the right thing… the n-neighbourly thing…”

  Queally took another sip of water, his hand trembling furiously now. Ruth opened her mouth to say something but Stephen Shaw put a finger to his lips signaling her not to interrupt. Unusually, he’d taken a moment to look up from his notebook.

  “Why did I have to stop?” Queally felt the sparse hairs of his comb-over. “I should have kept myself to myself. Why? Why did I do it?” He wiped his top lip. “I suppose I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help it,” He looked around the table, blinking his pink-rimmed eyes as if in supplication. Kathy braced herself, unsure if she wanted to hear more. Oh, God, oh God, what is he going to tell us? Charlotte stared ahead, stony-faced and white. She’d hardly moved since Queally started talking.

  “Continue, Mr Queally.” Inspector Shaw was sharp.

  “Yes… yes… well, I g-got out of the c-car.” Queally continued more slowly now, his stammer returning. “I g-got out of the car – I left the engine running. And I went to the door to p-pull it shut. But I could see something inside. At first, I wasn’t sure – I mean I knew I shouldn’t go in. I knew. It can’t be what I think, says I. Hoping. Hoping. I saw a leg, sticking out. I was stupid… I mean with m-my history I knew I shouldn’t go there but I… couldn’t… help… myself.” Queally struggled to get the words out. He stared miserably at the table as if trawling his memory.

  Kathy scanned the room. Did Richard believe what he was hearing? She could see the veins in his temples throbbing hard. His concentration was full on Nathan Queally. Apart from that, he gave nothing else away. His face held little expression.

  Stephen Shaw had turned over a new page in his notebook. He no longer concealed what he was scribbling. Circles. Large concentric circles – like ripples.

  “I saw a shapely l-l-leg, a woman’s leg.” Queally wasn’t even making eye contact with any of them now. He was looking at a spot on the ceiling, as if delivering something he’d rehearsed. Every word delivered carefully. “I walked slowly over, looking around me, calling out. ‘Hello,’ I called, wondering if we were the only ones there. ‘Hello,’ I called it out again, in case there was anyone else in the house. But it was all quiet in there. Quiet and still as a morgue.” He stopped. “She looked so v-vulnerable. It was only the two of us. No one else. Just me and her.”

  The clock ticked loudly in the meeting room. Everyone held their breath. Queally was back there now, in the cabin, reliving each and every second. Savoring every detail. His fidgeting had stopped and he was still.

  “It was… she was beautiful, even like that, lying there. At first, I knelt down beside her. Even then I knew. I j-just knew. I pulled her down onto the floor to get her flat… I put my lips on hers… but there was nothing. N-nothing coming back.”

  “No!” Ruth recoiled in her chair, pressing her hand to her mouth, squashing the words in. She was shaking her head, looking at this freak in horror. Charlotte’s eyes were huge. She stared at him unable to say a thing. Kathy’s head was spinning.

  Sarah had gone back to the cabin? The sick bastard tried to force himself on her? Why would Richard make them listen to this?

  “Say it!” Ruth exploded. “Spit it out. We know what you’re going to say. You’re enjoying this. You killed her… say it. Just bloody say it. You killed our friend, you sick pervert! Do you have to torture us like this? Well do you?”

  “NO, NO, NO. It wasn’t like that.” Queally squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head from side to side. His shiny cheeks went blotchy.

  “Hold on there, Ruth. Let him speak,” Richard said sharply, taking control.

  “I didn’t k-kill her,” Queally looked Ruth straight in the eye, a haunted look on his face. “I didn’t kill her. The poor thing was d-dead alright. But I didn’t kill her.”

  There was a gasp around the table.

  “What did you do?” Charlotte whispered after a moment – a haunted expression on her face.

  “I tried my best…” Nathan Queally looked at Charlotte. “I can do CPR. I knew how to resuscitate, from my army training. I compressed her chest, one, two, three, four. I checked her air passage. I blew into her mouth. I compressed again. One, two, three, four…..” he trailed off. “I had to t-try. She wasn’t completely cold but she must have been there a while. I guess I knew from the start that that she was d-dead. But I had to try, didn’t I?”

  No one said a thing.

  Ruth had fallen silent. Why didn’t Inspector Shaw challenge Queally? Why were Shaw and Richard silent? Did they hope that he’d trip up? There were tons of questions. Before she knew it, Kathy blurted out one of her own.

  “Sarah was already dead when you walked into the cabin?”

  “She was,” said Queally.

  “What happened her?” asked Kathy, with a rush of courage.

  “I don’t know. And that’s the honest truth.”

  “The honest truth?” Ruth said, sceptically.

  “It is. I found that young woman, s-sprawled on the sofa, dead. She had a big scarf around her. A black and white thing but I didn’t notice any obvious m-marks on her neck.” He shook his head as if still perplexed. “The scarf was loose.” He shook his head. “As I said, I p-pulled her on to the ground for mouth-to-mouth and I found this…” He pulled something out of his pocket.

  Kathy gasped.

  Ruth looked at Kathy. “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” whispered Kathy. “Lawrence’s medal. It’s Lawrence’s St Christopher’s medal.”

  Stephen Shaw scribbled something on his notepad.

  “Where did you get that?” Kathy felt suddenly bold enough to look Queally straight in the eye.

  “When I m-moved her. When I moved her to the ground. I think it fell out of her hand or it was somewhere underneath her. I don’t know.”

  “Can I?” Kathy checked with Shaw before she leaned across the narrow table.

  Shaw signaled his approval.

  Waves of sadness hit Kathy. Sadness and suspicion. She held the medal in her hand. The fine chain was broken but the clasp was still intact.

  “It’s broken.” She looked again at Queally.

  “That’s the way I found it.” His pink-rimmed eyes were blinking fast.

  This was the medal that Lawrence had worn, that Kathy had worn, that she had given to Sarah to keep her saf
e. How many more ugly stories would it tell?

  “Why?” asked Kathy, looking at Queally. “Why did you hold onto this, why did you keep it?” She knew the answer. He’d kept it as a memento of what he’d done. That’s what these guys did, wasn’t it? Still, she wanted to hear him say it.

  Queally bowed his head and looked at the table. “I wanted p-proof. I wanted proof that she was there. That I’d found her.”

  The room fell silent. Outside someone was mowing the hotel lawn. Someone having a normal day.

  Inside, around the table they were all considering this confession. Charlotte had hardly said a word. Her eyes were darting from her brother Richard to Stephen Shaw. The glass of water in front of her remained untouched.

  “You expect us to believe this?” Ruth looked first to Queally and then to the two policemen. Shaw and Richard remained impassive. “You say you heard shouting, an altercation earlier in the afternoon, possibly from Cyril’s cabin. Then later in the day as you are going out to get cigarettes you stop at Cyril’s cabin and you just happen to stumble on Sarah – but she’s already dead?”

  Ruth had never lost it, thought Kathy. She was always great at getting to the point.

  “That’s right.” Queally nodded, miserably.

  “Okay, so,” Ruth slapped her hands on the table. “If you didn’t kill Sarah, who did?”

  Silence.

  Tick, tick.

  More silence.

  “I don’t know,” Queally said eventually, sounding even more miserable. “Although, I do have my suspicions.”

  “Let’s have it then.” Ruth was gunning for him now.

  Queally looked nervous. “Those lads you all brought back to the house. Late. The night before. I never liked the look of them.”

  Ruth sat back in her chair. Queally was on common ground.

  “I’d seen their type before,” he said. “On border patrol in Ulster. Those young fellas were up to no good. Driving around like drunken lunatics. Tearing around doing wheel-spins.”