by Val Collins
‘Oh, alright, she didn’t show it to me. Don’t tell anyone I said that, okay?’
‘Okay, but how did you get to see the video?’
‘I heard what happened to Ruth, obviously. I knew the police would go through the house for evidence. I live nearby, so it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on it. As soon as the police moved out, I used my key and let myself in. It was such a relief the police hadn’t found it.’
‘How did you know where to look?’
‘I googled the different types of nanny cams. There’s one that’s hidden in an air freshener. I knew the minute I saw it. Ruth had air fresheners all over the place.’
‘Where’s the air freshener now?’
‘They’re still in the house. I only took the memory cards.’
‘How many were there?’
‘There were two in the basement and one in the playroom, sitting room and the kid’s bedrooms. Six altogether.’
‘What did you do with them?’
‘Nothing yet. I was going to destroy them, but my boyfriend wants to watch the one we’re in.’
‘But Ruth was murdered while they were in the house. They’re evidence, Natasha.’
‘Oh no, I flicked through them and the only people they recorded are Ruth, me, the kids and the babysitter she hired while she was between nannies.’
‘Natasha, my husband is a law student and I help him revise sometimes. I’m pretty sure keeping that information from the police is a criminal offence.’
‘Really? But the murderer isn’t on the recordings. I’ve checked.’
‘It’s still withholding evidence.’
‘Oh God! I’ll get rid of them right now.’
‘You can’t do that, Natasha. If the police learned they existed, you’d be charged with destroying evidence. That’s an even more serious crime.’
‘How would they ever find out?’
‘There’s always a trail. A credit card receipt, a friend she discussed nanny cams with, something like that.’
‘What am I going to do? I can’t have an entire police station watching us. I just can’t.’
‘If you like, I have a friend whose fiancée is a detective. I can give it to him. That way you could be sure the recording isn’t doing the rounds of the police station.’
*
Lisa spent the evening listening to the recordings. She skipped over Natasha and her boyfriend, but otherwise she watched every single minute. About eighty percent of it was kids playing, fighting or eating. One recording consisted of the babysitter watching a movie. Lisa worked on the list of calls Ruth made while she waited. Opposite Natasha’s name, she typed, ‘Nanny/could be something there. Looking into it. Phone me.’ She saved the list and emailed it to Aoife.
The movie the babysitter was enjoying was a particularly boring one, and Lisa was relieved when Ruth returned halfway through and the babysitter left. Once she was alone, Ruth switched off the TV and tidied the room. She was fluffing cushions when she froze. Had she heard something? She waited a few seconds, then, phone in hand, went into the hall. What happened next wasn’t caught by any camera, but Lisa clearly heard a deep voice growl, ‘You move, you die.’
*
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I can’t keep it, Mum. It’s evidence.’
‘Give it to Aoife. She can take it to her detective.’
‘I can’t. We agreed she would never discuss the case with Detective Moloney.’
‘Phone him yourself, then.’ She checked her watch. ‘Heavens, look at the time! No wonder I’m hungry.’
‘I’ll make dinner in a minute.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll get it started. You sort that tape out.’
Lisa flicked through her contacts and pressed the number. ‘Detective Inspector Moloney’s phone. Please leave a message.’
‘Hi, this is Lisa Grogan. I discovered that Ruth had several nanny cams in the house. None of them show anything suspicious, but in one I can clearly hear a man threaten her. I’m anxious that as few people as possible see the recording. Can you—’
Lisa heard a loud thump coming from the kitchen.
‘Mum? Are you okay?’
When there was no reply she said, ‘Ring me back,’ and disconnected the call. She hurried into the kitchen. Her mother was passed out on the kitchen floor.
For the second time in five months, Lisa dialled 999.
*
‘How is she, Doctor? Is she going to be okay?’
‘Your mother had a mild cardiac incident.’
‘Oh God!’
‘Don’t worry. She’s not in any immediate danger. We’ll keep her in intensive care tonight, but I expect she’ll be well enough to transfer to the wards tomorrow. You should get some rest, Lisa. Your mother’s heavily medicated. She won’t wake tonight.’
*
Lisa was leaving the Mater Hospital when her phone rang.
‘Uncle Eamonn, it’s alright, she’s going to be fine.…No, there’s no point coming in tonight. She won’t know you’re here. I’m going home myself to grab a few hours’ sleep.…No, no, I’m fine, really.…Yes, it’s a wonder she hasn’t had any problems before now with all that she’s had to put up with. It just goes to show how important it is that we find Shane’s killer urgently. Mum can’t take much more of this stress.…Okay, I’ll see you in the hospital tomorrow morning.’
Lisa drove home. She was almost outside her house when her phone rang. The hospital? In her panic, she nearly drove into the back of the neighbour’s car and had to slam on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. She grabbed her phone.
‘Hello?…Oh, thank God, I thought you were—never mind.…Yes.…I only found out about it a half hour ago.…No, nobody else knows.…It’s important that as few people as possible view it.…You’ll understand when you see it…. I suppose that would be best. Where are you? Let me key it into my satnav.…Right, got it. I’ll meet you in about forty-five minutes.’
*
Lisa’s satnav brought her to a row of terraced, two-up two-down houses built around the 1800s. The satnav announced ‘you have arrived’ but she had to drive the length of the street before she found an empty parking space. It wasn’t at all the kind of house she had been expecting, but a lot of areas close to the city centre were becoming increasingly gentrified. A stream of cars passed her as she walked back, but there were no pedestrians. The house she wanted was the very last in the row. A ‘For Sale’ sign hung from the drainpipe. As Lisa approached, she saw the note on the front door. Her heart skipped a beat.
‘Idiot,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Is this going to be your new phobia?’
The note read ‘Entrance around the back.’ An arrow pointed down a narrow alley.
Lisa took out her phone and texted, ‘I’m at the front door.’
Her phone pinged. ‘Key got lost in move. I left the back gate open for you.’
It wasn’t quite dark yet and Lisa could see the alley was deserted. Seconds later, she pushed open the black wooden gate and found herself in a tiny backyard, three-quarters of which was occupied by an overflowing skip. She squeezed past and saw the gate wasn’t the only thing left open for her. The back door was also slightly ajar. Again, her heart skipped a beat. This is not déjà vu, she told herself. Get a grip.
‘Hello!’ she called as she rapped on the door.
A moment later, she felt a searing pain in the back of her head, followed by a loud thump. She never knew it was her head cracking against the pavement.
TWENTY-EIGHT
‘How’s Lisa’s mother?’ Orla asked.
‘Not well enough to go to the funeral. Lisa’s uncle Eamonn was there. He seems to think all the family’s problems are my fault.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said, “Lisa would be alive today if you had stayed out of the investigation.” I figured I’d better leave as I obviously wasn’t welcome. He followed me out to the car park, grabbed my arm and hissed, “My auditors have spent
the last three weeks going through my books with a fine-tooth comb. So far, they’ve found nothing untoward. If they don’t find any evidence to support the allegations you made against my son, I’m going to recommend he sues you for slander.”’
‘Slander? Oh, Keith fiddling his expenses? I wouldn’t worry about that. But how could Eamonn blame you for Lisa’s death? I thought she was mugged.’
‘That’s what the police say.’
‘You don’t believe it?’
‘I don’t know. It makes sense in a way. The area around the Mater is pretty rough. I’ve seen drug addicts hanging around there in the middle of the day.’
‘And you want to believe the police are right, don’t you?’
‘Maybe. If Lisa wasn’t mugged, then her death must be linked to the investigation. I led the investigation. What if I got her killed?’
‘There’s no reason to believe the investigation had anything to do with Lisa’s death. Although…’
‘Although what?’
‘If she was murdered because of the investigation. Does that mean you’re the next target?’
*
‘Great, Orla! Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Sorry, but it’s worth bearing in mind, even if it’s not very likely. What are the police saying? Do they have any idea who attacked Lisa?’
‘No. Her body was found in an alley near the hospital, but the CCTV cameras around there didn’t pick her up. Her phone, wallet and car keys were missing. They found her car burned out a few miles away. It turned out some kids had taken it for a joyride. They claim the keys were in the ignition.’
‘Could they have been the ones who attacked her?’
‘The police say it’s unlikely. Somebody hit her over the head, but it was the blow from the ground that killed her. The kids were pretty young and the guards know them. They don’t think they would attack anybody.’
‘Lisa’s uncle doesn’t agree?’
‘Lisa told him she was going home to grab a few hours’ sleep, and a neighbour saw her car outside her house later. Eamonn doesn’t believe she went back to the hospital. Conor says Eamonn’s been phoning him constantly, complaining the police are ignoring the murder of yet another member of his family.’
‘Lisa might have grabbed some things for her mother and decided to spend the night in the hospital.’
‘It’s possible. I feel so sorry for that family. They have absolutely no luck. Conor checked with the Mater this morning. He says Lisa’s mother is out of intensive care again but she’s not doing well.’
‘That poor woman. What else can go wrong for her?’
‘I know. It’s terrifying how a person’s life can turn from normal to a nightmare in just a few months.’
‘Are you carrying on with the investigation? You won’t get an interview now. Especially if Lisa’s uncle has turned against you.’
‘I know, but Lisa would want me to continue. It might be of some comfort to her mother, and God knows that woman deserves all the comfort she can get.’
‘That’s for sure. How are things with Blaine?’
‘I hardly see him these days. They usually come around for dinner once a week. Conor’s working all hours. Blaine’s started in GAA camp and he loves it. He’s made new friends and he doesn’t mind Conor working late.’
‘How late does Conor get home?’
‘Usually around ten. He thinks it might be better if Blaine went home to his mum.’
‘Silver linings and all that.’
‘Yes, well, Katie is worried about Blaine too. She’s coming to Dublin this week to stay with them.’
‘Conor’s ex is going to live in Conor’s house for a week?’
‘Yep.’
‘This is the woman Conor told Blaine he still loves?’
‘That’s not exactly what he said.’
‘How do you feel about her staying there?’
‘I trust Conor.’
‘Do you trust Katie?’
TWENTY-NINE
Three days into Katie’s visit, Aoife phoned Conor to invite them all to her home for dinner. The upbeat Australian accent was a bit of a shock.
‘Detective Maloney’s phone. How can I help you?’
‘Katie?’
‘Yes, hi. Who is this?’
‘It’s Aoife.’
‘Oh, Aoife, hi. Conor’s in the shower. Can I get him to phone you?’
‘No, that’s okay. I wanted to speak to you, actually.’
‘I’m so glad. I’ve been meaning to ask Conor for your number. I want to thank you for making Blaine feel so welcome in your home.’
Was that sarcasm?
‘I’m happy to have him. I phoned to invite you all to dinner tonight or any night that suits you.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind. I’d love to finally meet you, but Conor and Blaine have a full schedule for me. We’re having dinner in the Shelbourne tonight. I thought it would be handy for Conor as he wouldn’t have far to go when he gets out of work. You’re more than welcome to join us and I can’t wait to meet Amy. Blaine really seems to have taken to her.’
‘Thank you, but that would be a little late for Amy. Some other time, maybe? Oh, there’s somebody at the door. I have to go. Bye.’
Aoife disconnected the call. Katie was answering Conor’s phone? Because he was in the shower! It would never have occurred to her to touch Conor’s phone, and she doubted Conor would appreciate it if she did. And Conor didn’t have time to eat with her but he had time to have dinner with Katie. In the Shelbourne of all places. She’d never eaten in the Shelbourne in her life. Aoife wondered what else was included in their ‘full schedule’.
*
‘Tell me I’m being unreasonable, Orla.’
‘I would if I believed it.’
‘So I should be worried about Katie? What should I do?’
‘Talk to Conor. Arrange for the two of you to meet alone, even if it’s only for a cup of coffee. You’ll know immediately if something is off.’
‘And if it is?’
‘We’ll sort that out if it happens. In the meantime, keep yourself busy. Have you interviewed Triona yet?’
‘Not yet. I plan to fit her in next week.’
‘I’d do it sooner than that if I were you.’
‘Why?’
‘Martin isn’t the only person who benefitted from Ruth’s death. Triona did too.’
THIRTY
Aoife couldn’t phone Conor yet. No doubt he was still in the shower. Anyway, his evening was obviously booked. She decided to distract herself by visiting Triona.
As she drove into Leinster Square, Aoife spotted a middle-aged man in a suit and tie walking down the street. He was carrying a Bible. Aoife parked her car and watched. Triona answered the door to him, but they didn’t speak long. The man moved on to her neighbour’s. Aoife rang the doorbell. Triona answered it within seconds.
‘Hi, could I speak to Martin, please?’
‘Martin isn’t here at the moment. Can I help?’
‘Triona, isn’t it? Hi, I’m Aoife. I called to Martin’s office yesterday but he had a lunch appointment with you, so he couldn’t fit me in.’
Triona looked surprised but pleased.
‘I was in the area, so I thought I’d take a chance Martin was at home.’
‘I’m afraid he’s in the office. You’re one of his clients?’
‘No, although Martin has such beautiful properties on his books that I am tempted. I’m a member of Ruth’s book club.’
Triona frowned.
‘We were all so shocked to hear of her death.’
‘Thank you. It was a real tragedy. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.’
‘I wondered if you had a moment to speak to me. I’m a freelance journalist and as I also knew Ruth, I plan to—’
Triona took a step backwards. ‘I’m not giving interviews to reporters. If Martin wants to speak to you, that’s his decision, but I have nothing to contribute to any new
s article.’
‘Really? That man who was leaving your house as I arrived, he wasn’t the main reporter for The Sun?’
‘No, of course not, I’d never talk to anybody from that rag.’
‘He didn’t ask you any questions about Ruth or try to get you to invite him inside?’
‘He didn’t mention Ruth. He did want to come in but I said I wasn’t interested. As far as I could make out, he’s started his own religion and he’s looking for disciples.’
Aoife laughed. ‘Well, that’s certainly a unique opening for a reporter. I must try it myself someday.’
‘What? You mean it was a lie? He was just trying to get into the house so he could ask quest—’
Triona broke off as she spotted him across the street. ‘Oh my God! He’s questioning the neighbours.’
‘Does he have a photographer stashed away somewhere, I wonder?’
Triona jumped back into the house and went to shut the door.
‘Triona, don’t throw away your chance to tell your side of the story. The Sun have never said a good thing about anyone. Can you imagine what they would make of a man having an affair with his murdered wife’s sister? This is your opportunity to make sure everyone knows the truth.’
Triona hesitated.
Aoife handed her a business card. ‘Google me. I’m not the tabloid press, and I write the truth.’
Triona took the card and closed the door in Aoife’s face. Aoife sat on the doorstep and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened. Triona peeked out to make sure nobody was watching the house. Opening the door wider, she said, ‘Come inside. Hurry!’
*
Triona led the way into a room off the main corridor. Somebody, presumably Ruth, had made a huge effort to restore the room to its former grandeur. The original ceiling plasterwork and the high sash windows were beautiful. The dull, colourless portraits of somebody’s long-dead ancestors made Aoife long for the bare walls she had seen on her last visit. Why would anybody want to look at those dour expressions every day? Didn’t those people know how to smile? Although, in fairness, the men looked like they were being strangled by heavily starched collars that reached almost to their chins and God knows how the women moved in such restrictive outfits. Maybe it was no wonder they were in bad form. Why had Ruth chosen those paintings? Aoife was prepared to bet they had no connection whatsoever to either Ruth or Martin’s family.
