‘Not exactly. The auld one, Alison Cronly, she was the one who employed me, she gave me a key, told me I could use it anytime I wanted.’
‘I understand Mrs Cronly passed away a few months ago. Talking to the dead are we now?’ Murray’s look of disbelief left Steve in no doubt as to how this was going.
‘Look, I needed my tools. I had only one way to get them. That’s when I thought things were a bit suspicious.’
‘Suspicious?’
‘Yeah, with all the cleaning and that.’
‘Cleaning?’
‘Well his lord— I mean Cronly was down yesterday. Lit a fire in the house, though he could only have been there for a couple of hours.’
‘No law against lighting a fire in your own home.’
‘I know that, but he’d washed down the wall and the carpet. I thought it was odd, coming all the way down to do some spring cleaning.’
‘The photograph?’
‘I came across it upstairs, when I was checking things out.’
‘You still have it?’
‘Right here.’
Garda Murray studied the photograph.
‘I thought Ollie might know about it, him being around at the time the girl was killed, like.’
‘Wait there, Mr Hughes. Myself and Ollie Gilmartin are about to get reacquainted.’
St Michael’s Psychiatric Hospital
Monday, 10 October 2011, 3.10 p.m.
ON THEIR WAY TO DR EBBS’ OFFICE, KATE AND O’Connor passed through long corridors that had long since lost their freshness. Tall sash windows dominated the structure, chipped high ornate ceilings, walls that were a collage of pale pink emulsion and hard laminated floors – everything about the building echoed abandonment. Kate wondered if the residents would consider that an apt description for themselves too. In the hallway, just before they reached the doctor’s door, a gold ornate mirror with black spotting on the glass reflected the two of them. Its intricate frame looked like the rest of St Michael’s, like something left behind.
‘Detective O’Connor, Ms Pearson, good to meet you.’
Dr Ebbs was tall and slim, his black hair balding from the centre, his face tanned. He wore a crisp white shirt and pink tie. He was handsome, Kate thought, and moved with the gentle elegance of a man who was self-confident, though not arrogant. O’Connor got straight to the point.
‘Doctor, Ms Pearson and I don’t have a whole lot of time here. We need to find out, and as quickly as possible, what, if anything, Ellie Brady’s disclosures have to do with our current investigation.’
‘I appreciate your frankness, Detective, but before I bring Ellie in here, I need to make a couple of things clear. Ellie is a long-term patient. I am relatively new to this institution, but as Ellie’s psychiatrist I took the decision to alter her medication a little over a week ago, reducing the level of benzodiazepines in an effort to bring Ellie out of her entrenched mindset – one she has maintained for a number of years. But what I must stress is that it is still too early to tell if Ellie’s emerging cognitive state can be relied on. She claims she saw the man who killed her daughter, but she is fragile, and I will monitor your questioning with one aim and one aim only, to protect my patient.’
‘Understood, Doctor. Ms Pearson and I will handle the questioning with due care.’
‘Thank you, Detective. Just give me a moment and I’ll go ask Ellie to join us.’
≈
Ellie Brady looked cautiously at both Kate and O’Connor as she and Dr Ebbs entered the office. Kate watched Ellie, taking in everything about her. Next to Dr Ebbs, Ellie looked drab. She was thin, with short brown hair tucked behind her ears, dressed in a grey shirt and faded jeans, both two sizes too big for her. Despite her shadowy appearance, Ellie held her shoulders back, like a woman who meant business, or at the very least like a woman trying to give the illusion of such. Dr Ebbs did the introductions. As Ellie sat down, she placed what looked like a child’s green copybook on her lap, both her hands rested on it.
‘Ellie, my name is Detective O’Connor. This is Kate Pearson. Dr Ebbs will be remaining with us while we conduct this interview, and Kate will be asking a few questions. Is that okay with you?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Good. Now Kate, would you like to take it from here.’
‘Ellie, hello.’
‘Hello.’ Ellie cleared some phlegm from her throat with a small cough, covering her mouth. Her voice sounded strong, but with the demeanour of someone who hadn’t spoken with strangers for a very long time.
‘I understand, Ellie, that you believe the person who killed your daughter may be the man we are looking for.’
‘There is no maybe about it. I’m sure.’
‘And what makes you so sure?’
‘Do you have children, Ms Pearson?’
‘I do, a son. He’s four.’
‘How would you feel if you lost him?’
‘Devastated.’
‘That’s how I was, Ms Pearson.’
‘Kate, please.’
Ellie kept her gaze on Kate, as if they were the only two people in the room.
‘I was devastated for a very long time, Kate. I still am in a way, but my thinking is clearer now.’
‘Ellie, why don’t you tell us about how you found Amy?’
‘It was early morning, before most people at the caravan site had woken. I had come back from visiting Andrew. Did Dr Ebbs tell you about Andrew?’
‘No.’
‘He was the man I thought I was in love with, my husband’s brother. I had come back after being with him. I checked in on Amy, and that’s when I realised.’
‘What did you realise?’
‘At first, I thought she was sleeping. She was in her bed, her hair plaited with two red ribbons.’
‘Like the girls in Dublin, Ellie?’
‘That’s right. She was wearing a silver crucifix. I had no idea where she’d got it from, but I think she’d had it for a couple of days. The ribbons, they were wrong. She didn’t have red ribbons like that. She usually wore bobbins in her hair. They looked odd too.’
‘How do you mean, odd?
‘I don’t know, old-fashioned. She lay above the covers, still in her nightdress. That was when I noticed how strangely she was lying.’
‘What way was that?’
‘Curled up like a baby in the womb. But when I looked closer, I realised that wasn’t right either. It was because of her hands, you see. They were closed together, the fingers intermingled.’ Ellie’s eyelids opened wider, holding her stare, and her fingers replicated the way her daughter’s hands had looked. ‘It was as if she was praying. And that was when I realised that she wasn’t sleeping. She was kneeling. When I got closer, I recognised that grey colour of death. The skin on her face was cold, but her body wasn’t, although it was losing its warmth. I knew she was dead.’
Even though Ellie maintained eye contact with Kate throughout, Kate could see O’Connor’s shift in body movements out of the corner of her eye, hearing Ellie’s mention of Amy’s hands joined in prayer, and the positioning of the body. A lot of details were public knowledge, including the plaiting, ribbons and the crucifix, but nothing had been mentioned about how the girls’ bodies or hands were found. O’Connor coughed as if to signal for Kate to continue.
‘What did you do then, Ellie?’
‘I stayed with her until Joe, my husband, woke up. I told him Amy was sleeping. When he left, I went back in to her, spoke to her. I knew what had to be done.’
‘Is that when you set fire to the caravan?’
‘Yes, soon after that. I remember feeling calm. I was content you see, once I’d decided to go with her.’
‘What happened then?’
‘The fire took hold quickly. I remember the caravan filled with black smoke, the heat, the crackle. Then that Gilmartin man saved me.’ Ellie shook her head, as if to pull herself out of her reverie.
‘Oliver Gilmartin?’ O’Connor broke in, remembering
the name from Donoghue’s conversation about the Carina.
‘Yes, he was caretaker of the caravan park.’
O’Connor shot a look to Kate, who nodded slightly and continued.
‘You seem very clear on things, Ellie?’
‘After fifteen years, Kate, you can get a lot of clarity.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Can you? I doubt it. There are some things you have to live through. You might think you can imagine it, but you haven’t walked in my shoes. I hope you never do.’
Kate didn’t reply immediately, taking in Ellie’s last words.
‘Ellie, you told Dr Ebbs you saw a man, a man who you believe killed Amy; can you tell us about him?’
‘He was nothing out of the ordinary. I thought he was one of the fathers of the other kids at the park.’
‘What age, do you think?’
‘My age I guess, or a little older. I only saw him a couple of times.’
‘But you are sure he killed Amy?’
‘Someone killed her, and it wasn’t me. I loved her more than life. I just didn’t show it.’
‘Your copybook, Ellie, may I ask what’s in it?’
‘Things I remembered.’
‘Can DI O’Connor and I take a look at it?’
‘Sure.’
Opening the first page, Kate saw the words ‘Amy’, ‘Dead’ and ‘Wexford’ written in large block letters. On the second page, Ellie’s handwriting changed. It was smaller, joined, slanting to the right, obeying the rules of the page. The first words to catch Kate’s attention were ‘elderberry trees’.
Gorey Garda Station
Monday, 10 October 2011, 3.15 p.m.
‘MR GILMARTIN, COULD YOU STEP BACK IN, PLEASE?’
‘No bother.’
‘Mr Hughes tells me you might know the girl in the photograph.’
‘A lot of people would know her, at least those here at the time would remember her. It happened a long time ago, can’t see how it’s important now.’
‘You said nothing earlier.’
‘Nothing to say. Steve found the photograph, figured he was the one with the information.’
‘But you think she’s the girl killed at Beachfield?’
‘It looks like her. I can’t be sure, though, but there’s a resemblance all right. The mother was a right lunatic.’
Murray gave him a look, as if to remind Ollie he hadn’t forgotten about their last poaching conversation.
‘I don’t want either of you two clowns going anywhere. Do you hear me?’
Both of them nodded in response.
Ollie thought about telling Murray about the day he found Alison Cronly down on the beach, but decided to play it careful. If he wasn’t sure what to say, saying nothing was a whole lot better than doing anything else.
St Michael’s Psychiatric Hospital
Monday, 10 October 2011, 3.30 p.m.
O’CONNOR WAS THE FIRST TO STAND UP AND SHAKE Ellie’s hand and then Dr Ebbs’. Kate did the same, only in reverse. Ellie’s hand lingered in her grasp a little longer.
‘Goodbye, Ellie,’ Kate said softly, ‘and thank you.’
O’Connor almost bounded up the corridors, switching back on his mobile phone as he walked. Kate said nothing and let him make the call he had been eager to make from the time Ellie Brady had mentioned how the girl’s hands had been joined and the name of Gilmartin.
‘Donoghue, we’ll need to get that file. Ellie Brady’s case is connected.’ He put his phone on speaker for Kate to hear.
‘I’m already on it.’
‘And another thing, Donoghue, the guy the boys down in Gorey are talking to, Gilmartin, he was the one who pulled Ellie out of the fire.’
‘I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Murray’s been on. Gilmartin has confirmed a photograph of Amy Brady was in the possession of the owner of the Carina, a William Cronly.’
‘You ran the registration plates?’
‘Yeah, it was registered to the late Alison Cronly of Cronly Lodge. Then it changed ownership to her son, William Cronly with an address at Meadow View, Rathmines. I sent a squad car around to the address earlier, but they didn’t get an answer. I’m sending another one there now.’
‘We’ll need a search warrant.’
‘We’ll need two. The guy still owns a house in Wexford too. It means pulling a judge at the courts in both locations.’
‘Donoghue, I want to know everything we can find on him. Social security number, where he works, what he had for breakfast, everything. Who do you have checking the travel details to Italy?’
‘A half dozen of the guys from Harcourt Square.’
‘You’ve given them Cronly’s name?’
‘They’re running with it now. I’ll come back to you when I know more.’
‘Right, let me know when either of those search warrants comes through. I should be back there shortly.’
By the time O’Connor hung up the phone on Donoghue, both he and Kate were in the car on their way back across the city.
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, O’Connor, but something isn’t adding up here.’
‘What do you mean? It all makes perfect sense to me. The Carina, lives local, the guy had a photograph of Amy Brady and an identical MO.’
‘Not quite identical.’
‘Well it’s as near to fucking hell identical to me. The plaiting, the ribbons, the crucifix, positioning of the body, it all adds up. You said yourself, our man likes to repeat.’
‘He abducts them first. Then he buries them.’
‘Maybe, but perhaps he didn’t have a shovel handy, Kate?’
‘I’m not saying to rule him out, but it is different. He does repeat, but we’re looking at the end result here, people do similar things for different reasons. With Caroline, her death wasn’t his intention. It was a frenzied attack that ended in a ritualistic burial. With Amelia, it was premeditated. He went prepared to kill her. But he still abducted both of them.’
‘I’m not disagreeing with you there.’
‘The burials are two-fold for him, O’Connor – one to protect him, the other to protect his victims. If he planned to kill Amy Brady, he would have taken her, like the other girls. He’s a risk-taker, but he would have lured her into going with him. If he did break into the caravan and the girl either refused to go with him or didn’t react the way he wanted her to, the killing would have been brutal, frenzied, like Caroline’s. Ellie Brady didn’t mention any injuries to the girl’s body, no blood, no external signs other than the girl looking as if she was sleeping.’
‘Yeah but—’
‘And why wait?’
‘You said it yourself, Kate, it only takes a trigger. Something else coming into the mix to set the whole bloody thing off.’
‘I know I did. But once started, these things don’t stay dormant. Emotions can remain pent up for decades, but when they unravel, they can’t be put on hold.’
‘Let’s agree to disagree, shall we?’ O’Connor pulled up outside her apartment.
‘Look, keep me in the picture. Something isn’t adding up. I just haven’t worked it out yet.’ Kate closed the car door behind her.
‘Okay,’ O’Connor lowered the window on the passenger side.
‘Oh, and another thing, O’Connor.’ She leaned in. ‘If William Cronly did go to Tuscany as a boy, he didn’t travel alone. Find out when the mother, Alison Cronly, died. She’s part of all this. Nothing happens in isolation.’
‘Sure, Kate. Will do. I’ll keep you in the picture.’
‘Talk to you later.’
O’Connor turned the car with a squeal of tyres, speeding off down the road. Kate watched him leave, then turned to look up at the first-floor window. She hoped Sophie and Charlie were back from the park. Hearing Ellie Brady speak of her devastation had made Kate desperate to hug Charlie. Then in a little over an hour she would get to talk to Declan, and maybe, finally, they could set about rebuil
ding their life together.
Mervin Road
HE STOOD BACK FROM THE WINDOW IN THE LIVING ROOM, watching Kate say her goodbyes to the driver of the car. He had waited until the babysitter had sent Charlie into the bathroom to wash his hands before grabbing her from behind.
‘Shush, now, don’t struggle. We don’t want to upset Charlie, do we?’
Sophie hadn’t listened. He had taught her a lesson, the stupid bitch.
He turned back from the window, happy in the knowledge that Kate was on her way. He looked at Charlie, now sitting on a kitchen chair, facing the doorway from the living room to the hall, ready to greet his mommy.
‘Mommy will be here in a second, Charlie. I told you she wouldn’t be long.’
He hadn’t wanted to tie the boy up or put the duct tape across his mouth, but Charlie had to learn a lesson too. Not everything in life is nice. The sooner he understood that, the better for everyone.
William put his fingers through the boy’s hair with his left hand and, kneeling down in front of him, held his Swiss Army knife in the other. ‘It’s time for you to be the superhero, Charlie.’ He wiped the tears from the boy’s cheek. ‘You are going to be a very good boy. We don’t want to upset Mommy, do we?’
He left the living room door open, ensuring Kate would see Charlie from the hallway the moment she arrived home. He smiled at the boy again, skipping into the hall and pressing the flat of his back tight against the wall to the left-hand side of the front door. He heard Kate walk up the communal hallway, then rummage in her bag for her keys. He heard the key going in, turning in the lock. ‘Tick tock’ went the clock.
The front door half ajar, Kate saw Charlie, feet tied to the chair with a narrow rope, hands behind his back, duct tape across his mouth. She gasped and ran straight over to him, the door closing shut behind her.
‘Come in, Kate,’ he said. ‘Welcome home. Charlie and I have been waiting for you.’ He stepped closer, positioning himself between the mother and son, and the front door. This was all going swimmingly.
Kate wrapped her arms around Charlie and gave him a reassuring look before whispering quickly, ‘It will be okay, Charlie, I promise.’
William moved towards them. Kate saw the glint of the blade as she knelt by Charlie’s side.
‘That’s a good girl, Kate. We’ll all be going for a little drive in a minute – one big happy family. Isn’t that right, Charlie?’
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