by Val Collins
The old woman threw a shovelful of coal on the fire. Aoife removed her cardigan. It was the middle of the summer, for God’s sake. The room was like a furnace.
‘If the slut had been sending money to Angela Power, I could have understood it,’ Bridget said. ‘She might have seen something and was bribing the whore.’ She took another sip of her tea. ‘But at least the police are still investigating “that one.” I thought they’d given up on her.’
‘I think we all assumed they were concentrating on the Buckley angle.’
‘What Buckley angle?’
‘The guy who was arrested for murdering all those girls who disappeared years ago.’
‘I know who Buckley is. What have those girls got to do with your mother-in-law?’
‘Nothing. I’m sure they’ve nothing to do with Danny either. But the link made the police wonder if there was some connection.’
Bridget put her hand to her head. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Didn’t you see the re-enactment on TV?’
‘Danny’s disappearance? Of course I did. What has that to do with Buckley and missing girls?’
‘Nobody told you?’
Bridget raised her voice. ‘Told me what? For heaven’s sake! What are you talking about? What has my Danny got to do with Buckley and missing girls?’
Oh my God! It had never even occurred to her that Bridget wasn’t being kept fully informed on the investigation.
‘The police think Buckley and Danny might have been partners.’
The cup slid from Bridget’s hands and tea seeped into the red carpet. Bridget didn’t notice. Aoife grabbed a bunch of tissues and tried to clean up the mess. Bridget’s hand clamped down on her arm. Her voice shook. ‘People are saying that Danny, my Danny, was a murderer? That he murdered young girls? They’re saying my boy was a monster?’
‘The police know Buckley murdered some of the girls, but they can’t link him to all of them. Two girls they can’t connect him to are Triona and Eimear. Witnesses have come forward to say both girls were seen with Danny shortly before they disappeared. The only reason everyone believed Buckley murdered all the girls was because no girls went missing after his arrest. But Danny disappeared around the same time.’
The older woman’s face turned purple. ‘Jack knows this, doesn’t he?’
Aoife nodded.
‘You wait until I see him. How dare he keep this from me! How dare people even suggest my Danny would do such a terrible thing!’ She continued in that vein for almost ten minutes. ‘And I bet “that one” was delighted. Anything to put the police off her track.’
‘Maura was furious when the police told her. She threw the detective out of her house.’
‘Mmm.’ The old woman almost smiled. ‘Well, anybody who knew Danny must know it’s nonsense.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘Still, I’ll admit it, that’s more than I expected from her.’ She paused. ‘Unless it’s all an act, of course.’
FORTY-FIVE
Aoife didn’t have time for this. She withdrew a wedding album from her bag.
‘This is Maura’s wedding album. The photo with Angela Power isn’t in it. Do you have other photos that aren’t here?’
Maura left the room and returned with a photo album more than twice the size of Maura’s. The earlier ones were of a baby and a young boy. As Aoife flicked through them, she realised the entire album was devoted to Danny. When she reached the wedding photos, Aoife examined each one carefully. There were only ten. Maura wasn’t in six of them. In the four photos that included Maura, only her back was visible. One photo showed the couple standing at the altar. Only the priest faced the camera. He had his hand raised in a blessing and was smiling down at the young couple. A priest smiling at a ‘fallen woman’?
‘Who’s the priest?’
‘That’s Brian Connolly. He lived locally and he was in the seminary with Jack. When I heard Brian was home for the holidays, I asked him if he’d perform the ceremony. The less people who saw “that one” with her huge stomach, the better.’ She shuddered. ‘When I think of the looks the neighbours gave us when a grandchild suddenly appeared. The disgrace “that one” brought on this family. I’m telling you, “that one” is no good. I don’t know where Angela Power fits into it, but your mother-in-law killed my boy. I’m as certain of that as I am of my own name.’
FORTY-SIX
Saturday morning Aoife woke early. She spent an hour googling Angela Power before Amy woke. She guessed Angela would be about fifty now. She’d heard fifty-year-olds were the Facebook crowd, so she logged in and flicked through ‘Angela Power’ profiles. It was a waste of time. There were too many possibilities. Why couldn’t Angela’s mother have given her a more distinctive name? She felt a stab of guilt when she remembered her own daughter’s name was hardly unique. This was a waste of a Saturday. She’d never find Angela. All she knew about her was that she lived in England. She had no idea what Angela even looked like now.
The good weather was long gone, but at least it wasn’t raining. Aoife decided to take Amy to the park. They no longer went near the park close to the crèche. Aoife couldn’t bear the sight of it. But there was a small park in the centre of the town where Amy could play on the swings.
Aoife was pushing the stroller through the town when Cian and Orla rounded the corner, hand in hand.
‘Aoife!’ Orla bent down to hug Amy. ‘Hey, Amy.’
‘Whing!’
‘What?’
‘Amy’s going to play on the swings,’ Aoife explained.
‘You’re on your way to the park? That’s nice. Cian and I are going to have a pub lunch.’ She turned to Aoife. ‘Can you believe that? I’m actually going to have my lunch in a pub.’
Aoife grinned. ‘Oh, how the mighty have fallen.’
Cian laughed. He put his arm around Orla. ‘We’d better hurry or there won’t be any seats left.’
Amy held out her arms. ‘I cream.’
Orla laughed. ‘I don’t have any ice cream with me.’
‘I cream!’
‘No ice cream,’ Aoife said. ‘We’re going to the park, remember? You’re going to have a great time on the swings.’
‘Whing! Whing!’
‘That’s right.’ She turned on a kids’ app on her phone and handed it to Amy, who grabbed it eagerly. ‘You look different, Orla. Did you cut your hair?’
‘Four whole inches. I needed a new look. It’s time I got my life sorted, and my hair was the first step.’
‘It’s good to see you looking happier. You must call to the house someday. Give us a chance to talk properly.’
‘I’ll try, but it’s getting close to my exams and it’s hard to fit in college and Cian, especially when he lives all the way out here in the sticks. You really have to help me talk him into moving to Dublin.’
Cian pulled Orla closer and kissed her briefly on the lips. ‘You know I’d do almost anything for you, Orla. But I was born in that house and that house is where I will die. You take me on, you take my house too.’
‘See what I mean, Aoife? I’m doomed to spending the rest of my life commuting.’
Cian looked pleased but shocked. Aoife was a little shocked too. Orla saw Cian as a lifetime commitment? She would never have believed it.
‘I cream! I cream!’ Amy demanded.
‘We’d better go before she screams the place down. Give me a call, Orla.’
‘Sure.’ Orla put her arm around Cian’s waist and they turned into Flanagan’s pub. A few minutes later, Aoife’s phone pinged with a message from Orla. Link to apartment overlooking Stephen’s Green. Going to talk Cian into buying it. Wish me luck.
Was Orla serious about settling down with Cian, or was she pretending to stronger feelings than she felt so he’d buy an apartment in the city?
*
When Aoife arrived at work on Monday morning, she knew immediately that Orla’s plan hadn’t worked. There was no sign of Orla, and Cian was in a foul mood. He’d complained ab
out the time she arrived—she was eight minutes late—and was now insisting she’d lost an email he sent her.
‘You didn’t email it to me, Cian. I’m certain of it.’
‘Yes, I did, Aoife. It took me ages to put all the information together. I remember it was the weekend we went to Cannes. I typed it in the business lounge in the airport.’
‘Well, it never came to me. Check your sent emails. Is it there?’
Aoife waited while Cian scanned his sent box.
‘I know it’s here somewhere,’ he muttered.
‘Try your drafts box.’
She was looking over his shoulder and spotted the email before he did.
‘There it is! I knew I’d typed it. I’ll send it to you now, Aoife. I know you’re taking a half day, but I need you to do this before you leave. It should have been sorted weeks ago.’
Aoife traipsed back to her office, muttering to herself. Sometimes she really disliked Cian. The least he could have done was apologise. And there was a definite edge to his voice when he said it should have been sorted out weeks ago. Like she was somehow derelict in her duties by not knowing he forgot to hit “send” on an email she didn’t even know existed!
The other thing that had her in a bad mood was Jason. He had phoned this morning to say he couldn’t take Amy on Saturday afternoon as planned, and could he take her this afternoon instead? Aoife had agreed because she was determined to do everything in her power to strengthen Amy’s bond with her father, but it meant Maura had taken a half day. They were both struggling to cope with the workload now Jack had decided to tackle his backlog. He had made no objections to Maura’s unexpected holiday, but Aoife felt obliged to cover the gap. Jack had been so good to her, she didn’t want him to have to manage alone when he was so busy. She would rather not have to drive all the way to Dublin, but there were long gaps in the train schedule in the afternoon. There was no other way. It was the very least she owed Jack. The very least she could do for her one decent boss.
Aoife left the office without saying goodbye to Cian. She went home, had a sandwich and spent an hour driving to Dublin. Damn Jason for not sticking to the schedule. Damn Cian for being such a prat.
As Aoife shoved open the door of Maura’s office, she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass. She put a hand on her forehead to straighten out the frown lines. If she didn’t calm down, she’d look like a pensioner before she hit thirty. Jason was Jason. She would never change him. It was time she accepted that. And maybe she was being unreasonable about Cian. He probably didn’t really blame her. Lots of people hated admitting they were wrong, and anybody could accidentally forget to hit “send” on an email.
That’s when it hit her. She’d never thought to check Tadhg’s draft emails.
*
Aoife took the key from the petty cash box and unlocked Tadhg’s room. It was still unoccupied. Jack said he didn’t want anybody new coming into the house until the lads had recovered from the shock of Tadhg’s death.
Tadhg’s laptop lay on the desk by the window. Aoife had no difficulty accessing his files. There were only three laptops in the halfway house, and they all had the same password. The lads had been managing with two since Tadhg died. Nobody wanted to ask Jack if they could remove the third one from Tadhg’s room. She guessed his e-mail password included “Orla”. Her first guess was wrong. On her second attempt she tried “MyOrla123”. She was in.
There were quite a few draft emails on Tadhg’s computer, but there was no missing the top one: Maybe we should call the whole thing off. You know how I feel about you, Orla, and the very thought of you going near that poison terrifies me. I’d do almost anything for you, but I can’t— That was it. Tadhg must have been trying to figure out how to let Orla down, but he couldn’t find the right words. So he’d gone looking for the drugs she needed?
FORTY-SEVEN
Aoife had been staring at the computer for ten minutes and she still couldn’t figure it out. Orla and drugs! No. Orla didn’t even smoke. She wouldn’t touch anything that could damage her looks. What did she need drugs for anyway? Before Tadhg had died, her life had been almost perfect. Could the drugs be for Cian? It might explain the mood swings. But why would Orla get drugs for Cian? She was a law student. A conviction for drugs would end her career before it even started. Then again, Orla wasn’t doing anything illegal. Tadhg was the one taking the risks. Aoife switched off the computer. Something didn’t add up here. She didn’t believe Orla would endanger Tadhg like that. She was certain Tadhg meant far more to Orla than Cian ever could. But Cian had the money. If getting him drugs was the price for a relationship with Cian, would Orla risk everything to protect the life she’d come to love? ‘No, no, no!’ Aoife muttered. Orla was thoughtless and a little selfish sometimes, but she was a good person and a loyal friend. She wouldn’t help Cian get drugs and she certainly would never endanger Tadhg. There was a logical explanation for this.
She phoned Orla. There was no answer. She checked her watch. Orla had probably forgotten to switch the sound on after lectures. She should be at lunch with her gang by now. If Aoife hurried, she might catch them.
*
Aoife was lucky enough to get a bus almost immediately. In the upstairs restaurant of Fallon & Byrne, she recognised several of Orla’s friends.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Orla. Will she be joining you?’
They all shook their heads. ‘We haven’t seen her today,’ a dark-haired girl said. ‘We were supposed to meet in the pub last night, but she didn’t turn up and she isn’t answering any texts.’
‘Well, if you hear from her, could you please ask her to phone Aoife urgently.’
‘No problem, but she’s probably with that new man of hers. She’s practically a stranger to us these days. She seems to spend most of her time in Kildare.’ The girl gave an elegant shrug. ‘Each to his own, I suppose.’
*
Leaving the girls laughing, Aoife hurried out of the restaurant. Orla certainly hadn’t spent last night at Cian’s. They’d probably argued about the apartment in Stephen’s Green. Maybe Orla had been too upset to go to college. She might have had a sleepless night, drifted off in the early hours of the morning and woken up around the time Aoife was driving to Dublin. If she regretted her argument with Cian, she might have gone to Kildare to make it up with him. But why wasn’t she answering her mobile?
*
Aoife hurried back to the office. Her mouth was dry and she had a fit of coughing as she entered the building. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Kevin looked up as she entered. ‘Not another one!’
Aoife sipped her drink.
‘Another what?’
‘Another one down with a bug. Charlie’s only just recovered, Jack went home sick yesterday and now you?’
‘Jack isn’t here?’
Kevin shook his head.
‘I wouldn’t have come in if I’d known. I’ll see you next week, Kevin.’
*
The long drive to Orla’s apartment in Dun Laoghaire was a waste of time. There was no answer. Orla’s parking space was empty. She’d try Cian’s. She took the Newbridge exit off the motorway. It was raining so heavily it took her a few minutes to recognise Jason’s car. He was turning into the road which led to her house. She jammed on the brake, causing the driver behind to blow his horn furiously.
Aoife parked on the side of the road as Jason was getting out of his car. ‘What happened?’ she called as she ran towards him.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Is Amy alright?’
Jason looked puzzled. ‘She’s fine. Mum’s looking after her.’
‘It’s supposed to be your afternoon with her, Jason. That’s why we swapped, remember? What are you doing here?’
‘I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
*
‘It’s not a good time, Jason. Call me tomorrow.’
‘Aoife, please. Just listen to me for two minutes.’
&
nbsp; Aoife checked her watch. ‘Okay, but you have to be quick.’
‘Can we go inside?’
‘Jason!’
‘We can’t talk properly in the driveway. Please, Aoife. It’s important.’
Aoife sighed. She opened the door and stood in the hallway.
‘Let’s go into the kitchen.’
‘I haven’t time. If you can’t say whatever it is you have to say in the hall, it will have to wait.’
A shadow crossed Jason’s face, then he smiled. ‘That’s okay. This won’t take long.’ He sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. Aoife stood with her back against the door, arms folded.
‘Go on, then,’ she said.
‘You’re right to be angry at me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I mean it, Aoife. I shouldn’t have hidden the money from you. But I never planned to keep the money for myself. I was only—’
‘Doing it because you loved me. You’ve told me that over and over, Jason. Is that it?’
‘I did it because—because if you thought we had no money you wouldn’t insist we went to counselling. I didn’t want to go.’
This was new. ‘Why not?’
He fiddled with his watch. ‘A counsellor would tell you to leave me. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘Jason, that doesn’t make any sense. You must have been saving that money for years, and we were already separated when we went for counselling.’
He looked at her. ‘I know, but I thought I could talk you into coming back to me. I was afraid a counsellor would tell you I was no good for you.’
‘Doesn’t that tell you something? You aren’t any good for me, Jason, and I’m the wrong person for you too.’
