‘It looks like it. Power has trust issues because of a previous bad experience so when Grady sang your praises, he must have thought history was repeating itself.’
‘That’s just great,’ she said bitterly. ‘So if they’re all squeaky clean where does that leave me?’
West checked the time. ‘Let’s go and get something to eat,’ he said, ‘we can talk about where we go next.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, and then shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m being childish. That’s a good idea. Let’s go somewhere nice.’
Andrews had gone but Baxter was at his desk when they left. ‘We’re going for something to eat, Seamus,’ West said, ‘would you like to join us?’
Baxter shook his head. ‘I want to get this written up and then I’m heading home. Tanya is still unpacking; she’ll kill me if I don’t get home to help.’
‘Who’s Tanya?’ Kelly asked as they made their way to the car park.
West pressed the key fob to unlock his car. ‘His girlfriend,’ he said, as they sat and fastened seatbelts. ‘They’ve been together a couple of years, I gather, and just recently bought a house together in Gorey.’
‘Nice,’ she said but her mind was on other things and the conversation ground to a halt.
West drove to Greystones and parked outside a small Italian restaurant near the marina. ‘This ok?’ he asked turning to look at her.
She smiled. ‘Perfect. There’s nothing in this world that can’t be solved with a pizza and a glass of wine.’
The restaurant was busy but not full. The owner, a Sicilian with a charming smile and expansive manner, showed them to a table near the back window with a view over the marina. He handed them menus with an elaborate flourish and left them alone.
‘Mushroom and artichoke,’ Kelly said, ‘my perfect pizza topping.’ She closed the menu with a snap.
West closed his. ‘Seafood pizza for me.’ He handed her the wine menu. ‘You decide, I don’t mind what we have.’
The Sicilian returned to take their order. ‘It’s a lovely wine list,’ she said, ‘is there a white wine you’d recommend.’
‘Certo,’ he said pointing to the menu, ‘this is very good.’ He grinned. ‘Sicilian, like me.’
Pizzas and wine ordered, they sat back to admire the view.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, looking out at the lights of the marina.
‘Beautiful,’ he echoed looking at her.
She laughed. ‘Stop being Mills and Boonish, Mike.’ But she was pleased all the same. ‘I’m not dressed for a romantic night out,’ she said, looking down at her navy clothes. ‘I still haven’t worn that dress I bought.’
He reached for her hand and held it tightly. ‘I promise, we’ll get a weekend away soon. In fact I know just the place.’
She tilted her head. ‘Not a lighthouse in Clare?’
He grinned. ‘No, not this time. It’s a hotel, near Aughrim. It has a spa and an award-winning restaurant. I’ll send you the details and you can see what you think.’
The wine arrived, the manager chatting about its provenance while he uncorked. He poured with great ceremony and then waited with a look of anticipation on his face as they tasted.
‘Oh, that is very nice,’ Kelly said.
‘Excellent,’ West agreed, raising his glass to the man.
The manager made a little bow of acknowledgement and left them once more.
‘It really is very good,’ she said, taking a mouthful.
A burst of laughter came from a table on the other side of the restaurant. It drew Kelly’s eyes and she stared for a moment, a wry smile on her face. ‘I was so happy when I got that damn publishing contract. I felt like all my troubles were over and now look at me.’
‘We will find out who did this,’ he said, taking her hand again.
‘Did?’ she said. ‘You think it’s over?’
West blinked. He hadn’t even realised he’d used the past tense. Did he think it was over? No, he sighed, it probably wasn’t Nobody was going to go to that much trouble without achieving what they’d set out to do.
Which was? His eyes narrowed. Professional and personal destruction? The photographs had certainly achieved their aim at destroying her professionally. Pulling out of it would be a tough struggle. Personally?
She was waiting for an answer. ‘No,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think so. Someone wants to cause you trouble, Kelly.’
‘They’re doing a pretty good job,’ she said, draining her glass and refilling it. She held the bottle toward him. ‘Another glass?’
‘I’m ok,’ he said, ‘maybe when I’ve had something to eat.’
As if they’d heard him, a waiter weaved his way though tables with a plate in each hand. He deftly placed one in front of each of them, leaving them with a buon appetito and a smile.
Ignoring the cutlery, Kelly picked up a slice of her mushroom and artichoke pizza and took a bite. ‘Delicious,’ she said, finishing the slice in a few mouthfuls and immediately reaching for the next.
West was more of a knife and fork man when it came to pizza. He cut into his seafood pizza and nodded his approval as he ate the first bite.
Both pizzas were almost finished before the conversation started up again. ‘We’ll follow up on Amanda Pratt, just to be on the safe side,’ he said, pouring himself a second, smaller glass of wine.
‘But you don’t think she’s involved?’
He swirled the wine around. ‘No, I don’t. Grady says she’s moved on. Whoever did this took time, and effort. The photographs are good.’ He smiled at her pantomime-outraged look. ‘You know what I mean.’
Laughing, Kelly nodded. ‘Yes, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were me.’ Lifting her glass, she looked at him over the brim. ‘Tell me truthfully, when you opened them, did you think, even for a second, that they were of me?’
He smiled. His moment’s suspicion that she might be having an affair with Grady seemed unworthy of a mention. ‘Not even for a millisecond,’ he said.
Curiosity lit her eyes. ‘Why? They are well done. You really need to look carefully to see that they’re composites, so why were you so sure?’
‘Well, first of all, because I know enough about you to know you’d never pose for something like that, and secondly, unlike Aidan Power, I don’t have trust issues.’
‘Is there a thirdly,’ she asked, smiling at him across the table
‘I love you and would never believe anything bad of you,’ he said, ‘will that do?’
She nodded, then stood, reached over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I think so,’ she said. Sitting again, she refilled her glass and held the bottle toward him. ‘You won’t have more?’
He shook his head and picked up a glass of water instead. ‘I’d better not.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Kelly said. ‘Self-publishing is perfectly acceptable these days; I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I can self-publish my family saga and concentrate on my next novel.’ She cited all the writers who’d successfully self-published and who swore they’d never go the traditional route.
‘Is it the same as vanity publishing?’ he asked, knowing very little about it but with a vague memory of reading about people who paid thousands to have books published and never made a penny. ‘Don’t they charge a fortune?’
‘It’s not really the same,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘There’s no financial outlay with self-publishing. I just decide which platform I want to use, download my novel, choose a cover and that’s it. It’s published.’
West put his wine glass down. ‘That’s it?’
She smiled. ‘It really is that easy which is why everyone is doing it, including many people who probably shouldn’t. The downside is that I have to do the editing, marketing etc myself.’
‘Ah,’ he said picking up his wine again, ‘I see what it is. It’s easy to publish but maybe not so easy to sell?’
‘It’s more of a c
hallenge, certainly, but I think I can do it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘My books are good. I’m not letting some idiot prevent me from getting them out there. I’ll learn the marketing. Meanwhile, I’ll write the next novel and keep going.’
He smiled at her determination. ‘I predict a best-seller,’ he said and raised his glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to your success.’
Finally, the wine was finished and the restaurant was almost empty. ‘I think we’d better leave,’ West said with a smile and a slight nod toward the hovering waiter.
Outside, the mild night and clear, starry sky prompted him to suggest a walk along the marina. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while and then stopped to look out to sea.
West put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. ‘We’re good together,’ he said simply. And then, because the mood had become a little serious he told her about his lunch in Fiona’s apartment.
She was slightly taken aback at first. This was, after all, the woman he’d been laughing so uproariously with in Monkstown.
‘She has a penthouse in one of those lovely apartment blocks between the Park and the Liffey, with fabulous views over both.’ He told her about the sudden downpour they’d been caught in on the way there and Fiona’s kindness in providing an alternative while she put his wet shirt into the dryer. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘getting into it was easier than getting out, so there was I, hands in the air, trying to wriggle my way out of a scrub top that was several sizes too small, expecting her to come back any moment. It could have been so embarrassing.’ He held his arms up to demonstrate and wriggled his body frantically.
Kelly smiled. Seriously, what had she been worrying about? As West continued his contortions, she started to giggle.
‘It wasn’t funny,’ he said, grabbing her in a bear hug.
She giggled louder and then kissed him soundly on the mouth. ‘What an idiot,’ she said fondly.
Back home, by mutual agreement, they went straight to bed and made love until after mid-night.
Then, relaxed, sated and sure of their world, they slept.
22
Waking early, West resisted the temptation to stay just where he was. Instead, he kissed the sleeping woman beside him and, with great reluctance, got up and had a cold shower. It was good enough to send him on his way.
He arrived early enough to chat with the night shift, swopping stories with officers he hadn’t seen for a while before heading to his office to switch on his computer and check emails. There were a number from various children’s groups he’d reached out to. But, like the others that had replied, they had nothing positive to offer.
The child in the suitcase. It looked like she was going to be left with that name and that didn’t sit easily with him, but the case was cold, they’d have to put it to the back of the pile. The team, especially Andrews, wouldn’t be happy but they’d understand. Despite their best efforts, they just couldn’t solve them all. But they’d leave that reconstructed image of her on the notice board, and they wouldn’t forget.
The Ollie Fearon case was also stagnant. He had half a mind to head out with Jarvis and Allen to interview that friend, if they could find him. He sighed, they wouldn’t appreciate him tagging along and if he were honest, he’d just be in the way. Opening his diary, he groaned. More damn audits due. This one an audit of their response time.
He wished he could do an audit of the time wasted doing them instead of proper police work but he was afraid if he suggested it, even with heavy sarcasm, Morrison would think it was a good idea. The man did love his audits. He might rarely interfere with what went on in the detective division but forget to do the damn audits and he’d pester him for days.
He pulled up the relevant forms and figures and started on the tedious job of transferring one to the other. He’d made little headway when he heard voices outside and then Andrews’ cheerful face peered around the door.
‘You’re in early. Coffee?’
He nodded, saved what he’d done and sat back with his hands locked behind his head.
Andrews returned moments later a mug in each hand. Handing one to West, he sat down. ‘Jarvis and Allen are heading into the city first thing,’ he said, slurping the too-hot coffee noisily. ‘They’re hoping to catch the beggar before he heads off to do whatever it is he gets up to.’
‘Let’s hope when they find him that he has something to tell us,’ West said, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. ‘Before I forget, will you contact someone in Cork to have a look at Amanda Pratt? It’s probably a fool’s errand but we may as well get it out of the way.’
Andrews nodded. ‘I thought I’d ask Tom to do that. He has a lot of contacts down there.’
‘Good idea,’ West said and put the woman out of his head. ‘You know, I half expected to find more photographs in the post this morning. It seems to me, whoever is responsible, they’ve left the job half done.’ He saw Andrews’ puzzled frown. ‘The photographs were sent to professional contacts and they did a bloody good job there. But they were also sent to me. That’s personal, Pete.’
‘So you think they’ll try again?’
West shrugged. ‘I just can’t think that they’ll leave it at that. I can’t think what motive someone would have for trying to destroy her, can you?’
Andrews sipped his coffee thoughtfully. ‘She has been involved in a number of high profile cases. Maybe she’s picked up a follower?’
West nodded and smiled grimly. ‘A stalker? That’s what woke me so early this morning. If it isn’t someone she knows, it’s someone who has his sights on her for some reason, and what you say makes sense.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past that young Finbarr,’ Andrews said with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of that young gurrier.’
West laughed. ‘I wouldn’t either if I weren’t so sure he was safely ensconced on Clare Island. Kelly has kept in touch with Sylvia. She says Finbarr has been very supportive.’
‘Hmmm,’ Andrews said, ‘I can’t imagine that will last.’
‘No. Probably not.’ West put his half-empty mug down. ‘I think we’ll just have to wait until whoever it is takes the next step. Meanwhile, Morrison will be shouting for this damn audit, so I’d better get back to it. Let me know as soon as Jarvis and Allen get in contact.’
Dismissed, Andrews took his coffee and headed out to have a word with Tom Blunt about Amanda Pratt.
Sergeant Blunt, a big man who listened intently, remembered everything and said little, was a popular garda liked by the uniforms and detectives alike. Andrews found him in his office directly behind the front desk.
‘You busy?’
A shake of his head gave Andrews the answer he wanted. He closed the door, sat in the only other chair in the office and told Blunt exactly what he needed from him.
‘It’s really just to make sure she is as settled down there as her brother is making out,’ he finished. ‘Have you someone who you can trust to check her out discreetly?’
Blunt gave the question some thought before saying, ‘Garda Libby Forster.’
Andrews didn’t know the name. But if Blunt thought she was up to the job, that was good enough for him. ‘Perfect. Thanks, Tom. I’ll leave it to you then.’
And that was that job done. Andrews often thought that if they could just get on with their job without excess chat and paperwork they’d get a lot more done.
His phone was ringing when he returned to his desk. He reached it just in time. ‘Andrews,’ he said.
‘It’s Jarvis. We’ve found the guy, he has some interesting things to tell us. We’re bringing him in; we think the sergeant needs to hear what he has to say.’
‘Ok,’ Andrews said, ‘I’ll let him know. What time do you expect to make it back?’ He listened, asked a couple more questions and then hung up and went to West’s door.
‘Jarvis and Allen are heading back. They’re bringing Fearon’s business associate with them. Jarvis say you’ll want to hear
what he says.’
West looked up from his computer screen. ‘Did he give you any indication what it’s about?’
Andrews shook his head, a frown of annoyance on his brow. ‘I’ve noticed that to be a trend with the lads recently. They’re all becoming divas, wanting to ramp up the excitement before communicating anything.’
West grinned. ‘Let them have their fun. Did they say what time they’d be back?’
‘About eleven. I’ll go and book the Big One before Clarke lays claim to it. I spotted him lurking around a while ago.’ With that, he vanished from sight.
He returned his attention to his computer screen. With a bit of luck he might get the audit finished before they got back. But of course, his mind started to wander. They’d obviously found something interesting. He hoped it would be enough to put someone in the frame for Fearon’s murder. They could do with getting one of their outstanding cases solved.
Forcing his attention back to the numbers and columns on the screen, he kept it there until Andrews once more appeared in the doorway. Perhaps he should have closed the door. With a deep breath, he looked up. ‘What?’
‘Just wondered if you wanted some more coffee,’ Andrews said, arms crossed, shoulders resting against the doorframe.
West saved what he’d done and shut down the programme. There was always tomorrow. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and a biscuit if Clarke hasn’t pinched them all.’
Andrews returned with two mugs and a packet of biscuits. ‘I hid them when I saw him around this morning,’ he admitted, dropping the packet on the desk. ‘He’s a pig; he’d just eat the bloody lot and then look around for more.’
Figrolls. West’s favourite. He opened the packet and took out a couple before pushing the packet across the table. Andrews shook his head and patted his belly. ‘Joyce has had to sew trouser buttons on a few times recently. She says I’ve put on weight and blames my inability to say no to a biscuit.’
West smiled. Joyce Andrews was a tiny woman with a huge personality. She was also a wonderful cook. He’d eaten in their house often enough and had seen the meals she put in front of her husband with the same instructions every time, get on the outside of that. He didn’t think the odd biscuit Andrews ate in the station made a huge difference, and he said so.
Death in Foxrock (A Garda West Crime novel Book 4) Page 17
