‘She never speaks about her parents or her life before she came to Ballydoon. You have to admit it, Ryan, Fiona’s a bit odd.’
‘Jesus, Zoe, just because she’s not an extrovert and—’
‘I know, but there’s just something … I can’t put my finger on it.’
‘Well, I’m marrying her tomorrow, so you can stop thinking up excuses not to like her. Okay?’
Zoe turned. He caught a whisper of a smile at the edge of her mouth. ‘Okay.’
‘I’ll have a shower. When is that likely to be ready?’
‘That? I’ll have you know, Ryan Slevin, that is my highlight dish of the week. Fish straight from the sea.’
‘Caught it yourself, did you?’
‘Smartarse,’ she laughed. ‘I ironed your good shirt too. For tomorrow.’
‘You’re the best sister ever.’ He gave her a hug but hadn’t the heart to tell her he had bought a new shirt especially for the occasion.
As he pulled away from his sister, Ryan heard the ding-dong of the doorbell. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’
‘It might be Fiona.’
‘The night before our wedding? I don’t think so. I know we want it all low-key, with no fuss, but no matter what you think of her, Fiona is a traditionalist at heart.’
He went to answer the door.
Waiting for the door to open, Lottie glanced around the small estate on the edge of Ballydoon village. Boyd had rushed off to Galway. She hoped he would be safe on the bad roads; she’d told him to text her when he arrived.
The address she had for Ryan Slevin was a terraced house belonging to the Bannon family. She’d been informed that Zoe Bannon was Ryan’s sister.
Kirby ambled up the path, his burly face puce from the couple of steps’ exertion. ‘I hate being the bringer of bad news,’ he said.
‘Part of the job,’ Lottie reminded him.
A roar of kids’ shouting preceded the door being opened, followed by the pungent aroma of garlic.
She flashed her ID card at the man standing before her. ‘Hello, are you Ryan Slevin?’
‘I am. Have I done something I’m not aware of?’ His face lit up with an amused smile and she couldn’t help noticing a smudge of flour on the cheekbone under his eye. She had to resist the urge to wet her finger and wipe it away. He had the air of a teenager, despite his height, build and beard, though she suspected he was in his thirties.
‘Can we come in, please?’
‘It must be serious,’ he said, but Lottie heard devilment in his tone. Around his legs, three ginger heads appeared.
‘Who’s that?’ the tallest boy said.
‘Shush, Tommy. Come this way, please.’
A woman appeared, untying a dirty apron. She shuffled the children out of the way. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m Detective Inspector Lottie Parker and this is my colleague Detective Larry Kirby.’
Lottie wended her way around the children and their mother and followed Ryan into a sitting room that looked like a play area. Toys were scattered everywhere, and a noisy cartoon blasted from the television. With the children evicted to their mother’s care, Ryan bundled up the toys and deposited them in a heap by the side of the television, which he switched off.
He sat into a tired armchair. Lottie perched on the edge of the couch, and Kirby fell into the tattered cushions beside her.
‘So, what do you want from me?’ Ryan said.
‘I’m afraid we have some bad news, Mr Slevin,’ Lottie said.
‘The name’s Ryan. What bad news?’ He shifted uneasily, straightening himself upright.
‘You’re engaged to Fiona Heffernan, is that right?’
‘Fiona? Yes, I am. Has something happened to her?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘A car accident? Oh God.’ He buried his head in his hands. Lottie could no longer see his face. ‘Fiona hates driving in bad weather. Is she okay?’ He stood suddenly. ‘Can I see her? Is she in Ragmullin hospital?’
‘Please sit down, Ryan.’ She detested this part of her job. ‘The news is very bad. We found Ms Heffernan this afternoon. I’m sorry to say that she’s dead.’
Ryan sat, his eyes questioning. ‘What? How? Oh my God!’
‘It wasn’t a car accident.’ She noted the changing expressions on his face. Questioning. Incredulity. Horror. He appeared genuinely shocked.
‘What? What happened? I can’t believe this. We’re getting married tomorrow. This is her second chance. To make a good life for herself, with me. Oh God, no …’
Scanning the cramped sitting room, Lottie wondered if this was where Ryan had intended to live with Fiona, but it was too early for questions of an intrusive nature. She just needed to find out where he’d been this afternoon.
‘Are you okay to continue? Do you want your sister—’
‘No. Don’t say anything to Zoe, please. I’ll tell her when you’re gone.’
‘You said this was Fiona’s second chance. Was she married before? Divorced?’
‘No, nothing like that. She had a long-term involvement with a bloody prick of a fellow; she was still with him when we met. She was so damaged after that so-called relationship … but we were good together.’ He paused. Raised his eyes to Lottie. ‘Tell me, please, what happened to her?’
‘Her body was found around three this afternoon.’ Lottie thought how best to frame her words. ‘It looks like she, em … fell from the rooftop of Ballydoon Abbey.’
‘Oh my God. This is just awful.’ Ryan ran his hand through his hair then along his bearded chin before resting his elbows on his knees. ‘I hope she didn’t suffer.’
What an odd statement, Lottie thought. She was trying desperately hard to get a handle on Ryan Slevin. ‘We’ll have a better picture as to what happened after the post-mortem.’
Ryan’s stare caught her unawares. It was penetrating, and any trace of laughter had disappeared from his eyes. ‘You mentioned the rooftop. What was she doing up there?’
‘We’re still establishing the facts.’
‘But …’ It was as if realisation had suddenly dawned on him, and a burst of anger replaced his disbelief. ‘You think she jumped? No. No way would Fiona do that. We’re getting married tomorrow and she loves her little girl. What about Lily? Is she okay? Who’s looking after her?’
Lottie swung around and scrunched her forehead in a question to Kirby. He shook his head, eyebrows raised. This was the first they’d heard of a child.
‘Fiona has a daughter?’
‘Yes. Lily,’ he repeated.
‘Do you know where she is?’ Lottie said urgently.
Ryan jumped up, clenching a hand into a fist and thumping it into the other. ‘You mean to tell me no one has gone to pick her up from her after-school club? She’ll be terrified.’ He pulled his phone from his pocket and furiously scrolled through his messages and calls. ‘No one rang me. They may have been trying to contact Fiona.’
‘We took her handbag and phone from her locker. They’re signed into evidence,’ Kirby said.
‘And you didn’t notice anything on her phone or in her bag about her daughter?’ Lottie said.
‘No, don’t think so.’ Kirby looked down at his notebook.
‘What age is Lily?’ Lottie turned to Ryan, anxiety constricting her lungs.
‘She’s eight. She goes to the after-school club when Fiona’s at work. Oh God, you didn’t know she had a child?’
‘We’re on it straight away. What’s the name of the club?’
‘Little People. It’s in Ragmullin.’
‘Kirby, make some calls.’
As he went out to the hall with his phone, Lottie turned back to Ryan. ‘Who was Fiona in a relationship with before she met you?’
‘Colin Kavanagh, and I wouldn’t call it a relationship. That word means there has to be love involved, and I don’t think the emotion figured in that man’s vocabulary, let alone his heart.’
‘Where does he live?’
&
nbsp; ‘In a big old house, a converted barn, outside the village. Down by the lake.’ He gave her the address.
Lottie wondered if the fact that Fiona died in her wedding dress was a statement. Had Boyd been right? Was it Fiona’s way of telling Ryan she no longer wanted to marry him? That killing herself was better than the prospect of life with him? No, it didn’t make sense. She had thought it suspicious all along, and now, the news that Fiona was the mother of a little girl compounded her theory of murder. Especially after also finding Cara Dunne dead in a wedding dress. She hoped Lily was okay. Probably still at the after-school club. Eyeing the door, she heard Kirby talking on the phone.
Returning her attention to Ryan, she said, ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you these questions at this difficult time. Can you account for your whereabouts this afternoon?’
‘What do you mean?’
Why did people answer questions with more questions? ‘Just routine.’
‘But you said Fiona jumped …’
‘No, I said it looks like she fell. She was found on the ground. We have to look at all the evidence.’
‘She could have been pushed, is that what you mean?’ Without waiting for her to reply, he held up his hand. ‘I know, I know. Wait for the post-mortem. I’m in the newspaper business. I understand the language.’
‘This afternoon, where were you?’
He slumped back on the chair. ‘At work. In the Tribune office. I’m a photographer for the paper.’
‘You were there all afternoon?’
‘Yes. No. I can’t remember. I know I was working. I came straight home. I had to eat my dinner then write a short speech for tomorrow. Only there’s no tomorrow any more, is there?’
As his body crumpled into a heap and sobs tore from his throat, Lottie let him have his moment of grief. Kirby returned, shaking his head.
‘The child is not at Little People,’ he said. ‘The manager tells me Lily had a class at three o’clock at the dance school in Ragmullin Theatre. Her mother had arranged for a member of staff to bring the child there, and she herself was to pick Lily up afterwards.’
‘So where is she?’ Ryan moaned.
‘I phoned the dance school,’ Kirby continued. ‘Colin Kavanagh is listed as the contact if Fiona is not there to collect Lily.’
Ryan shot out of the chair and faced up to Kirby. ‘Kavanagh is Lily’s father. Thank God she’s safe.’
‘Sit down, Mr Slevin,’ Kirby said. He turned to Lottie. ‘No one at the theatre remembers phoning him to pick Lily up.’
‘We’re leaving now,’ she said. ‘We need to call to Mr Kavanagh.’
Ryan’s body seemed to deflate. ‘Let me know when you find her. I have to know she’s all right. The boys love her.’
‘And you? Do you love her?’ Lottie pressed.
‘Of course I do. As if she were my own daughter, for Christ’s sake.’
As she followed Kirby to the front door, Lottie turned around in the cramped hallway. ‘Where were you going to live after the wedding?’
‘I have a cottage. Far side of the village. I’ve renovated it. It was like our own little dream home, and now those dreams are … shattered.’
‘We’ll need to have a look there.’
He dug around in his pocket and extracted a bunch of keys. He twisted one off the ring. ‘Here. Take it. It’s a spare.’
The kitchen door opened. Zoe stood there with a million questions in her eyes. ‘What’s going on, Ryan?’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Lottie said, and pulled the door shut behind her.
She sat into the car beside Kirby.
He said, ‘So who is this Colin Kavanagh when he’s at home?’
‘You’ll never believe it …’
Chapter Thirteen
The narrow road around by Doon Lake was treacherous in the bad weather conditions. Lottie clutched the door handle, ready to escape if they skidded. But Kirby kept the car straight.
‘Can’t believe a high-flying Dublin solicitor is living here, in the back of beyond,’ he said.
‘Well, he is, and his reputation is not very pleasant.’
The gates, with an intercom, were designed to keep outsiders out. Lottie identified herself, and Kirby drove the car up the winding avenue. She couldn’t see much of the house in the darkness until the outdoor lights came on, casting eerie shadows up and down the massive barn-like structure.
The door opened before she had one foot on the bottom of the three steps. A tall man stood there.
‘Where is my daughter? Have you found her?’ Lottie sensed a sudden movement of fear in her abdomen. The child wasn’t here. ‘Not yet, Mr Kavanagh. Can we come in?’
The tall, white-haired man opened the door wider and guided Lottie and Kirby into the vast expanse of hallway. He closed the door and stood with his back to it without inviting them further into his home.
‘I’ve had calls from your people about Lily,’ he said. ‘What’s Fiona done with her?’
‘Mr Kavanagh, is there somewhere we can sit?’ Lottie said. As she studied him, the dread settled into the pit of her stomach. If the little girl wasn’t at Kavanagh’s house, where was she?
‘You can talk to me here. I don’t like gardaí in my home.’ His eyebrows knitted into a ribbed frown. She noticed that he wasn’t as old as his white hair indicated. Face long and sharp. Eyes green; irises that appeared as if they were feathered with sprigs of seaweed. Mid fifties, probably; a good twenty years or so older than Fiona, she figured.
‘I regret to have to inform you that your ex-partner, Fiona Heffernan, was found dead this afternoon.’
‘She’s dead? You’re joking me.’ His eyes travelled from Lottie to Kirby. ‘You’re not? She is dead?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘You’d better come on in.’
He walked ahead of them into a dark room that Lottie could only describe as a library. It seemed out of place in the modern construction. Three walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with books, some leather-bound, probably first editions. Two brown leather sofas and a chaise longue were the only furniture besides the bookshelves. The fireplace was banked with logs, and flames raged up the chimney. Lottie moved towards the heat and stood with her back to the fire, allowing the warmth to de-ice her body.
When Kavanagh was seated, he indicated for Lottie to sit too.
‘If it’s okay with you, I’ll stand. Fiona was found dead in the grounds of Ballydoon Abbey this afternoon. It appears she might have fallen from the roof, but we are—’
‘Fallen? What was she doing up there? And Lily? The call I got was about my daughter.’
‘Did you collect the child from her dance school this afternoon?’
‘What? No, I did not. No one called me. Jesus Christ! Where is Lily? Did Fiona pick her up? Maybe before her … accident.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Lotte tried to digest the enormity of the fact that the little girl was most likely missing. The dread she’d felt when her own daughters had been abducted just six weeks ago reared its head and threatened to consume her. She had to remain professional, though. No point in showing her distress to Kavanagh. ‘I’ve yet to draw up the sequence of events. This is an ongoing investigation.’
‘You mean to tell me you don’t know where my daughter is?’
Kavanagh’s arrogance appeared to be negating his concern. Lottie felt her nerves grating with aggravation. If Boyd was here, he might call Kavanagh a prick under his breath, and right now she couldn’t think of a better word for him.
‘If Lily isn’t with you, who do you think she might be with?’ Dear God, she thought, let him know someone who might have collected the child.
‘I know who. That bastard Ryan Slevin!’ Kavanagh bolted out of the chair, in the same manner that Ryan had not ten minutes ago.
‘I’ve just come from Ryan’s. Lily is not there.’ But she hadn’t checked Ryan’s sister’s house. She’d logically assumed the girl was with her father. Fuck!
Kavan
agh said, ‘What about that cottage where he intends to live? Have you checked that?’
‘I’ve sent a squad car there. The thing is, you are the only other contact for the after-school club and the dance school. Where were you all afternoon?’
‘In my office.’
‘Can anyone corroborate that?’
‘I work alone. My secretary is on extended maternity leave. I’ve downsized my office so I have just a receptionist in three days a week.’ Pausing to catch his breath, he continued, ‘You should be asking that Slevin yob where he was.’
‘Let me do my job, Mr Kavanagh. We don’t know what’s happened to Lily yet, but can you think of any reason why Fiona might want to kill herself?’
Kavanagh sat down and crossed his legs, cradling an ankle on one knee. Lottie noticed a definite tremble in his hands.
‘Fiona’s a complicated individual.’ His face flushed as he spoke. ‘You’d have to know her to realise where I’m coming from. She loves … loved Lily unconditionally. Loved her job too. I don’t think she ever really loved me. Maybe that’s why she continuously turned down my offers of marriage and refused to have Lily carry my name. I have no idea what she ever saw in Ryan Slevin.’
‘When did you split up?’
‘About two years ago. My daughter was six at the time. Fiona had changed the instant the baby arrived. She shut me out a lot. I can understand a little of it. I’m twenty years older than her. But I could never get my head around how she hooked up with Slevin.’
‘When she left where did she go?’ Lottie was sure Zoe Bannon’s house hadn’t enough room for Fiona. She must have had her own place.
‘I rented a house in Ragmullin for them. Top-notch, top dollar. I wanted Lily to be comfortable. I love my daughter.’
Lottie took down the address and made a call for it to be searched. ‘Do you have much contact with Lily?’
‘Every second weekend. She has her own room here.’
‘Can I see it?’
His face reddened. ‘I did not kidnap my own daughter, Inspector.’
‘I never said that.’
‘You implied it.’
Lottie was growing weary of him. ‘If you or Mr Slevin did not pick up Lily, who do you think did?’
Broken Souls: An absolutely addictive mystery thriller with a brilliant twist (Detective Lottie Parker Book 7) Page 7
