No Easy Answer

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘Maybe they went abroad,’ West suggested.

  ‘I checked tax records for all three in the UK and there’s nothing,’ Edwards said. ‘We’re waiting to hear back from the US regarding Benjamin Whitaker but according to the passport office neither Rebecca nor Benjamin Junior were ever issued with a passport so they couldn’t have gone.’

  West felt success at their fingertips. ‘So, at the same time an older male adult and two younger adults were killed and their bodies somehow preserved, Doris Whitaker’s family disappeared.’

  Baxter stepped back from the Wall and perched on a desk. ‘Doris Whitaker never reported her husband and children missing because she’d killed them.’

  ‘We’ve no idea who the fourth body is,’ Edwards said. ‘We checked the previous census reports. The occupants of the house were listed as the parents and two children, nobody else.’

  The ring of the phone distracted them. ‘It might be Kennedy with our DNA result. Facts will lock our theory together.’ West headed to his office and picked up the phone.

  ‘Sorry for the delay in getting back to you, it’s been manic here.’ Niall Kennedy’s voice sounded weary. ‘I heard about Jarvis. He doing okay?’

  ‘Yes, they say he should make a full recovery.’

  ‘Good. Right, the DNA results.’

  ‘We’ve just been discussing it. Doris Whitaker’s husband and children haven’t been heard of for forty-nine years so we’re hoping you’re going to confirm it’s them.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.’

  West blinked in surprise. ‘There isn’t a match?’

  ‘Nope. DNA from the dismembered bodies doesn’t match DNA taken from the hit-and-run victim, Doris Whitaker.’

  They’d been so sure they were on the right track. He knew the answer to the question before he asked but asked it anyway. ‘No chance there’s been a mistake?’

  ‘I should take umbrage,’ Kennedy said. ‘But I’m too tired. No mistake. Not a match.’

  West waited a moment before he headed back to join the rest of the team. This wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

  Andrews saw him coming across the room, shut his eyes, and muttered under his breath. ‘You’re kidding me,’ he then said aloud.

  ‘Afraid not. Dr Kennedy says there isn’t a match.’

  Baxter and Edwards spoke together, both vociferous about the DNA results having to be wrong. Even Allen, always the quieter of them, put his word in.

  West held up a hand. ‘The DNA doesn’t match. I’m not going to say the science can’t be wrong because I’m less certain of that than I was only a week ago… but we’re stuck with what we have–’

  ‘Which is now nothing,’ Baxter interrupted, scowling.

  ‘We know Doris Whitaker’s husband and two children disappeared around the same time as our dismembered corpses were killed. That’s too much of a coincidence. What we have to do, is to get the facts to fit the science. We weren’t expecting a DNA match to the adult male – they were husband and wife after all – but we were expecting a match to the two children… so why isn’t there one? We know the man and children are related… so maybe they used a surrogate. Find out. I know we’re onto something.’

  He left them to it and returned to his office, Andrews following closely behind.

  ‘Damn DNA,’ West said, flopping onto his chair. ‘We need a break with this. If we can’t get proof, we’ll never tie Checkley in with the bodies.’

  ‘Science is giving us a lot of headaches these days.’

  ‘I’m less sure of the Hennessy case. It’s down to estimation of time, after all. But you simply can’t argue with DNA.’

  The sound of voices drifted from the main office, followed by Baxter’s very distinctive laugh.

  Andrews pushed the door shut. ‘We were lucky with Jarvis.’

  ‘We use that word far too often, d’you know that?’

  ‘Part of our life.’ Andrews reached forward and placed a small box in the middle of the desk. ‘What we have to remember is that it’s often on our side.’

  West stared at the box in disbelief. He knew Andrews would do something but he never thought he’d get the ring back. His hand slid across the desk, fingers closing over the box, eyes still on Andrews. ‘It’s really the ring?’

  ‘The assistant hung onto the rings he swapped for a couple of weeks in case the customers changed their minds.’

  West opened the box, took the ring out and held it up to the light. ‘It looks exactly the same as the one she’s wearing, you know.’

  ‘But it isn’t, and that’s important to Edel.’

  The ring was put back into the box, the lid shut with a loud snap. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

  ‘It’s in my interest,’ Andrews said as he got to his feet. ‘You’re far less grumpy when you’re happy.’

  31

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Edel said over dinner that night. ‘This woman, Doris Whitaker, was married with two children and they and her husband seem to have vanished off the face of the earth. You have three bodies from the same time frame, and yet you can’t say for sure they’re the same?’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘How extraordinary! I bet Morrison loved that.’

  West jabbed his fork into a piece of chicken with more vigour than the overcooked fowl needed. ‘I haven’t told him yet.’ Edel’s laugh rang out, making him smile. ‘If only Morrison would laugh. Instead, he puts on his hard-done-by expression and frowns so much that his eyebrows come together in one huge, hairy caterpillar.’

  ‘He’s right though, you do get some odd ones. It will be a long time before I forget those lamprey eels.’

  The memory of Eoin Breathnach’s body floating in the pond with the lamprey eels sucking the life out of him was the kind of image that was destined to last. ‘I should never have brought you there.’

  ‘Far as I remember, I didn’t give you any choice. Anyway, if I remember correctly, it was me who found the murder weapon.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be, it was I who found the murder weapon?’

  ‘Ha, nobody loves a smart-arse,’ Edel said, getting to her feet.

  A few minutes later, order restored to the kitchen and dining room, they were relaxing in the sitting room listening to the news on TV.

  ‘What about the other case?’ Edel asked as some politician whose name she didn’t know was spouting forth about the economy. ‘You know, the frozen body one.’

  ‘We’ve hit a dead-end with that, I’m afraid: Kennedy swears the time frame had to be several days, but Cara Donaldson insists she saw her mother on the Sunday.’

  ‘Maybe there was a mix-up in the mortuary and the bodies were mislabelled or something. It happens, you know.’

  ‘In crime novels and movies, maybe, not in real life.’

  Edel twisted around to look at him. ‘Rubbish! I bet it happens all the time. Did the family identify her there or in the hospital before she was transferred?’

  West smiled at the excitement in Edel’s eyes. It was good to be able to talk about his cases, even if she did put a fictional spin on them at times. ‘They identified her in the mortuary.’

  ‘Oh, pity. It would have worked better my way.’

  He put an arm around her and pulled her close. ‘Sorry not to be able to oblige you.’

  ‘It would have been better, because if they’d been lying, if the woman wasn’t their mother, that would solve the problem.’

  West’s hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘What did you say?’

  Edel moved away from his embrace and turned to look at him, startled by the sharpness in his voice. ‘Sorry, I was joking.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘say it again.’

  ‘What? That if the woman wasn’t their mother it would solve the problem?’

  West pulled her to him again and kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘Yes.’ He reached into his shirt pocket for his mobile. ‘Peter, it’s Mike. Sorry for disturbin
g you but I wanted to check something. Cara Donaldson and her brother… did they actually see their mother or did they identify her from her belongings?’ He listened for a moment. ‘No, I’ll explain tomorrow. G’night.’

  He tapped the phone on his thigh, trying to get his thoughts in order.

  ‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on soon, I’m going to explode,’ Edel said.

  ‘Muriel Hennessy’s body had been in that alleyway for possibly a couple of days. There was rodent damage to her face, parts of her body. When it was explained to her son and daughter that they might prefer not to witness the damage, that they could formally identify her by the distinctive ring she always wore, that’s what they did.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘There was never any doubt. Their mother had been missing for up to five days. There was no other elderly female reported missing so the logical conclusion was that the woman was Muriel Hennessy.’ He laughed at the look of astonishment on Edel’s face. She looked… what was that word… flabbergasted, yes, that was it. ‘You look flabbergasted.’

  ‘I am,’ Edel said with a shake of her head. ‘Completely. But if it’s not her, who is it? And where’s Muriel Hennessy?’

  32

  There was only one way to prove he was right, West decided as he dressed the following morning. Their old friend DNA would have to ride to the rescue again.

  They had testing kits in the station. The sooner he could get a sample from one of the Hennessy offspring to bring to Kennedy for comparison, the sooner they’d know. Cara Donaldson he guessed would be the better option.

  He stopped in the station to grab a kit and headed to her house. At 7.30am he rang her doorbell hoping she’d not yet left for work.

  It was a puzzled, and sleepy-looking husband who answered the door, eyebrows shooting into his hairline when he saw West standing there. ‘Very eager or a little desperate,’ he said in lieu of good morning. He didn’t appear to expect an answer, standing back and waving West in. ‘There’s coffee just made. Help yourself. I’ll go get Cara.’

  The coffee smelled good so West accepted the casual invitation and helped himself, adding milk from the Tetra Pak nearby. He stayed standing, sipping it as he stared out over a well-planned, neat back garden.

  A bored voice made him turn. ‘What is it this time?’

  West had debated how much he should tell her. It was all speculation after all. But if he wanted a DNA sample, he’d have to be honest. ‘It’s been difficult trying to marry the facts as you told them, and the science as our expert is telling us. We’ve come to an odd conclusion that is, as yet, purely speculative.’

  Cara’s eyes narrowed. ‘You should have been a politician; you have a great knack of speaking and saying nothing.’ She opened a cupboard, took down a mug and poured coffee from the pot. ‘How about you tell me what you want?’

  ‘A DNA sample.’

  She stared into the coffee before lifting it to her lips and taking a miniscule sip. It gave her enough time to weigh up his request and to come to the right conclusion. ‘Of course.’ She shook her head in amused disbelief. ‘If I’m right, and the science is right, then it’s the body that has to be wrong.’

  West had to admire her. He couldn’t have put it better. ‘You identified your mother from a ring she wore, isn’t that correct?’

  ‘Yes. Neither Liam nor I wanted to look at her after we were told the damage that had been done by rodents.’ She shivered. ‘Anyway, the ring was very distinctive. It was one she’d worn forever – a hideous garnet and peridot concoction my father had made for her as an engagement ring. Garnets were her favourite stone and green was her favourite colour so he had the bright idea to combine the two.’ She shook her head at the thought.

  ‘It sounds unique.’ It also made the situation more troubling. If the body in the laneway wasn’t Muriel Hennessy, how and why was she wearing her ring?

  ‘It is… very… so it seemed logical to assume it was Mum when we saw it. Now you’re indicating it might not be.’ The same thought crossed her mind. ‘So why was she wearing Mum’s ring?’

  ‘I wish I could come up with a plausible reason but I haven’t got one.’ West took the sample kit from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Best if we get the proof one way or another. If you’d put some saliva in the pot, please.’

  Cara took the kit and looked at it with dislike. ‘Suddenly, my mouth seems obstinately dry.’ She removed the sample pot. ‘You don’t mind if I turn my back, do you? Spitting, even for such a good reason as this, goes against my nature.’

  When West nodded his agreement, she took a few steps away and turned her back to him.

  ‘Disgusting,’ she said a moment later, handing over the packet with the specimen pot plainly visible through a clear plastic window. ‘When do you get the results?’

  ‘I’ll take it over now. Dr Kennedy is very efficient, if I beg nicely, he’ll have the results by tomorrow.’ He rolled the packet up and slipped it into his pocket. ‘Thank you for your help, I’ll let you know the results as soon as we hear anything.’

  Back in his car, West sat and considered his next step. It was too early to go to the State Pathologist’s Office, too early to call to Thunders for the necessary bribery. Instead, he drove to the Mater to visit Jarvis.

  He tried the same entrance the security guard had taken him through the last time. Relieved to find it open, he headed down long, dimly lit corridors hoping he wouldn’t get lost and have to ring someone to be rescued. But a few minutes later, he keyed in the code he’d seen the security guard use and pushed open the door into the main hospital.

  Jarvis was asleep. West was relieved to see that the intravenous lines were gone, as were the monitoring leads. Only a simple device attached to one of his fingers remained. The numbers on the screen made no sense to West but it wasn’t flashing warning lights or alarming so he took comfort from that. Deciding to stay a while, he grabbed a chair from a stack near the door, placed it beside the bed and sat.

  Immediately, Jarvis opened his eyes. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi yourself. How’re you feeling or is that a silly question.’

  Jarvis slid his hand across the bed and felt for the control. Pressing a button, the head of the bed lifted. ‘That’s better.’ He shuffled a little and sighed. ‘I feel okay. The wound is a bit sore but they say it will be easier when the staples come out.’

  ‘Staples?’

  ‘High-tech stuff stopping my insides from falling out.’ He pointed to a glass on the bedside table and West picked it up and held it for him while Jarvis slurped through the straw. ‘Thank you.’

  Because he knew Jarvis would be fascinated, West told him about the idea that the body found in the laneway wasn’t, after all, Muriel Hennessy. ‘I’m going to ask Kennedy to do a DNA comparison between her and Cara Donaldson. We should know tomorrow.’

  ‘Makes sense, doesn’t it. If the science was right, and the daughter was right. It had to be the body that was wrong.’

  ‘Yes, we’re all seeing it now. Inspector Morrison is going to be apoplectic.’

  ‘I can imagine what he’ll say.’ Jarvis imitated Morrison’s rather pedantic way of speaking. ‘Instead of solving cases, Detective Sergeant West, you seem obsessed with making them more complicated… or should I say, more ridiculous!’

  West laughed. ‘Pretty close. You’d better not let Morrison hear that.’

  Jarvis shuffled in the bed again, the movement causing him to wince. ‘These beds are so damn hard.’ He pressed the control again, the bed’s angle changing slightly. ‘Better.’ He lifted the control. ‘The only exercise I’m getting.’ He dropped it on the bed. ‘If that body isn’t Muriel Hennessy, will you have to start the search for her again?’

  ‘We’ll certainly be opening the missing person’s file on her again but at this stage I can’t see us finding her alive.’

  The door opened and a nurse came through. She stopped when she saw West sitting there and shook her head. ‘I suppose there
’s no point in my saying it’s not visiting hours; you’ll simply say it’s garda business and wave your identification the way those other lads did last night.’

  West looked at Jarvis, an eyebrow raised in question.

  ‘Baxter, Edwards and Allen. They came en masse to see me.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he turned to the nurse, ‘it’s important that we get detailed statements about what happened.’

  ‘Yes, and if it causes great hilarity, all the better,’ she said with a wink in Jarvis’s direction. She checked the monitor, jotted down the recording on the chart she was holding and with a warning to West not to overstay his welcome, she vanished as quietly as she’d arrived.

  West left a short while later and since it was after 9am, parked outside Thunders and went inside to see what form bribery would take that day.

  A short while later he rapped on Kennedy’s office door. When he heard the shout to come in, he opened the door and held the box inside like a white flag.

  ‘That better be meringues and not more body parts.’

  West pushed the door fully open. ‘Neither, will you settle for cream donuts and éclairs? I’ll have to plan my visits for later to get meringues.’

  ‘Planning your visits by telling me you were coming might be a good idea too,’ Kennedy said, but there was no criticism in the words. ‘What’s it this time?’

  ‘Another DNA check, please.’ West handed over the kit. ‘Can you check this against Muriel Hennessy’s. It might solve our conundrum.’

  ‘The science versus witness one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kennedy paused in the act of sliding an éclair into his mouth. ‘Ah, I see where you’re going. If science and the witness are both right… the body has to be wrong.’

  ‘You’re the third person to say that this morning. If we’re all so clever, why did it take us so long to see it?’

  His mouth full, Kennedy waved a hand. ‘We’re theorising… wait until we do the DNA comparison before we decide it’s a fact.’