No Easy Answer

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘Sherlock Holmes never had this problem,’ West said irritably. He picked up an éclair and demolished it in two bites.

  33

  Back in the station, West filled the team in on the latest development. ‘For now, it’s only a theory that the body found in the laneway is not Muriel Hennessy. Tomorrow, when we get the DNA result, we’ll know for sure. Meanwhile, it wouldn’t do any harm to check to see if an elderly female has turned up in any of the hospitals, because if the body isn’t Muriel Hennessy, she has to be out there somewhere.’

  ‘I’ll start on that,’ Allen said. ‘Plus, if the body isn’t her, who is it? I’ll check for any missing persons citywide.’

  ‘Morrison is going to love this,’ Baxter said with a grin.

  West shot him a quelling look. ‘Inspector Morrison likes cases being solved, so how about we do our job and get one of these blasted cases closed.’

  ‘You mean rather than making them more complicated,’ Edwards replied with a shake of his head.

  There was a moment when none of them knew which way it was going to go, but then West started to laugh and soon they were all at it. ‘Yes, indeed, if we’re right, it means we’ve turned our three cases into four. I might keep that from the inspector for the minute. Right,’ West said, ‘let’s see if we can turn this around. Anything more on Doris Checkley’s family.’

  Baxter raised a hand. ‘I found six Benjamin Whitakers living in the UK; only two were of the appropriate age but I managed, finally, to rule both out. There’s no record of a man of that name legally emigrating to the US in that period… of course, he could have done so illegally and is working there using an assumed name.’ He shrugged. ‘No way of finding that out.’

  ‘The two kids couldn’t have gone to the US anyway, they didn’t have passports,’ Edwards reminded him. He shoved his hands into the baggy pockets of his tweed jacket. ‘According to the birth certificates of both Rebecca and Benjamin Junior, they were born at home. So maybe it was a surrogate thing… Doris couldn’t have children so they hired someone. It would explain why the DNA of the father matches the children but doesn’t match Doris.’

  ‘We were looking for a family group when we searched for missing persons,’ Baxter said. ‘Since we’ve proved the older female isn’t related, I’ll do a search for missing single females in the same time frame. Maybe we’ll get lucky.’

  There it was, that damn word again. ‘Okay. Keep at it,’ West said and returned to his office.

  By the end of the day, they’d nothing more to add to the miserly information on the Wall.

  ‘Nothing.’ West shoved a hand through his hair in frustration.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ Andrews qualified. ‘Lots of theories and tantalising snippets, just nothing concrete. Getting the DNA results tomorrow might help solve the Hennessy mystery though.’

  ‘And leave us with another headache. Where’s Muriel Hennessy, and who is the frozen woman?’ West rocked back, his chair squeaking in protest as the front wheels were lifted off the ground. ‘DNA didn’t help us much with the Checkley case. It’s so frustrating… we know those bodies must be Doris Whitaker’s family but we can’t prove it, and without that proof there’s no way we can tie Darragh Checkley into the disposal of the bodies.’

  ‘We may fail here, Mike. It’s been two weeks. The only reason Morrison isn’t yelling blue murder is that nothing more important has come along to need our attention plus, of course, he’s playing softly-softly because of Jarvis.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Tomorrow, we’ll catch a break.’

  ‘Optimist.’

  ‘That’s me.’ Andrews leaned forward and dropped his voice. ‘Changing the subject, what did Edel say about the ring?’

  ‘I haven’t told her yet.’ West laughed at his surprise. ‘I have a plan, don’t worry.’

  ‘A plan?’ Andrews, sounding puzzled, got to his feet. ‘I’d better get on.’ He turned back at the door with a final comment. ‘As long as you know what you’re doing.’

  Did he? Since Edel had come into his life West wasn’t always sure. He dropped the chair down on its four wheels with a crash. But this would work, he was sure of it.

  34

  West had a dart of guilt when he saw Edel wasn’t wearing her ring again that evening. He didn’t question it and later it was back in place. Maybe she left it off all day so that it wouldn’t remind her that some relationships were fake… or was he overthinking things? He almost gave in and told her that he knew about the switch and that he had the real ring. But he’d asked her to marry him on the spur of the moment. She’d been dishing up lasagne at the time. It was hard to think of anything more unromantic than that. He had a second chance to do it properly. She deserved it.

  His deception was only for one more day. He had a plan. The next night, he was going to put it into action and it would all work out perfectly.

  Until then, he’d concentrate on his job and try to get even one of these blasted cases sorted.

  ‘Inspector Morrison wants to see you,’ Sergeant Blunt said when West arrived in the station on Thursday morning.

  West was startled. This was becoming a habit… and not a good one. ‘What’s he doing in so early?’

  ‘No idea.’

  There was no point in putting it off so West went straight up and rapped on the edge of the open door. ‘You wanted to see me, Inspector?’

  ‘Come in.’ Morrison was standing by his percolator. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Please.’ Not a bollocking then. Something more civilised. ‘You’re in early this morning.’

  ‘I went to see Jarvis. Seemed a sensible time to be negotiating cross-city traffic.’

  ‘I saw him yesterday,’ West said, accepting the coffee that was handed to him.

  ‘Doing well, he tells me.’ Morrison sat behind his desk. ‘That or he’s putting a brave face on it.’

  ‘I spoke to the nurse before I left yesterday; she said they were pleased with how he was doing.’ West rested a shoulder against the wall. ‘It’ll be a while before he’s fit to return to work though, plus he’ll need to see a counsellor.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Morrison put his coffee down and folded his arms. ‘It was why I wanted to see you this morning. I’m not planning on leaving you short. Some of the uniformed gardaí have shown an interest in joining the detective division, you’ve worked with a couple of them already.’

  ‘Garda Mackin shows promise.’

  ‘He does, but I’ve been worried about the lack of diversity so I was thinking about Gemma Ryan.’

  West frowned as he tried to put a face to the name. ‘Ah, yes.’ His face cleared. ‘She helped us out with those Cornelscourt muggers last year.’ He remembered her as being eager, and more importantly she seemed to have common sense. If they couldn’t have Mackin, she’d do. ‘Young Mackin will be disappointed.’

  ‘He’ll live.’

  West wondered whether he should bring up the progress… or lack of it in their current caseload but decided against. Later that day he might have something positive to report.

  ‘Bring the mug back when you’re finished with it.’

  It was a clear dismissal. ‘Will do,’ West said and took himself off.

  The detective unit was empty. He stood in front of the Wall while he finished the coffee, going over the little they knew and the tangle the cases had become. Two cases – despite lack of proof, he was still convinced the Checkleys and the dismembered bodies were linked.

  ‘Hi.’

  West turned, surprised to see Gemma Ryan standing hesitantly in the doorway with a nervous smile. Her hands tugged at the edges of a jacket. West guessed she’d probably bought it for an interview years before, hadn’t worn it since, and discovered only that morning that it was a shade too small.

  ‘Hello. Come in.’ West waved her over. ‘I hear you’re going to be with us for a while.’

  ‘While Detective Garda Jarvis is out of action. Which I hope won’t be long, of course, but I
am grateful for the opportunity.’

  ‘You did well last year. The Cornelscourt muggers. We’re glad to have you as part of the team. Now,’ he turned to the Wall, ‘let me fill you in on our current confusing and frustrating cases.’

  Ryan stood silently listening as he went through the details, sparse as they were. ‘We’re waiting for DNA results to confirm our theory about the body in the laneway.’ He tapped both the photograph of Muriel Hennessy taken before her death and the blown-up photo of her face taken in the mortuary, the damage done by the rodents graphically detailed. ‘And that’s her son Liam, and her daughter Cara Donaldson,’ he said, indicating the photographs that sat alongside.

  ‘And in the other case we’re working on–’ he pointed to another series of photographs, ‘–Doris Whitaker, victim of a hit-and-run last week, her cousin Darragh and his wife, Lynda. The team are trying to find a link between the dismembered bodies that were found in the recycling centre and Mrs Whitaker and hopefully we’ll be able to charge Checkley with the disposal of the bodies. Unfortunately, it’s not proving to be too easy.’

  ‘Inspector Morrison was right,’ Ryan said.

  West turned to her, an eyebrow raised in question. ‘Inspector Morrison frequently is, but about what in particular this time?’

  ‘He said I’d be surprised at the bizarre cases you get here.’

  ‘Bizarre.’ West laughed. ‘That’s an improvement on the “ridiculous” he was using last week.’ He looked back to the Wall. ‘Probably because I haven’t actually filled him in on our latest theory.’

  The door opened and Andrews and Baxter came through deep in conversation. They stopped when they saw Ryan.

  ‘Garda Ryan is joining us while Jarvis is off,’ West said. He pointed to a desk in the corner. ‘You can use his desk, Gemma. Settle yourself in. Get yourself a coffee and don’t be put off by anything Baxter says, he’s pretty harmless.’

  He left Baxter chatting to her and took Andrews into his office. ‘She’ll be a good addition.’

  ‘I agree. She’s smart and quick-witted. Nice to have a woman on the team too.’

  ‘That’s what Morrison said when I suggested Mackin.’ West sat behind his desk. ‘The inspector didn’t ask about the cases and I didn’t volunteer anything. Let’s hope we get something concrete today.’

  ‘I’d settle for anything that wasn’t smoke.’ Andrews tipped his head towards the main office. ‘What d’you want me to put Ryan on?’

  ‘I gave her a quick rundown on the cases we’re working on; get Allen to take her through them in detail. We’ll go from there.’

  If they were hoping for a quiet morning to concentrate on their search for information regarding Doris Whitaker, their luck had run out and mid-morning, apart from Andrews and West, the detective unit was empty.

  ‘Nothing complicated, so at least that’s something.’ Andrews stood in West’s doorway. ‘An alleged assault in Stillorgan shopping centre and a burglary at a premises on Sandyford Industrial Estate.’ He held his hand up when he saw that West was going to interrupt. ‘Yes, I know that one should be dealt with by the robbery division, but Clark and Foley are tied up dealing with a home burglary in Leopardstown.’

  West grimaced. ‘We’ve been lucky this long. How far had they got with their search?’

  ‘They were still trawling through reports. I’ve taken over but it’s slow-going. Hopefully, these new cases will be uncomplicated and they’ll get back before too long.’

  ‘Contrary to what Morrison thinks, we do get straightforward ones. Send me whatever Edwards was working on and I’ll work through it.’

  It was a boring, eye-watering task and West had to remind himself of what he’d told Edwards not many days before. Focusing on lines of data required frequent mugs of coffee and he was getting his third when the door opened and Baxter came through holding a tray of takeaway coffees. Edwards, behind him, waved a bag of donuts.

  ‘We stopped on the way back,’ Baxter said, putting the tray down. ‘Thought you might need sustenance.’

  Edwards plonked the donuts beside the coffee and tore open the bag. ‘Sugar-rush heaven.’

  A sugar rush might help. West reached for a jam donut and bit into it, sucking up the jam that immediately escaped. ‘These are good, thanks.’ It was gone in three bites leaving him with sugared fingers. It was tempting to do what Baxter was doing and brush his fingers against the leg of his trousers but he couldn’t bring himself to do it and crossed to the sink. ‘What about the alleged assault?’

  ‘A sanctimonious idiot, too well-versed in his rights.’ Edwards crooked his index fingers around the last word. ‘He was in O’Brien’s when another customer rushed in, brushed against him and knocked his coffee cup from his hand. It was a black coffee so he was a little scalded and started shouting the odds, accusing the other customer of assault. Unfortunately, instead of apologising, the other customer accused the first of being overweight and taking up too much room in the café thereby forcing people to detour around him.’

  ‘I thought that was quite witty.’ Baxter spoke through a mouthful of his second donut, granules of sugar falling from his lips. ‘But it made the other customer more irate and he insisted that the staff call security.’

  ‘The security man was Bill Grainger. You know him, Peter,’ Edwards said as Andrews joined them.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Andrews said, and reached for a donut. ‘I thought they’d got rid of him.’

  ‘They’ve tried but he’s like chewing gum, hard to get rid of. Anyway, when he arrived, Mr Sanctimonious started spouting about his rights, and holding forward his slightly reddened hand so Grainger, never one to put himself out, decided to offload him onto us.’

  Baxter dusted sugar from his hands and picked up a coffee. ‘By the time we arrived the two customers were sitting at opposite ends of the café shooting daggers at each other. They both started speaking at once, each of them blaming the other so I told them they’d have to come to the station to make a statement. Since Mr Sanctimonious was talking about damages, I told them they’d need to get themselves solicitors first.’

  ‘You should have heard him,’ Edwards said. ‘I swear he’s been listening to you too much, Mike, he was spouting stuff about slander and reputational damages.’

  ‘Reputational damages?’ West looked from one to the other. ‘I’m impressed, it sounds good but there’s no such thing.’

  ‘It sounded good,’ Baxter said with a grin. ‘That’s all that mattered, and it worked. Mr Sanctimonious backed down and said he’d accept an apology which was offered almost before he’d finished speaking. The owner came over and offered them both lunch on the house and that was that.’

  ‘Well done.’ West had to smile. It was certainly one way to solve a case. ‘Right, finish your sugar and caffeine fixes and get back to work. I want to be able to tell the inspector we’re getting somewhere. We’ll have a catch-up at four. Hopefully, I’ll have the DNA results by then.’

  Allen and Ryan arrived back not long afterwards. ‘Sergeant Clark arrived and told us to take ourselves off.’

  ‘Good. You were doing the missing person search, weren’t you? Explain to Ryan the lengths we go to in our effort to trace a body. Impress her, but find out who that woman was.’

  Allen grinned. ‘Will do my best.’

  When he hadn’t heard from Kennedy by 3.45pm, West rang to be told the pathologist was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. West left a message and hung up. ‘No results yet,’ he told the team at 4pm. He looked around, seeing no excitement on any of their faces. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘We searched a five-year period and a twenty-mile radius and found three women who were reported missing,’ Allen said. ‘We’re working through them looking for more details.’

  ‘Okay, keep at it.’ West looked around. ‘Nothing else?’

  Into the silence, the sound of the phone ringing was loud and jarring. West picked up the nearest handset. ‘Dr Kennedy,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping
you can make my day.’ He listened, murmuring uh-huh and mm-hm as he did. ‘Seriously?’ he said finally, his fingers tightening on the handset. West caught Andrews’ eye and gave him a thumbs up. ‘For this, Niall, I’ll leave a standing order in Thunders for a weekly delivery of meringues, chocolate éclairs and cream donuts.’

  West hung up and wiped a hand over his mouth. ‘Never in a month of Sundays are you going to guess what Dr Kennedy has told me.’

  35

  West paced the room. ‘Bloody hell, Morrison is going to have a seizure when he hears this.’

  ‘We’re going to have a seizure if you don’t tell us what’s going on,’ Andrews said.

  ‘It’s crazy. But give me a minute to work it out because…’ West looked at the photographs on the Wall, then paced some more, his brow furrowed. ‘Okay, bloody hell, I think I’ve got it!’ He held a hand up to silence the questions that were being fired at him. ‘We asked for Cara Donaldson’s DNA to be compared to that of the frozen body to see if it was her mother, Muriel Hennessy. Dr Kennedy passed the instruction on to one of his technicians, but Kennedy was in a hurry and simply asked for it to be compared to the elderly female victim from Foxrock. The efficient technician checked to see who Cara Donaldson was and when he did, he compared her DNA to that of the frozen woman. As we’d speculated, it didn’t match.

  ‘What happened next was an unexpected bonus. The technician, deciding to leave no room for error, compared Donaldson’s DNA to the other elderly female victim who had come from Foxrock following a hit-and-run.’ West looked around, then moved to the Wall and tapped Doris Whitaker’s photo, excitement lighting his eyes. ‘He got a match.’

  ‘What?’ Baxter squeezed his eyes shut. ‘You’re telling us that Cara Donaldson is Doris Whitaker’s daughter.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’ West peeled off the photograph of the woman they’d found in the laneway with her rodent-ravaged face and stuck it under the photograph of Doris Whitaker. ‘I’m saying that the hit-and-run victim is Muriel Hennessy and I’m betting that this poor woman we found in the laneway is Doris Whitaker.’