Buried Angels

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘I have the address.’ He pointed to Google Maps on his phone.

  ‘We should have taken one of the squad cars with a built-in sat nav,’ Lottie said, eyeing the phone’s cracked screen. She was hot and sweaty and it was making her ratty. If Boyd had been driving, he’d have said something smart and she’d have tried not to smile, or she’d have smiled against the window where he couldn’t see her. Yeah, she missed his smart-arse comments. She shivered despite the heat, the worry for his health creeping silently like a ghost into her bones.

  Kirby veered away from the canal and drove along an even narrower lane. ‘Should be up here.’

  There were no gates, just overgrown hedges and wild bushes scraping off the sides of the car. Maybe it was just as well they were in this battered vehicle and not one of the newer ones.

  The house was an old two-storey grey farmhouse with white PVC window frames now yellowed from the weather, and a door that had seen too many bad winters. There were net curtains at the windows, drawn to the side.

  Lottie got out of the car, her soft-soled shoes crunching on the sharp gravel, and pressed her finger to the old bell. She glanced around as she waited for the door to be opened. It was a long time since any farming had been carried out around here. The ditch surrounding the house was untended, and briars grew wild everywhere. A series of dilapidated barns and sheds stood to the side, their galvanised roofs broken and falling inwards.

  ‘They can afford a drone and not a lawnmower,’ Kirby said, a little too loudly, just as the door opened.

  The man who stood there was tall and wiry, with a grey hue to his face. His dark hair fell to his shoulders and he hadn’t shaved. Lottie guessed he was in his late thirties. His clothes were casual. Jeans, and a T-shirt sporting an iconic image of the Irish singer Hozier.

  ‘I suppose you’re the detectives who interrogated my son,’ he said as he led them through the house.

  ‘Detective Kirby here interviewed him. I’m Detective Inspector Lottie Parker. And you are …?’

  ‘Charlie Sheridan. This is my wife, Lisa.’

  He pointed to the woman sitting at the table nursing a mug. A little girl perched on her knee. The kitchen was modern but unfinished, as if they’d run out of money. Shabby chic, Lottie supposed you’d call the furnishings, though they were definitely more shabby than chic.

  ‘Hi, Lisa,’ she said. ‘How’s Jack doing?’

  The woman looked up at her with brown eyes, flecks of hazel glinting in the sunshine pouring through the window. Her fair hair hung limp on her shoulders as if she hadn’t had time to wash it. She wore a white tunic and navy slacks.

  ‘He’s fine. More than a little shocked. He didn’t go to school after … afterwards.’

  Charlie pulled out a chair. ‘Excuse my manners. Have a seat.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lottie sat at the table. ‘Where is Jack?’

  ‘He’s in his room,’ Charlie said, moving to the kitchen counter. ‘Tea, anyone? The kettle’s boiled.’

  ‘No thanks.’ Lottie wondered why Charlie wasn’t at work. ‘Did you both take time off work to look after Jack today?’

  ‘I’ve been off a couple of weeks,’ Charlie said. ‘Haven’t been well. Lisa is a nurse. Works in the hospital.’

  Lisa rolled her daughter’s curls around her finger absent-mindedly. ‘Of course, once I got the call from the gardaí, I changed my shift.’

  ‘How can we help you?’ Charlie said, leaning his back against the patio door, which was stained with tiny handprints.

  The kitchen was untidy. Clothes on most available surfaces. Some folded, others strewn on the backs of chairs. The hallway they’d just walked through had boots and shoes lining one wall, with coats and jackets hanging on hooks on the other side.

  ‘We’re just following up for our investigation. I’d like a word with Jack, but I also want to ask you both a few questions, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Sure,’ Lisa said. She continued to hold the little girl, who had a beaker of juice clamped to her mouth. ‘Why don’t you sit?’ she said to Kirby.

  Lottie lifted a bundle of clothes and placed them on the table, and Kirby sat beside her. She noticed that Charlie had remained standing, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. He looked drained.

  She said, ‘As you know, Jack and his friend found body parts on the railway tracks this morning while they were using his drone.’

  ‘He didn’t do anything wrong,’ Charlie said, and crossed his arms.

  ‘Of course not. Your house faces the canal and railway. I’m wondering if either of you have noticed anything unusual recently. Lights at night? Boats on the water?’ She looked at their blank faces, trying to read them.

  ‘There’d be no boats yet. Bit early for them,’ Lisa said. ‘To be honest, we might only see five or six the whole summer.’

  ‘What she said,’ Charlie offered. ‘Only a couple through the summer and you’d only notice them during the day. I haven’t seen one boat in all the time I’ve been off work.’

  Lottie looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Can you see lights from boats at night-time?’

  ‘You can, but I haven’t seen any yet this year.’

  She turned to his wife. ‘Lisa, have you noticed anything unusual?’

  ‘I work every hour God sends. I’m due back in tonight after swapping my shift this morning. Charlie was minding Maggie.’

  ‘So, you haven’t seen anything?’

  ‘No, nothing.’ Lisa stared at her tea, a film of grease forming on top.

  The kitchen door opened and a young boy burst in, tears streaming down his face. ‘Jack hit me. I only wanted a lend of his spare controller and he wouldn’t give it to me. Mam! Make him give it to me.’

  ‘Tyrone! We have visitors,’ Charlie said. ‘Go back to your room.’

  The boy ran out, and when the kitchen had returned to silence, Lisa said, ‘I drove over to the school to drop Jack off, but he was green around the gills so I just picked Tyrone up and brought them both home. Saved me having to go back again for him.’

  There was something off with this little family. Lottie could sense vibes permeating around the kitchen like microwaves. The shock of their son finding a torso on the railway? Or something else?

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.

  Charlie moved from the patio door and came to stand behind his wife. He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘We’re all in shock. Poor Jack is in a terrible state. He’s told you all he knows in his statement. What else do you want from us?’

  ‘I’m grateful to him for that. It’s just that we’ve made additional discoveries since this morning, and I’m following up on anything that might help us discover who dumped body parts in the canal.’

  ‘Body parts?’ Lisa said. Her face paled significantly, and her eyes flew to Charlie before settling back on Lottie. ‘God, this is awful. And we have to live here! What else did you find?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say, but I have to call at all the houses on this route.’

  ‘There’s not another house for miles out this way,’ Charlie said. ‘The next one is down at the locks. No one has lived in it for donkey’s years.’

  Lottie nodded. ‘Okay, thanks. Can I have a quick word with Jack now?’

  ‘It might traumatise him even more,’ Lisa said.

  ‘It really would help,’ Kirby said.

  ‘Maybe it would be good for him to talk, Lisa,’ Charlie said, bending his wiry frame towards his wife, squeezing her shoulder gently.

  Lisa squirmed, and as if sensing her mother’s discomfort, the little girl dropped her beaker and started to wail. Orange juice splashed all over Charlie. Lottie watched carefully to see his reaction, but he just smiled, took the child from Lisa’s arms and cradled her to his chest. Fatherly, she thought.

  There was a crash and bang out in the hallway and the door smashed open against the wall. A boy she assumed was Jack tumbled in, clutching his brother’s hair. Both were screeching. He seemed quite tall for el
even, his hair as fair as his mother’s. His school shirt was unbuttoned, and his brother was tugging the hem.

  ‘It’s mine. Give it back, you wanker,’ Jack yelled.

  ‘You’re a meanie,’ Tyrone cried, and tried to pull away.

  ‘Boys! Stop!’ Charlie handed Maggie back to Lisa and went to separate his warring sons. ‘That’s enough. These are detectives and they’ll lock you up if you don’t behave.’

  That stopped them. Jack released his brother and stared at Kirby with terrified eyes.

  ‘I didn’t do anything wrong. It was just the drone. It’s not my fault. Gavin wanted to do it, not me. I swear, Dad. I did nothing wrong.’

  ‘No one’s saying that, Jack,’ Lisa said. ‘Please stop fighting with your brother. God knows what the summer holiday’s going to be like with you both at home in a few weeks.’ Tears sneaked out of the corners of her eyes and she clutched the mug tightly.

  ‘Look, you have a lot to deal with today,’ Lottie said, hoping she wasn’t giving up too easily. ‘This is my card. Please give me a ring if any of you remember anything that might help us. No matter how inconsequential you think it might be.’

  ‘Sure.’ Charlie grabbed Tyrone by the arm and pushed him towards the door. ‘Both of you, upstairs, and I’ll talk to you about controllers in a minute.’ He turned to Lottie and Kirby. ‘I’ll show you out.’

  Lottie put her card on the table and slid it towards Lisa. ‘I mean it, Lisa. If there’s anything bothering you, ring me.’

  The woman continued to stare into her mug of cold greasy tea.

  Sixteen

  Kirby drove slowly down the lane. Lottie turned the rear-view mirror towards her so that she could see the house fade behind them.

  Charlie stood at the open door holding his daughter, watching them leave.

  ‘What do you make of all that?’ Kirby said. He picked up his cigar, then thought better of it and stuffed it into the door pocket, which was already full to bursting.

  Lottie was silent until the car reached the wider road and the house disappeared.

  ‘I don’t know what to make of it yet. I’m going over it all in my mind.’

  ‘Oddballs, if you ask me.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you. I said I was thinking.’

  They approached the activity at the bridge.

  ‘They looked guilty of something,’ Kirby said, and idled the engine.

  ‘I don’t think it was guilt, that look.’

  ‘They were scared, then.’

  Lottie thought for a moment. ‘Their son found a torso on the railway this morning; that’s a pretty terrifying experience for any family.’

  ‘Maybe they don’t like detectives knocking on their door,’ Kirby offered.

  ‘It’s the shock. Let’s call to the other boy’s house.’

  ‘Gavin Robinson lives over the bridge,’ Kirby said, and sniffed. ‘I really need to take a shower soon. I stink.’

  ‘That’s nothing new.’ Lottie was only half joking. She needed one as well.

  Gavin Robinson lived in Canal Lane, a new development about a hundred metres beyond the bridge. Kirby drove into the horseshoe estate, passing an area surrounded by hoarding, and some unfinished houses that the builder had abandoned at the time of the economic crash. Gavin lived in a block of three-storey apartments. Single flats on the ground floor and duplexes on the first and second floors.

  ‘Which one?’ Lottie said.

  Kirby consulted his notebook and pointed.

  She climbed the steps to the first floor and rapped loudly on the door. It was opened after a second round of knocking.

  ‘Is your mammy or daddy here?’ she asked the boy who stood there.

  ‘My dad’s dead, but yeah, Mam’s in her … er … office. Upstairs.’

  ‘Hiya, Gavin,’ Kirby said. ‘Can you get her to come down?’

  Lottie peered inside. The hall was narrow and cramped, with a door to the right and an open one in front of her. Gavin moved back to allow them to enter. He stood on the bottom step of the stairs. Though he was the same age as Jack Sheridan, he was small and thin.

  ‘She’s doing a story, a video, and said she didn’t want me to disturb her. She told me I’ve disturbed her enough today.’ He curled his lip grumpily.

  ‘This is important. I need to talk to you, and you have to have a responsible adult with you. Can you ask her to come down?’

  As Gavin tramped up the uncarpeted wooden stairs, Lottie depressed the handle on the door beside her and stepped in. It was a sitting room, but everything to sit on was piled high with boxes and bags. ‘What is this stuff?’

  A young woman flew down the stairs. ‘Hey! Who said you could go in there?’ she said sharply, then immediately composed herself. ‘I’m sorry, it’s messy in there. Why don’t I bring you into the kitchen? I’m Tamara Robinson, by the way. Gavin’s mum.’

  Lottie cast her eye over the room again. It was crammed with boxes of cosmetics and hair products. Tamara waited until they were all out in the hall before directing them to the other door.

  As she passed the young woman, Lottie noted Tamara was tall, blonde and dressed like she was auditioning for a part in Next Top Model. A light blue chiffon blouse tied at the waist and skinny white jeans. She was a stark contrast to Lisa Sheridan, pale and tired in her nurse’s uniform.

  The kitchen was bright and modern, like one you’d see in a show house. It reminded Lottie that she and Boyd had a viewing on Saturday, and she quickly crossed her fingers that her half-brother Leo would come through with the money for Farranstown House, sooner rather than later.

  ‘Nice place you’ve got,’ she said.

  ‘I earned it.’ Tamara shooed Gavin into the kitchen behind Lottie and Kirby, and the space suddenly felt too small for all of them. She’d have to remember that, when she went viewing houses. Her family was large – all adults except for Sean and Louis, and Sean was taller than all of them. Then there was Boyd’s sister Grace to think of. Jesus, they’d be like the Waltons.

  ‘What do you work at, Tamara?’ she said.

  ‘I’m an influencer.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Kirby asked.

  ‘Instagram.’ Tamara rolled her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t understand, and it would take too long to explain.’

  ‘You were making a video, were you?’ Kirby said.

  ‘For my stories, and now I have to do it all over again. You’ – she pointed at Gavin – ‘were told not to interrupt me. I told you to lie on your bed and rest.’

  ‘We need to talk to you and Gavin, Mrs Robinson.’

  ‘You can call me Tamara. Everyone does,’ she said, like it was a badge of pride. Lottie wondered if it was her real name. Looking at the luscious blonde hair, perfectly made-up face and too-long eyelashes, she suspected she’d been christened with it and had spent her life making sure everyone knew it.

  ‘I know Gavin made a statement,’ Lottie said, ‘but I wanted to ask him a few questions.’

  ‘I’m not sure he should be talking any more about it. He won’t sleep tonight.’

  ‘Well, in a way I’m glad you don’t want him to talk about it. It’s a live investigation. We need to control the information until we have a suspect in custody.’

  ‘So it was a murder!’ Tamara clapped her hands to her mouth.

  ‘We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.’ Of course it’s a bloody murder, Lottie thought, and turned away from the doll face, directing her attention at Gavin. ‘Do you and Jack fly the drone every morning?’

  ‘Some mornings. Not all the time.’ Gavin looked embarrassed by his mother and kept his eyes trained on a spot outside the kitchen window. His hair was shaved on one side and long on the other. He was dressed in a football jersey and tracksuit bottoms.

  ‘What team do you support?’ Kirby said.

  Lottie smiled as the boy rolled his eyes like his mother had done and pointed to the crest on his jersey. ‘Man U.’

  ‘I think they’re good.’

&nbs
p; Lottie butted in before Kirby made a total ass of himself. ‘This morning, were you not scared that a train might be along any minute?’

  ‘I know the timetables. I have an app on my phone. Tells me when the next train is due. I’m curious about things like that.’

  ‘You should have gone straight to school. Perhaps stay away from Jack for a while.’ Tamara turned to Lottie. ‘Those two are thick as thieves. God knows what they get up to.’

  ‘But he’s my friend,’ Gavin whined. ‘My only friend.’

  ‘You have me, don’t you?’

  ‘Mam! You’re gross.’

  ‘Maybe I should have brought you to school after you gave your statement. But you told me you were too shocked and couldn’t go in.’

  The lack of empathy was almost physical. Tamara was entirely self-absorbed. Lottie wanted to tell the boy that it was okay not to feel okay. Instead she said, ‘Tell me, Gavin, when you got down on the tracks, what did you do?’

  He tugged at the crest on his jersey. ‘It was all Jack’s idea. I didn’t want to go on the tracks, but it’s his drone, so I followed him.’ He wasn’t able to hold Lottie’s gaze, and she thought he might be lying.

  ‘How many times have I told you to stay away from the tracks?’ Tamara said. ‘And stop fiddling with your jersey; you’ll rip it, and it cost me nearly a hundred euros.’

  ‘No it didn’t,’ Gavin sulked. ‘You got it free when you put me in one of your Instagram stories.’

  ‘Look, Tamara,’ Lottie interjected, ‘I just want to know what the boys did this morning. You can reprimand him later, okay?’

  ‘Right, but I’m busy.’

  She choked down a retort. ‘Gavin, did you know you would find something on the tracks this morning?’

  ‘What kind of question is that?’ Tamara’s eyes flared fuller than her Botox-filled lips. She was quick, Lottie had to give her that.

  ‘I’m establishing facts.’

  ‘You’re trying to incriminate my son.’

  ‘It’s okay, Mam.’ Gavin turned to Lottie, his cheeks puce. ‘I saw it first. On the phone screen attached to Jedi. That’s what we call the drone. I saw this lump on the tracks. You know, like a bag of coal but not a bag of coal. It was scary, so it was. Jack puked all over his clothes.’