Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Tony was ignoring Conor, giving him a wide berth. Conor didn’t want to care, but he did.

‘What’s the sour face for?’ he said.

Tony stopped and turned. ‘You. That’s why. It’s because I put in a good word for you that you got this job, and you repay me by almost choking the life out of me.’ He rubbed his dirty gloved hand around his neck, leaving muddy streaks behind.

‘I was just having a laugh, that’s all. Don’t be such a dickhead. I’ve enough of that shite at home without having no one to talk to here. Come on. Pint after work? What do you say?’ Conor wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder, but was shrugged away.

He watched the changing expressions on Tony’s face as he struggled within himself to stand his ground, to say no. But Conor knew Tony well; he would give in. Hopefully he could squeeze him to pay for the pints too.

‘Okay. First round’s on you,’ Tony said.

He’d have to come up with a plan. At least Tony was talking. That was something.

‘Where are we scheduled to work next? Not the tunnel, I hope. That place reminds me of prison.’

Tony laughed and Conor followed him as they made their way to the foreman to get their orders for the day. Phase one of his plan had worked.

The incident room smelled of body odour and fried takeout food. Lottie sniffed the air; despite the smell, it was much fresher than the abandoned house at Petit Lane where two young women had met their deaths. She walked to the first board and pinned up prints of the photographs that had been emailed to her.

‘Shouldn’t we notify next of kin?’ Boyd said. ‘We need positive IDs.’

‘Let’s just go through all this quickly first.’ She knew she was putting off the inevitable, but she didn’t want to face either parent just yet. Perhaps McMahon would do the job, seeing that he was so well in with the councillor.

‘I believe the victims to be Amy Whyte and Penny Brogan. Only Amy was officially reported missing, but nobody’s seen Penny for a few days. I’ve seen photos of both young women and I’m confident they are the two deceased. So far, we know they were last seen on Saturday night at Jomo’s nightclub. Going by the attire their bodies are still dressed in, it’s likely they were abducted shortly after they left the club. We need the security footage from Jomo’s, Kirby, and try to get a list of those who attended.’

‘I’ve been there on the odd occasion,’ Kirby said. Lottie noticed him blush. ‘With Gilly.’ He swallowed down a gulp.

‘Go on,’ Lottie said, encouraging him. ‘Do you remember anything that might help us?’

‘It was over six months ago. If memory serves me correctly, most of the clientele were years younger than me. Anything from sixteen upwards. Loud music and plenty of booze, and I’m sure a plethora of drugs. But nothing stood out as particularly sinister.’

Garda Tom Thornton put up his hand. ‘Friday and Saturday nights are our busiest here in town. The usual rows at two or three in the morning as the clubs begin to empty and the crowds spill out. Drunk and disorderly, mainly. With so many people around, I can’t see how the girls could have been abducted without being seen.’

‘I spoke to one of their friends, Ducky Reilly,’ Lottie said. ‘He says that Amy left first and Penny about a half-hour after her. Before the club finished up.’ With a shudder she remembered that her daughters had been there Saturday night also. ‘But both victims ended up murdered in the same place. Kirby, canvass the streets around the club and see what security tapes you can pick up.’

Boyd said, ‘We have no evidence they were taken Saturday night, though.’

‘True. But we have to start somewhere.’

‘If you’re making your assumption based on their clothing, it’s possible they may have gone on to a party somewhere.’

‘They may have done a lot of things, but my gut tells me that Saturday night/Sunday morning is our best bet, and I?—’

A sharp grunt at the back of the room caused her words to stall in her mouth. Shit, she hadn’t seen McMahon enter.

‘Your gut isn’t always right, is it?’ The acting superintendent strode towards her, buttoning up his jacket over his neatly ironed white shirt. He swiped his fringe away from his eyes and turned to face the room.

Lottie felt her skin bristle, and clenched her fists so tightly, her nails cut into the palms of her hands.

‘Sir?’ she said. ‘I’m the senior investigating officer on this case and I can fill you in once this briefing is over.’

He didn’t turn around to face her, but she sensed his dismissal of her as his shoulders broadened and his back straightened.

‘Councillor Richard Whyte is a very important member of this community,’ he began, his strong Dublin accent cutting through the room. ‘I want every hour you can possibly give to finding out who killed his daughter. The poor man is devastated and?—’

‘What?’ Lottie tugged his sleeve, forcing him to turn to her. ‘You’ve informed him already?’ Secretly she was glad she wouldn’t have to do that job.

‘You need to make haste, Detective Inspector Parker. Amy Whyte was probably killed late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. You’re losing valuable time. The killer could be in Spain by now.’

‘That’s not my fault. Her father only reported her missing yesterday.’

‘Give us time to have a piss first.’

A voice from the gathered troops caused Lottie to roll her eyes. Annoyed as she was by McMahon’s intrusion, she had to humour him. Her job depended on it.

‘Who said that?’ McMahon slapped a hand onto a desk. He turned to Lottie again. ‘Keep your team in order. I won’t stand for insubordination.’

‘You and me both,’ Lottie said. ‘I realise the significance of Mr Whyte’s importance in the community, but we can’t forget another young woman also lost her life. We need to look at all angles, means, motive and opportunity, in order to catch the killer.’

McMahon grunted. ‘It stinks of a random crackhead to me. I want this investigation up and running in the next ten minutes, and I want the crime solved by this evening.’ He turned to look at the photos on the board. ‘There’s a houseful of evidence right there. Find the bastard who did this.’

With that, he turned on his shiny pointy-toed leather shoes and left the room.

‘Prick,’ Boyd said.

‘Dick,’ Kirby said.

‘Bollocks,’ Lottie said.

Kirby stood. ‘I’ll get to work on the door-to-doors and collect whatever security footage I can. I’ll check our own traffic cams as well.’

‘I’ll interview Mrs Loughlin again,’ Garda Thornton said, picking up his cap from the desk and slapping it on his head.

Lottie held up a hand. ‘Wait a minute. I need to talk through the crime. If we rush head first into this, we might miss something that could save us a lot of time.’

Kirby sat back down and Thornton took off his cap. Boyd lined up the pages in the thin folder on his knee.

‘Okay. We have an abandoned house in the middle of a terrace of six at Petit Lane. All derelict except for Mrs Loughlin’s. When we have the nightclub footage, we should be able to find the exact time the girls left the establishment.’

‘They may have walked through the car park to take the shortcut via the underpass,’ Boyd said. ‘We need to contact the council to see if they have anything on their security systems.’

‘Good point,’ Lottie said. ‘Once we establish their last movements, we might get lucky and see the killer on camera.’

‘Do we know if either of the victims had a car?’ Thornton piped up.

‘Check that out. If they drove to the club, then maybe the car is still in the car park.’

‘Penny had a flat nearby, so that needs to be searched too,’ Boyd said.

‘Must have been hard to overpower two women at the same time,’ Kirby mused.

‘As far as we know, they didn’t leave together.’ Pulling at the frayed hem of a sleeve, Lottie added, ‘It’s possible he took one, subdued or killed her, and then went back for the second.’

‘Or the second girl was just an opportunistic killing,’ Boyd said.

‘Or she saw him and he needed to negate that threat.’

‘But why?’ Kirby said, his eyes sagging with unshed grief. ‘It’s all so pointless.’

‘If we establish a motive, we’ll know why. There might be a clue on their phones.’

‘Any sign of those?’ Kirby asked.

‘Both phones were in the vicinity of the bodies. McGlynn won’t release them to me until Jane has carried out her prelim of the scene and bodies.’ She sighed, hoping the state pathologist wasn’t delayed at the High Court. ‘But there are no handbags or personal belongings other than the phones, so it’s imperative that gardens and bins are checked.’

‘There are three large recycling banks in the car park,’ Boyd said. ‘I’ll get them checked too.’

‘And then there are these,’ Lottie said, pinning up a zoomed-in photo of the coins.

‘What are those?’ Kirby stood and walked up to the board. ‘Not cash, anyway.’

‘No. But they’re similar to a one-euro coin, though thinner. No embellishments or engravings. We need to find out what they are and if they’re of any relevance.’

‘They might have fallen out of one of the victim’s bags,’ Kirby said. ‘In a struggle, maybe?’

‘What about the weapon?’ Thornton asked.

‘Not at the scene,’ Lottie said. ‘If it was discarded by the killer in the vicinity, I want it found.’

‘We’re very short-staffed on the detective side of things,’ Boyd said.

‘I’ll talk to the super. I want an extensive background check on everyone associated with the victims. Relatives, friends, colleagues … anyone who so much as sneezed on them. And check out the girls’ online histories. We’re not going to balls this up like previous investigations by leaving some stone unturned. Got it?’

‘Got it.’ The reply came in unison.

She debated internally for a moment, then said, ‘This may have nothing to do with the murders, but it’s worth keeping in the back of your minds. Amy Whyte was one of two key witnesses in an aggravated burglary over ten years ago. A house belonging to a local publican, Bill Thompson, was broken into, the pub takings stolen and the man himself severely battered. A local man, Conor Dowling, got ten years for robbery and grievous bodily harm. He is now out of prison. Mr Thompson has since died. I’m just putting that out there so you can keep it in the back of your minds. Okay?’

‘Okay, but what about?—’

‘Concentrate on these two murders, Boyd. The media rabble are already drumming up a shit storm, and I for one don’t want to have to wade through it for too long.’

‘Right so,’ Boyd said.

Lottie thought he looked a little dubious, but she hadn’t time to indulge him. She said, ‘Anything else before I let you all out into the wild?’

‘Who’s going to talk to Penny Brogan’s parents?’ Boyd again.

Sitting into the nearest chair, Lottie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her thumbs. ‘I suppose that will be you and me.’

Her phone vibrated with a message.

Leo Belfield. Again.

Shit.