Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

The tunnel was dark and damp. Conor had been down in some of the other tunnels over the last two weeks as they dug the supports for the lift shaft in the new section of the courthouse, but he hadn’t been in this one. He walked with trepidation in each step. When Cleary had disappeared into the office he’d made his move, not sure why he was even doing it. But he had to see for himself.

The lamp on his hard hat cast eerie shadows ahead of him, and a few times he felt as though he wasn’t alone. Shrugging off shivers, he sped up. He had to be quick before Gill arrived.

He stopped abruptly when the hole in the wall appeared before him. His heart plummeted right down into the soles of his boots. Shit.

Taking off his hat, he angled it into the hole and stuck his head in after it. His gaze landed on the body. He tried to keep the light from jigging around, but his hand was shaking so badly he almost dropped the hat. His breath caught in the back of his throat and he thought his heart was going to break out through his chest. The palpitations thumped so loudly in his ears, he felt he might go deaf.

Once he’d seen all he needed to see, he extracted his arm, slapped his hat back on his head and leaned against the damp wall, trying to think. But his thoughts were a jumble of letters he was unable to fuse into words.

Slowly he made his way back along the tunnel, his mind in free fall.

This discovery might just jeopardise everything.

Lottie found Boyd outside the apartment, organising door-to-door inquiries with a team of uniforms.

‘We need to talk to Richard Whyte,’ she said, striding across the road to the gated enclosure.

‘But Cyril Gill and his wife have to be informed,’ he protested. She kept walking. ‘Lottie! Wait up.’

She slowed her march until he was in step with her, then sped up again. The gate was code-locked, with an intercom. She began pressing buttons.

‘You’ll have them calling the station.’ He pulled her hand away. ‘Look there. Read the names. That’s Whyte’s intercom.’ He pressed the button, but the gate was already sliding to one side.

‘I can’t remember which house it is,’ Lottie said, looking around the immaculately manicured estate.

‘The door with the black wreath might give you a clue.’

‘Smart-arse.’

Lottie rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately and Richard Whyte stood there in a creased white shirt, beige chinos and loafers.

‘Come in,’ he said, leading the way into the enormous living room. ‘Have you news about Amy’s death? And what’s going on over at the apartments?’

‘Mr Whyte, I’m sorry, I’ve no update on our investigation into Amy’s murder, but I would like to ask you a few questions about Cristina Lee.’

‘Cristina? Why? What did she do?’ He sat in an oversized armchair.

Lottie glared at Boyd when he sat down too. She remained standing. Whyte had breadcrumbs stuck to his unshaved chin. She resisted the urge to reach down and brush them away.

‘You told me you had a housekeeper. I found a card in Ms Lee’s apartment that says she provides cleaning services. Does she clean for you?’

‘She does a few days a week. What’s this about?’

‘There’s been an incident at Park Lane. We are currently investigating it. Ms Lee lives over there, is that correct?’

‘Cristina? Yes, she does.’

‘Did she know Amy?’

‘Sure she did. But I’ve already told you, Amy wouldn’t allow her into her room. Cristina’s a good worker. She told me she’ll help out at the wake … you know … when Amy’s allowed home so I that can bury her. When will that be?’

‘As soon as the state pathologist allows.’ Lottie sat, feeling that there was no reason for her to be intimidating a grieving father. ‘Richard, this is very important. Look at me.’ When he raised his head, she looked into his eyes. ‘Had Amy been in contact with Louise Gill recently?’

‘Louise? No. I don’t think so. Why?’ He paused, wringing his hands into a knot. ‘Conor Dowling is out of prison. When I heard about Amy’s murder, he was the first one I thought of, but then I thought, no, the case was too long ago. But if that scumbag killed my girl, I won’t be responsible for what I do to him.’

Feeling the need to get on top of things before Richard took matters into his own hands, Lottie said, ‘We have no evidence to support that idea. We’re exploring all avenues. Nothing can be left to chance.’

Whyte eyed Boyd, then turned his attention back to Lottie.

‘Are you sure you’re the best officer to be leading this investigation?’

‘Of course I am. Why would you say that?’

His eyes flicked to the blank television screen hanging on the wall above their heads.

Shit, Lottie thought. Cynthia Rhodes and her damn reports. ‘I give you my word, I will do everything in my power to bring to justice the perpetrator of these heinous crimes.’

‘You see that you do or I’ll personally ring the garda commissioner to have you removed.’

She knew he meant every word, and he had the clout to make it happen. She had to watch her step, and her back.

‘Richard, did you know that Cristina was friends with Louise Gill?’

An unreadable expression flitted across his face. ‘No, I did not. What are you driving at?’

‘Were Cristina and Amy close?’

‘They hardly knew each other. I’m not sure they even bumped into each other here more than a couple of times. Amy worked in town. I don’t know where else Cristina worked. Maybe they met socially, I have no idea.’

‘How long has Cristina been in your employment?’

He blushed, and she knew Cristina wasn’t on the books. Something to hold over him, if things went belly-up at any stage.

‘About a year,’ he said.

‘How did you find her?’

‘After my wife died, I couldn’t cope with the house as well as the shop and the council. Amy was working too. I saw a card on the noticeboard in the pharmacy. I called the number on it and Cristina started working for me. Cleaning in the pharmacy and also here. She brought sunshine and polish into this house. I don’t think I’d ever seen it sparkle so much.’

‘How could she afford her apartment if she was just a cleaner? I imagine the prices are sky high over there,’ Lottie said.

He shot up out of the armchair and leaned over her. ‘If you’re insinuating what I think you are, you have some cheek. Cristina is a beautiful person. She has an aura about her. I had no relationship with her other than to compliment her on her work and hand over her wages. So you can squash that idea.’

A sting of discomfort shot through Lottie. She hadn’t even thought that Whyte could have been in a relationship with Cristina, just that he might have paid for her apartment. But now that he’d planted the seed of that idea, she couldn’t uproot it.

‘Does she keep any personal items here?’ Boyd said, and Lottie silently thanked him for defusing the situation before she said something she would regret.

‘Just the cleaning stuff. It’s in a cupboard in the utility room. Has something happened to Cristina?’ A streak of unease skittered across Whyte’s face.

‘Can we take a look?’ Boyd said. ‘If you don’t mind.’

Whyte led the way out the door, through the kitchen and into the utility room, which was as big as Lottie’s entire kitchen.

They found nothing of interest in the baskets of cleaning products, all neatly stored away. As Lottie shoved a basket back in, it snagged on something. Getting down on her knees, she ran her hand over the shelf and dragged out a small old-fashioned mobile phone.

Holding it up, and dropping all familiarity, she said, ‘Is this yours, Mr Whyte?’