Chapter 35

THIRTY-FIVE

There was no answer when Lottie and Boyd called to Cyril Gill’s home, so they headed to the building site at the courthouse.

He had just pulled onto the site before them. Boyd parked on the footpath outside the hoarding and Lottie jumped out of the car.

‘Mr Gill? Can I have a word?’

He dismissed the man he was talking to and turned to her.

‘Have you come with news about Louise?’

‘Can we talk inside?’ Lottie said.

She watched as the high colour that had flamed his cheeks slipped down his face.

‘No,’ he groaned. ‘Please. Not bad news.’

Lottie took him by the elbow and steered him past the open-mouthed man at the office door.

‘Sit down,’ she said.

He obeyed, and she wheeled a chair across and sat in front of him. Boyd entered and closed the door. The air immediately warmed up and the stench of mud and damp caught at the back of Lottie’s throat. There was no easy way to do this. In fact, she thought, each time became distinctly harder. She hoped she was never on the receiving end of such news about any of her children.

‘Mr Gill, I’m afraid to tell you that we do indeed have very bad news. It?—’

She didn’t get any further before he crumbled, hands clutching at the roots of his hair.

‘No. No. Don’t do this to me. Not my Louise. She’s all I have left.’ Then, as if he’d just remembered he had a wife, ‘This will kill her mother.’

‘I’m sorry—’ Lottie began again.

‘Sorry?’ He raised his head, anger flashing in his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it. But I do want to know what happened to my princess.’

‘It’s the early stages of our investigation …’

‘Don’t fudge the issue. Tell me straight.’

If that was what he wanted, that was what she would give him.

‘We found Louise’s body in an apartment on the outskirts of town.’ Should she tell him about Cristina? Maybe not yet. ‘She was the victim of a vicious assault.’

‘What do you mean? What kind of assault?’

‘A post-mortem will have to be held, but we are treating your daughter’s death as suspicious.’

‘Some bastard murdered her?’

‘As I said?—’

‘I heard you.’ He tore at his hair, then wrenched his knuckles into his eye sockets, but still the tears escaped.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Gill,’ Lottie added helplessly.

He raised his head, eyes streaming. ‘She’s only twenty-five, you know. Her whole life ahead of her. And some bastard does this. Why?’

Lottie went to speak, but he raised his hand.

‘I don’t want your apologies, I want you to find whoever did this. Today. And I want to throw the first punch. What did he do to her?’

‘I think it best to wait until the post-mortem is completed.’

‘Is Louise’s murder linked to Amy’s?’

‘I can’t speculate at the moment.’ But Lottie knew she was dealing with the same killer. ‘Can I phone anyone for you? Do you want us to accompany you home? To tell your wife?’

‘No. I’ll do that.’ He found a handkerchief in his pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

‘Do you know of anyone who would want to harm Louise?’ Boyd said.

‘She was just a girl. Not much of a social life, but she was dedicated to her studies …’ He paused.

‘What?’ Lottie asked, feeling he had been about to say something else.

‘She was studying criminal behaviour, or something like that. She even talked to jailbirds, or whatever the PC term is nowadays. Maybe one of them …’

He jumped up. Ran for the door. Boyd stopped him. ‘What is it, Mr Gill?’

‘Conor Dowling. He’s out on my site. I took him on so I could keep an eye on him. The slimy bastard. Wait till I get my hands on him.’

‘Sit down,’ Lottie said forcefully. ‘Leave Mr Dowling to us.’ The grieving father’s shoulders slumped and he returned to the desk, where he picked up a sheet of paper and began shredding it into long, thin strips. She continued, ‘This is my card. If you think of anything, call me. And we will need to have a look through Louise’s things.’

He waved a handful of paper. ‘Yeah. But let me talk to Belinda, my wife, first. She gets hysterical at times.’

‘Okay. Go home, Mr Gill. And stay away from Conor Dowling, you hear?’

‘I hear. Doesn’t mean I won’t throttle the good-for-nothing with my bare hands.’

‘Let justice take its course. We don’t know that he’s done anything wrong.’ Yet, she thought.

‘I bet every cent I’ve ploughed into my business that he’s involved.’

‘Don’t go near him,’ Lottie warned again, and made for the door as Boyd opened it.

‘One other thing,’ Gill said. ‘You said you found Louise in an apartment.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Whose?’

‘Cristina Lee’s.’

‘Cristina? That’s the girl I suspected Louise might be in a relationship with. I could never bring myself to talk to her about it.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Now it seems so inconsequential. My girl is gone. Was Cristina there? Was she harmed? Is she okay?’

The questions came fast, and Lottie knew she had to tell him.

‘I’m afraid not, Mr Gill. Cristina’s body was found with your daughter’s.’

When they exited the office, Lottie walked over to the man she’d seen at the door earlier.

‘Is Conor Dowling around?’

‘He was here a minute ago. We were working in the tunnel. Do you want me to look for him?’

‘What’s your name?’ she said.

‘Bob Cleary. I’m the site foreman.’

‘Can I have a look around?’

‘No can do. Health and Safety.’

‘I need to speak with Mr Dowling. Urgently.’

‘What’s he done?’

‘Nothing, as far as I know.’ She handed over her card. ‘Call me the minute you find him.’

She looked around. Boyd was talking to the Ducky lad at the security cabin. To her right, a group of builders were huddled together near a gaping hole at the edge of the old courthouse wall. Conor Dowling was with them, talking to an overweight man of around his own age; she thought she knew him from somewhere but couldn’t remember where. She took a step forward. Cleary stood in front of her.

‘Inspector, we’re on a tight schedule,’ he said.

‘Oh, come on. I’m investigating a series of murders.’ She shouldered her way past him and approached the men. ‘Conor Dowling, I’d like you to come with me.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, seriously.’ She watched as he folded his arms defiantly. Fuck this for a game of shite, she thought, and walked into his space. ‘Now isn’t the time to play the smart-arse with me. I have four murdered women. You’re just out of prison and you have connections to two of them, so I need to talk to you.’

‘This is victimisation.’

‘Get in the fucking car!’ Grabbing him by the elbow, she steered him across the site towards Boyd.

Once Dowling was safely in the back seat, she exhaled loudly. She’d thought he would fight or run. She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce to her demands. He had acted like an innocent man.