Chapter 41

FORTY-ONE

Conor was late for work on Thursday morning. He hadn’t slept well. When he’d eventually been prodded from unconsciousness by a passing dog walker, he’d stumbled home, his head throbbing. He’d entered the house as quietly as possible, slunk up the stairs and fallen on top of his bed.

Now, sneaking on to the site, the collar of his coat turned up, he tightened the Velcro on the cuffs of his gloves and picked up the wheelbarrow.

‘Where do you think you’re going with that?’

Bob Cleary was panting his way towards him, splashing sludge everywhere. If Conor was in charge, he’d have the site hosed down every day. It didn’t cost much to be clean.

‘I’m bringing this around the back. Gerry said he needed it for shifting sand.’

‘I’ll shift Gerry out the gate if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Put it down and come with me. The boss wants a word with you.’

‘I didn’t think he’d be in today.’ Conor felt a snake of worry crawl through his blood.

‘And why wouldn’t he be?’

‘His daughter. She was murdered, you know.’

‘Of course I bloody know. The man is inconsolable. Doesn’t stop him working. I reckon he needed to get out of the house and do something constructive. Come on.’

Constructive, Conor thought. Like firing me. He chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to see the boss. He was sure it’d been Gill who’d beaten five shades of shite out of him last night.

‘I have to bring this round or Gerry will fire me.’

‘I do the hiring and firing and I say put the fucking thing down and come with me.’

Should he run or stay? Conor decided to take his chances.

Lottie had hardly shut an eye all night. The old anguish had taken root deep in the pit of her stomach, and she felt she could crouch over the toilet all day puking up her fear.

She’d spent the hours of darkness checking in on her children: stroking their hair while they slept; standing over Louis’ cot listening to him breathing. If anything happened to any of them, she would never survive the pain and the guilt. She had to protect them.

With a mug of coffee turning cold on the table, she sat looking at her phone. Who could help? Leo Belfield? No. He’d already lost Bernie; he’d be useless despite the fact that he was a NYPD captain. She couldn’t spare any of her diminished team. They were too busy. A squad car outside the house could only do so much. Could she justify putting her family under unofficial house arrest? A direct threat had been made, but she knew McMahon wouldn’t sympathise like her old superintendent, Corrigan, would have done. He was too focused on his own performance and that of the district. Freeing up dwindling resources to house-sit his inspector’s children was not on his agenda. Could she keep Chloe and Sean at home without telling them why? She didn’t want to worry them, but at the same time they needed to be alert. What was she to do?

The doorbell shrieked through her musings and she knocked over her mug. She almost freaked out as she slowly headed to the door. Cynthia Rhodes stood on the step.

‘Not you!’ Lottie said with a groan.

‘I come in peace.’

‘Yeah, tell me another one.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Cynthia, I’m about to leave for work. I haven’t time.’

‘A minute. That’s all. I think I can help you.’

Lottie relented and led the reporter into the kitchen. Wiping up the spilled coffee she said, ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘No thanks.’

When they were seated, Cynthia fixed her black-rimmed spectacles on her nose and stared at Lottie. ‘You look like you could do with a good night’s sleep.’

‘What do you want, Cynthia?’

‘I want your story.’

‘You can feck off. You’re wasting my time. I’m going to work.’ Lottie stood.

‘Give me two minutes.’

Lottie remained standing, looking down at Cynthia’s short dark curls. ‘Go on.’

‘I want the full Bernie Kelly story, and in return I might be able to help with the murders of the girls.’

‘I don’t buy into blackmail.’

‘It’s not blackmail.’

‘Sounds like it to me.’ Lottie picked up her jacket from the back of the chair and began to pull it on.

‘I know something about Louise Gill.’

‘Our investigation is just starting, so anything you can tell us will have to be recorded by a member of the team. You need to make an official statement.’

‘Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?’ Cynthia tapped a fingernail on the table.

They didn’t have anything to go on with the girls’ murders, so Lottie felt she was being taken hostage. But she wanted to know. ‘Yes, I do, but I’m not promising anything in return.’

‘That might make it more difficult for me unless I get something from you.’

‘Tell me what you know and I’ll consider it.’ She had no intention of divulging anything to the reporter.

‘Don’t double-cross me.’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake, Cynthia, what do you know?’ Lottie sat back down, her jacket half on, half off.

‘Louise was pursuing a course in criminal behaviour.’

‘I know that.’

‘As part of that course, she interviewed prisoners.’

‘I have her paperwork.’ She had yet to read it.

‘She spoke with Conor Dowling.’

‘I’m sure she did.’ Lottie could feel her cheeks burning. Cynthia was ahead of her.

‘In the course of those interviews she revealed something to Conor Dowling that casts doubt on his conviction ten years ago.’

‘You’ve been watching Making a Murderer on Netflix.’ Lottie tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice, but failed. ‘The evidence was tight. Conor Dowling terrorised an old man in his own home with a sawn-off shotgun, and once he’d beaten him, he ransacked the house. Louise Gill and Amy Whyte gave conclusive eyewitness testimony. They both saw Conor Dowling in the area that night.’

‘Louise spoke to me after her conversation with Dowling in prison.’

‘And why would she do that?’

‘I was working on a story to coincide with his release. As it turns out, it never got aired. But I can tell you, she was racked with guilt.’

‘For putting away a criminal?’

‘She lied.’

‘Come again.’

‘You had no physical or forensic evidence on Conor Dowling. You never found the gun or the money. He never offered a defence. He was convicted on witness statements.’

‘Correct so far.’

‘Louise and Amy lied.’

‘What?’ Lottie had not been expecting that. She felt her jaw drop and hurriedly closed her mouth.

‘The two girls were not sure it was Dowling they saw that night.’

‘They gave sworn statements.’

‘Two impressionable teenagers,’ Cynthia said.

‘They had details. He never denied the charge. He was guilty as hell.’

‘I don’t think he was.’

‘Cynthia, this is bullshit and you know it.’ Lottie felt a twitch of unease. What if the girls had lied? Had she sent an innocent man to prison? She didn’t believe that, but still …

‘Louise was contrite. Troubled. I got the feeling she was ready to unburden herself.’

‘And did she?’

‘No. When the programme was shelved by the powers that be, I arranged to meet her again. I couldn’t let it go.’

‘When was this?’

‘That’s the thing. I was due to meet her early next week. And now she’s dead. As is Amy Whyte.’

‘And two other young women.’ Lottie churned Cynthia’s words around in her head. No matter which way they fell, she couldn’t make sense of them. ‘What exactly did Louise tell you?’

‘If I’m to divulge it, I need your story. How you fit in with Bernie Kelly’s tale.’

‘A tale. That’s all it is. Bernie is a liar and a serial killer, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten, but I do believe you and your family are in danger.’

Lottie gulped loudly, looking around for her bag, anywhere but at Cynthia, who she knew was staring at her.

The reporter tapped the table again triumphantly. ‘You know that already! I take it then that you’ve been threatened. By Bernie?’

‘This is not up for discussion. I want to know about Louise and what she said. Do you have recordings of the conversation? I’d like them, please.’

Cynthia stood. ‘When you decide to cooperate, Inspector, then I will consider handing them over.’

‘I can have you arrested for impeding a murder investigation,’ Lottie snapped.

‘That would make a great headline. And I’m sure Superintendent McMahon would love that featuring on the nine o’clock news. Think about it.’

Before she could retort, Lottie was left standing alone in the middle of her bright new kitchen with her brain in turmoil.

If Cynthia wasn’t going to tell her what Louise had divulged, she’d have to find out another way. First, though, she phoned the station to requisition a squad car with a couple of uniforms to watch over the house. She’d deal with McMahon when the need arose. She left a note for Chloe and Sean telling them she’d booked a taxi to take them to and from school, and to remain indoors after school until she returned home.

She hoped that was enough to keep her family safe.