Chapter 52

FIFTY-TWO

Lottie found Kirby and McKeown sitting side by side at Kirby’s desk, their heads down, reading.

‘Any news on my girls?’

The two men looked up.

Kirby spoke. ‘No, boss. Nothing at all.’

‘I’ve phoned all their friends and they haven’t been seen. Have you coordinated searches?’

‘Superintendent McMahon wouldn’t okay them. Spouting about budgets and KPIs. Said the cost of running the murder investigations had sent his neatly balanced spreadsheets off the page. And he wants to see you.’

Lottie turned and bumped into Boyd. ‘I’m going to have a word with McMahon.’

Boyd caught her by the elbow. ‘Wait up. Don’t go storming the castle just yet. Let’s see what we have first.’

‘I don’t have my daughters.’

‘I mean you’d better be armed with up-to-date information on the murders. That’s his priority and you know it.’

‘Not mine and you know it.’

‘Be sensible. We need to get up to speed.’

She slumped against a desk and sensed the eyes of her three detectives on her. The heat was oppressive, and with the palpitations in her chest and the strain of worry in her brain, she felt weak-kneed. Boyd wheeled out a chair and she sat.

‘I take it there’s been no sighting of Bernie Kelly?’ she said.

‘None,’ Kirby replied.

‘Anything at Farranstown House?’

‘Uniforms had a drive by. Nothing.’

‘And no other searches organised?’

‘Nope,’ McKeown said. ‘But I’ve got traffic and uniforms on the watch. Just to warn you, the superintendent is on the warpath over Cynthia Rhodes’ news clip from last night.’

‘Feck him. Any calls come in after that report?’ She couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Fear trawled through her brain, squeezing it tight in a blasting headache.

‘A few cranks, but nothing concrete.’

‘Okay. Bring me up to speed on the murders then, before I see the super.’

Kirby stood and paced the cluttered office. ‘I was reviewing the Thompson file this morning, like you asked me to.’

‘And?’

‘I discovered that Bill Thompson was a councillor in his day.’

‘True. But as far as I recall, that had no bearing on what happened. He was a noted publican in Ragmullin. His business made a lot of money. Money that was stolen from him on the night in question and never recovered.’ She stood and went to the window. The crispness of the morning had given way to misty rain. ‘So, you discovered he was a councillor. What else?’

‘That made me wonder if there was another reason why he was targeted, apart from robbery.’

‘What other reason?’ Lottie frowned; she was finding it hard to follow where Kirby was leading her.

‘I cross-referenced with the local newspapers to see what was going on in Ragmullin at that time.’

‘And?’ She listened to Kirby’s feet pad around the office.

‘Cyril Gill had drawn up fairly sophisticated and progressive plans for an urban renewal project in the town. Most of the area was in the vicinity of the council buildings and the courthouse. In other words, Gaol Street and Petit Lane. And we know Thompson’s pub was situated on Gaol Street. A public meeting about rezoning of the development plan was held in the Joyce Hotel, recorded at the time by the local newspaper, The Tribune. One of the loudest objectors was Bill Thompson. He’s quoted in the article.’

Lottie continued to stare out the window. Had she missed something ten years ago?

‘In relation to the date of the attack on Thompson, when was that meeting held?’

‘Three weeks prior.’

‘It was unrelated,’ she said, trying to instil certainty into her voice. Superintendent Corrigan had been the SIO and she’d been the investigating detective. She couldn’t remember if they’d made the connection at the time. She’d have to read the file. When she got time. When she had her daughters home.

She turned to face the room. ‘Let me get this straight. Cyril Gill was behind an urban renewal planning application …’

‘Worth millions in EU grants,’ Kirby said.

‘… and Bill Thompson, who was on the council at the time, objected to the rezoning. Am I right so far?’ Jesus, her brain was in reverse this morning.

‘Correct,’ Kirby said.

‘Okay. Then Thompson was attacked and robbed. We had two witnesses who placed Conor Dowling near the scene.’

‘Cyril Gill’s daughter, Louise,’ Kirby said, ‘and Councillor Richard Whyte’s daughter, Amy.’

‘Shit. Was Whyte a supporter of Gill’s plans?’

‘Very much so.’

‘Double shit.’ Lottie rubbed her bitten fingernails around her bruised chin. ‘It sounds like a conspiracy theory. Are you trying to tell me that Conor Dowling was innocent and someone else beat up Thompson to silence his protests?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kirby admitted.

‘But how would Gill and Whyte get their daughters to tell such believable lies?’

‘I don’t know that either. The other question is, was Conor Dowling framed for something he didn’t do, or did he do it at the behest of Cyril Gill, who then hung him out to dry?’

‘Dowling never offered an alibi or any sort of defence,’ Boyd said.

‘But,’ McKeown said, ‘in Louise Gill’s notebooks, she mentions a meeting she had with Dowling in prison. She writes that she’s sorry and that she’s going to find out the truth.’

‘The truth about what, though?’ Lottie said. ‘Louise is dead, so we can’t ask her. Amy is dead too. Do their deaths actually relate back to the attack on Bill Thompson? But then we have the murders of their friends, Penny Brogan and Cristina Lee. None of this makes sense.’

‘And Cyril Gill is missing, presumed dead, after the incident at the courthouse,’ Boyd said.

‘Any update on that?’

‘We went down there this morning,’ Kirby said. ‘Gill is listed among the dead.’

‘And Conor Dowling?’ Lottie asked. ‘Any sign of him?’

‘Mrs Dowling rang Conor’s friend Tony Keegan, saying her son wasn’t home.’ Kirby paused, puffing out his chest as he took a deep breath, and Lottie thought his shirt buttons were about to pop. ‘I found another anomaly in the Thompson file.’

‘Dear God,’ Lottie said. ‘Next I’ll have the commissioner breathing down my neck for making a balls-up of that case.’

‘Hold your horses,’ Boyd said. ‘It’s all conjecture at this stage. Isn’t that right, Kirby?’

‘Not really, to be truthful.’ Kirby stood at his desk and turned back a few pages in the file. ‘Tony Keegan was Conor Dowling’s best friend. He was interviewed after Conor’s arrest.’

The hairs stood to attention on Lottie’s neck. ‘You have the file. What does it say?’

‘There’s half a page. A brief interview. Just to confirm that he was not with Conor at the time.’

‘Okay. What are you getting at?’

‘I found out this morning that Tony Keegan was once married to Megan Price.’

‘Who?’

‘Megan Price is the pharmacist at Richard Whyte’s shop, where Amy worked.’

‘I’m not following you, Kirby,’ Lottie said. She really wanted to get on to her daughters’ disappearance. The fear for their safety was all-consuming.

‘Megan Price is mentioned briefly in the file.’

‘In what respect?’

‘She was Bill Thompson’s stepdaughter. Her mother died five years before the attack on Bill.’

Lottie paced a little, then walked into her own office and sat.

‘You okay?’ Boyd said.

‘I’m thinking.’ She didn’t move.

‘You don’t look okay.’

‘Speak for yourself. Close the door. Give me a couple of minutes.’

She heard the door close with a soft thud. Feeling faint, she rested her head on her folded arms and allowed the coolness to seep into the bones of her cheek.

Boyd turned to Kirby and McKeown. Kirby tried to turn down the heat on one of the radiators. Rattles rang out through the office as the water cooled inside the steel.

‘Is the boss all right?’ McKeown said.

‘Give her a few minutes,’ Boyd said. ‘She’s dealing with a lot.’

‘You don’t look the best yourself,’ Kirby said.

‘What’s your thinking about these Tony and Megan characters?’ Boyd sat and went to put his feet on the desk, but a pain shot up through his hip so he rested them on a stack of box files instead.

‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Could they have any connection to the current murders?’ McKeown asked. Neither Kirby nor Boyd answered, so he added, ‘I suppose anything is possible. But my money’s on Conor Dowling.’

‘We need to bring in Keegan and Price, and find Dowling,’ Boyd said.

Kirby shrugged. ‘He’s probably buried in one of those tunnels.’

‘What tunnels?’

Kirby explained the conversation he’d had with Tony Keegan.

‘That’s interesting.’ McKeown waved the sheets of paper he had in his hand. ‘I have CCTV stills here from the night the two drunk lads broke into the house at Petit Lane.’ He laid them out on Boyd’s desk.

‘What am I looking at?’

‘Shadows.’

‘Jesus, what have shadows got to do with anything?’

‘Give the man a minute,’ Kirby said, and traced his finger along the edge of the wall.

‘I see it.’ Boyd spread the pages out in a line.

‘And once it reaches this point, it disappears.’ McKeown sounded triumphant.

‘Probably a fox,’ Kirby said.

‘What’s down there?’ Boyd asked.

‘I don’t know yet. But when you mentioned tunnels, it got me thinking.’

‘Dangerous,’ Kirby said.

McKeown ignored the jibe. ‘I’m going to the car park to walk the line where this shadow was and see what I come up with.’

‘Do that,’ Boyd said.

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’

‘Will I tag along?’ Kirby asked.

‘No, I want to discuss this Tony Keegan character with you.’

The office door clattered against the wall. McMahon stood there, hair askew and cheeks billowed out with rage.

‘Is she here yet?’

‘Who?’ Boyd said.

‘Don’t be smart with me.’ He thumped across the floor, narrowly missing the stack of box files, and burst into Lottie’s office.

Lottie lifted her head so quickly the blood didn’t react in time, and the dizziness blinded her. She could see two McMahons bearing down on her. She blinked and shook her head.

‘Sorry, sir. Did you want me?’

‘Why else would I be standing here? What are you up to, getting national television to run a segment on your daughters? You know the protocol. Those girls are over eighteen.’

‘Chloe’s only seventeen!’

‘They’ve only been gone a few hours, if they’re missing at all. Good God Almighty, what were you thinking of? Don’t answer that, because I really don’t want to know. But I do know this: you are in shit right up to your bloodshot eyes, Inspector Parker. Deepest of shit.’

His speech didn’t warrant a response, so Lottie clamped her lips tight. Just in case.

As if he couldn’t bear her silence, he said, ‘Say something.’

She shrugged.

‘Not going to give me any excuse?’

Eyeballing him, she said, ‘Do you have children, sir?’

‘None that I know of.’

She drew herself up straight and said quietly, ‘If you had, you’d understand that my daughters are the most important people in my life right now. Nothing else matters.’ She took a breath. ‘I know I have responsibilities to the families of the murder victims and to the team, but right now I need to find Katie and Chloe.’

‘But you don’t have to abuse your rank in the process. It makes a laughing stock of the station. You’ve damaged your reputation, not that that was hard, but you also made a mockery of mine.’

‘I’ll worry about reputations when I have my girls home safely.’

He sniffed. She thought it was in derision but she couldn’t be sure. He said, ‘Did you leak the Kelly woman’s photo to the media? To Cynthia Rhodes?’

‘I’m sure Cynthia had it on file.’ No point in walking herself in deeper.

‘Even so, you have no evidence to put Kelly out there as a person of interest in this supposed abduction you’ve concocted.’

‘Her photo is already in the public domain following her escape.’ Lottie suspected she should have kept her mouth shut; she wasn’t going to win this battle with McMahon.

‘There’s nothing else you can do but wait. Remember your training. That’s what we tell parents of missing children. Stay at home and wait. I’m not telling you to stay at home, but while you’re waiting, get to work on the murders.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘The courthouse incident has diverted media attention for the time being, but they will return, baying for blood and answers.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Feck off, sir, she added silently.

‘Your team needs direction. Leadership. Can you give them that?’

Not at the moment, she thought, but she said, ‘Yes, I can.’

‘Get to work then. And you’re to stay away from the Kelly case or I’ll take you off the murder investigations too. Am I clear?’

She nodded.

‘I’ve been up all night coordinating the rescue operation at the courthouse. I need to be able to depend on you.’

‘You can.’ Damn him.

When McMahon had left, Boyd entered the office. ‘You okay?’

‘Any word on Bernie Kelly?’

‘Nothing yet. Belfield called to say he’ll be out looking for her today, trawling the streets.’

‘He’s of the opinion that she didn’t take Katie and Chloe. I don’t know which is the worse scenario.’

‘What do you mean?’ Boyd’s face was pale and his hair looked greyer; it was as if the weight of the rubble was still on his back.

‘That Kelly took them, or that our murderer did.’ She tried to recall if she’d mentioned to McMahon about the coin she’d found in Louis’ jacket. If she hadn’t, maybe now was the time to do it. It would impress on him the urgency of finding her daughters, if they were in the hands of the killer.

‘Calm down, Lottie.’

‘Don’t, Boyd. Do not tell me to calm down.’ She tried to keep her tone even, but it kept rising. ‘The one anomaly in all this is the coin I found in Louis’ pocket.’ She went to put on her jacket and realised she’d never taken it off. ‘I’m going to drive around town again.’

‘Leave it to traffic. What do we tell parents of missing children? Stay put.’

‘I’ve heard that not two minutes ago. Were you earwigging?’ She sighed. She felt so helpless. She had to work the case as if she was an outsider. Leave her emotions at the door. She had to look at all the angles as a detective, not a hysterical mother.

Boyd said, ‘Listen to this. We might have something on the murderer.’

‘What?’

‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

Anything to be doing something, she thought as she followed him out to the main office.