Chapter 55

FIFTY-FIVE

Kirby returned from the canteen with croissants and coffee. Lottie grabbed a cup and felt the warm liquid hit the bottom of her empty stomach.

‘You need to eat,’ Boyd said. ‘I can hear the rumbling over here.’

‘Still no word?’ she asked Kirby.

He knew she was referring to her daughters and shook his head slowly.

McKeown hung up the call he was on. ‘This is interesting. Might be something or may be nothing.’

Lottie grabbed a croissant and perched on the edge of his desk. Lynch’s desk. In a funny sort of way, she missed Lynch. At least the detective was getting to spend time with her family, while Lottie continued to put her own in harm’s way.

‘That was Miranda from Flame, a hair and beauty salon. At least I think it’s Miranda.’ McKeown squinted at the illegible scrawl in his notebook.

‘Go on,’ Lottie said impatiently.

‘She recognised Bernie Kelly’s photo on the news last night. Says a woman fitting her description came into the salon yesterday morning. Got a tight haircut and a spray tan. Paid in cash. This Miranda is one hundred per cent sure it was Kelly.’

‘No wonder no one can find her,’ Kirby said. ‘She’ll look totally different.’

‘She also said that the woman had two Primark shopping bags with her. After her tan was done, she changed into new clothes and left her old ones behind in the bags.’

‘Description of the clothes she’s now wearing?’ Lottie said.

‘Black leggings. Long black T-shirt. Boots and a green parka jacket with black fur on the hood.’

‘Describes half the population of Ragmullin in this weather.’ Lottie tried to imagine Bernie Kelly without her long red tresses. ‘Call down to this Miranda with Kelly’s photograph and ask her to describe the new hairstyle. We can then issue a photofit image. Might jog someone into calling us.’

Boyd said, ‘You’ll have to okay that with the super.’

‘I need to find Kelly. I want my girls back.’

‘But in the interview with Dowling, you were just about accusing him of having something to do with their disappearance. I don’t get it.’

‘I’m covering all bases.’

She put down the cup and stood. She didn’t know what she was thinking. The coin in Louis’ jacket pointed to their serial killer, but the seeds left on her doorstep implicated Bernie Kelly.

Shoving her hands deep into her jeans pockets, she said, ‘The longer this goes on, the more likely it is that I’ll never see my girls alive again.’ She stifled the sob that threatened to explode. An arm went around her shoulder as Kirby pulled her into a hug.

‘We’ll find them,’ he said. ‘No one else belonging to any of us is going to end up in Jane Dore’s mortuary. You hear me?’

She managed a weak smile, but Kirby’s words instilled more fear in her heart than hope.

‘Anything else?’ She needed to refocus her brain.

Kirby ambled over to his desk. ‘I sent uniforms to bring in Tony Keegan, like you asked. He’s in interview room two.’

‘Good.’ She looked at McKeown. ‘After you’ve visited Miranda, read over the transcripts from Louise Gill’s computer, and Kirby, phone everyone in Penny’s appointment book for a second time.’ She paused, trying to get her thoughts in a line. ‘McKeown. That CCTV footage. Is there anything to prove our killer went down through the tunnel? I didn’t see any evidence.’

‘I told Jim McGlynn to get some of his SOCO team to navigate their way through as much of the network as they can, looking for evidence that someone had been down there recently. It’s possible that that’s where the murder weapon was dumped. I think the coins tell us someone was there.’

‘Unless they were left there at the time that poor soul was abandoned to rot.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The damaged brick wall. It seemed newer than the tunnel walls. See if you can find out if there’s a record of when it was built, and by whom. That might lead us to who the body is and why it was down there.’

‘I’ll see what plans I can find,’ McKeown said. ‘I’m sure this town has a local historian who can help.’

Lottie nodded and turned to Kirby, ‘I want you to check with the staff at Whyte’s Pharmacy. Dowling says he left the note for Amy there, without an envelope. When I found it at her house, it was in an envelope with a coin.’

‘Will do.’

With another glance at her silent phone, Lottie said, ‘Give me five minutes, Boyd, before we see what Mr Keegan has to say for himself. I want to scan through this Thompson burglary and assault file.’

She opened the file and began to read. She needed to find out for herself whether she had been misdirected or misled during the original investigation. She hoped to God she hadn’t put the wrong man away. But her gut was twisting inside her, telling her that the assault on Bill Thompson was linked to her current murders.

She took up the crime-scene photos. Held them close to her nose, trying to see if there were coins anywhere. Something they might have missed. Once Dowling had been identified by the eyewitnesses, they had swooped on him. With no alibi offered, he was charged, tried and convicted. Case closed.

She put down the photos and read another page.

Bill Thompson had never recovered after suffering a stroke following the assault. He was unable to speak. He couldn’t describe his assailant. House-to-house had yielded nothing. The safe had been left open and the money taken.

The safe.

She picked up the photos again. A floor safe. Opened by a key in a lock. The lid was on the floor beside the gaping hole.

She closed her eyes. Tried to remember the scene. But it had been ten years ago. A thought struck her. How had the burglar got the key?

She looked for a photo of Bill Thompson. They had none of him at the crime scene. Medics had arrived before the guards and whisked him straight to hospital. From there he’d been airlifted to Dublin, where he’d undergone five hours of brain surgery.

The photo she found at the back of the file was of a sprightly sixty-four-year-old. Greying hair, and a large nose. But he’d been handsome, she noted. And fit. Had he had the key on his person? Had he been interrupted while he was putting the takings in the safe? If not, how did the burglar know about the safe?

She put down the photo and scoured the report for evidence of what had happened to the key. There was no mention of it.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember. Flicked through the file until she found Conor Dowling’s arrest sheet. No mention of a key on his person. Nor the money, for that matter.

She shuffled through the photographs again. Found another one of the open safe. Coins were scattered around the floor as if they’d fallen from a bank money bag.

Shit.