Chapter 23

23

Jane Dore, the state pathologist, arrived shortly after the forensic team. Once she'd finished her preliminary examination of the body, Lottie walked with her to the hall. Out of Charlie's earshot.

‘It's great you got here so quickly.'

‘I was finishing up with the victim from this morning,' Jane said. ‘I was still in Ragmullin.'

‘And our man back there, can you tell me anything?'

‘Male, mid to late twenties. Single wound to the back of his head. Blunt-force trauma.'

‘Why all that blood?'

‘Cracked his skull. Didn't die immediately, though he was immobilised. In fact I'd say he had a slow and painful death. I'll know more once I conduct his post-mortem. And don't ask me how long he's been dead, because I don't know. The heat in here played its part. How can people live in such warm houses? It's way too hot.'

‘Maybe tell that to Boyd. He's thinking of buying one. Hence why we were here.'

‘Well, lucky for you. Another couple of hours lying undiscovered and the body would have been smelling to high heaven with flies buzzing like an orchestra.'

‘What's your take on the death of Laura Nolan? The young woman who was discovered on the cinema grounds this morning.'

‘Stabbed three times, also signs of strangulation. And before you ask, I can't yet see anything to connect the chap here to her.'

‘Time of death for Laura?'

‘Hard to tell. She was out in the elements. I might know more when I examine her at the mortuary.'

‘Thanks, Jane.'

The pathologist disrobed from her protective suit at the front door, where a tent had been erected. Lottie watched her disappear into the dark afternoon.

Back in the kitchen, Charlie seemed to have recovered somewhat from the shock and was all business again. ‘How long do you think it will be before you remove him? The body, I mean.'

‘It'll take as long as it takes. You'll need to be formally interviewed. Fingerprints and DNA. That sort of thing. When can you call to the station?'

‘Now, if you want. I have no more viewings scheduled today. And it might be best to do it before the real shock sets in.'

Here was a woman with her head screwed on, Lottie thought. ‘I'll phone ahead and have someone waiting for you so that you won't be delayed unnecessarily.'

‘I appreciate that.'

Once Charlie had picked up her belongings and left, Lottie returned to the garage. Boyd was deep in conversation with Grainne, the SOCO team leader.

‘Find anything to help us?'

Grainne's green eyes and Boyd's brown ones looked at her above their masks.

He held up an evidence bag. ‘Phone. We'll need the PIN, but Techie Gary should be able to unlock it.'

‘We need to know who the victim is first,' Lottie said. ‘Let's find the site manager.'

Outside in the fresh air, she waited for Boyd.

‘You took your time,' she said. ‘Did you have a good conversation with Grainne?'

‘Yes, great. She is a font of information.'

‘Does she know who John Doe is and how long he's been dead?'

‘No, but she knows a lot about buying a new house. She said?—'

‘Feck's sake, Boyd, I don't care what she said about buying houses. There's a murdered man in there.'

‘Okay. Right. No need to get your knickers in a twist.'

She was about to reply when an agitated man tried to bundle his way through the cordon. Garda Lei was fighting a losing battle attempting to restrain him.

‘What's going on?' Lottie asked.

Lei fixed his hat and the man slumped against him in defeat. ‘He says he's the site manager and entitled to know what's going on.'

‘Patrick Curran?' Lottie enquired. She could smell what she thought was cement from his donkey jacket, which was dusty beneath a yellow hi-vis vest. He had a hard hat on his head over a beanie. He pulled both off and tucked them under his arm.

‘That's me. What happened? I heard someone died. Is it true? Who is it, do you know?'

His words ran into one another, while his fingers raked through his hair, causing dust to billow about him like fireflies. Worry lines were etched around the eyes hollowed in his grey face. She felt a moment of pity for him.

‘Patrick, I'd like a chat with you.' She gently took his elbow and led him to a waiting garda car.

‘Who is it? Can you tell me that at least?' He walked alongside her.

When she had him seated in the car, she leaned on the open door. ‘Is there anyone missing from the site?'

‘Oh shite, it's not one of my lads, is it?'

‘We don't know who it is yet.'

‘Good Lord, but this is shocking, so it is. You know that a lot of the lads are going to be let go? We've been instructed to halt work on phase two from the end of next week. Shutting up shop for the foreseeable. Boss man said it's until he decides what's best. He can't be losing any more money. That's what he said.'

‘And the boss is Gordon Collins?'

‘That's right. Big shot, in his own mind.'

‘Would you be able to look at a photo of the dead man for me? It's not particularly pleasant.'

He wiped a grubby hand with nails caked in dirt across his mouth. ‘Show me.'

She swiped up the photo she'd hastily taken with her phone. Grainne had been holding the man's head between her hands and he appeared to be asleep. If only. She turned the screen towards Patrick Curran.

‘Ah no. Don't tell me it's him. For fuck's sake.'

‘You know him?'

‘Aye. God rest his soul, poor bugger.' He blessed himself and Lottie noticed his eyes water.

‘Who is he, Patrick?'

‘John Morgan. Young lad. With us less than a year. Great bricklayer. Promoted to foreman recently. Did he fall or something?'

Or something, Lottie thought. ‘When did you last see him?'

‘Things have been hectic. I suppose I saw him this morning. I've been off site a lot today. Had a meeting with the boss. Christ on a bike, this is going to damage potential sales even more.'

His concern for his colleague had been quickly replaced with thoughts of his job, she noted. He pulled his shoulders back and made to stand. She stepped back to allow him out of the car.

‘I'll need John's contact details. Next of kin. That sort of thing.'

‘In the office. Everything's there.' He pointed to the cabin situated halfway down the unfinished site, behind a chain-link fence.

‘Garda Lei will accompany you. You'll have to come to the station to make a full statement.'

‘I'll do anything to help. Poor fecker.'

Lottie watched as Lei walked off with Patrick. The site manager, his shoulders hunched, seemed to have aged a decade in the few minutes she'd been speaking to him.

She turned to find Boyd.

‘Our dead man has a name. John Morgan. He was the foreman on the site.'

‘Well, that was kind of obvious.'

‘That he was the foreman?'

‘That he worked here. His clothes and all.'

‘Did you ever consider becoming a detective, Boyd?'

‘No need to be sarcastic. I was only saying…'

‘Forget it. Ask your fan club in there to get the forensic report to me asap. We have to move on this before the trail goes cold.'

‘You mean Grainne? Lottie, why are you resorting to conversing in clichés?'

‘Boyd?'

‘What?'

‘I mean this in the nicest way possible, but could you ever feck off?'