Chapter 58

58

Lottie kept thinking of the most recent dead woman. She felt a rising sense of hopelessness about how she'd spent her last days. She imagined all sorts of scenarios. None of them good.

The large gates slid open, and Boyd parked outside the seemingly modest two-storey red-brick house overlooking Ladystown Lake. A lawn bordered the short driveway. No flowers, but plenty of trees. She had phoned Collins and arranged to meet at his house. He surprised her by opening the door before she had pressed a finger to the bell.

‘I have cameras,' he said, by way of explanation. ‘Come in. You can leave your shoes there if you like. Underfloor heating.'

She glanced at Boyd, and he shrugged. She shook her head. No way was she taking her boots off. She followed Collins down a narrow corridor. He was even taller than Boyd, and he had to bend his head as he led them through a door into an extension at the back of the house.

‘Oh my God,' Lottie said, astounded by the scale of the room and the view. The house seemed to be cut down into the earth, a box of glass walls framing the lake. Everything here was new, and definitely not modest. Totally different from the front of the building. Deceptive.

‘Tea? Coffee?' Collins asked.

‘Coffee, if you're having one yourself,' Boyd said.

‘Yes, coffee would be good.' Lottie squeezed her fingers into her palms in an attempt to calm down. Collins was grating on her nerves. Maybe it was the money oozing out of the grey granite floor and the white quartz countertop or perhaps it was just the glorious heat beneath her boots.

When they were seated at the table by the glass wall, Lottie sipped her coffee, hoping it would be horrible. It was delicious. She glared at the industrial-sized coffee machine. She must be getting old if she was jealous of a fecking coffee machine.

‘So, you wanted to talk to me?' Collins said expectantly.

‘You spoke a few days ago with our colleague, Detective Kirby. I wanted to follow up on that.'

‘John's murder was such a tragedy. I still can't believe it happened in one of my new houses. And in the very one his mother had purchased. She had intended to return to live in Ireland. Doubt she will now.'

‘Do you have any notion as to why John was murdered there?'

‘Is the location relevant?'

‘Mr Collins?—'

‘Please, call me Gordon.'

‘Gordon, three people have been murdered over the last few days and one of them was your employee. His mother told me he attended rehab last year. Now I find out it was a facility to which you make large donations.' She was glad of McKeown's hurried call supplying this information.

‘I make a lot of donations.'

‘Why do you donate to Cuan in Delvin?'

‘I just do.' He gulped down his coffee.

‘I doubt you're the type of person to stick a pin in a map and say, yep, today I'll give two hundred K to Cuan.'

‘Okay.' His body slumped a little. ‘Not many people know this, but I had an addiction problem in my twenties. Alcohol. I spent a few months in Cuan. It helped me enormously, even though back then it was a bit of a dive. When I can, I make a donation. It's tax-deductible.'

That figures, Lottie thought. ‘Have you visited it in recent years?'

‘What has that got to do with anything?'

‘Answer the question.'

‘I don't know what your point is, but yes, I visited it to present my annual donation, last February.'

‘Are you aware that this is where John Morgan was resident for a time?'

‘I suggested the facility when his mother asked me.'

‘You seem awfully pally with Mrs Morgan.'

‘Brenda is a business acquaintance. Nothing more.'

This was going round in circles. Lottie changed direction. ‘I'd like to show you photos of two women. One of them is deceased in the photo. Are you okay with that?'

‘Why do you want me to look at them?' He seemed to catch Lottie's cold stare and added, ‘Okay, show me.'

‘I want to know if you recognise either of them.' She showed him Laura Nolan's photo first.

He shook his head. ‘I don't know her, but I did see her mentioned on the news. May she rest in peace.'

Lottie slid the second photo across the table, keeping her eyes firmly latched to Collins.

‘This is the girl we found dead this morning.'

A tinge of green appeared on his face, and his eyes widened. She hoped he wasn't about to puke.

‘Do you recognise her?'

His voice was low as he uttered a strangled ‘No.'

‘It seems to have affected you more than Laura's photo.'

‘Because this is a photo of a dead person.'

‘Laura is dead too.'

‘You know what I mean. Please, take it away.'

‘You never saw either of these young women when they were alive?'

‘I don't recall either of them.'

She couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth, but something was off. ‘Are you married, Gordon?'

‘Not that it's any of your business, but I'm separated. I've five daughters in their teens and twenties. They live with their mother in Dublin.'

‘So you get to enjoy all this luxury on your own. Seems a waste.' Lottie knew she was being unprofessional, but frustration had got the better of her. ‘Have you a girlfriend?' She felt Boyd kick her ankle in warning. But she had an odd feeling about Collins and she didn't like it.

‘Inspector, you're out of line.'

He was correct, but she kept going. ‘I'm just curious. Do you use the services of Right One? It's some sort of dating agency, for escorts.'

The green tint had fled his face and now it burned bright red. His hands twitched as he stood and brought his cup to the sink area. She assumed there was a sink there, but she couldn't see it. Probably hidden behind a sliding panel.

Boyd inclined his head towards her and she shrugged. She had no idea what was going on either.

Collins turned round. He leaned against the fancy countertop, kicked off his suede slippers and crossed his legs at the ankles. She noticed he was barefoot and thought guiltily about her own muddy boots trailing across his terrazzo floors. Maybe she should have taken them off like he'd suggested.

‘Detectives,' his voice was low and level, ‘what I do in my private life is of no concern to you. A young man who worked for me was murdered on my property. I don't know why, nor do I know what happened to those poor unfortunate women. I kindly ask you both to leave my home. Any further questions can be put to my solicitor. I'll forward you the details.'

They had been dismissed. Lottie didn't like his arrogance and opened her mouth to retort, but Boyd stood and spoke before a word could leave her lips.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Collins,' he said. ‘We appreciate it. If we have further questions we will contact your solicitor.'

He walked to the door, but Lottie remained seated.

‘Do you know a Shannon Kenny?'

‘No. Who is—' Collins shut his mouth as if remembering his statement about solicitors.

‘Have it your way.' She stood. ‘If it becomes relevant to our investigations, I will see you at the station.'