Chapter 63

63

With the lines on Boyd's graph criss-crossing in mostly illogical patterns, and nothing clear coming to light, Lottie decided to drive out to the rehab facility. Cuan was a long-established addiction rehabilitation centre, and she was hopeful of getting some answers there.

It took her twenty minutes to reach it. She liked the rural aspect of the location. The building had been in situ since the 1960s, even though it had been partially burned down and rebuilt.

As she waited by the intercom to gain entry to the building, she found the darkening evening peaceful. The only sound was the murder of crows roosting on the bare branches of a large oak tree to the side of the building. The trundle of a tractor starting up somewhere caused the birds to rise as one and swarm the sky like a swirling black blanket. She shivered and pressed the intercom again.

After giving her details, she was admitted into a hallway. The cramped space had tired tiled walls and floor. It was like an ancient bathroom, and it was even colder inside than outside. The reception desk in front of her was encased in Perspex, the only nod to modernism.

‘How can I help you?' The woman looked to be in her fifties, her face creased in tired furrows with eyebrows severely plucked and painted back on. Her name badge said Mona .

‘Hi, Mona. I'm investigating a serious crime and would like some information on residents who were here about a year ago.'

‘I doubt we can give out that information. Privacy is paramount for our clients.'

‘I get that, but one of your former residents was murdered this week. I'm sure you've read about it. Seen the photos and all that.'

‘Oh God, I heard the news. How awful. May she rest in peace.'

She? Lottie tried not to let the surprise show on her face. Did Mona mean Laura? If so, it would need to be confirmed. She had to be careful how she continued her quest.

‘I hope you can see a way to help me find justice for her.'

Mona straightened her back and a steely glare replaced her sympathetic expression. ‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I want to rule Cuan out of my investigation. Who do I speak to about this?'

‘I don't know what this is yet.'

God Almighty. Was the world made up entirely of stonewallers? ‘I need confirmation that the victim was a resident here.' What she really wanted to know was if Laura had been resident at the same time as John Morgan, but she couldn't just blurt out her question. Mona would clam up.

‘Irene might talk to you. Irene Dunbar. She's the manager.'

‘Right. Will you let her know I'm here?' It was like pulling teeth while standing on eggshells. Lottie swallowed down her impatience.

‘She's not normally here on a Sunday, but she came in for a few hours today. I'll give her a buzz.'

While Mona punched in an extension number, Lottie noticed how bare the hall was. Even the receptionist's booth had nothing on the walls, and her desk held only a computer and phone.

‘Irene says she'll squeeze in five minutes for you. Wait there.'

I'm going nowhere, Lottie thought. She checked her phone to make sure no one was trying to reach her. Then she scrolled through her recent photos and debated showing one to Mona. No harm in trying.

‘I'd like to show you a photograph to see if you recognise who it is. Okay?'

‘Sure.'

‘I should warn you, the person in it is deceased.'

‘Oh, I don't think I have the stomach for that.' Mona paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Well, I'll try.'

Turning the phone around, Lottie studied the woman's reaction closely. Mona paled and scrunched up her eyes, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. ‘It can't be… Sorry.' She turned her head away from the image and glanced behind her and back again. ‘Sorry. I'm so sorry.'

With that, a door opened to Lottie's right and a tall, elegantly dressed woman approached. ‘I'm Irene Dunbar. Come this way.'

With a last imploring eye at Mona, Lottie pocketed her phone and followed the high-heeled clip-clop down the tiled corridor.

After formalities were dispensed with, Irene Dunbar, the Cuan manager, seated herself primly behind an old wooden desk with a green leather insert. A bundle of manila files were piled up on the floor, as if the woman had cleared the desk for Lottie's impromptu visit.

‘Okay if I call you Irene?' Lottie said, trying to get comfortable on the hard chair.

‘That's what everyone calls me. You do know I can't give out any personal information without a warrant, and even then it would need to be carefully worded.'

Jesus, she was going to be a worse pain than Mona. Lottie explained about the recent murders without mentioning any names. ‘It's come to my attention that the victims spent time here last year. All I want is confirmation of that fact. It may assist my investigation or it may have nothing to do with it.'

‘Who are you enquiring about?'

‘Firstly, I know John Morgan was a resident in Cuan last year. His mother told me. Then there's Laura Nolan…' She let the name hang there, hoping Irene would bite.

‘And?'

Shit, Lottie thought. The woman's face was impassive, but was that a twitch at the corner of one eye? ‘I believe Laura was also here for a time. I just need to confirm the dates. Was it while John was here?'

‘I can't comment. I explained that.' Irene's tone implied that Lottie was stupid. Try again.

‘You can confirm that Laura was here, just not when?'

‘It was you who said she was. I didn't confirm or deny it.'

Could she throw the receptionist under the proverbial bus? She didn't want to, but needs must. ‘Mona said Laura had been resident here.'

Irene's face reddened, but she quickly regained her composure. ‘Mona had no right to say anything of the sort.'

‘So we have established that Laura Nolan resided here for a time. If I give you some dates, I know you won't answer, but can you just nod if they match Laura's time here?'

‘Good God, Inspector, this is more like an episode of Line of Duty than real life. Off the record, okay?'

‘Okay.'

Irene folded her arms, then unfolded them as if she didn't know how best to present herself. ‘As she is deceased, I can confirm that Laura Nolan was here for one week last year. I recognised her name and photo on the news. I can't give any more details other than to say that her week was during the time John Morgan was here. Is that all?'

She stood. This irritated Lottie, who remained seated, but it suited her at the same time. She wanted to catch the manager off guard. She whipped out her phone and tapped the photo icon.

‘Do you recognise this woman?' She held the phone just far enough away that Irene had to lean over the desk to view the image.

‘Good Lord!' Her hand went to her chest dramatically and she dropped back onto her chair. ‘Is she… is she dead?'

‘I'm afraid so.'

‘What happened to her?'

A name, Lottie silently prayed, drop a name. ‘She was murdered. Her body was found this morning. Dumped in a field with only birds for company. Awful.'

‘Oh my God.' Irene removed her spectacles. She wiped the lenses with the hem of her white shirt before replacing them on the bridge of her nose.

‘We can't begin a proper investigation into this young woman's death until we identify her. We know nothing about her, only that someone murdered her. I need your help.'

Finding a tissue up her sleeve, Irene wiped the corner of her eye and blew her nose. ‘It's Aneta Kobza. She worked here as a caregiver, early last year. Maybe for a month or so. I can't remember how long. One day she didn't turn up and never returned. I tried her phone, but it was dead. I figured she'd gone home to Poland. I put her behaviour down to bad manners when she left without notice. She was a good worker. And they aren't ten a penny, I can tell you.'

‘I'd like to see her personnel file. It might be helpful.'

‘As she's deceased, I suppose I'm not breaking any confidentiality laws. Give me a minute.'

Irene rose slowly from her chair, as if the life had been drained from her body. A tinge of sympathy for the woman was quickly replaced by anticipation when she returned with a slim manila folder. It didn't contain much. A one-page job application, including an address at Hill Point apartments in Ragmullin, and a photograph pinned to the inside cover of the file.

Lottie gasped. ‘Gosh, she was beautiful.'

‘She was indeed.'

Seeing the young woman photographed in life, smiling with her hair flung back, brought a lump of anguish to her throat. The similarities to Laura were subtle. Same hair colouring. Pretty features all lined up in a perfect face. A face and body that had been emaciated and abused since then. The poor girl.

‘There's not much information here. No references from any other job in Ireland before she worked at Cuan?'

‘No, she'd only arrived the week before she started here, if I'm remembering correctly. She had the proper work visa, all above board. The reason I remember her is that I had to bring her into my office on one occasion.'

‘For a reprimand?'

‘Not really. She had what I can only describe as a mini breakdown in the common room.'

‘What happened to cause her to become upset?'

‘I don't know. She refused to tell me anything other than to say her period made her emotional. I sent her home early. I didn't even write it up, as no one was hurt or anything like that.'

‘But still you remember it. Why is that?'

Irene hesitated before exhaling, as if she knew she had no choice. ‘I have a very clear recollection of it because I was conducting an open-day tour of Cuan for our financial donors and prospective donors. The health service reduced our funding, so it was really a funding drive. The last thing I needed was a disruption.'

‘Donors? Was one of them Gordon Collins, of GC Construction?'

Irene flushed and nodded. ‘He goes public, so there's no harm in confirming he is a donor and was here that day.'

‘Would Aneta have come into contact with him or any of the other donors?'

‘I don't see how.'

‘Did they tour the common room?'

‘Yes, but… her outburst came later.'

‘What was the outburst like?'

‘I wasn't present at the time, but it was reported to me. She suddenly started to shake and cry, for no apparent reason, and had to be escorted out by another staff member.'

‘And she came to work the next day?'

‘Yes, for a day or two, I think, but then she just… disappeared.'

Lottie felt stunned. ‘And you didn't think to report it?'

‘Like I said, I assumed she'd gone home to Poland.'

‘Didn't you connect her outburst to her disappearance?'

‘I had no reason to.' Irene paused. ‘What happened to her?'

‘I intend to find out. Can I take this file?'

‘Sure.'

‘I'll need a list of everyone who was on the premises the day Aneta had her outburst.'

‘You'll have to get a warrant.'

‘I'll get it.'

‘I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.'

Sure you are, Lottie thought. ‘You have been helpful. I now have an identity for the latest victim.'

‘Do you believe they were all killed by the same person?'

‘It's a possibility.'

‘Are the killings connected to Cuan?'

‘Another possibility. Irene, I'd appreciate it if you kept all of this under wraps until I know what and who I'm dealing with.'

‘Of course. The last thing I need is anything unsavoury being linked to Cuan.'