Chapter 67

67

Setting down her mug, Lottie opened the box flaps warily and stood back. Just in case. When she was satisfied no living thing was in it, she leaned over and peered inside. At first glance it appeared to be full of leaflets and brochures. She wondered why the caretaker would have packed these up, seeing as most of Aneta's possessions had been dumped.

She slowly extracted them one by one. Some were in a foreign language – Polish, she assumed – but one colourful brochure in English caught her eye. Cuan rehabilitation facility. Settling back on the chair, she wondered if she should pull on protective gloves. Might be best. She got a pair from her bag, then picked up the brochure again. The image painted was of a fun-filled, bright environment to help people regain their life . It didn't marry up with her memory of her visit earlier.

Printed in the centre of the brochure was a compendium of photographs. Peering closely, she hoped to see someone she recognised, to give her a clue as to who had killed Aneta. She recognised two people, Irene Dunbar, and Gordon Collins, but the others didn't mean anything to her. She closed the brochure and picked out another. This one was more familiar. Pine Grove housing development.

Why had Aneta got this brochure among her possessions? Didn't young people browse everything online nowadays? But she didn't know what Aneta had been like, so there was no point in mulling over those sort of questions.

Deciding to ask Boyd to help her go through the stuff, she groped around the table for her phone. She smelled burning. Smoke billowed from the oven. The chips. Shit.

Boyd arrived within half an hour. By then both she and Sean had fed themselves on salvaged chips, goujons and a tin of beans. She'd even cleared the sink and wiped down the counters.

‘Something's burning,' Boyd said as he came in through the back door.

‘Don't start.'

‘Whatever.'

‘Jesus, you sound like Sean. How's Grace?'

‘Had a row with her. Don't ask. She'd try the patience of a saint.'

‘But you're no saint, Mark Boyd, are you?'

He scanned his eyes around the room, and she knew he was checking they were alone. ‘Sean here?'

‘Yep.'

‘Pity.'

‘Why? Were you intending to ravish me in my own kitchen?'

He laughed. ‘I'd settle for a hug.'

‘Me too.'

She snuggled into his arms and relaxed. She could fall asleep like this, such was her exhaustion. Sensing his kiss on her ear, she pulled back. ‘Boyd, my hair is manky.'

‘Don't care.' He nuzzled deep into her throat, then tracked to her mouth.

She welcomed his lips on hers, but her eyes wandered towards the table. ‘This isn't what I called you over for.'

‘Oh, and I thought you couldn't live without me and wanted to tell me you'd agreed to buy a house in Pine Grove.'

‘I mentioned Pine Grove on the phone, but not for that reason.' She filled him in on what she'd learned from Irene Dunbar, and her visit to Hill Point, then indicated the two brochures on the table. ‘There's one for Cuan, which I can understand as Aneta worked there. But this one is for Pine Grove.' She held it up. ‘Why would she have it?'

‘She might have got it from John Morgan while he was in Cuan, but I've really no idea. Was she intending to buy? Maybe she had money we don't know about.'

‘I only discovered her identity this afternoon, so I've had no time to check anything.'

‘This is a long shot, but I wonder if she's one of Plunkett's escorts.'

Lottie shook her head. ‘I showed him her photo and he said no.'

‘When did you see him?'

‘Long story, and now isn't the time for that conversation.' She was too tired to go down that awkward road with him.

‘Okay so. Back to Pine Grove. Maybe she wanted to buy a house. I can check with Charlie tomorrow.'

‘Okay. Get gloves on, and we can go through the box together.'

They settled into the task, removing each item, shaking the pages to see if anything fell out, then scrutinising it. Most of the leaflets were in Polish, but there were some old tourist brochures too.

‘Had she a laptop?' Boyd asked.

‘I don't know. Unless it's in the suitcase, but the caretaker didn't mention one. Why?'

‘Because if she had, I'm sure she could have looked all this stuff up online.'

‘I wondered about that myself,' Lottie said. ‘She could have used her phone, too, which we don't have either. We'll go through the suitcase when we finish with the box.'

‘This is all rubbish as far as I can see.'

‘But why did the caretaker keep it? I was thinking maybe someone else packed up her things. I'll ring him in the morning.'

‘If someone else packed the box, why didn't they take it?'

‘Maybe they found what they were after and left the rest hoping it would be destroyed.' She thought for a moment. ‘There's no sign of her passport. They might have taken that.'

With no more interesting discoveries in the box, they put it to one side. ‘I'll get Garda Lei to read through everything tomorrow,' Lottie said.

‘Good idea.' Boyd hefted the red suitcase up on the table, and pulled back the rusted zipper. The case was packed with clothes. Simple and cheap. Like the stuff Lottie's girls wore. It didn't help the argument that Aneta might have had money.

‘Judging by these sizes, she was an awful lot thinner when she died.' She held up a T-shirt. ‘Someone took that girl, held her and starved her for months.'

‘Doesn't bear thinking about.' He was going through a bundle of jeans, searching the pockets, turning them inside out. ‘Hold on a minute. There's something here.'

‘What is it?' Lottie dropped the clothes she was checking.

‘I don't want to rip it.' He slid the paper out of the jeans back pocket and laid it on the table. ‘A photograph. It's like it went through the wash. It's all faded.'

‘If it was washed, it would be in pieces. It's just old.' She touched the image. ‘It's a group of teenagers, male and female, with two slightly older males either side of the group.' She counted the heads. ‘And I think two women, one beside each man. Turn it over to see if it's dated or has names. Careful.'

He turned it over. ‘Blank.'

‘They seem to be on the steps of a building. Do you recognise it?'

‘Means nothing to me.'

‘I might be clutching at straws here, but it could be Cuan. I read that part of the building burned down years ago. But I don't know…'

‘You're tired. I'm tired. Leave it until tomorrow. I can put this lot in my car.'

‘Leave it here. I might have another root through.'

‘You need to sleep and I'd better head home. Grace will have another canary if I'm any later.'

They both washed their hands at the sink. Lottie wished he could stay. Wished he could hold her for the night to ease the memory of Aneta's emaciated body in a field of birds.

They kissed at the door and she waited until the red rear lights of his car disappeared before she returned to the kitchen.

She sat at the table and looked at Aneta's possessions. The girl's only legacy was the scraps from the box and the cheap clothing from the suitcase. It broke her heart.

Rex kneeled on his bed in his dark bedroom and looked out the window. Wrapping the duvet around his shoulders, he gazed over at the spot where he'd seen the woman's body. She had been pretty. But someone had killed her. He thought of the night before he'd seen the body. He'd been looking out his window then too. The car with no headlights had stopped at the lane before the cinema and a man had got out and dragged something from the passenger seat.

Had that been the woman?

Probably.

Should he tell someone?

Probably not.

Life was too complicated in his house to bring a further problem to their door. He got into bed, keeping the duvet wrapped tightly around his body. He tried to sleep, but it was impossible. The images haunted him. Her dirty feet. Her pretty face. Her dead eyes. Giving up on sleep, he got his Nintendo Switch from under his pillow and played Mario for hours.