Chapter 90

90

Boyd knew he should really leave to pick up Sergio from Amy's, but he wanted to have a quick look into the McGovern family. They didn't appear on PULSE, so that was a good sign. For the family. Not for him. The PULSE database was a mine of information, but it had nothing on the McGoverns.

He put the couple's names into Google. A piece with a photo from the local paper popped up. Benny and Brigette, standing outside Gordon Collins's site office at Pine Grove, holding a solicitor's letter that they were attempting to deliver to him. In the article, the reporter listed their many complaints, including sinkage, crumbling brickwork and dampness. Bad for Collins, Boyd thought, because Moorland was a relatively new estate. Then he checked where the family had lived before. After more trawling, he found that they'd had a house outside Ragmullin, just as Benny had said. But what spiked his interest was the location.

The house was seven kilometres from Ragmullin, in the townland of Drinock, about two kilometres from where Aneta Kobza's body had been discovered.

‘What?' Boyd said aloud.

Could Benny or Brigette be somehow involved in her death? But Rex had inadvertently given them an alibi for Laura's murder, and it was likely the same person had killed Aneta. The couple had moved house five years ago and were in a legal battle with Gordon Collins. Was he the link? Had Collins something to do with their old property?

He glanced at the clock and jumped up. He had to leave to pick up Sergio. All this would have to wait until tomorrow.

Before finally heading home, Lottie decided to check if Diana Nolan had returned. There was no sign of the nosy neighbour, Ms Molloy, as she got out of the car. The Nolan house was still locked up.

She walked around to the rear. The garden was neat, with a tidy lawn, a small trampoline and a sandpit. She wondered where Diana had taken her grandson. Did she not want to help find her daughter's killer? Or did she know what had happened? Worse still, was she involved?

The curtains on the back windows were open. She cupped her hands, peering in. All the cupboard doors appeared to be open, and at least one drawer was pulled out. Had Diana done this? Martina had suggested that Diana had been looking for something. What, though? A passport, to flee the country? But they'd checked, and Aaron Nolan did not have a passport and Diana's had not been used recently. Nothing made sense.

‘What could you be searching for that you'd ransack your own home, Diana?' Lottie muttered.

She tried the handle. The door was locked. She upended stones and flowerpots around the door, but no luck. Same at the front door. Maybe the neighbour… Could she put up with the babble to see if she had a spare key?

She rang Ms Molloy's doorbell and braced herself.

‘How can I help you, Inspector?'

‘I'm wondering if Diana Nolan ever gave you a spare key to hold for her?'

‘God, no. Told you, that woman hardly spoke to me.'

‘Ah, that's grand. Sorry to have bothered you.' Lottie made to walk away.

‘Hold on. Laura and her boy got locked out once and had to wait ages for her mother to come home. A few days later, Laura called round. She gave me a spare key to hold on to for emergencies, and asked me not to tell her mother. I don't think she spoke two words to me before or after that day.'

‘Can I borrow the key, please?'

‘Do you need a warrant to go in there?'

‘Not if I have the key. I'll bring it back to you. Promise.' Promise? Jesus, Lottie, get a grip, she chided.

After a sermon about not losing it, Ms Molloy handed over the key and Lottie gratefully escaped.

It was dark, the streetlights throwing shadows, and she found it difficult to insert the key in the unfamiliar lock. Once inside, she switched on the hall light. A fold-up buggy stood at the end of the stairs and a pile of coats hung on hooks on the wall.

She checked the kitchen, where she'd seen the disturbance from outside. Now that she was here, the mess didn't look quite so frantic, but it was evident that someone had been searching. Apart from the open cupboards and drawers, the room was relatively tidy – just a couple of mugs in the sink. The fridge held some food, so did Diana intend to return?

The sitting room was similarly dishevelled. Cushions from the armchairs and couch were on the floor. Dresser drawers hung open.

Upstairs, she entered Laura's room. It looked almost the same as when she'd had a quick search on her visit after her murder. In the stillness, the room breathed loneliness and sorrow; its occupant was never returning. She closed the door softly and checked the other rooms.

In Diana's, the trail of destruction was more frenzied than downstairs. Clothes hung off hangers in the wardrobe and draped out of drawers. Two boxes were open on the floor, with paperwork strewn around. She kneeled to inspect them.

Among the many bills, invoices and calendars, she found a set of house deeds. She snapped off the elastic band and opened up the yellowing parchment, mentally crossing her fingers. But the deeds turned out to be for the house she was now kneeling in. She put them to one side and continued to delve into the box without making any earth-shattering discoveries. Had Diana found what she'd been looking for and brought it with her?

She shoved the papers back in the boxes and sat on the floor looking around. She could not put her finger on what had made Diana flee. Before getting to her feet, she noticed a corner of something sticking out from behind the bedside cabinet. She eased it out with two fingers. A single page folded over in three. It was old and creased. Spreading it on the floor, she discovered it was a birth certificate. When she read the baby's name, and then the date of birth, she frowned.

‘Who are you?' It made no sense.

She wondered if this might tie everything together, or rip it all apart.