Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller

by Patricia Gibney

  A very small human.

  Her whole body shuddered with the realisation that what she was holding in her hands could in fact be the bone of a little child.

  15

  Detective Maria Lynch was dogged when it came to analysing data, even if it meant phoning every number on the pages Lottie had given her.

  She realised that most of the calls had been either made by Jack or were for him. Building supplies companies and possibly people who had hired him to do work for them. Back-and-forth calls. She quickly dismissed these as unlikely to have any significance at the moment. She made a note of the number of calls Jack made to his home: at least three a day, and sometimes five or six. Why was that? She’d mention it to Lottie later.

  She started calling the outgoing numbers. On the ninth number, she found herself greeted by a soft but chirpy voice.

  ‘Bubbles Day Care, Sinéad Foley speaking. How can I help you?’

  At least someone was having a good day, Lynch thought.

  ‘Hi, Sinéad. I’m Detective Maria Lynch from Ragmullin garda station. I just wanted—’

  ‘Oh God, I hope there’s nothing wrong.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ How to word her query? Be vague. ‘Your number came up in the process of an investigation. Can you tell me, were you contacted by Isabel or Jack Gallagher last month?’

  ‘Isabel called. She used to work here. She rang enquiring about my availability to take her baby for a few mornings a week. I got the impression she’d maybe found a part-time job, though I’d welcome her back here in a heartbeat.’

  ‘Oh, right. Did you have any follow-up contact with Isabel or her husband?’ Lynch was trying to be as diplomatic as she could. She didn’t want to scare the woman.

  ‘Actually, she was to pop in here after ten this morning, but she never turned up. We arranged it over the phone. I wanted to meet Holly, but she said she’d come alone.’

  ‘How long ago is it since Isabel worked for you?’

  ‘She took time off because she became very ill with her pregnancy. Her doctor advised it. Let me think. It was towards the end of last summer, or it could have been September. I’ll check it and let you know.’

  ‘Okay, that’s grand.’

  ‘She never officially left, but she didn’t keep up contact. I wanted to discuss it all with her today. Is she all right?’

  Lynch could hear children chatting in the background and ignored the query. ‘If you think of anything else, will you contact me here at the station?’

  ‘Sure I will.’ There was a slight pause on the line. ‘Please tell me, has something happened to her?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say. Thanks again.’

  Lynch hung up and made a note of the conversation. She needed to tell Lottie that Isabel Gallagher might not have had a doctor’s appointment after all.

  As she stood, McKeown arrived at her desk.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, sitting back down.

  ‘Can we at least be civil to each other?’

  ‘I’ve no interest in being anything to you except a reluctant colleague.’

  ‘You started it.’

  Her head shot up. ‘The cheek of you.’

  ‘Don’t forget it was your idea. You came to me with the notion to get the boss in trouble. You actually convinced me and—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it, and especially not here,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘I must be, to be still working with you.’

  ‘Why don’t you piss off back to Athlone then?’

  ‘Oh, I will, as soon as I can.’ He went to move away, but stopped and lowered his head to hers, forcing her to look up.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Don’t try to double-cross me, Lynch. You really don’t want to do that.’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ She swished her hair like she always did when someone annoyed the life out of her. ‘What do you want from me, McKeown?’

  She watched as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and she knew he was contemplating admitting the real reason why he’d approached her.

  Eventually he must have decided to err on the side of business.

  ‘I’m having no luck tracing this Kevin Doran chap. I’m wondering if he turned up as a contact on Gallagher’s website.’

  ‘I know that’s not what you really want to ask, but anyhow, I’ve passed that on to Gary in technical. Doran’s number isn’t on this phone bill and I don’t think I’ve come across the name on anything I’ve searched.’

  ‘Keep an eye out for it.’

  Failing to come up with a smart reply, she said, ‘I know how to do my job.’

  He walked back to his desk and made a drama of sitting down, a smirk plastered to his face. That was it. She’d had enough of him. She shoved back her chair and marched over. Placing one hand on his desk and the other on the back of his chair, she leaned down to speak into his ear.

  ‘I wonder what Mrs McKeown would think of your bit on the side.’

  He turned round so quickly his nose brushed her cheek.

  ‘You need to watch your mouth,’ he hissed.

  ‘And you need to be careful how you treat me, McKeown. Your wife wouldn’t be too pleased if she heard what I’ve heard.’

  ‘You’re a bitch.’

  Kirby entered the fray. ‘Hey, watch your mouth yourself, McKeown.’

  ‘And you need to get a life and a wife,’ McKeown grunted.

  ‘Yeah, like you. Everyone knows you slobbered all over Martina Brennan at the Christmas Party. You two have been nice and cosy since.’

  ‘Shut up, Kirby.’ McKeown buried his head in his work.

  Kirby winked at Lynch as he opened a filing cabinet.

  She smiled, stretched and walked back to her desk.

  The phone rang. She took the call. A member of the public claiming to have seen a man running down Main Street with a bloody knife in his hand. By the time she’d calmed the caller down and ascertained that they had actually watched a horror movie the night before while downing a bottle of vodka and were most likely having hallucinations, she’d forgotten all about Sinéad Foley and Bubbles Day Care.

  16

  Anita Boland lived in a detached house in a mature complex on the outskirts of Ragmullin. The row of seven houses seemed to have developed its own sense of character. Anita’s home had bay windows surrounded by a tangled mess of ivy. Rose bushes grew along the edge of the neatly mown lawn. Lottie thought everything blended well with the mint-green door.

  She finished the sandwich Boyd had bought her at Milly’s Garage and stuffed the wrapper under the seat. She was still hungry as she rang the doorbell.

  In the sitting room, Anita offered tea or coffee. They declined. The room gave the impression of a family of seven living in it, though Anita lived alone. Books and magazines overflowed onto the floor from the large wooden bookcase. A dresser was crowded with Belleek china ornaments; the three-piece suite looked comfortable. The accessories associated with a baby added a touch of organised chaos.

  Anita fussed, lifting baby blankets from the floor and stuffing them into a basket. Jack was seated in an armchair, his daughter asleep in his arms.

  Lottie said, ‘I asked an officer to bring your van. It should be here shortly.’ Once SOCOs had given it the once-over, she thought.

  Jack nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  Facing Anita, Lottie asked, ‘Did Isabel often bring Holly to visit you?’

  ‘Not often enough, really,’ Anita said, tears falling one by one. ‘I already miss her so much. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.’

  Feeling the temperature in the room drop a few degrees, Lottie searched for somewhere strategic to sit. ‘I’m sure you and Jack will find a way.’

  ‘I’m going to put the kettle on.’ Anita hurried out.

  Lottie found space on the couch and sat opposite Jack while Boyd moved to stand by the window.

  ‘I want to
do a television appeal,’ Jack said without preamble.

  ‘A what?’ She tried to stop her mouth dropping open, unsuccessfully.

  ‘An appeal like you see when someone goes missing. I know Isabel isn’t missing, but I could appeal for witnesses or someone to come forward who might know the killer or why she was killed.’

  ‘Not really appropriate at the moment,’ Lottie said. There was enough to do on the case without keyboard warriors clogging up her team’s time. ‘Jack, we’re professionals and we will find who did this.’ She hoped her words rang true.

  ‘I have to do something,’ he insisted. ‘I can’t be sitting here holding the baby while my wife’s killer thinks he got away with it.’

  His eyes were dry, she noticed, but his arm muscles flexed when he spoke, veins rising like tightened ropes in his neck, his polo shirt stretching across his chest as he breathed heavily. His little daughter remained sound asleep.

  ‘You can help by answering a few more questions.’ She moved to the edge of the soft-cushioned couch, sitting forward. ‘I really need to know if you kept cash or valuables in the house.’ She didn’t think robbery was a motive, but she had to rule it out.

  ‘No. We had feck-all money but we were happy.’

  ‘Was Isabel happy having no cash or bank cards of her own?’

  ‘Look, we had a single bank account and one bank card, which is in my wallet. Isabel agreed to that arrangement. We had to cut back. To save, so that she could get her dream extension to the house. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to get what you want.’

  ‘What about day-to-day expenses?’

  ‘I never saw her go short.’

  ‘For instance, how did she pay for petrol or diesel for her car?’

  ‘I gave her a household allowance. Plus I’ve a business account with Wallace’s Fuel Depot in Ragmullin. She charged her diesel to that. I can write off a percentage of expenses against my tax bill.’

  ‘Right. Can I see your accounts?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, what has all this got to do with her murder?’ He jerked forward and Holly jolted in her sleep. Lottie noted that he didn’t soothe her. It was like he wasn’t used to holding the little girl.

  ‘I’m getting the impression, Mr Gallagher, that you liked to keep your wife under your control.’ She decided to be bold. ‘Was Isabel threatening to leave you?’

  ‘How can you say that? I loved her. She loved me. End of.’

  ‘You said she had changed recently. What caused that change?’

  ‘If I knew that, maybe she wouldn’t be dead.’ He shook his head and sniffed. ‘I just want her back.’

  She knew the importance of gaining information early on in an investigation, but Jack was in danger of disintegrating, so she parked that line of questioning.

  ‘Do you have a life insurance policy on Isabel?’

  ‘I don’t believe where you are going with this.’ He looked heavenward but returned his gaze having composed himself. ‘No. We have no life insurance. You can check it out.’

  ‘Okay, thanks, Jack. You say you left the house at six fifty this morning and arrived at work at seven ten. It’s a ten-minute journey at most, so why did it take you that long to get there?’

  ‘I took my time. Only part of the day I get head space. What difference does it make anyhow?’

  ‘I need to pin down the timeline of events.’ The approximate time of death according to Jane was between seven and nine. Lottie needed to rule Gallagher in or out.

  ‘I did not kill my wife, if that’s what you’re insinuating.’

  ‘I’ve had another look around your house. I know this will seem an odd question, but what do you use to shave?’

  He answered immediately. ‘Electric when I’m in a hurry; otherwise I like the old-style razor. Why?’

  ‘Isabel had a razor blade in her hand when she was found. Any idea why that would be?’

  ‘What? Why would she have that? I don’t understand.’

  She moved on. ‘What can you tell me about Kevin Doran? Your handyman.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I want to know who he is. Where he lives. What he does.’

  Jack sat up straight in the chair and Holly cried out. He still did not comfort the child, but she went back into her slumber immediately. ‘If that Doran bastard laid a hand on my Isabel, I’ll cut his fucking balls off and stuff them down his throat.’

  Anita walked in, a mug of steaming liquid grasped between her hands, her mouth dropping open on hearing Jack’s last words. ‘Oh God, do you suspect Kevin Doran, Inspector?’

  ‘I’m just trying to trace him to have a word with him.’

  Jack had calmed himself down. He said, ‘Kevin is a bit of a waster, but he works cheaply. I suppose you get what you pay for.’

  ‘What does he actually do for you?’

  ‘A bit of bricklaying. Can hammer a nail too. Jack of all trades and slave to none.’

  ‘What does he look like?’

  ‘Ordinary bloke.’ Jack shrugged one shoulder. ‘Early forties, might be younger. Wore a beanie any time I saw him. Overalls and donkey jacket. Smaller than me, and skinny.’

  ‘Where can I find him?’

  ‘I don’t know where he lives. I gave you his phone number, didn’t I?’ He shoved his hand down the side of the chair for his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Holly didn’t like being moved, and cried out. Anita rushed forward, placed her mug on the mantel and took the child in her arms.

  ‘You did, but there’s no reply.’

  ‘Hush, little one. Granny’s here.’ Anita rocked the baby, who smiled up into her face. At least someone loves the poor kid, Lottie thought.

  Boyd came to life.

  ‘Have you thought any more about who might have wanted to harm your wife?’ he said, hands buried deep in his pockets.

  ‘I’ve thought of nothing else for the last few hours, and unless that piece of shit Kevin Doran had something to do with it, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Why do you think it might be him?’ Boyd pressed.

  Hauling himself up from the armchair, Jack paced the compact room until he stood in front of Boyd. ‘For starters, you two are asking about him. Then there’s the fact that he was always hanging around the house.’

  ‘Really? Why?’ Lottie asked.

  Jack turned to her, his eyes darker than before, his mouth a grimace, making his ears stand out like Boyd’s did.

  ‘I had no work for him the past few weeks. Didn’t stop him knocking on the door annoying Isabel to see if she had jobs for him.’

  ‘How did she react?’

  ‘She felt sorry for him. Filled him with tea and biscuits. I told her he wasn’t a dog.’

  ‘So she was friendly with him?’

  ‘I warned him not to come around when I wasn’t there. You never know with his type …’ He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I should have ditched him long ago.’

  ‘Did he drive? A car, a van?’

  ‘He had a battered red van. Not sure if it was his or not, and before you ask, I don’t recall the licence plate.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Lottie hoped McKeown could trace the untraceable.

  She glanced at Anita, who was standing with her back to the fireplace, softly threading her fingers through Holly’s fine hair. The tenderness with which she was gazing at the child was in stark contrast to how Jack had held his daughter. Might be something, might be nothing, Lottie thought. But he’d been so keen to see the child that morning. Grief was a strange thing. She knew that all too well.

  ‘How did you originally contact Doran?’ Boyd moved into Gallagher’s personal space. Too close for comfort, Lottie thought, but not close enough to be threatening.

  ‘He contacted me. I’d put up cards with my number in a few places in town. Just to advertise that I was looking for casual help with the kitchen. He must have seen one.’

  ‘How did you communicate?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘He gave me his number.’
/>   ‘When was the first contact made?’ Lottie took over.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe less than a year ago.’

  ‘Was that when you first met him in person?’ she continued.

  ‘It was a few weeks after that. He had no references, but he was eager, so I gave him a trial. He was a hard worker. Helped me renovate the kitchen.’

  So his DNA would have a logical reason to be inside the house, Lottie thought.

  ‘Did you trust him?’ she asked.

  ‘We weren’t friends, if that’s what you mean,’ Jack said. ‘He arrived, did a job, got paid and left.’

  ‘But he remained in contact, so you said.’ Boyd at last moved back a pace.

  ‘Yeah, he hounded me for work. Turned up at the house at all hours.’

  Anita had been silent for much of the conversation, but now she walked over to them.

  ‘I need to prepare a bottle for Holly, and Jack needs to rest, so I think that’s all for now, Inspector.’

  They’d run out of questions anyhow. They moved to the hall.

  Anita opened the front door, then turned to them, her hand on the latch. ‘For what it’s worth, I think Isabel felt sorry for Kevin. She told me that once. She said he was a good man. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone else?’

  ‘His name has come up,’ Lottie said, ‘so we need to interview him. Are you sure you never met him?’

  Shifting from foot to foot, Anita darted her gaze towards the sitting room, where Jack was sitting with the baby. She lowered her voice. ‘Come to think of it, I met him once. He seemed lost. You know those people with vacant eyes? People who’ve suffered? I honestly don’t think he’d hurt my Isabel.’

  She’d said the same about Jack, but Lottie wasn’t convinced. Her words reminded her of Isabel’s eyes in the photos. ‘I noticed Isabel looked sad in the photos you gave me earlier. Was your daughter unhappy?’

  Anita’s shoulders shook as she broke down. Lottie put a hand on the woman’s elbow to steady her.

  ‘My Isabel was troubled. I thought it might be baby blues, but when I suggested it, she became angry with me. I didn’t raise it again.’