Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘What?’ He dragged his hands from the table to his lap, where Lottie couldn’t see them, but she did notice a tic gathering pace at the side of his mouth. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did you love your wife, Mr Gallagher?’

  ‘Course I did. What kind of a question is that?’

  ‘You’ve hardly shed a tear. The only emotion I sense is anger.’

  The solicitor leaned forward. ‘What are you trying to prove, Inspector?’

  Lottie ignored her, keeping her focus on Gallagher. ‘What type of marriage did you have? Happy? Sad? Volatile?’

  ‘Volatile?’ He straightened his back but his chin jutted forward. ‘Who’s been talking to you?’

  ‘I’m asking the questions. So it was a volatile relationship, then?’

  ‘You’re twisting my words.’

  ‘Sometimes words don’t have to be twisted to get to the truth.’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth now. Me and Isabel, we were happy until some lunatic decided to stab the life out of her.’

  Time to wrong-foot him again. ‘What happened to your hands?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The cuts on your hands. How did you get them?’

  He spread his fingers out flat and stared at them.

  ‘You don’t have to answer,’ Regan said.

  Raising his head slowly, he eyeballed Lottie. ‘I cut my hands emptying the dishwasher. Isabel had a habit of putting the knives pointing upwards. Plus, I’m an electrician, a job that comes with its own dangers. Satisfied?’

  ‘No,’ Lottie said, but his words rang true. ‘Your fingerprints and DNA were secured yesterday, and I’ll get SOCOs to check your hands.’

  ‘Yeah, do that and waste more time.’

  ‘Where were you last night?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is “what” your favourite word?’ Boyd couldn’t help himself, and Lottie glared sideways at him.

  ‘I was at Anita’s.’

  ‘She says different.’ Lottie watched for a change in expression and was rewarded as he bit his lip and stared at a point on the wall above her head.

  ‘I … I went for a walk. To clear my head. She was asleep when I got in, and then I left at five this morning to get to the television studio.’

  Lottie picked up the bag with his phone. ‘I’m sure this will help us pinpoint where you were and if you’re telling us the truth.’

  He bit his lip again.

  ‘Do you know Joyce Breslin and her son Evan?’

  His nostrils flared. ‘Are they suspects?’

  ‘They’re missing. A mother and her four-year-old son.’

  He shook his head. ‘Heard something on the car radio this morning, but I don’t know them.’

  Regan tapped her closed file with the end of her chewed biro. The hum of the recording equipment was the only other sound breaking the silence.

  ‘Is there anything you want to add, Mr Gallagher?’ Lottie said eventually.

  ‘I have nothing else to say to you.’

  ‘If you’re not charging my client with anything, we are leaving.’ Lilian Regan stood and gathered her voluminous file, dark hair flying like a blackbird’s wings in flight. ‘Superintendent Farrell will receive a complaint about your treatment of my client.’

  ‘I’m sure she will add it to her list.’

  Lottie waited while Boyd opened the door and watched them exit.

  When they were alone, he said, ‘I’ll get this phone to Gary in technical.’

  ‘I want to know everywhere Gallagher’s been and everyone he’s been talking to or texting,’ Lottie said. ‘Do you think he’s innocent?’

  ‘If he’s innocent, why can’t he tell us where he was last night?’

  ‘Another woman? We need to find out everything we can about him.’

  ‘And we still have a missing child and his mother to find.’

  Yes, they had. ‘Get onto the lab and find out about the blood we found on the radiator at Joyce’s and if SOCOs found anything else there. Ask them about the cuts on Gallagher’s hands. Dishwasher? I don’t know any more.’

  37

  If anything, the day was growing colder. An east wind blew around the side of the house and hit Kirby in the face. For what seemed like the tenth time, he pressed the doorbell of 14 Castlemain Drive, the address found in the envelope in Joyce’s car.

  Martina had decided to stay in the car to make a phone call. He didn’t envy McKeown, if that was who she was calling.

  He pressed the bell again.

  Stepping back, he took another look up at the detached two-storey. The blinds were down and the white PVC door had faded to a sickly yellow. A rotting pumpkin wilted in the corner of the porch and a plastic skeleton hung from a flower hook on the wall. He had to scratch his head to remind himself how long it was since Halloween. Six months at least.

  ‘You won’t get an answer there.’

  A woman stood at the gate with a buggy, a well-bundled-up child glaring at him from behind a clear rain cover.

  ‘Oh, and you are?’ Kirby went to join them.

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Detective Larry Kirby. Ragmullin garda station. I’m looking for whoever lives here.’

  ‘I’m Meg Collentine. There’s been no one in or out of that house for must be a couple of years. Gosh, maybe longer.’

  ‘But someone put out Halloween decorations.’

  ‘I don’t pay much notice, but I’d say they’ve been there two years at least.’

  ‘Good God,’ Kirby said, thinking there was someone lazier than him after all. ‘Any idea where the owner is now?’

  ‘Nope. This is a large estate, as you can see, but it’s a quiet community. I think Neighbourhood Watch has been on the case. Apparently the house is bought and paid for. No outstanding mortgage or rent. Nothing anyone can do. I just wonder where they went, is all.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘No one really knew them. They never interacted with the neighbours.’

  Kirby scratched his head, vowing once again to get his hair cut. ‘Them? They? Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Never saw a husband or partner, but what do I know? I saw the woman in the supermarket one day. Young, pale thing she was. She looked terrified, if you want my opinion. But as I say, you make your bed, you lie in it. There was a little girl. I’d say she was maybe two, and I’m sure she had a baby with her that day. Not that I saw much of them.’

  Kirby digested this information. ‘Can you give me descriptions?’

  ‘Sorry, that was a few years ago. A good while before they left.’

  ‘And you have no idea where they are now?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘There’s a black Ford Focus car associated with this house.’ There wasn’t really, except for the letter he’d found down the side of the seat. ‘Did you see it here at any time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know one car from the next. Maybe the family took it with them.’

  ‘And no one reported their disappearance?’

  ‘What was there to report?’

  Kirby scratched his head again and glanced up at the house. It was in need of serious maintenance. The gutters hung off the roof, moss clung to the edges, weeds sprouted upwards. The walls were green from the weather. The grass at his feet was scraggy and overgrown.

  ‘Can I have your phone number? Just in case I need to follow anything up.’

  ‘What have they done?’ Meg said, and recited her number automatically. ‘They haven’t been murdered, have they?’

  ‘Just routine enquiries.’

  She looked at him dubiously. ‘I live around the back, two roads over. Number 171. I’m in the semis. Couldn’t afford a detached. And I honestly know nothing about this house or who lived here.’

  He scribbled her details into his notebook. ‘Thank you.’

  When she ambled off with her buggy, he walked around the side of the house. There was no gate, and two wheelie bins stood against the wall. He eased past
them and rounded the corner. A concrete pathway bisected the overgrown back garden. No shrubs, flowers or toys. Graffiti on the rear wall.

  He depressed the handle on the back door; it was locked. The upper half of the door had frosted squares of glass. He moved further along to the window. Arching his hands over his eyes, he peered through a gap where the blind hadn’t reached the sill, but he couldn’t make anything out. Maybe the family had emigrated. Wherever they’d gone, Kirby felt it was very odd. And why was there a scrap of paper with this address in Joyce Breslin’s car?

  He’d have to do more digging if he was to locate the missing woman and her son. It all might just be a wild goose chase.

  Lottie postponed the team meeting until later. Jack Gallagher had crawled under her skin and nested there. She had to find out more about him. She headed off in the car. Alone.

  It only took a few minutes to get to Quality Electrical, where she had to press an intercom at the gate to be admitted. Kirby had interviewed Mr Costello yesterday, but she wanted to hear for herself what he thought of Jack. Plus Isabel had worked here.

  The compound was huge. A large unit with rolling doors to her left, and to her right, a bland two-storey building. The office. She headed inside and up the stairs.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me, Mr Costello.’

  ‘Not at all. I’ll help any way I can. Tea, coffee?’

  ‘I’m grand.’ She took the chair in front of the desk while he seated himself behind it.

  His eyes were clouded behind spectacles that seemed to dim in the light, and his ginger hair and untrimmed beard lent him a homely look.

  ‘How is Jack holding up?’ He leaned forward, his hands clasped on top of paperwork.

  ‘What can you tell me about Jack Gallagher?’

  ‘I hope this doesn’t mean he killed his wife.’

  ‘We are investigating all possibilities. So, what is he like?’

  ‘As I told your colleague yesterday, he’s a great worker. I’ve no complaint in that department.’

  ‘But you have in others?’

  ‘I’m sorry, that came out wrong.’

  ‘Mr Costello, tell me what it is that’s worrying you.’

  He stretched back and ran a hand over his hair. ‘It was more the way he was with Isabel. You know she worked here for a while?’ Lottie nodded. He continued. ‘That is, until he made her give up work.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was in and out of the office like a fly on shite. Pardon me.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘He was round here as often as he could manage. Once he’d finished work for one client, he’d be back here with an excuse to pick up supplies for another, even though the rule is you stock your van the night before for the next day. Time is money and I don’t tolerate waste.’

  ‘What did you do about it?’

  ‘I called him out on it. Accused him of checking up on his girlfriend all the time and said he was out of order.’

  ‘And he didn’t like that?’

  ‘He apologised and said it wouldn’t happen again. The next day Isabel handed in her notice.’

  ‘It sounds like she was under his control.’

  ‘Exactly what I thought.’

  ‘How did she seem to you?’

  ‘She was a lovely young woman. Friendly, smiling. A real hit with the lads and gals here. No job was too small for her. She’d make tea for anyone.’

  ‘Was that her role?’

  He paused and bit his lip, thinking. ‘To be honest, she was employed as an office administrator, but it was too much for her. I ended up giving her light duties.’

  ‘Why didn’t you let her go if she couldn’t do the job she was hired for?’

  ‘Isabel brought sparkle to this dull place. I liked having her around.’

  ‘Are you married, Mr Costello?’ Lottie glanced around the office without spotting any family photographs.

  ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  She donned her stony face and kept silent.

  ‘No, I’m not married at the moment.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t fancy Isabel, if that’s what you’re implying, but I was sad to see her leave.’

  ‘Did you hire another administrator?’

  ‘I reckoned it wasn’t worth the hassle of training someone else. I spend long hours here; a few extra hours at night and I save myself the cost of office admin.’

  ‘A workaholic, like myself,’ Lottie said.

  ‘Doesn’t leave much room for anything else. Are you married?’

  ‘Widowed.’ Why the hell had she said that? ‘Let’s get back to Jack.’

  ‘Of course.’ He was once again leaning forward, his scent warm and fresh.

  ‘Jack got on well with everyone, is that right?’

  ‘Well enough. But he didn’t socialise with the crew. Kept to himself.’

  ‘Did you tackle him about Isabel leaving?’

  ‘I did. He told me it was none of my business. And he was right. If she wanted to leave, whether from coercion by her boyfriend or not, I had no right to interfere. But between you and me, I think he was insanely jealous of her being here all day.’

  More proof of what Lottie believed to be Jack’s controlling nature. ‘Where did he work before he came here?’

  ‘Your colleague queried that yesterday, and I told him it comes under data protection.’

  ‘Jack Gallagher is only talking through his solicitor at the moment. It would help if you could tell me.’ She had no idea why she was flirting with this man. Where Jack worked previously had absolutely nothing to do with anything, as far as she knew.

  ‘Okay, but you didn’t hear it from me.’ He tapped the keyboard and read from the screen. ‘He worked at AJ Lennon’s hardware company.’

  ‘Thank you. By the way, do you know a Kevin Doran?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘Can’t say I do.’

  ‘Or Joyce Breslin?’

  ‘Have these people anything to do with Isabel’s murder?’

  Lottie set her mouth in a thin line and didn’t answer.

  ‘I heard the woman’s name on the news this morning. Odd that she disappears the day Isabel was murdered, don’t you think? Perhaps she had something to do with it.’

  The thought had crossed Lottie’s mind. ‘Thank you, Mr Costello.’

  ‘Oh, it’s Michael, Inspector. Is there anything else I can do for you?’

  Since she’d entered the office, she’d been thinking, so she blurted it out. ‘I’ve just moved into a really old house. Electrics are terrible. How would I find out the cost of rewiring it?’

  ‘Leave your address with me. I’ll have it assessed for you.’

  ‘Oh no, that won’t be necessary. I’m a bit broke anyhow.’

  ‘No charge to have a look. I insist.’

  Despite her misgivings at mixing work and home, she wrote it out for him. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll see myself out, Michael.’

  As she made her way out of the office, she was sure his eyes were plastered to her denim-clad legs. And for some reason, she didn’t mind. It made her feel good about herself.

  38

  AJ Lennon’s hardware company had been in business for thirty-five years. So AJ informed Lottie when she came to see him straight from Quality Electrical. She trusted her team to be working hard on finding Joyce and Evan Breslin. She just had to tick these boxes and hopefully find something to lead her to Isabel’s killer.

  Lennon’s was well known across the length and breadth of the country. On a clear day, the company logo could be seen from Lacy’s Bridge on the western side of Ragmullin. Lottie had googled the company and found it had started out as a small family-run shop. When AJ took over from his father, he transformed the business, and during the Celtic Tiger era the company had boomed with the surge in the house construction market. It was rumoured Lennon was worth millions. Sitting across from him now, she didn’t get that impression.

  His office was small but tid
y. Two filing cabinets and a large desk. No window. AJ was in his early sixties but could pass for ten years older. His hair was thinning; grey with an orange tinge, like he’d attempted to dye it at some stage but it had faded. Over a cream shirt that might once have been white, he wore a grey crew-neck jumper with a hole in the cuff, as if he was constantly poking a finger through it. She recognised that nervous twitch. She hoped she had overcome it, because watching Lennon, she saw how irritating it was.

  ‘Detective Inspector Parker, it’s an honour to meet you in person.’ His jowls sagged onto his shirt collar as he spoke, and his narrow eyes looked like they didn’t belong on his face. She shook his hand. Firm but sweaty. ‘You’re a legend in Ragmullin.’

  ‘I doubt the criminals would agree.’

  ‘Ah sure, feck ’em, the lousy bastards. How can I help you? Are you doing home renovations?’

  ‘If only. No, I’m here on official business.’

  ‘Oh, the murder. Awful business. That poor young woman and her family. I hope you catch the lousy bastard.’

  Must be his catchphrase. ‘Jack Gallagher worked here before he moved jobs. Can you tell me about that?’

  ‘His move, or about when he was here?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Oh, let me think.’ He tore the hole in his cuff a little wider. ‘It was a good few years ago now. He worked as a retail assistant, but I learned he’d studied to be an electrician and found it hard to get a placement. He punched in a couple of years on the shop floor, but I knew he was wasted here. I put in a word with Michael. He took him on.’

  ‘Michael Costello?’

  ‘Yeah. He does business with me on a wholesale basis. My company is a lot more than retail, you know.’

  ‘Do you recall having any trouble with Jack while he worked for you?’

  ‘I don’t remember much about him at all, so that means he kept his nose clean. I’ve no idea how he got on at Michael’s place. Why don’t you have a chat with Michael?’

  ‘I already did. So you haven’t had any interactions with Jack in recent times?’

  ‘He’s doing up that house of his and I set up an account for him. He was in and out a good bit, ordering stuff. His little wife even came in when they were doing the kitchen. Picked out a new sink and taps.’