Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller

by Patricia Gibney

  Lottie began to draw the picture in her head. Nathan was smuggling something into the country for this Dermody character. ‘When did you last see him, and what did he say to you?’

  ‘Yesterday evening. I met him at an industrial estate outside Dublin. Whatever was stowed in the back of the lorry was taken out. Then he said he knew Evan. It was a threat to keep my mouth shut.’

  ‘What were you smuggling for him?’

  ‘I don’t know what it was. He pays me well, so I don’t ask.’

  ‘Who is your main employer?’

  ‘AJ Lennon.’

  That name, cropping up again. ‘Does Chris Dermody work for him too?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with Lennon, to be honest. Dermody pays me to make unscheduled stops on the continent, and when I stop at the designated location – that’s what he calls it – something is packed into the back of my lorry under a false compartment. I stop off at another designated location in Dublin, and that’s where it’s unloaded. Then I return to Ragmullin with my normal load. I don’t want to know what I’m transporting for him. I just take the money, because I need it. Joyce doesn’t make much, and there’s day care costs and all that. Oh God! Poor Joyce.’

  He stared at Lottie, his eyes pleading for understanding. You can fuck right off, she thought, and sat back, trying to make sense of this new information. It was obvious Nathan had got himself involved with criminals.

  ‘How much do you get paid for this smuggling?’

  ‘A grand a time. He pays without argument, but last night when I stopped off in Dublin, he mentioned Evan. I took it as a warning in case I was having second thoughts.’

  ‘And were you? Having second thoughts?’

  ‘I suppose I was.’

  ‘Why is that, if you needed the money?’

  ‘Joyce mentioned one night recently that she might soon have a substantial payday. I grilled her about it, but she kept tapping her nose and smiling. Maybe she found out I was smuggling or thought she was going to win the Lotto. I really don’t know.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then when I got home last night, Joyce and Evan were missing.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it important enough to tell me all this before now?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was scared.’

  ‘And how do you think an innocent four-year-old boy is feeling?’

  He began to sob loudly.

  ‘Pull yourself together. Joyce is dead and I have to find Evan. When did you last see Chris Dermody?’

  ‘Yesterday evening.’

  ‘So the evening Evan went missing,’ Lottie said, thinking aloud. ‘The day Joyce was abducted. How could this Dermody know she wasn’t around to pick her son up if he was in Dublin?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Who does he work for?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think it’s Lennon, because if he was involved, the stuff could be unloaded at the warehouse without me having to make an unscheduled stop in Dublin. But I could be wrong.’

  ‘How did you get involved in this mess, Nathan?’

  He sniffed and ran a hand over his eyes. ‘Met Dermody in Fallon’s one night. The pub.’

  Lottie cringed, thinking of Chloe working there. ‘Go on.’

  ‘He seemed to know I was a truck driver, that I was making regular runs to Europe collecting products for Lennon. He made an offer I found hard to refuse. This was about six months ago. Believe me, I don’t know who he works for. Maybe he’s a lone wolf. And I swear to you I have no idea what I was smuggling.’

  If Nathan was capable of smuggling, Lottie wondered if he was capable of being involved in his family’s abduction. ‘Dylan Foley said he originally met you at the Sheefin gym. Did you ever take one of his keys?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Maybe your friend Dermody threatened you and you stole it for him. He then used it to slip into Foley’s and abduct Evan.’

  ‘You’re crazy! I’d never do that. Fuck’s sake, I don’t even go to the gym any more.’

  Nathan sat with his hands held out, palms upwards. He could plead the innocent victim all he liked, but he was implicated, either unwittingly or intentionally. And now she’d have to get the DOCB, the Drugs and Organised Crime Bureau, involved.

  She could arrest him for smuggling – he’d admitted it – but she had no hard evidence and she had not put him under caution. Shit. And she was still no closer to finding Evan.

  ‘Get your jacket. I’m taking you to the station. You may need to contact a solicitor.’

  The threads of the investigation were snaking out all over the place instead of being wound into a spool. It was turning into a logistical nightmare.

  ‘What about Joyce?’ He fetched his jacket from a hook on the back door and turned to face her. ‘Will I have to see her body?’

  ‘If I can’t find any other next of kin, yes.’

  He held the table edge to steady himself. ‘I’m not sure I can look at it.’

  Lottie rubbed her head in confusion. ‘Nathan, did you love her?’

  ‘Of course I did. And Evan was like a son to me. I thought of him as my own flesh and blood. Oh God. I hope he’s not dead.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Lottie said.

  As Garda Brennan followed Nathan out to the hall, Lottie took a quick look around the kitchen. The wall calendar snagged a memory in her brain. She scrutinised the dates. Evan’s childcare days were marked with a felt-tip pen. A large red bubble. It was obvious that Joyce had intended to be around for the rest of the month. Some days were highlighted with Nathan away. She leaned in closer. A small x marked on Friday this week.

  ‘Nathan, what had Joyce planned for Friday?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Did you not share your plans for the week ahead?’

  He sighed. ‘Not really. Joyce has always been kind of secretive. It never bothered me. She has her life and I have mine. Live and let live. Oh God …’ He began to cry again.

  ‘By the way, her car was registered to a Lugmiran Enterprises. Who are they?’

  He dragged his jacket on over trembling arms. ‘Never heard of them. That’s the truth.’

  ‘Yeah, and I intend to find out the real truth.’ Lottie had no idea what that was any more.

  ‘I just want you to find Evan.’

  ‘Evan is my main priority, but you should have told me he wasn’t your son. We’ve lost vital time.’

  As Brennan led Nathan out to the car, Lottie went back to the kitchen. She took the calendar from the wall and closed the door as she left.

  55

  Katie Parker led the man into the half-painted hallway.

  He stopped behind her, staring at the walls. ‘Your mother said the house was old, but I didn’t realise it was actually this old.’

  ‘It’s ancient,’ Katie said. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Costello? Mam won’t be home until later. She’s working on a huge murder case at the moment.’

  ‘I know. The murdered woman, Isabel, used to work for me. Her husband still works with my company and I believe he’s in the frame for it.’

  ‘Oh, that must be awful for you.’

  ‘It is, but I still have to work. I apologise for calling so late, but your mother mentioned the house needed rewiring and I told her we could assess the cost for her. Is it okay if I have a look around?’

  ‘Would it be better if you waited until she was here, Mr Costello?’

  ‘Oh, that’s fine then. I was just passing on my way home, and thought I’d stop by. I’m Michael, by the way.’

  ‘Right then, Michael, my granny is here if you want to have a word with her?’

  ‘That would be perfect. Does she live here too?’

  ‘No, she has her own place. Don’t think she needs any electrical work done on her house, though. Come on. She’s in the kitchen.’

  Katie admired the good-looking man as he stood back to let her walk in front of him. A real gentleman. She thought his bear
d and ginger hair made him kind of cute – for an old guy. She noticed Louis sitting on the bottom step of the bare wooden stairs and scooped him into her arms.

  ‘And who is this little man?’ Michael said, leaning over to ruffle the boy’s hair.

  Katie smiled. ‘Louis is my son. He was asleep earlier but then he woke up crying, and now he refuses to go back to sleep.’

  ‘You’re lucky to have him.’

  ‘Thank you. I am lucky.’

  His comment was a change from people telling her she was too young to be a mother, which usually made her squirm. Louis’ dad had been murdered before she even knew she was pregnant. She’d missed out on college and a whole load of stuff, but she loved her son too much to have regrets over what might have been.

  ‘God, that’s dangerous.’

  ‘What is?’ She turned to see Michael staring up at the chandelier hanging from the cracked hall ceiling. ‘Oh, that. Granny says it’s an antique.’

  ‘More like a dangerous relic. And it could crash at any minute. Tell your mother it needs to go. I can see this house needs a complete overhaul. In the electrical department, I mean.’

  ‘It needs an overhaul full stop,’ Katie said with a laugh. ‘Have you eaten? Gran has made the most delicious cottage pie. I’m sure she’d be delighted with your company.’

  ‘You know what? I have no idea when I last ate a proper meal.’

  ‘Let’s see what’s left in the dish then.’

  She walked on ahead, feeling an urge to put on a show for him. His manners were old-school but his face was classy; his beard in fashion. His eyes were something of a mystery. Granted, he was maybe twenty plus years older than her, but you never knew …

  56

  People huddled together in silence on the green area across the road from where Kirby stood smoking a cigar. A strip of garda tape hung loosely between the pillars of the house. Boyd took two packets of overalls from a SOCO and signed in with the guard at the gate.

  ‘You look as wrecked as I feel,’ he said, handing one packet to Kirby and tearing the other open.

  ‘Yeah, well it’s a bit of a mess in there, I can tell you.’ Kirby put the pack under his arm, topped the cigar and placed it in the yellow-stained pocket of his shirt.

  The night air was chilly and Boyd had promised to help Sean paint his room, but now he was bone weary. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold a paintbrush let alone put a foot on a stepladder.

  ‘You look yellow around the gills,’ Kirby said struggling with one leg in the overalls.

  ‘Just tired.’

  ‘I know what’ll fix that. A creamy pint of Guinness in Cafferty’s after we’re done here. What do you say to that?’

  ‘Sounds good, but maybe another time. Let’s have a look inside. Who did McGlynn send?’

  ‘A young lassie,’ Kirby said. ‘All business. I mean, she’s very professional. Might not even let us in.’

  ‘Bollocks to that. I didn’t come here to be left hanging around.’ Boyd zipped his overalls and waited while Kirby wrestled with his.

  ‘They’ll kill me for traipsing all around first without the proper gear.’

  ‘If you hadn’t gone in, you wouldn’t have found the scene.’

  ‘At least we don’t have to wait for the state pathologist. We don’t have a body.’

  ‘Unless you haven’t yet found it.’ Boyd pushed in the back door and entered the house.

  SOCOs had set up a small generator to run their halogen lights.

  ‘We need to get the electricity reconnected,’ Kirby said.

  A stale, fusty metallic smell hit Boyd in the face once he stepped into the kitchen. He sidled out of a SOCO’s way while another white-suited figure stood directing operations from the hall.

  He approached her and smiled behind his mask. ‘Detective Sergeant Boyd.’

  ‘I’m Gráinne, and please don’t touch anything until I’ve had a run-through first. I’ve carried out a quick inventory of the kitchen. Look in there if you have to.’

  ‘Grand, thanks,’ Boyd said. ‘I won’t upset your apple cart.’

  ‘I’m serious. I’ve had my fair share of bullying, bungling detectives leaving traces of themselves all around my crime scenes. You seem too nice to add to that ignominious list.’

  Boyd thought of the lecture Kirby would get when she found out he’d been inside without a protective suit. ‘I assure you, I am the consummate professional.’

  Her silver-blue eyes carried her smile. He noticed a line of freckles on her forehead. Her eyebrows were fair and he imagined her hair hidden beneath the hood was a mane of wild red curls.

  ‘I’m sure you are, but that’s what they all say. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve to go upstairs to oversee the cot with dried blood, then I’m shutting up shop for the night. Our generator is shite and we need daylight to do a proper job, unless you can magic up electricity for me tonight. Would that be possible?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Then have your cursory look. I’ll be back at dawn for a proper inspection.’

  When she’d marched up the stairs, Boyd felt a void left in her place. He shook himself and joined Kirby in the kitchen. ‘Don’t think I’m allowed to see your crime scene yet. She wants to do the full examination in the morning.’

  ‘It will give you nightmares. Best to wait.’ Kirby began opening and closing drawers. ‘Whatever went on here, it occurred a long time ago.’

  Boyd said, ‘You thought Joyce might have been held here before her body was dumped, didn’t you?’

  ‘That was my initial reasoning,’ Kirby said. ‘This address was on the scrap of paper I found in her car, and because of the scene upstairs, it must have a connection. But the house was locked up tight. I’ve found no blood trace that’s recent. No evidence that anyone has been here in the last few years, never mind days.’ He wheezed as he talked. ‘I need to give up smoking.’

  ‘Not the first time I’ve heard that.’ Boyd crossed to the table and chairs. A dresser stood against the wall, glass doors on the top section with wooden doors beneath.

  Behind the glass, with one pane cracked as if something had been thrown at it, there was nothing much of interest. A shelf of cookery books. Another held a mismatched collection of mugs, and on the bottom shelf, a mess of different-sized plates.

  ‘Thought I might find something to match the page you found in the car. Or something to tell us the identity of the owners,’ he said.

  ‘And my name is Santa Claus,’ Kirby said from beside the sink.

  Hunkering down, Boyd opened the wooden doors. The cupboard held four baskets filled with hats and gloves and scarves.

  He went through each one. A pink Peppa Pig hat with satin ribbons felt sad in his hands and he shoved it back quickly. More hats, some embroidered with Superman and Batman images. Adult mittens and gloves. He picked up a pair of gloves and felt something stuffed inside.

  A blue silk scarf.

  He asked a nearby SOCO for an evidence bag.

  Placing the bag on the floor, he set the bunched-up scarf on top and carefully unfolded it.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Kirby.’

  ‘I’ve been called worse.’

  ‘This is serious.’

  Boyd sat back on his haunches as Kirby joined him.

  ‘And you found those inside the scarf?’ Kirby said.

  ‘I did.’

  Lying on cool blue material with a splash of yellow were three razor blades, rusted and bloody.

  57

  With Nathan Monaghan waiting in a cell for his solicitor to arrive, Lottie returned to her office. She was overcome with a sense of helplessness. Her gut was telling her she wasn’t doing enough to search for Evan, and now that his mother had been found dead, it was increasingly unlikely the boy would be discovered alive. No, don’t think like that, she cautioned. He is alive, that’s what I have to believe in.

  She ordered a search warrant for AJ Lennon’s warehouse, with little hope of getting it signed by a jud
ge before morning, if at all. She contacted the DOCB informing them about Nathan and Chris Dermody and an alleged smuggling operation. They told her they would locate Dermody for her as quickly as possible.

  In her mind, it was likely that Dermody was responsible for taking Evan, but what reason could he have for brutally murdering Joyce? Surely that would push Nathan away rather than embed him further into the smuggling operation.

  And then there was Isabel. Nathan had said he didn’t know Isabel or Jack Gallagher. Nothing was adding up.

  To occupy her mind while she waited for word from the bureau on Dermody, she checked the multitude of missed calls and texts. Besides Kirby’s, the rest were from Lynch. She opened the earliest message.

  ‘Holy shit,’ she exclaimed, rushing out to find Garda Brennan. With Kirby and Boyd at Castlemain Drive, she was floundering for staff.

  ‘What is it?’ Martina said.

  ‘Get the car. Now.’

  Once they’d cleared the station gate, Lottie said, ‘Siren and lights. We need to talk to Gallagher before he does a disappearing act again.’

  ‘Isn’t Detective Lynch at the house?’

  ‘Yeah, and according to her, Gallagher claims the man he pushed into the canal was Kevin Doran.’

  ‘The handyman we’ve had difficulty tracing?’

  ‘One and the same. Hurry.’

  Brennan obliged and floored the accelerator. Lottie sank into the seat as their speed picked up on the short journey across town. Traffic was light at this hour of the evening, and it was comforting to know they could be there in three minutes.

  Anita opened the door, a dejected droop to her mouth. Lottie pitied the grief-stricken woman but had no time for platitudes as she made her way into the sitting room.

  The space seemed more cluttered than the last time she’d been here. Empty baby bottles stood on a stack of books on the floor, coats lay abandoned on the couch, baby clothes were drying on the radiator, and the buggy had blankets piled high.

  Anita must have caught Lottie’s glance in that direction. ‘Holly is asleep upstairs. Poor little pet.’