Lottie unfurled her arms and leaned forward. ‘What happened?’
‘They got talking. Hugged each other at the door as they left.’
‘Did you overhear the conversation?’
‘Are you joking me? I fled to the other side of the shop once Isabel was distracted by the other woman.’
‘Did you hear any of it?’
‘No.’
‘But you saw them leave.’
‘I escaped over to the bathtub section. I saw them from there. Mr Lennon came over to see what the fuss was about, but I told him it was just a misunderstanding about an order.’ Tanya held a finger in the air, her eyes wide. ‘Wait a minute. I seem to remember him being interested all of a sudden when he noticed Joyce and Isabel together.’
‘Did Joyce have a little boy with her?’
‘I don’t think so – I’d remember something like that.’
‘And there’s nothing else you can recall about either of them?’
‘Nope.’
This was another link between Joyce and Isabel. It proved they’d met outside of the day care setting. ‘When exactly did this happen?’
‘Must be six weeks or more ago. I’m not rightly sure. Can I get back to work now?’
‘You’ll have to make a full statement. You’ll need to come with me.’
‘I’m not in any trouble, am I?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Will you square it with Mr Lennon without making me look guilty of something I didn’t do?’
‘Of course. I’ll get those timesheets, too.’ Lottie wasn’t going to take Tanya Cummings’ word for where she was on Monday morning while Isabel Gallagher was being stabbed to death in front of her baby daughter.
* * *
After Tanya left to fetch her coat, Lottie walked out of the office, straight into AJ Lennon.
‘All okay?’ he said. ‘Hope my star employee hasn’t been dirtying her bib.’
‘It was just a few questions. I need her to come to the station to make a formal statement. Okay with you?’
‘Certainly. Always willing to help the law, that’s my motto.’
‘Good. Can I ask you something, Mr Lennon?’
He stuck out his chest, full of his own importance. ‘Anything I can do to help the law, I will do.’
Jesus, such shite. Did he have to keep saying it? ‘Do you have security cameras throughout the store?’
‘I do. People nowadays would put a toilet in their arse pocket and bring it home if they could. My stats are—’
‘How long do you keep the footage?’
‘It’s all backed up. When exactly are you interested in?’
‘There was an incident about six weeks ago. A woman came in and approached Tanya at the paint counter. There was some shouting, then another woman arrived and the two of them left together. Can you remember that?’ She wanted evidence to prove Joyce and Isabel were acquainted, and that Isabel knew about Tanya. His hail-fellow-well-met demeanour disappeared in a flash.
‘Can’t say that I do.’ He shook his head way too many times. ‘I move around the stores from week to week. Do you have an exact date?’
‘Tanya said you were present at the time. Said you were over at the bathroom section.’
He shook his head again. ‘No memory of it at all.’
‘She also said you seemed interested in the two women.’
‘If I knew who they were, it might help jog my memory.’
‘One was Isabel Gallagher. And you knew her because she worked here at one time.’
He pulled at the hole in his sweater sleeve and moved around Lottie to enter his office, before stopping quite close. ‘Was that incident anything to do with why Isabel was murdered?’
She sidestepped his query, because she didn’t know the answer. ‘The other woman appears to have been Joyce Breslin, and she was found murdered last night.’
‘What? Gosh, that’s awful.’
‘You sure you don’t remember the incident?’
‘I’m nearly one hundred per cent sure.’
‘I’ll send round one of my team to collect the security footage. Is that a problem?’
‘No problem at all.’
Lottie followed him into the office.
‘Do you know Chris Dermody?’
‘Never heard the name.’
We’ll see about that, she thought. ‘While you’re here, can you print off Tanya Cummings’ clock-in data for Monday last?’
‘That I can do. Give me a second.’
She waited while he tapped the keyboard. She took the page when it printed and hurried out of the office, shutting the door firmly behind her.
As she walked through the store to wait for Tanya, she ignored the shiny new appliances she’d love to have in Farranstown. She was too busy wondering why AJ Lennon, who had originally fawned over her, had scuttled into his shell once she’d mentioned the two dead women. And she still had to interview him about Nathan Monaghan and the smuggling. She needed airtight evidence before she cracked that whip.
64
The trees outside were black stalks in the dark when Kevin awoke, so he turned on his side and went back to sleep. When eventually he got up, it was still early. He had no job to go to. He could stay here all day. Or not. Something crept across his face and he swiped his hand, giving himself a clout on the nose. ‘Damn you, little bastards.’
Splashing cold water into a basin, he thought of Dervla’s visit the previous night. He hoped he’d done the right thing handing over Isabel’s phone. Isabel wouldn’t be pleased with him. But she was dead, and he missed her, and he’d broken his promise to her.
When the cold water had sufficiently awakened him, he ran a finger around the corner of his eyelid and removed the clot of sleep that had been stuck there for a few days. He scrunched the corner of a tea towel tight and cleaned his ears. Good God, they were black. Bunching up the cloth, he threw it into the basin and tugged on his boots over yesterday’s socks. He’d drive to town and watch Isabel’s mother’s house for a bit. See what Jack was up to. Maybe he’d catch a glimpse of the baby. He missed seeing little Holly.
But Kevin had greater problems now. He’d have to move away from here soon. There was no one left whom he’d made a promise to. That was if he didn’t count Dervla, and no one really counted Dervla. It made him a little sad, because she wasn’t all bad. Not all of the time. He shivered as he buttoned up his jacket. Isabel wasn’t all bad either, was she? And then he remembered Joyce.
Maybe he should have kept Isabel’s phone.
Too late now.
65
Boyd was on the phone, sullen and grey-faced, when Lottie entered the office. His hair was still damp from his shower, his skin dull from lack of sleep. She wondered what was in the letter and if that was what was worrying him, but didn’t ask. Best to give him time and space. She was good at giving people space even when they needed her close. Katie could testify to that, though conversely, Lottie felt weary because her daughter wouldn’t talk openly with her. Did that make her a failure as a mother?
‘What did you say?’ Boyd said, hanging up the call and pushing back his chair.
‘I must be losing it if I’m voicing my thoughts out loud.’ She attempted a joke.
‘Nothing new there.’
‘I brought in Tanya Cummings. Jack Gallagher’s alibi. She’s making a statement.’
‘Is she involved in Isabel’s death?’
‘Her timesheets tell me no, but who knows.’ She put the pages on Boyd’s desk. ‘Have a look and see if you agree.’
‘What about Joyce’s murder?’
Lottie told him about Jack’s tour of the countryside the evening before, which would account for the farmer’s sighting of his van. Still, he could be involved.
‘But if he killed Joyce,’ Boyd said, ‘did he also abduct Evan, and if so, where is the boy?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was there something else?’ A note of impatience in tho
se few words. He drew his chair in tighter to the desk and clicked the mouse. A dismissive act? Stop! She needed to cease super-analysing everything he did and said.
‘Who was on the phone?’ she asked.
‘The front desk,’ he said. ‘They’re bringing up Jack Gallagher. His solicitor has arrived.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘Already?’
‘Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, according to the duty sergeant. Interview Room 1.’
‘You’re with me for this.’
She dumped her bag and coat across her desk, disregarding the slap of files hitting the floor. She grabbed a notebook but couldn’t find a pen. Damn.
They headed down the corridor. McKeown appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Sam McKeown!’ Lottie said. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes. Glad you’re here.’
‘Really? You’re the one who threw me out.’ He leaned against the wall as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, ready to keel over.
‘You’re here now. We’re up to our gills. There’s a shitload of security footage to be analysed. Kirby made a stab at it. Do that first, and I’ll catch up with you when I’m done with Gallagher.’
‘Sure thing.’ He pushed away from the wall.
She eyed Boyd at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘McKeown, sort out your personal life. And stay the hell away from Lynch.’
He dipped his head and disappeared into the office.
‘The Prodigal Son returns,’ Boyd said. ‘Have you absolved him of his sins?’
‘I sent him home yesterday because the situation between him and Lynch was volatile. He’s a good detective and I need him. Concentrate, Boyd. We’re up against Jack Gallagher. I need you alert.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gave her a mock salute.
‘Smart-arse,’ she said with a smile.
She walked on ahead, contemplating the real smart-arse she was about to interview.
* * *
Jack Gallagher sat close to the table, head lowered, fingers knotted, hands resting on the surface. His solicitor looked sharp in a black suit over a white shirt buttoned to the neck. Lilian Regan was growing in confidence, Lottie figured, though the bitten biro was still in her hand.
After Boyd concluded the formalities, Lottie leaned over the table and stared directly at Gallagher. He must have felt her scrutiny in the awkward silence, because he raised his head sharply.
‘What are you looking at?’ he growled, spittle settling at the corner of his mouth.
‘I have a warrant to seize your van. Officers are taking it in as we speak.’
‘My van has nothing to do with anything. What are you doing to find my wife’s killer?’
‘Mr Gallagher,’ Regan said, placing a hand on his arm. Gallagher shrugged her off.
Lottie proceeded. ‘Tell me about your affair with Tanya Cummings. When did Isabel find out?’
‘What?’ He widened his eyes incredulously. ‘Isabel didn’t find out because there was nothing to find out.’
‘Tanya says that a few weeks ago, Isabel came to AJ Lennon’s hardware store spoiling for a fight. So she did know.’
‘Why don’t you stop wasting your time with me? I didn’t kill my wife.’
‘Did you know Joyce Breslin?’
He shook his head and twisted his hands into each other. Hiding something, she thought.
‘Answer the question for the tape,’ Boyd said.
Gallagher glared. ‘Okay, okay. I heard on the news about her going missing with her son, and that’s that. Did you find the boy?’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘You’re having a laugh now.’
‘I’m not laughing,’ Lottie said, stony-faced.
‘I know nothing about him or anyone else,’ Gallagher said, emphasising every word. ‘I never met nor knew Joyce Breslin.’
The angrier he got, the more Lottie felt he was covering up something.
‘Know anything about the car Joyce Breslin was driving the day she disappeared? Black Ford Focus.’ She reeled off the licence plate number.
There, she saw it. She nudged Boyd’s arm. Did he catch it too?
‘Black Ford Focus,’ she repeated.
‘Means nothing to me,’ Gallagher mumbled.
‘The car was sold by eighty-three-year-old Frank Maher. Lives at Harbour Place Cottages. Best Deals. Any bells ringing?’ She was grasping at straws. Frank’s niece still hadn’t contacted them with the information about who had bought the car. ‘What about Lugmiran Enterprises?’
A quick twitch of his eye. ‘Never heard of it.’
The solicitor piped up. ‘My client has answered your question, Inspector. Please carry on, or we are walking out of here.’
‘He’s going nowhere until I get to the truth.’ Lottie was growing weary of the cat-and-mouse antics. She was throwing everything at him, waiting for a reaction. ‘What about number 14 Castlemain Drive?’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘Did you kill Joyce Breslin?’
‘No, I did not. I don’t even know her.’
‘Did you kill your wife?’
‘Do I have to repeat myself? I told you I didn’t.’ Spittle landed on the table in tiny round dots. ‘This is a waste of time. You know I was at work and nowhere near my house when she was murdered.’
‘She was killed before nine, when Anita found her body. You were the last person to see her alive.’
Lilian Regan butted in, waving her half-eaten biro. ‘You don’t have to say anything, Jack.’
‘I made my statement, and other than that, it’s no comment.’ Gallagher folded his arms, but Lottie could see the tendons trembling beneath his cotton shirt.
‘Did you pay someone to kill your wife?’
He unfolded his arms so quickly, lashing out across the table, that Lottie had little time to react. His hand caught the side of her face and her head snapped back. Boyd was around the table in two steps, holding Gallagher down. Lilian jumped up and stood with her back to the door, trembling.
‘That’s assault, Jack.’ Lottie felt her face sting but she knew it would ease in a few minutes. ‘Consider yourself charged.’
‘My client and I request a recess,’ Lilian said, tentatively retrieving her chair, which had fallen over in the melee.
‘Granted.’ Lottie gathered her notebook while Boyd signed off the recording. ‘But he wears handcuffs.’
* * *
‘Are you okay?’ Boyd said once they were outside the interview room.
‘Takes more than a slap on the jaw to rattle me.’
‘He has some temper on him.’
Lottie rubbed her cheek. ‘That may be so, but I don’t think he killed his wife.’
‘The number of stab wounds points to a crime of passion in my book.’
‘But what if someone else wrote the book and wanted it to look like that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We have witnesses to prove Jack was nowhere near the house Monday morning. Tanya confirms meeting him before work and the post-mortem puts the death two hours before nine a.m. I know it’s tight, really tight, but I don’t think he did it. There’s nothing forensically tying him to Isabel’s murder, and I can’t find a reason why he would kill Joyce and abduct her son. It makes no sense for him to be involved. But he flinched when I mentioned Joyce’s car and Lugmiran. I can’t fathom it.’
‘He’s after slapping you across the face and you’re standing up for him?’
‘I know, but it feels all wrong. It’s as if we are being led away from the truth. Boyd, is someone trying to frame him?’
‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s see what SOCOs say about his van.’
‘If we go with your logic, then evidence could have been planted in it.’
‘If there’s any evidence in that van, it’s because Jack Gallagher had Joyce Breslin’s body in it. We have an eyewitness who places his van at the
Bardstown house.’
‘But Tanya gave a logical explanation for that.’
‘Okay, agreed. Humour me just for a minute. Let’s say someone wanted to frame him; they might not have counted on Anita being the first to discover Isabel’s body. They might have expected Jack to be the one to find her.’
‘You’ve spun into the realms of science fiction, Lottie. Why would someone want to frame him?’
‘I don’t know. He knows something about Joyce’s car and that in turn means he is possibly aware of the house on Castlemain Drive where Kirby discovered an old crime scene. The address was found in Joyce’s car along with a razor blade. What’s the significance of the blades, and who took Evan? Where the hell is he?’
‘If you’re throwing everything into the fire,’ Boyd said, ‘what about Sinéad and Dylan Foley? There’s no footage from inside the gym, and so far Kirby has found nothing on the tapes from the adjacent businesses. Who took his key, if it was even stolen at all?’
‘It might have been taken earlier in the day. At his work or somewhere else.’
‘Stretching it again, Lottie.’
‘Or Dylan Foley took the boy.’
‘So where is he?’
Lottie sighed. ‘Evan could be dead, Boyd. I’ve failed him.’
‘The kidnapper, who is probably our murderer, is extremely clever. The entire country is on alert and we as a force have been doing everything.’
‘But it’s not enough, not near enough. And we still haven’t found a motive for any of it.’ She thought she might cry if she spent any longer thinking of their futile search. ‘Any word from the DOCB on Chris Dermody?’
‘He hasn’t returned to his home. They’ve called in all their known contacts and snitches. Nothing so far.’
‘Why was I expecting that answer?’
* * *
Back at her desk, Lottie noticed the calendar she’d taken from Joyce’s house last night. An x marked for the coming Friday. It bugged her. Joyce had written notes for every other appointment, but nothing for Friday save the small x. Why not?
Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller Page 30