Her mind was swamped with questions. What was the relationship between Isabel and Joyce? What was with the razor blades? One in Isabel’s hand, another in the envelope in Joyce’s car – or rather Lugmiran Enterprises’ car – and one in her hallway. And then the ones found at the house at Castlemain Drive, the scene of an old crime. The blades had to be the key. But were they the key to finding the boy alive? No ransom demand had been made, so why was he taken? The motive still eluded her on all scores.
She went to see if McKeown had made any progress. A fresh pair of eyes was always welcome.
‘McKeown?’
He raised his head. It seemed as if he’d shrunk into himself in the last twenty-four hours.
‘Find anything on the footage from around the gym?’
‘I concur with Kirby. Nothing. As there’s no footage from inside, I’ve checked every business camera close to the facility. Nothing out of the ordinary. I can see Foley parking his car; he goes in and comes out. I checked all the clients for the relevant time and all are clear. No reason to suspect any of them of being involved.’
‘Another dead end.’
‘Then I got to thinking that maybe the key was taken from Dylan Foley before he arrived at the gym.’
‘He claimed he had his keys with him going in and he put them in his locker,’ Lottie said.
‘I carry around a bunch of keys and wouldn’t know one was missing until I went to use it.’
‘Point taken. Ask him for his client list and CCTV from his office building.’
‘I phoned him and he was dubious about letting me have the list. You might have a word with him. I’ve asked for the Community Project Centre security footage. No guarantee we’ll get it.’
‘Ring him back. Tell him he’s putting the life of a four-year-old boy at risk if he doesn’t inform us of his clients for Monday. All the information will remain confidential.’
‘Will do.’
66
Kirby made sure Gallagher’s van had been brought to the yard for forensic analysis, then headed to the incident room to work in peace.
He was still reeling from last night’s discovery at the house on Castlemain Drive, with the child’s cot covered in dried blood. It was obvious a family had disappeared. The boss should be prioritising it, but he supposed she was already dealing with two murders and a missing four-year-old.
He began trawling through databases to find who owned the house, and had just made a significant discovery when Lottie and Boyd walked in.
‘Boss, I’ve found something interesting about 14 Castlemain Drive.’
‘Kirby, I told you, it can’t be a priority at the moment,’ Lottie said. ‘Wait until forensics give us an idea of what happened there. It appears to be historical.’
‘But it has a tentative connection to Joyce Breslin,’ Kirby said. He puffed out his chest, then, realising a button might pop on his shirt, drew it in again. ‘The house is owned by Lugmiran Enterprises. Same company that owns Joyce’s car!’
‘Interesting, but you’ve been unsuccessful in finding out anything about that company.’
‘I’m going to keep working on it,’ Kirby said. ‘The Castlemain address was in an envelope down the side of the seat of Joyce’s car. I think someone sent it to her as a threat, and then just before she was abducted, she shoved it down there hoping we might find it and delve into its significance.’
Boyd said, ‘We still need names.’
‘The Criminal Assets Bureau is investigating it as well as the DOCB,’ Kirby said. ‘The owner is entombed under layers that have to be individually peeled back. Takes time.’
‘Anything come in from Frank Maher about his niece who set up the car sale for him?’
‘I’ll get back to him when I have a minute,’ Kirby said, scribbling a note on a file cover. ‘Will you listen to what I’m trying to tell you? CAB should be able to find out if the car and house are linked to drug money.’
‘Good work in any case, Kirby,’ Lottie said.
‘But how can this help us find Evan?’ Boyd said. ‘Especially now that his mother is dead.’ A hush fell over the room.
‘What about her background check? Any news on who Evan’s father might be?’
Kirby and Boyd shrugged.
‘I need it yesterday. Whatever happened in that house could turn out to be something Joyce was threatened over and ultimately murdered for. What about your friend in forensics, Boyd? Any update?’
‘Gráinne? No news, but they were only going back in this morning.’
‘Call her once we’ve finished here.’
McKeown walked in holding his iPad, his head between his shoulders like a cracked boiled egg. ‘Where’s Lynch?’
‘She’s safer with you not knowing where she is,’ Kirby said.
Garda Brennan arrived, carrying a bundle of manila folders, papers slipping from their binding. ‘I’ve got all this copied. Will I …’ Her mouth hung open, the words lost, as she noticed McKeown at the far wall. ‘Shit,’ she muttered. Placing the folders on the nearest desk, she turned, ready to escape.
Kirby put out a hand to halt her. ‘You’re needed here, Martina. Team meeting.’
She shrugged off his hand. ‘I can go to Anita’s house to replace Detective Lynch. You don’t really need me to be here.’
‘Guys, calm down and sit down,’ Lottie said, waving a hand. ‘Things are gathering pace, so leave your personal vendettas outside the door. A little boy is still missing and his mother has been found murdered. Isabel Gallagher and Joyce Breslin knew each other. Are we all on the same page?’
Kirby flicked through the folder Brennan had passed him. ‘What page is that?’
He cringed when Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m speaking metaphorically.’
‘Will I explain that big word for you?’ McKeown sneered.
‘Screw you,’ Kirby said under his breath.
‘Christ almighty!’ Boyd exploded.
As Kirby turned away so that he wouldn’t have to be looking at McKeown’s bald head, he caught sight of Superintendent Farrell entering the room.
‘Boss.’ He indicated the super’s arrival.
‘Hope I’m not interrupting at a crucial time in your meeting.’ Farrell’s tone was laced with sarcasm and a large dollop of anger.
‘Joining us, Superintendent?’ Lottie said.
‘I’m here as an observer. I want to see how such an efficient team operates. A team, let me remind you, that failed to find an abducted woman before she was brutally murdered; failed to track down another woman’s murderer, or indeed a motive for said murder; that continues to flounder around in the dark, unable to find a four-year-old abducted child.’ She marched to the top of the room and inched into Lottie’s space. ‘What’s the meaning of this shit show? Can you explain it to me, Detective Inspector?’
‘Superintendent,’ Kirby said, ‘during the course of exhaustive detective work, we have uncovered another crime scene.’
Farrell’s cheeks flared bright red. ‘Have you not enough crimes to be dealing with? Wait till the media get wind of this incompetence. I won’t be held—’
‘It’s linked to Joyce Breslin,’ Kirby blustered.
‘What do you mean?’ Farrell’s anger deflated.
‘I found evidence of a crime having occurred at a house in Castlemain Drive. The house and Joyce’s car are owned by a company called Lugmiran Enterprises. I’m waiting for CAB to come back to me, but it takes ages to unmask the names of those involved in this type of corruption.’
‘Why isn’t anything simple any more?’ Farrell said.
‘Forensics are at the house as we speak,’ Kirby continued. ‘There was a lot of blood in a baby’s cot and—’
‘Stop right there. Is it a recent crime?’
‘Appears to be historical.’
‘Then park it until you find the missing boy.’
Lottie said, ‘Superintendent, this company may have some connection to Joyce Breslin.’
‘Right. I want full details on my desk in fifteen minutes.’ Farrell marched back down the room. ‘That gives you fifteen minutes, Detective Inspector Parker, to sort out this mess and devise a plan to bring all these investigations to a successful conclusion.’ Papers fluttered on the tables as she made her way out. ‘And find the boy. Alive!’
When the air had stilled after Superintendent Farrell exited, Lottie said, ‘I’m heading over to that house to see for myself.’
‘Wait. The forensic report from the Gallagher house is just in,’ McKeown said, tapping his tablet. ‘Should be on your computer.’
‘Tell me some good news without me having to dig a bloody trench for it.’ Lottie was finding it hard to believe it was only two days since Isabel’s murder. Forensics must have prioritised it to have results this quickly.
McKeown said, ‘A partial boot print was found in the bedroom. Too disintegrated by other footprints stamped over it. All those are returned as Anita Boland’s. But SOCOs discovered another boot print by the back door.’ He turned the screen around for all to see.
Kirby craned his neck to have a look. ‘That looks like a work boot,’ he said. ‘The ridges might help identify a brand.’
‘Caterpillar. Size thirteen.’ McKeown’s mouth slid into a wide smile.
‘How do you know that?’ Kirby’s cadence was more than disgruntled.
‘From one of McGlynn’s team. Only problem is, they say it’s the most popular brand of safety boot.’
‘Kirby, get on to Jack Gallagher’s boss, Michael Costello, and see what footwear they supply to their workers.’
‘SOCOs have Jack’s boots. Size thirteen. They are currently cross-referencing them against their findings,’ McKeown said. ‘We have the report from Joyce’s house too.’
Lottie skimmed her eyes over the forensic report.
‘If you read on a bit,’ McKeown added, ‘there’s a preliminary analysis of the razor blade found beneath the radiator in the hall.’
‘Go on.’
‘They’ve lifted prints from the blade. One set belongs to Joyce but the other isn’t a match for anything on the database. Doesn’t match Jack Gallagher or Nathan Monaghan.’
‘When we find a viable suspect, we can try to match it. I’m still waiting on results of Joyce’s post-mortem.’ Lottie’s shoulders sagged with the weight of all they didn’t know. ‘We also need to find out what she had scheduled for this Friday.’
‘Maybe she was meeting Isabel,’ Boyd said.
McKeown said, ‘Might be an affair.’
‘You’d know all about that.’ Kirby spoke before he could stop himself.
‘You’re a Class A gobshite,’ McKeown spat, standing so quickly his chair flew backwards.
‘If you don’t sit the fuck down,’ Lottie said, ‘I’m going to lock you in a cell until you do.’
Once order was restored, McKeown continued. ‘I got Joyce’s phone records. A lot of texts to an unknown number. Pay-as-you-go. Trying to chase it up.’
‘Anything on the day she went missing?’ Lottie asked.
‘One text to the same number around ten that morning. Nothing since.’
Lottie said, ‘See if you can get a script of that text. I’ve to interview Nathan Monaghan again, so I’ll ask him about it. Once DOCB succeed in tracking down Chris Dermody, we might have a clearer picture as to who was actually paying Monaghan to smuggle drugs. They might yet be responsible for Evan’s abduction.’
‘Or it might have nothing to do with anything, just like Kirby’s house of horrors,’ McKeown said.
Lottie’s mouth flatlined. ‘A little boy’s life is in danger, so we’re not taking any chances.’
‘Sorry, boss,’ McKeown said. ‘I get it.’
Kirby said, ‘Whatever happened in the house at Castlemain Drive could have something to do with the bone found on the hill.’
Lottie stared at him. ‘Forensics should tell us that. McKeown, did you find out anything about who Evan’s father might be?’
‘His birth cert only states the mother’s name. Nothing entered for the father. And I’m finding it difficult to discover anything about Joyce herself. She appears to have no employment history before she began work at Fayne’s coffee shop. Odd for a woman in her late twenties.’
‘Nathan Monaghan could be the mastermind behind everything,’ Boyd said. ‘Even though he wasn’t in the country when Joyce was abducted, he might have had her killed and has little Evan hidden away somewhere. He seems to love the boy, and maybe she threatened to take him away from him. Oh, I don’t know.’
‘I don’t buy that. Nathan is a wreck.’ Lottie folded her arms and leaned against the wall, thinking.
‘We’ve all seen wrecks of people do the unthinkable before,’ Boyd said.
‘I know. But I believe he’s just a pawn caught up in a dangerous game.’
‘What about AJ Lennon’s Hardware?’ Boyd wasn’t giving up. ‘We’ve seen that name pop up a good bit. Nathan drives for them, and Jack Gallagher and Isabel used to work there. Plus Jack’s new girlfriend Tanya Cummings works there now.’
‘Something else to be mindful of,’ Lottie said.
Martina put up her hand.
‘Go on, Garda Brennan,’ Lottie said.
‘I’ve only just thought of this, but when Detective Kirby and I spoke to the neighbour on Castlemain Drive, she mentioned two children. I’m thinking it could have been Joyce living there and one of the kids was Evan.’
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Kirby said.
‘Anything is possible,’ Lottie said. ‘Once SOCOs have DNA and fingerprints from the scene, we can run them against Joyce’s.’
‘The thing that bothers me … sorry …’ Garda Brennan stopped speaking as all heads turned towards her.
‘What is it?’ Lottie said.
‘I was just thinking …’
‘Dangerous,’ said McKeown with a wink.
Brennan blushed but continued. ‘If Chris Dermody threatened Nathan with taking Evan to force him to continue smuggling, how did he know the boy would still be at Sinéad Foley’s house that evening? He had to have known about it in advance, and the only way to know that is if he was involved in abducting and killing Joyce. There could be a whole network of people involved.’
This kid was good, Lottie thought. She glanced at McKeown. ‘Have another hard look at Dylan Foley to see if he’s involved with Dermody in this smuggling racket. Boyd, you’re with me.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To talk to your friend Gráinne.’
67
It bugged Dervla that there were no contact names saved in the phone Isabel had given Kevin. She’d spent the night going over the messages and she still had no idea who Isabel had been communicating with. Just the one number, over and over again. And the texts appeared to be in some sort of childish code mostly signed off by someone called J. It had to be Joyce. The last one was the scariest.
He is going to kill us. Be careful. J.
Well, that had come too late for Isabel, hadn’t it? Dervla thought it odd that first she’d found the bones on the hill and then this phone had fallen into her lap. Perhaps the gods were planning for her to become some sort of saviour. Or was Kevin behind it all? After all, he was the person who had told her about the late-night burial on Misneach.
‘Is it you, Kevin?’
She paused, phone in hand, standing in the middle of her pitiful kitchen. No, Kevin was a dope. How had she ever thought he’d be able to understand what she meant when she’d told him about Jack Gallagher and the car? Kevin’s idea of danger was only when it concerned his dear, sweet Isabel. Tough luck. Isabel was dead and she hadn’t been so sweet after all. Not that Dervla felt it was her place to burst Kevin’s naive bubble.
She’d found the bone, hadn’t she? She’d brought it to the guards. She would be the hero. Once Uncle – ha, that was funny; he wasn’t even her uncle – Frank had mentioned the car, she knew the significance of her find. Oh God, did
she know!
While she debated what to do about the phone, she gave it the same treatment as she’d given the bone. Freezer bag and into the fridge. Shut the door and forget about it for a while.
She had the day ahead of her to consider her options.
If she wasn’t so afraid of him, she’d tell Jack about the bone and maybe about the phone. She’d tell him she knew he’d bought the car. Would he actually pay her to keep quiet about it? She could do with a few bob. Being on social disability was a bore. Living like a pauper. If it wasn’t for the euros she scavenged from Frank’s shopping budget, she’d be destitute.
Was it too late to approach Jack with her blackmail plan? The guards already had the bone and had excavated the site on Misneach. Shit, why hadn’t she thought up this plan before going to the gardaí? But she knew about the car and they didn’t. Bingo!
She scanned through the news app on her phone and read about poor Joyce’s body being found in a pond beside a new house. Hmm. It wasn’t a million miles from where Jack lived. Was he a double murderer? She shivered at the thought. This shit was getting too real. Dervla knew she should feel some sort of sorrow for the dead woman she’d once known, but her heart had turned to lead a long time ago.
She leaned back in the chair.
She needed to plan this out carefully before she did anything rash. No point in making two mistakes. She had to get Kevin on board. That was the easy bit. Then she had to talk to Uncle Frank – twice as easy. The hard part would come next. That was when she would call the man who had caused them all so much pain.
Why wait?
He would pay for her information now.
She forgot all about making a plan.
She made the call.
68
‘You’re so frustrating at times.’
‘Could say the same about you.’ Boyd turned his head from the road to look at her.
‘Watch the road,’ Lottie said.
Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller Page 31