Little Bones: A totally addictive crime thriller

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘Why do you think I’m frustrating? I’m doing my best here.’

  ‘I know you are, but I also know you’re keeping secrets from me.’

  He reddened.

  She pushed on. ‘The letter you refuse to talk about.’

  His knuckles turned white, tightening on the steering wheel, and the car took off as he pressed the accelerator.

  ‘Slow down, for feck’s sake. You’ll kill us both.’

  ‘I don’t know why you had to snoop in my personal stuff.’

  ‘I wasn’t snooping. I just saw the letter. What’s it about?’

  ‘The letter I can’t quite get my head around? The one where my ex-wife is up to her scheming again? That one?’

  ‘Jesus, Boyd, I’m sorry. You know I’m a nosy cow at times.’

  ‘All the time.’

  ‘Okay, but why didn’t you tell me it was from her?’

  He slowed to within the speed limit. ‘I couldn’t, not until I figured it out for myself. I still don’t know what she’s up to.’

  ‘I didn’t read it, if that makes you feel better. But it made me wonder why you kept it secret.’

  ‘It wasn’t intentional. Look, we’ve been so busy, and anyway, Jackie is up to no good. Let’s not talk about it now. Tonight. We’ll discuss it then. Okay?’

  * * *

  Lottie zipped the white suit tight to her neck, making sure her mask was secure before she tugged up the hood. The house on Castlemain Drive looked worn out and dead, except for the ant-like work of the scattering of SOCOs flitting in and out with evidence bags.

  Stepping into the kitchen, she immediately felt assaulted by a sense of evil lurking in the air. Every hair on her skin prickled. She sensed nothing good had ever happened in this house.

  ‘Which one is your friend?’ she said, trying to shake off the sensation of doom.

  ‘She’s not my friend. I never met her before last night.’

  ‘Lighten up, Boyd.’ She noted the work being done by SOCOs. ‘Looks like there was a fight here.’

  ‘Blood is spattered in patches,’ he said, ‘as if someone got a broken nose.’

  A voice behind them said, ‘Don’t make assumptions. Let the evidence speak to you.’ The woman was tall and imposing. ‘Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand, Inspector. Cross-contamination. I’m Gráinne Nixon.’

  ‘What can your evidence tell me, Gráinne?’ Lottie said.

  ‘A fight took place down here. Upstairs, well, it’s a different story.’

  ‘And what does that story tell you?’

  ‘Two children, a girl and a boy, if we take it that the colours are traditional. They both slept in cots. The boy appears to have been younger than the girl.’

  ‘Besides the colour schemes, anything else to tell you it was a boy and a girl?’

  ‘Their clothing is still in the wardrobes and drawers. The girl was maybe three years old. Her cot was saturated in blood.’

  ‘From the child?’

  ‘It’s likely. I don’t know how long the blood has been there, and it may be difficult to draw any DNA from it, but I never say never. I’ll keep you up to date.’ Gráinne’s eyes penetrated Lottie’s own. ‘There are no bodies here, Inspector.’

  ‘Tell me about the second child’s room.’

  ‘No evidence of any violence there, but it’s possible both kids were in the one cot for some reason or other. Time will tell.’

  ‘And you say you’ve no idea how long ago this crime happened?’

  ‘It wasn’t recent, and currently that’s all I know for certain.’

  ‘And definitely no bodies?’

  Gráinne shook her head, a curl of red hair escaping from under her hood. ‘We did a grid search of the property. No bodies.’

  ‘The blood in the cot … Do you think the child died?’

  ‘It depends on the age, weight, height, all that, but to my experienced eye, I’d say no child could have survived that amount of blood loss without medical intervention.’

  ‘And it’s definitely historical?’ She was hoping it had nothing to do with Evan. Much as she feared the boy was already dead, she hoped she could still find him alive.

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘Nothing to do with Evan so,’ Lottie said, glancing at Boyd, relieved but unsettled. She looked back to the SOCO. ‘Any idea of the weapon used?’

  ‘From the series of lacerations and slashes to the mattress, my guess is a knife. But further analysis of the mattress is needed.’

  ‘Thanks, Gráinne. This is a long shot, but can you send impressions of the slashes to the state pathologist? Just in case the weapon used here can be matched to our current murders. May we take a look upstairs?’

  ‘Work away. We’ve a lot to do, so don’t touch anything.’

  ‘I know the drill.’

  She edged into the hall, relieved to hear the muffled thud of Boyd’s footsteps behind her. Areas on the stairs had been marked out by SOCOs. Blood drops. She braced herself on the threshold of the pink bedroom.

  ‘Go on,’ Boyd said softly.

  ‘It’s so unfair. A child with her whole life in front of her … It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  She stepped inside and her heart filled with sadness at the sight of the cot, its bars lowered, a little unicorn mobile above it.

  ‘I can’t go in any further,’ she gasped.

  ‘That’s okay,’ Boyd said. ‘We can leave.’

  ‘Okay, but I better look into the other rooms.’

  The little boy’s room was really a baby room, evidenced by the bottles still standing on a small locker, their liquid congealed. It reminded her of Holly’s bottles in Anita’s house. So much had happened in the last few days, she didn’t know which way to turn next or how to form a cohesive thought. She felt tears prick her eyes at the sight of the model aeroplane hanging from the light fitting. She stepped towards the cot and stalled.

  ‘Come on, Lottie, let’s go.’ Boyd’s voice sounded like it was trapped in a bubble. Her brain filled with white noise and her heart constricted.

  ‘Look,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a kid’s cot.’

  ‘On the pillow.’ She moved closer and dared to breathe. ‘A teddy bear.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It’s the same as the one I saw on Evan’s bed.’

  ‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘I’m sure there are a million teddies like that one.’

  ‘It’s too much of a coincidence. The letter in Joyce’s car had this address on it.’ She pushed out past him and flew down the stairs. ‘Gráinne? Can you fast-track a DNA test on the teddy bear in the boy’s room? Plus anything else from which you might be able to extract DNA.’

  ‘Sure thing. Straight away.’

  ‘Get the lab to run the sample against Evan and Joyce Breslin. Compare any DNA or fingerprints you find with those we’ve gathered from our active cases. Talk to McGlynn.’

  ‘Is there something I should know?’ A deep crease grew between Gráinne’s eyebrows.

  Breathless, Lottie said, ‘Our missing boy might have been in this house at one time. And it seems another child might have been injured, even murdered here. I need to know if it was Joyce’s child and …’ She found it hard to go on.

  ‘What is it?’ Gráinne said.

  ‘The bones of a child were discovered on Misneach Hill. They’ve been removed to the mortuary. Make sure all samples are run against those too.’

  ‘How old are those bones?’

  ‘Almost everything else was decomposed except for a nappy, so they’re not recent.’

  Once outside, Lottie paced the small garden, trying to find something to indicate who had lived here.

  Nothing. All they knew was that it was registered to Lugmiran Enterprises.

  Another bloody mystery.

  And Evan was still missing.

  * * *

  ‘Swing by Frank Maher’s house before we head back to the station,’ Lottie said.

  ‘What for?’ B
oyd said.

  ‘The car Joyce was driving had the letter with the Castlemain address, and that car was once owned by Frank Maher.

  ‘Frank still hasn’t contacted us with information from his niece about the sale of the car,’ Boyd said.

  ‘Another piece of evidence we need to nail down.’

  Boyd parked outside the small gated garden of the house close to the canal.

  ‘He has a dog,’ he said.

  ‘I like dogs.’

  ‘Sean said you wouldn’t let him have one.’

  ‘I have enough mouths to feed already.’

  She knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. It was obvious the man had once been tall, but now he had a hump on his shoulders. His hair was thin and his face weathered.

  ‘Mr Maher?’

  ‘That’s me.’

  Lottie introduced herself.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, ‘and it’s a pleasure to see your good-mannered friend again. Come in.’

  Lottie squinted at Boyd as he returned a helpless expression.

  ‘Did you tell your niece we needed to speak with her?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘I did. Has she not contacted you?’

  ‘No, and we really need that information.’

  ‘Hold on a minute.’ Frank stood and knocked loudly on the wall by the stove. ‘If she’s home, she’ll be here in a minute or two.’

  ‘She lives with you?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘Next door.’

  Lottie turned when the front door opened and a young woman walked in. The surprise caused her mouth to hang open.

  ‘Dervla,’ Frank said, ‘these detectives want to have a word with you.’

  ‘With me?’

  ‘Yes, you,’ Lottie said, unable to mask her surprise on seeing the woman who’d brought the little bone into the station.

  ‘Oh, hello, Inspector. I hope you found the skull on Misneach like I told you.’

  ‘Dervla, you know something about the car your uncle sold five years ago, and you haven’t provided us with that information as yet. Care to explain?’ She indicated for the woman to sit.

  ‘I … I …’ Dervla stood frozen in place.

  ‘Talk to me,’ Lottie said through gritted teeth.

  ‘No need to get angry,’ Frank said. ‘I’m sure Dervla has a good reason for not contacting you. That’s right, isn’t it, pet?’

  ‘I … I … It totally slipped my mind. I’m so sorry.’

  The old man slapped his hand on the table. The dog jumped with a howl. Lottie looked at Boyd. His shoulders rose in a question. What the hell was going on?

  She stepped into the tension-filled void. ‘I think we should have this conversation at the station.’

  ‘No, no,’ Dervla said, her hands waving. ‘I can tell you now. I advertised the car on Best Deals and I was contacted by a man called Jack Gallagher. He picked up the car and paid cash. Five grand. He promised to make the necessary changes with the car registration office. Did he not do it? Is it still in Frank’s name?’

  ‘Jack Gallagher bought the car? You’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘That’s the name that was on the message on the website. And I’ve seen him on the television. His wife was murdered. It’s the same man.’

  Lottie bit down on her lip, thinking. Jack Gallagher had bought the car that Joyce Breslin was driving. The car was registered to Lugmiran Enterprises. Just like the house where they’d discovered evidence of an older crime.

  ‘Boyd, check with the station. Make sure Gallagher is still there.’ Of course he was still there, she thought, and returned her steely gaze to the woman childishly biting her fingernails. ‘How do you know Jack Gallagher?’

  ‘I don’t know him. Swear on the Bible. I only ever met him that one day and then I saw the news about his murdered wife. That’s it, you have to believe me.’ Blood seeped around her nails.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us this straight away? Your uncle told you we wanted to know about the car.’

  ‘I … I was bothered by the bones I found. They really scared me. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Come on.’ Lottie wasn’t buying her innocent plea. ‘You discovered bones and a skull buried on a hillside. You’ve been instrumental in selling a car to a man whose wife was murdered. The car was in the possession of another woman, who is also dead. What else are you involved in?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. I swear to God. You can ask Kevin if you don’t believe me. Listen, he’s the one who told me about the body on the hill. He was terrified. I was terrified. I don’t like that hill. It has something to do with ancient rituals or something like that. It scares me, but curiosity got the better of me and I went up there for a snoop. It’s Kevin you need to talk to, not me.’

  ‘Kevin?’ Lottie asked, her eyes widening. ‘Are you talking about Kevin Doran? He works as a handyman.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s him. Kevin Doran.’

  ‘What? Bloody hell! We’ve been trying to find him. Where is he?’

  ‘At home, probably.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘I can bring you there.’

  ‘Tell me the address. You’re going to the station to make a full statement. I advise you to hire a solicitor, because whether you know it or not, you are in shit up to your ears.’ It wasn’t fair to be so crass, but fuck it. Dervla Byrne had withheld critical information, whether deliberately or not.

  ‘A little boy is still missing, and if you’ve concealed information that could have helped us save him, you’re going to jail.’

  Dervla surprised Lottie by breaking down in a wash of tears. She cried and sobbed like a baby. Frank put his arm around her and held her to his chest.

  ‘No need to be going off at her. She’s just a child.’

  ‘She’s a grown woman, for feck’s sake.’ Lottie felt Boyd nudge her elbow in warning.

  ‘You know nothing about her,’ Frank said as he soothed his sobbing niece. ‘She’s had it tough and knows no different. She and Kevin are friends. I know them. Take it from me, they’re harmless.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  ‘Look, Inspector,’ Frank said, rising to his full height, surprising Lottie. ‘They were all troubled kids. Myself and the wife took them in, God rest her soul. We fostered them, along with … along with a lot of others. The truth is, I’m not really Dervla’s uncle, but we bonded like family, and I rented the house next door for her so she would have her own place. She was a fragile child and needed taking care of, but I’m sad to say she’s ended up caring for me.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Lottie said.

  ‘You could have told me this when I was here yesterday,’ Boyd said.

  ‘You never asked, son.’

  Lottie steeled herself to keep her anger submerged. She turned to Dervla. ‘Tell me where Kevin lives.’

  ‘You’ll need to write it down. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Go ahead then. Boyd, ring for a car to take her in.’

  When the detectives had left, Frank patted the dog’s head, and felt sad for Dervla. It wasn’t really her fault. None of this. No. He knew exactly who should be behind bars, but he was family and there was no way he could turn him in.

  Dervla was a little simple, and so was Kevin. Too simple to be mixed up in all of this. He took out his phone, unlocked the screen and made the call.

  ‘The guards were here,’ he said. ‘They know about the car, and they know about Kevin.’

  There was no reply. Just an irritating dial tone. After a minute, Frank realised they had hung up on him, and he went to fix his lunch.

  69

  ‘Hello, Kevin, did you think I’d never find you?’

  Kevin froze in his doorway. ‘What … what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m coming in to talk with you. Be a good boy and go back inside.’

  Kevin cowered before his visitor and cupped his hands around his ears to keep out the sound of that voice.

  ‘Don’t hurt me. Please. I know nothing. I did nothi
ng. Please.’

  ‘You are still pathetic. Get inside.’

  He couldn’t see any way of escape, so he did as he was told.

  ‘This is such a dump, I’m surprised you haven’t died in your own filth before now. You could have saved me a lot of bother.’

  ‘What … what are you talking about?’ Kevin felt himself shrivel up against the wall. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You never did. Now sit down there and we can have a chat.’

  ‘I don’t want to sit. I have to go out. I have to be somewhere else.’

  ‘Sit. The. Fuck. Down.’

  The words pierced his head like metal skewers; even his hands over his ears couldn’t keep the noise out. His brain thrummed and his heart was ready to leap out of his chest, but years of coercion had taken their toll, so he did as he was commanded.

  ‘Put your hands on the table where I can see them.’

  He placed his hands palms down and hoped the mice stayed away.

  ‘Now, what’s this I hear about a phone Isabel gave you?’

  ‘I know nothing, about anything. You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Answer the fucking question. You know what I’m capable of.’

  Kevin bowed his head so that he didn’t have to look at the placid face in front of him. He knew what evil lurked beneath the facade of normality.

  ‘I d-don’t know about any phone.’

  A long sigh filled the room before the visitor continued. ‘I admit she was clever hiding a secret phone. I had no idea that one so dumb could be so crafty.’

  Kevin kept his mouth shut. He knew Isabel was not crafty at all. Secretive, yes, but then what did he really know about her, in truth?

  The visitor’s voice filled the silence. ‘It was you, Kevin. That night. On Misneach. You saw us there, didn’t you? Burying the child. Admit it.’

  His body stiffened and he held his breath. The skitter of mice vied with the sound of his visitor’s harsh breathing. And Kevin knew he wasn’t getting out of this situation alive. He began to cry.

  ‘Good God, you’re still a sniveller.’ Disgust distorted the voice. ‘You told Dervla all about it. You might say little, but you couldn’t keep that nugget to yourself. That’s why the guards swarmed all over the hillside yesterday. What else did you tell her?’