by Sam Blake
But now here was Ronan Delaney with a crucial piece of information that he’d managed to forget until this point. Cathy’s mind darted about as she evaluated the man in front of her. Either he was telling them he’d seen Mira because Conor Quinn had called him and explained that he could be in the frame for murder unless the Gardaí received evidence to the contrary – or he had genuinely seen Mira and not realised the significance. Cathy bit her lip. There was one way of knowing for sure, but she wasn’t ready to ask that question quite yet.
‘The last time we met,’ Cathy kept her smile friendly, ‘you told us that you hadn’t seen Tom lying dying a few hundred yards from your house. Have you reconsidered that statement?’
Delaney had the decency to grimace, sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.
‘I didn’t know it was him. Really, I had no idea.’ Cathy didn’t respond. She just looked at him like he was the lowest form of life. He got the message as he stumbled on. ‘You have to believe me. I was tired, it was dark, I was desperate to get home and I see this homeless drunk lying on the pavement—’
Cathy cut across him. ‘You didn’t think of calling us, or maybe an ambulance? I mean, it’s January. It’s an absolutely freezing night. There’s this thing called hypothermia. If he hadn’t been hit by a car he’d likely have been dead by the morning. As it was, he was barely alive when the ambulance crew got to him. A timelier intervention could have saved him.’
Delaney put his head in his hands. ‘Look – I know. Don’t you think that hasn’t haunted me every single night since? He was a lovely lad – he was one of my best friend’s kids. Conor’s devastated. Orla’s lashing out at everyone. And they can’t even have a funeral yet because you lot haven’t released his body.’
Oh, so it’s our fault now, is it? Tom’s family couldn’t complete the grieving process because his death was under investigation. Delaney had totally missed the part where he could have saved Tom’s life, where calling an ambulance might have made everything turn out very differently.
‘So tell us how long you’ve known Mira Mandić.’
‘Years. Conor and I were at school together. I’ve known her as long as she’s worked for them.’
‘And you are aware of her background?’ Cathy straightened the manila file in front of her.
Delaney nodded. ‘She doesn’t talk much about it, never has done. I don’t suppose it’s any of our business really, but I know she lost her little brother in Sarajevo. That’s why she was so good with Tom growing up. The Quinns became her family, she really loved him like her own.’
‘And how did she get on with the rest of the family?’
Delaney glanced at her nervously and licked his lips. ‘Well, she and Conor are very close.’
‘As in having an affair? A long-term affair?’ Cathy raised her eyebrows in question.
‘Err, did he tell you that?’
‘It doesn’t matter what he told us, Ronan, I’m asking you.’
‘Well, yes.’
‘How long?’
Delaney shook his head and shrugged again. ‘I’m not sure – years.’
‘Did he give her the impression that he’d leave his wife for her? That they’d set up home together?’ Cathy’s voice was flat. She wasn’t impressed with anything she was hearing.
‘He might have done. I don’t really know – I wasn’t privy to their pillow talk.’ His tone dripped sarcasm.
Like hell he didn’t know. His best friend is having an affair with the housekeeper and he doesn’t mention it. Bastard. Did Orla know? Cathy hoped not. Finding out now could push her right over the edge.
Cathy was liking him even less – if that was possible – but his description of their relationship confirmed in her mind how utterly devastating that overheard phone call must have been for Mira. Conor Quinn was all she had. She’d spent years virtually bringing up his son, waiting for the time when he’d be ready to leave, and then she’d discovered he was cheating on her. And whatever had happened on that cliff path, she wasn’t in the mental state to be driving safely anywhere, let alone down a road infamous for its steep blind bend. Had she hit Tom on the way back and not realised?
‘Did you speak to Conor Quinn that night?’
Delaney shook his head. ‘No, the next day – he needed me and Karen to go to a sponsors’ dinner instead of him and Orla. He said he’d had a meeting with Xavier Ayari but he was too upset to give me the details then. I spoke to him about the meeting the day after. He was looking for an investor to take over from Orla so he could divorce her. Life Talk FM is hers, all the businesses are hers. He’s got a small shareholding, and he persuaded her to bring me in, we’ve got forty-nine per cent between us. Karen, my wife, has five per cent. Orla gave her that when the company first started before she brought Conor in to run it – she couldn’t start it as a limited company without two directors then. Karen was just a name on a piece of paper, she was happy to do it. She wasn’t involved and with only five per cent she has no say.’
‘And Orla didn’t want her husband to be a director when she started the company?’
Delaney shrugged. ‘Obviously not at that stage.’
‘So if the three of you got together, you could vote against her if she didn’t agree with Xavier Ayari coming in.’
‘That’s about it.’
Cathy was fairly sure he’d seriously underestimated his wife. Karen Delaney knew her own mind. Would she vote against her friend, a friend who had trusted her enough to put her name down as a director of her company, no matter how small the shareholding might be?
‘So take us back to that Thursday night. You drove home from the Intercontinental in Ballsbridge and you approached the traffic lights in Sandycove, and then what happens?’
‘I’m sitting there waiting for the lights to change and I see this jeep coming down the road fairly fast.’
‘Fairly?’
‘Well, maybe pretty quick.’
‘And?’
‘Well, the lighting’s pretty good around that junction. I knew it was Conor’s jeep. I could see the reg plate, so I’m thinking it’s him, so I’m getting ready to flash my headlights at him to say hello and I realise it’s not him driving.’ Delaney suddenly dried up.
‘Was there any damage to the vehicle?’
Delaney shrugged. ‘I don’t remember, I was looking at the driver, wondering who it was.’ He shook his head, half to himself. ‘Conor’s tall, when he’s sitting behind the wheel he fills the space. I could see whoever was driving was much smaller. And then as she swings around the corner I can see straight into the car. It was Mira. She was focused, hunched over the wheel, but I knew it was her, no doubt. She had the dog in the back.’
Chapter 45
Tuesday, 10 a.m.
Cathy was supposed to be working lates for the next two days – four in the afternoon until two in the morning – but she wasn’t about to let someone else interview Mira. And they couldn’t wait until she clocked in at four; she needed to get it done now. Fortunately, O’Rourke had agreed with her. The current shift system meant the station was covered 24–7 but that created issues with continuity across a complex investigation like this. They worked six days on, in ten hour shifts, a mix of earlies, lates and nights, followed by four days off. But those four days sometimes meant handing over to a new team, which wasn’t good for anyone.
Sitting on the windowsill of O’Rourke’s office, Cathy looked up as Sean O’Shea stuck his head around the door.
‘Car’s downstairs. I’ll be down in five.’
‘Thanks, Starsky.’ O’Rourke pushed the drawer of his filing cabinet closed and turned to look at her. ‘You happy taking Fanning?’
Cathy threw him a smug grin. ‘He’s perfect for this one. And Starsky isn’t exactly invisible. Think of it as a charm offensive. We haven’t got grounds to arrest her until we get the results from forensics, so she has to come in voluntarily. A false sense of security might make her overconfident. Let’s hope so.’
>
Cathy was crossing the office as he turned back to his laptop.
‘Hang on a sec, the detective in that case in London has emailed. He wants to meet.’ O’Rourke stopped speaking for a moment, reading his email. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head. ‘He wants us to talk him through what we’ve got, show us what they’ve got.’
‘Can he come here? We’re in the middle of a murder investigation.’
‘So is he apparently. But he can get everyone together in London on Thursday evening.’
She grimaced. ‘I’m rostered to rest on Thursday.’
O’Rourke glanced up at her. ‘My overtime budget is going to be shot to pieces with this case.’ He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. ‘Skype just isn’t the same as a face to face though, we can’t see the files and maps and have a proper conversation. We could miss something.’ He paused. ‘If we went late afternoon we could get a flight back later in the evening. It’s only an hour or so. You haven’t got a break in the Canaries planned, I hope?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘No such luck. Just lots of training.’
He half-smiled and scanned the email again. ‘They’ve got DNA from one of their victims, she scratched her attacker.’
That could be a clincher. But before Cathy could comment, his words sank in properly. She felt her heart rate quicken, a blush rising.
‘We?’
He didn’t look up. ‘It’ll be good experience.’
He had a point and she wasn’t about to turn down a trip to London. Even a short one. He didn’t give her time to speak as he continued.
‘We’ll get flights into London City Airport, there’s one at 15.30 gets in at 17.00. We can meet him at New Scotland Yard . . .’
The door suddenly moved under her hand and Cathy took a hurried step back as Sean O’Shea stuck his head in again.
‘Sorry, didn’t realise you were right there. I’m good to go when you are.’
‘With you right now.’
She didn’t dare look back in case O’Rourke saw her blush.
*
‘Please state your full name for the tape.’
O’Rourke had his jacket back on, the sleeves slightly pulled up. He glanced at his watch as Mira answered, the casing even more battered now than it had been when Cathy had first met him all those years ago in Pearse Street.
‘Mira Mandić.’
Cathy glanced across at the Quinns’ housekeeper. Dressed in an obviously expensive red silk top and navy trousers, her blonde bobbed hair pulled back in a low ponytail, she looked less like a housekeeper than anyone Cathy had ever seen. She’d noticed it before, but Mira had an inner confidence about her. It was possible that came from having had a long-term affair with her boss, of course. That said, she looked tired. Cathy could see she had dark rings under her eyes, well hidden by make-up, but definitely there. But then you couldn’t really expect to go around killing people and still sleep, could you?
‘Mira, can you tell us your movements on the night Tom Quinn was killed, please, starting at perhaps six that evening?’ O’Rourke sat with his pen poised above his pad.
‘Of course. I don’t know the exact times. But Tom was home from college early in the evening. He went out again just before Conor came home, said he needed a walk. He was hoping to see him – his dad, I mean – but Conor’s plane was delayed.’
‘Did he call you from the airport to say he was on his way?’
‘Yes, he always called.’ Mira’s voice was clear and confident.
‘And what did you say to him when he called?’
‘I told him everyone was out. He’d forgotten that Orla had her charity event on. He said he had to go out to a meeting a bit later – he’d rescheduled it from earlier in the day.’
‘Did he expect you to have dinner ready for him?’
‘He said he’d eaten on the plane. That he was fine.’
O’Rourke cleared his throat. ‘So Tom went out for his walk, and Conor arrives back from the airport, and then what?’
Mira shrugged. ‘Conor had a shower, then he went out for his meeting.’
‘Then what did you do?’
‘I took the dog for a walk.’
‘Do you normally take him for walks in the middle of the night in January? Wasn’t it freezing?’ Cathy tried to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
‘I like walking at night. I don’t sleep very well; I find a walk helps. The dog’s used to it, he’s got a thick coat.’
‘Do you know that there are CCTV cameras all over Dalkey, Mira? Not just on the banks, they cover the whole village.’
Mira didn’t flinch, just shrugged like it wasn’t a thing that was relevant. ‘I didn’t go through the village.’
O’Rourke kept his eyes on his notepad. ‘There’s a camera on the bookmakers too. Paddy Power’s. The corner of Coliemore and Convent Road. Do you know it? There was a bad fire next door a few years ago.’
A glimmer of recognition crossed Mira’s face. She shrugged again, like she didn’t see why it should concern her.
‘For the tape please.’
‘Of course I know it, Inspector. Everyone in the village knows that corner.’
O’Rourke flicked her a smile. ‘Great, we’ll come back to that later. So where did you take the dog?’
‘Up Coliemore Road to Coliemore Harbour. We usually walk that way.’
Cathy looked at her hard. She was one cool lady. She had this all worked out. O’Rourke was obviously holding back Ronan Delaney’s statement about seeing her in the jeep. But she’d taken the dog. If someone had seen her on the way to the park, she had a reason for being there, had a reason for being out at that time of night.
‘And did you see anyone else on your walk?’
Mira shook her head. ‘I didn’t see anyone. It was late. Cold. The Irish don’t like the cold. I’m used to it. You don’t know what cold is here.’
‘You’re sure you didn’t see Lauren O’Reilly on the way?’
Mira shrugged. ‘I don’t know Lauren O’Reilly. I didn’t see anyone.’
‘So let’s just roll back to earlier in the evening. I believe Conor took a telephone call when he got home?’
Mira shrugged again. ‘He might have done, I didn’t hear. I needed to walk the dog. I needed to get out of the house.’
Well, wasn’t that the truth?
The only bit Mira had missed out was the fact that she had been driving the jeep. Ronan Delaney’s statement put her at the scene, and Traffic in Blackrock were trying to improve the image they had in the hope that they could see who was driving. You could never have too much corroboration.
While Cathy had been at the Quinns’ this morning bringing Mira in, Thirsty had arrived to collect a sample of the dog’s hair, as well as all the Quinns’ computer printers, of which there were many, apparently. If Lauren’s clothing had matching dog hair on it, and if the note in her pocket was printed in the Quinns’ house, their case would be much stronger. If Mira’s DNA was on the envelope flap, they had a case for murder.
As if O’Rourke could feel Cathy’s tension increase beside him, he shifted in his chair, his knee touching hers.
‘So, Mira, tell me about the damage to Conor’s jeep. I believe you dropped it up to the garage for repairs early on Friday morning?’
‘He’d asked me to take it in while he was in New York, but I wasn’t able to. I had shopping to collect and then flowers and signs to deliver for Orla’s charity event. The garage was too busy to collect it, so I took it in as soon as I could.’
‘Did he mention what was wrong with it?’
She shook her head. ‘He just said it needed servicing.’
‘There were some scratches on the wing – do you know anything about that?’
‘It’s not my car.’ She shrugged. ‘I just had to drop it in.’
‘Where was it the night Tom was killed?’
‘In the garage, as far as I know.’ She said it like it was a stupid question.
‘What car was Conor driving that night?’
‘He usually drives his Z3, but I didn’t see him leave. He could have taken the jeep, I didn’t see. They are both at the front of the garage.’
‘Thank you, Mira. It’s almost ten to five, I think we should take a small break. I’ll organise a coffee for you.’
Again the shrug, like she didn’t care, didn’t know why she was there.
*
O’Rourke didn’t speak until they got into his office. He marched in, firmly closing the door behind him.
‘My God.’ He shook his head and tossed his notepad onto the desk, standing in the middle of the office and crossing his arms. ‘She’s one cool customer, isn’t she?’ He rolled his neck, scowling. ‘And she’s giving herself room for movement in case anyone saw the jeep.’
Cathy stuck her hands in her combat pockets and went to lean on the windowsill, a frown on her face as she contemplated her boots.
‘She clearly didn’t think about the CCTV cameras that night.’
‘She had a lot on her mind.’
‘For sure. I’m not seeing how she could be linked to the other cases, though, in Paris and Long Island. If we’re right about her overhearing the phone call, this is a crime of passion, not something carefully orchestrated by a serial killer.’ Cathy screwed up her face, thinking about the characteristics of the crimes. ‘I think there’s something else going on here that Mira’s blundered into the middle of.’
O’Rourke frowned. ‘We’ve got forensics linking those cases with ours, so there has to be a connection somewhere. It could be that Tom’s the fulcrum here – he knew Lauren, he travelled a lot. We need to check out where Mira was at the time of the other attacks, though. None of those women were raped, so we can’t assume their attacker was a man.’ He paused. ‘And we need to compare her fingerprints to the drugs boxes in Lauren’s room.’
‘Let’s hope Thirsty hits gold on some sort of solid forensic link between her and Lauren at the scene. At least we’ll have a solution to one part of the puzzle. We can tear that house apart looking for Quinn’s missing secret phone, but you know what? I reckon she threw it into the sea after Lauren. She had to take it with her in case Lauren texted for directions or got lost.’ Cathy puffed out her cheeks, blowing out a sigh.