Murder on Clare Island: A Garda West Novel (A Garda West Crime Novel Book 3)

by Valerie Keogh

  But even good teams had their differences. Andrews had been aware from the very beginning of his partner’s unsuitable attraction to a suspect in a case they were working. Aware, and openly critical. When the case had been solved, and Kelly Johnson no longer a suspect, he’d shrugged at West’s reluctance to contact her. But apart from telling his wife, Joyce, how infuriating it was, he didn’t interfere.

  And then Gerard Roberts was murdered, and once again, Kelly was mixed up in it. He watched them and their romantic fencing and wondered if they’d ever get together. When they thought she was dead he’d seen the desperate look of grief on West’s face, the depth of sorrow in his eyes that said, like nothing else did, that he loved her.

  ‘How’s Kelly?’ he asked now, noticing the slightly distracted look that West wore.

  ‘Does nothing ever get past you? It’s nothing. Well, nothing really.’ West stopped for a moment, and then with a sigh continued. ‘The house next door. It’s been empty for a few weeks. A couple moved in and Kelly thinks there is something strange about them.’

  ‘And is there?’ Andrews asked. Nothing surprised him these days; there were a lot of odd folk out there.

  West shrugged. ‘No idea. They’ve just moved in, I haven’t even met them.’

  ‘No harm in checking them out, is there?’

  West frowned. ‘You know the rules against using Garda databases for personal reasons, as well as I do, Pete.’

  Honesty never prevented Peter Andrews bending the rules when necessary. He easily justified it, never doing it for personal gain or interest, but always in the interest of a good outcome or to speed up processes that, he felt, were sent specifically to try his patience.

  West, on the other hand, never bent rules, on the basis of it being the thin edge of the wedge. He was aware Peter did, but in the interest of a good working relationship, didn’t make a big issue of it, consoling himself with the knowledge that the man was inherently decent.

  ‘There are other ways of finding out about people,’ Andrews said mildly. ‘There’s little privacy these days with everyone shouting their lives out on social media.’ Knowing his partner would be reluctant to pry, he added, ‘Leave it to me.’

  West met his gaze. Butter wouldn’t melt, he thought, shaking his head. ‘I suppose it would put her mind at ease, Peter,’ he admitted. ‘But strictly under the radar,’ he said, his only admission that he knew Andrews would use Garda resources if he found anything out of the ordinary. Or if he didn’t.

  4

  The following days passed quietly. Each day Kelly walked a little further, cooked dinner, avoided chatting about anything important. On Friday, she mentioned going back to her house. ‘I really need to get more clothes,’ she said, ‘and collect the post. Things like that.’

  ‘I’ll drive you tomorrow,’ West suggested, ‘I’m not working.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll pick up my car, at the same time.’

  He shook his head. ‘The doctor said you shouldn’t drive until you’ve been back for your check-up,’ he reminded her. ‘That’s not until next week.’

  ‘But I’m fine, Mike,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘Your insurance would be invalid, Kelly. Trust me.’

  She wanted to argue the point, tired of being so dependent. But, of course, he was right. ‘Fine,’ she agreed, reluctantly, and then, with a smile that acknowledged she was being childish, she added, ‘I’ll let you drive me, then.’

  It was one of those bright, beautiful, autumn days that harkened more to the summer just gone, than to the winter still to come and opening the front-door the next morning, Kelly smiled. West locked the front door, and they walked side-by-side down the short path to the front gate which he shut religiously every day. Most of the houses on the road had paved their front gardens to provide off-road parking but he had resisted the temptation, liking the idea of the front gate, the ritual of opening and closing. He supposed he was a little old-fashioned. He caught Kelly’s smile as he opened it and allowed her to go through first, wondering if she found him to be a little bit of a fuddy-duddy.

  Kelly, meanwhile, was thinking what a delight he was. He didn’t have the you’re a woman, and can’t possibly do this for yourself attitude that some men portrayed, just old-fashioned courtesy she found charming. And also incredibly sexy.

  West was carefully closing the gate behind them when they heard the neighbour’s front door opening, and they both looked without thinking. A woman came out, and stood a moment much as Kelly had, admiring the day. West instinctively took note of her average height, average build and rather plain features. Kelly, with a woman’s eye, noted the neat jeans, stylish cardigan and beautifully cut hair.

  As if she felt their eyes on her, the woman looked directly at them, a tentative smile appearing.

  ‘We should say hello,’ Kelly said, and without waiting for an answer, she walked a few steps down the footpath until she was directly in front of the neighbour’s house. ‘Hi,’ she called, as the woman continued to stand on the door-step. She felt West join her, standing slightly behind her right shoulder. ‘We live next door,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Kelly and Mike. Welcome to the neighbourhood.’

  A silence followed. Had she sounded too neighbourhood watchy?

  Kelly turned and caught West’s eye. He grinned. ‘We’re just heading out,’ he said, to the woman, ‘it’s a lovely day. Nice to meet you.’

  Maybe his tone was more relaxed, friendlier. For whatever reason, the woman responded to his remarks, she left her door-step and approached them. Close up, West decided she was prettier than he’d first thought. ‘My name is Denise,’ the woman said, stopping a few feet from her gate, close enough to be able to answer without raising her voice. ‘Ken’s still unpacking. I suppose I’d better go and help him or I’ll be in the dog-house’. She looked back to the house before giving them a smile and, then, with a sigh, turned around, and headed back into the house.

  In the car, West started the engine. ‘See,’ he said, ‘quite normal.’ Denise and Ken. He’d tell Andrews. Even first names would make it easier to do a search.

  Kelly looked at him. ‘You didn’t think she looked a bit nervous?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I didn’t, Kelly. She looked like a perfectly normal woman dealing with the horrendous job of unpacking, when the sun is shining and she’d probably much prefer to go for a walk.’

  Kelly heard the slight exasperation in his tone, and decided to leave it. Anyway, as a policeman he was probably much more aware of people’s behaviour than she was.

  They both found it strange returning to Wilton Road. It had been over six months since West had arrived to investigate the dead body she’d found in the graveyard behind her house. Over six months since Kelly had discovered the terrible truth about her husband. A lot had happened since that first meeting.

  They didn’t spend long there, neither wanting to linger in a place with such sad memories. Kelly found a suitcase and packed all the clothes she thought she might need for a few weeks, collecting her laptop and bringing everything down to the hallway. She threw a smile to West who sat in the kitchen watching her through the open door. ‘All set?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost,’ she replied. ‘Just one more thing to do.’

  Heading back upstairs, Kelly stood in the bedroom she had shared with her husband for such a short time. Her husband. She sat on the bed and smiled sadly, thinking of the man she’d loved, a man she never really knew, a marriage built on lies.

  What a poor judge of character she was. Taken in by Simon, and then by Heather Goodbody. She shivered when she remembered being locked away in that deranged woman’s house. Being that close to death had been terrifying. But it was time to stop being a victim. Taking a final look around and straightening her shoulders, she decided it was time to take control.

  She’d sell the house; buy something smaller, maybe an apartment. If things were going to work out with West, she needed to move out. She needed to show him sh
e could stand on her own two feet, and she needed to decide if she wanted to be with him for the right reason not because she was too afraid to be on her own, or too grateful to turn him down.

  With that decision firmly in her head she headed down and with a nod to West they headed back to the car.

  ‘I’m going to put it on the market,’ she said. When he didn’t comment, she turned to him. ‘I’m also going to start looking for somewhere to buy.’ His face was unreadable. She reached a hand out and laid it on his arm. ‘You’re a good man, Mike. Kind and considerate but...’

  West held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence, ‘But you’re not interested in a relationship with me. You don’t have to spell it out, Kelly, I understand.’

  Kelly’s hand tightened its grip. ‘No, I don’t think you do, Mike,’ she said. ‘I was going to say...but I don’t want you to feel I want a relationship with you because I’m grateful or because I have nowhere else to go. I am grateful to you, of course I am, but it’s not why I want you to kiss me.’

  West looked at her. Was he hearing right? Did the beautiful woman he had lusted after for months, just ask him to kiss her? He watched as a smile curved her lips, and felt, as he had done so often, his heart go ping. Then he reached over and, putting a hand on the back of her head, he leaned over and kissed her, very gently, as if she might break.

  Kelly smiled when he lifted his head and put her hand up to caress his cheek. ‘You do understand why I have to move out, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. He didn’t like it but he did understand.

  ‘Good,’ she said and smiling again, she moved her hand to the back of his head and pulled him toward her. When their mouths were within kissing distance, she stopped, their breaths intermingling. ‘I’m not fragile,’ she said, and lifting her mouth, caught his lower lip between her teeth, pulling it slightly.

  ‘You may not be, but what about me,’ West said, only half-joking, before kissing her with the passion he’d tried to hide.

  5

  On Monday, Kelly rang the estate agent who’d sold them Wilton Road only a year before, and asked to have the house put on the market.

  ‘Certainly,’ he said, his lack of surprise indicating he knew the full story behind her decision. ‘We have all the details still on file, if nothing has changed, we can just go with them.’ Relieved not to have to enter into protracted conversation, Kelly said there’d been no change at all. She was pleasantly surprised at the price he suggested, a considerable amount more than she’d paid.

  ‘The housing market has stabilised,’ he explained. ‘Houses in that area are selling quickly; I don’t think it will be on the market long. If you drop me in a set of keys, I won’t have to bother you when I have somebody who wants to look around.’

  The details settled, Kelly hung up.

  Buying was equally easy. Thanks to internet searches, she soon had three properties that caught her fancy. One in particular appealed because it mentioned sea-views. Kelly dialled the number, and within minutes had a viewing lined up for the next day.

  Feeling happier than she had for a long time, she shut her computer and stood to look out the window. A sea view would be wonderful; she wondered how extensive they were. It didn’t matter; it would just give that sense of space she craved at the moment. It was more expensive than she had planned and it would use up all her current capital, but if she got even near to what the agent had suggested for Wilton Road, she’d be ok. She was mulling over this when a car pulled up and the next-door neighbour climbed out.

  Kelly watched him, not bothering to be discreet. She’d thought him tall when she saw him in the doorway, but now she saw he was bulky too. ‘Ken,’ she mumbled, remembering his name. Denise, who was shorter than her five six by a couple of inches, must look tiny in comparison. She remembered the nervous look Denise had given the house. ‘I bet you’re a bit of a bully,’ she said.

  She watched as he walked up the garden path. Even from where she stood, she could see he had a mean look on his face, his brow deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line between mottled cheeks. Not a pleasant looking man, Kelly decided, and wondered what Denise saw in him. And then, with a sigh, she remembered Simon, he’d been so handsome, so charming and what a shit he’d turned out to be. With that thought, she turned away and went back to thinking about sea-views and beautiful apartments.

  Next morning, she walked to Greystones Dart station and caught the train to Blackrock, arriving early enough to look around the shops and have a coffee. The apartment block, set down a quiet road within neatly manicured grounds, was a smaller development than she’d expected. Checking the front door, she counted the doorbells and then stood back to view the building. There were only eight, four to a floor. She felt a shiver of excitement before thinking of practicalities. With only eight, the service charge was sure to be high, she must remember to ask.

  She was waiting only minutes before a car pulled up and a smartly dressed, middle-aged man climbed out. She smiled, he waved and then they both shook hands. He handed her a copy of the sales particulars and then pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket he indicated they go inside.

  ‘These don’t come on the market very often,’ he said, leading the way up carpeted stairs to the front door. ‘We’ve already had a lot of interest.’

  Kelly thought this was all estate-agent-speak until he opened the door. It led directly into the lounge, a large high-ceilinged room with a fireplace and shelved alcoves. The decor was neutral and in good shape. The agent pointed out the obvious advantages but Kelly wasn’t listening. She concentrated on the one thing that had sold it to her. The stunning view over the sea. It was perfect, she decided before she’d even seen the two generous bedrooms and the rather small kitchen, or heard the cost of the rather exorbitant service-charge. ‘Have they had any offers?’ she asked, walking to the window.

  ‘Not as such,’ the agent said.

  ‘Fine,’ Kelly said, and then without drawing breath, she continued, ‘I’ll make a full asking-price offer.’ She turned to him. ‘Cash,’ she said, and watched as he nodded.

  Deal.

  ‘It was that easy?’ West asked her later over dinner, trying not to show that he was annoyed she hadn’t asked his advice, or at least taken him to see it before she made an offer.

  ‘It is when you know what you’re doing,’ Kelly replied, her voice rather cool. ‘It isn’t the first property I’ve bought, Mike. It was what I wanted: and I had the money.’

  West put his fork down. He seemed to have lost his appetite. ‘It’s just...’

  Kelly interrupted him. ‘It’s just that I made the decision all on my own without my big white knight helping me? Is that it?’

  When he said nothing, she reached for his hand. ‘I’m so grateful to you, Mike, you know that. But I’m not the little helpless woman you think I am,’ seeing he was going to interrupt her, she held up her hand. ‘Let me finish. If we have any chance of a relationship together, you have to understand that I am not just a victim. Not Simon Johnson’s, Adam Fletcher’s, or Heather Goodbody’s. I’m not just a woman who became involved in a horrendous series of events. I am much more than that.’

  West laid a hand over her’s. ‘Don’t you think I know that,’ he said. ‘I’ve watched you be knocked down, and get up fighting each time. I know what you’re capable of, Kelly. But, I also worry about you. You have been through a lot, and I don’t think you’ve recovered from your last ordeal yet.’

  ‘Getting on with my life is how I’ll recover, Mike. Not staying here, in this cotton-wool lined nest you’ve made for me Just because it’s comfortable, doesn’t make it any less of a...’ She stopped, biting her lip as he pulled his hand and arm away.

  ‘Prison? I’m sorry if you feel you exchanged one prison for another,’ he said, standing up. Scraping his dinner into the bin, he put the plate in the dishwasher and left the room, ignoring her as she called his name.

  Kelly sat for a moment before following him into the lo
unge where he sat with the television switched on to some programme she knew he wasn’t watching. Tyler, curled up beside him, raised his head and looked at her before closing his big eyes and resting his head back on West’s thigh.

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, Mike,’ she said, sitting down on the other side. ‘It would be so easy to stay here, and be looked after. ‘You do it so well,’ she added, hoping to raise a smile, biting her lip when his face stayed stony. ‘But you’d get tired after a while, Mike. Tired of being a carer when what you really want to be is a lover.’

  This got his attention. He turned to look at her, grey eyes assessing, turning from flint to the grey velvet she was used to. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek. ‘Can’t I be both?’

  She smiled, gently and held her hand over his. ‘Yes, when you stop thinking of me as a victim, start looking at me as a woman. And moving out, getting a place of my own, taking control of my life. That’ll help, Mike. I promise.’

  Maybe she was right. West watched as she walked away, heard her tidying up in the kitchen, stopped himself going to help. She was probably right, he decided, mulling over what she’d said. He did see her as a perpetual victim, had taken to treating her like a baby needing twenty-four hour care. Maybe that’s why they had never progressed beyond a kiss. He had no choice but to sit back and see what happened after she moved out. He put a hand down to pet Tyler who was gently snoring. ‘It will be back to you and me then, Tyler,’ he muttered.

  6

  Peter Andrews used his home computer to start his investigation into West’s neighbours. All he knew was their first name, and where they lived. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough. He wasn’t particularly skilled when it came to internet searches but what he lacked in expertise he made up for in persistence.