‘Did you know he was bringing them in?’ Kelly knew she should stop, but curiosity kept her going. Anyway, it wasn’t doing any harm and she might learn something she could pass on to Mike.
Sylvia frowned. ‘I really don’t think he is the one you’re looking for. Finbarr is absolutely useless at keeping secrets, you know, he could never have pulled it off. And if the gardai think whoever is bringing the stuff in murdered Eoin, then I tell you straight, it wasn’t Finbarr. He’d never kill his father.’
She wouldn’t be the first woman to be fooled by a man, Kelly thought, with a sudden bite of bitterness. ‘They didn’t get on, did they? Finbarr made no secret of that.’
‘A lot of fathers and sons don’t get on, they don’t all kill them.’
‘But he wasn’t his father, not really. Maybe that made it easier.’
Sylvia laughed. ‘What makes you think he wasn’t his real father?’
Kelly’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’ She laughed uncertainly. Sylvia was pulling her leg. Wasn’t she?
‘Eoin was Finbarr’s real father.’ Sylvia laughed with genuine amusement. ‘Do you know how good it feels to say that? To be able to say it.’
Kelly was stunned. ‘But he is years older than you,’ she managed to say. Trying to remember what she’d heard of Sylvia’s past, all she could think of were two statistics. She’d been fifteen when she had Finbarr. And Eoin was thirty years older than her.
‘So it wasn’t a spotty faced boy in the town,’ she said quietly.
Sylvia smiled. ‘That was my cover story.’ The smile faded. She hesitated, as if afraid to say more and then, with a look at Kelly’s sympathetic face, she continued, ‘I was fourteen. There was a short-cut home from school that used to take me across fields but then planning permission was give to build houses. It was fenced off, but within a few weeks the fence had holes everywhere and me and other kids still used the short-cut.’ She sighed. ‘I was daydreaming about one of the boys in the boy’s school. It was almost Easter, there were lots of parties and I was hoping to bump into him.’ She laughed briefly. ‘Daydreams. Innocent daydreams.’ It was a few minutes before she continued. ‘Off in a world of my own, I wasn’t paying attention and he caught me as I came through the fence. He said he was going to call the police, and dragged me into one of the almost finished houses.’ Sylvia wore a stricken look as she remembered what had happened and Kelly felt her heart begin to pound.
‘He told me he’d let me go but he’d have to spank me first and told me to bend over a bench. I thought it was better than him calling the police, so I did what he said.’ She smiled sadly. ‘God, I was an innocent fool. Even when he pulled my skirt up, I thought he was just going to hit me. When I realised what was going on, it was too late. He held me down, tore my knickers off and pushed himself into me. The pain was excruciating, I can still remember it.’ She sighed again, a long mournful sound that made Kelly shiver.
‘I thought that was it; that that was the worst that could happen to me. But he wasn’t finished. I lay there, still stretched over that damn bench, afraid to move. I could hear him behind me and then...I don’t know how many minutes later...he was on me again, his hands, pulling my blouse out to feel my breasts. I could feel his hard penis poking, and then he buggered me.’ There was silence for a few seconds, and then she added, ‘I thought he was going to rip me apart.’
‘Oh my God!’ Kelly, stunned, couldn’t think of another word to say.
‘He left me there,’ Sylvia said, her voice trembling, tears running down her face.
Kelly wanted to move, to offer some kind of physical support. But she couldn’t, all she could think of was the horrifyingly clear image of the young girl bent over the bench.
Sylvia’s voice still trembled when she continued. ‘It was at least an hour before I could move. I was in luck, there was some old paint-spattered rags lying around so I used them to clean the blood away. I managed to tidy myself enough to get home and up to my bedroom without anybody knowing.’
‘You didn’t tell your mother? Ring the gardai?’ Kelly was appalled, imagining the traumatised girl dealing with the rape alone.
Sylvia shook her head. ‘I was ashamed. And then I just wanted to forget about it. A month or so later the housing estate was finished and there was a big write-up in the local paper and there he was, Eoin Breathnach. I saw his name, and I remembered it. I swore someday he would get what was coming to him.
‘And then I discovered I was pregnant.’ She laughed without humour. ‘Actually, my mother discovered I was pregnant. She noticed the bulge and questioned me. It had never entered my head, you know. My periods had only just started, so it wasn’t something I considered. She wanted to know who it was, so I spun her the story of a boy in town but refused to name him. I was lucky; she and my father supported me, stood by me, watched over Finbarr when I went to college, while I established myself as an artist.
‘I saw Eoin in the newspaper and magazines over the years but didn’t actually meet him again until a gallery opening in London. He didn’t recognise me. I chatted him up, invited him to dinner and made him a proposition.’
Kelly waited to hear what it was. When Sylvia appeared to have relapsed into silence, she couldn’t help herself, she asked, ‘What was it?’
Sylvia shrugged and smiled. ‘I’d already discovered how difficult it was to make it in the art world without a wealthy sponsor. I offered him a deal, I wouldn’t tell the world he raped a fourteen year old child and was the father of her son and, in return, he would marry me, allow me full access to his wealth, and adopt Finbarr officially.’
28
Kelly shook her head. It was all pretty unbelievable. ‘Why marriage? Why not just ask him for money?’
Sylvia smiled wickedly. ‘He’d never married. In interviews over the years, he always said it wasn’t for him, that he liked his freedom too much to be shackled to one woman. I decided to shackle him.’
It seemed a bit crazy to Kelly.
Sylvia saw the reaction on her face. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I was a well-known, well-regarded, slim and elegantly attractive woman who mixed with a very arty set. Men were always coming on to me, women too, and I couldn’t bear any of them to touch me. Being married was such a relief. All I had to do was wave my wedding band, and the huge, incredibly expensive engagement ring, and they left me alone.’ She laughed. ‘You didn’t think I slept with him, did you? Oh my dear, that wouldn’t have worked. He liked them young. Very young. A thirty-year-old woman didn’t do it for him. And as for me, that rape, all those years ago...’ She shrugged.
Kelly walked back to the triptych. It had unsettled her but it made more sense now. She thought she understood. It wasn’t beauty overwhelming darkness that it depicted, but the opposite. ‘It’s your life,’ she said at last, feeling the artist come to stand beside her once more. ‘You’ve never come to terms with it; it’s behind everything you do. Dark and cold.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘My most autobiographical piece, definitely.’
Kelly turned to her. ‘You killed him, didn’t you?’
Sylvia opened her mouth to speak but closed it again as a sharp knock sounded on the door. Raising an eyebrow, she smiled at Kelly and went to answer. It was Edel, and at her back, West and Andrews.
‘Wilson has finished collecting samples,’ West said. He noticed the quick glance between the two women, the tension between them almost palpable. What the hell was going on here? When neither said a word, he added, ‘If you’re ready to go, we’ll head back.’
‘Goodbye, Kelly,’ Sylvia said, ‘don’t worry. There is another way of looking at the triptych, you know. Things aren’t always what they seem.’
And what was that supposed to mean? Kelly thought crossly, following the two men from the house. Tadgh was waiting with the engine running. She climbed into the back, keeping her thoughts to herself despite a concerned look from Mike and a quizzical glance from Andrews. She needed time to process what she’d lear
ned.
Back at The Quay, they stood while Eamonn Hall loaded the samples they had collected onto the boat. They had watched, surprised, at the speed and efficiency of Fiona Wilson. She’d gone alone down the passage, taking samples as she went, collecting several from the shallow cave, and from the rope and pulley system. Back on the surface, she’d smiled grimly at West. ‘We’ll get this bastard, Sergeant.’
Hall was ready, the samples safely stowed. ‘Ready to go.’
Fiona Wilson nodded and turned to say goodbye. ‘I’ll get these to the Forensic Lab tonight. They’ve promised to push them to the front of the queue. You should start to get preliminary results tomorrow afternoon.’
With a nod and a smile, she jumped into the boat and seconds later they were moving toward the mainland.
West was about to suggest a pint before they headed back, but he noticed Tadgh checking his watch. With a sigh, he herded the others towards the car and they bundled in, Kelly sitting between West and Jarvis in the back, Andrews in the front.
Back at the guesthouse, West went in search of Daisy while Kelly showed the two men into the lounge. The fire had obviously just been lit; there was a lot of smoke but not yet much flame. Reaching for a poker, Andrews did what most men did automatically, starting to poke and mutter.
West came back, a smile on his face when he saw him. ‘You’ll put it out,’ he said, sitting beside Kelly. ‘Luckily for us, Daisy said they have a few rooms free for a couple of nights. She’ll bring your keys through when she’s bringing the beer I ordered.’ He turned to Kelly. ‘Our room is free until next weekend, so we can stay until then,’ he told her and then frowned, ‘You ok? You’ve been quiet since we left Toormore House. Did something happen?’
‘Did you get me a drink?’
West frowned and nodded. ‘A glass of wine.’
‘Let’s wait until we get our drinks, and I’ll tell you. I think it might be important.’
Daisy came a few minutes later carrying a tray laden with drinks. Balancing it with practised ease, she placed a pint before each of the men and the glass of wine in front of Kelly. From her pocket, she took two keys and handed one to Andrews and Jarvis with a brief explanation of where their rooms were. ‘Dinner will be in an hour,’ she said and then, with a smile she left them.
The fire had taken hold, small flames flickering. Kelly kept her eyes on it as she sipped her wine and told the three silent men Sylvia’s tale.
West closed his eyes. He’d thought looking at paintings would be a pleasant change for Kelly. Instead she’d been dragged even further into a case that was starting to stink. Eoin Breathnach was a rapist. Sylvia, his victim. Finbarr his biological son. A can of worms had nothing on this case.
‘She didn’t answer you,’ Jarvis said, his eyes wide.
Kelly shook her head. ‘Unfortunately not. I don’t know if she would have done. She did say something strange at the end.’ She explained about the painting. ‘Just as I was leaving she said, things aren’t always what they seem.’
Andrews screwed up his face. ‘Ok, so you had thought the painting was biographical, everything beautiful in her life buried by the darkness of her past, right?’
Kelly frowned and nodded.
‘So what did her weird comment mean?’
Draining her glass, she sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know. Why would she kill him after all these years? Surely she’d had plenty of opportunity.’
‘Muddying the waters,’ West said, ‘just like Finbarr was doing the first time we met him. I wonder...’
‘If she thinks he did it?’ Andrews finished his thought.
Jarvis frowned. ‘If they are both muddying the waters, perhaps each thinks the other did it.’
West slapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘My brain cannot take any more. I suggest we give it a rest until tomorrow. I need a shower.’ He glanced at the two men. ‘I always bring too many clothes with me, I can lend you both a fresh shirt, if you’d like.’
Jarvis who was conscious of his grubbiness was relieved, and accepted immediately.
Andrews, who rightly guessed West was stretching the truth, raised an eyebrow and asked, ‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely,’ West replied and stood. He planned to have a quick word with Daisy to see if she could have their clothes laundered. Shirts he could lend, but he drew the line at offering his underwear.
By the time he’d spoken to Daisy and dropped the shirts off to Jarvis and Andrews, twenty minutes had passed. Kelly was still standing in the same place when he got back, staring out the window. He put his arm around her, pulled her to him, felt the sigh before he heard it. ‘My plan to give you a nice break didn’t go to well,’ he said.
Kelly gave a chuckle and lifted her face to look at him. ‘I was really enjoying it, Mike. She is an amazing artist. There was one, smaller painting, with this place in the background. It was stunning. I was going to ask Mr Blacque how much it would sell for but she was being a bit mysterious about whether or not he was taking them.’ She smiled. ‘It’s probably too expensive.’
West thought she was right, but didn’t say so. He wondered at Sylvia’s unwillingness to commit her work to Blacque. He’d been her agent for years. Interesting he thought, and then gave himself a mental kick. No more work this evening. ‘Let’s go have a shower,’ he said, taking Kelly by the hand, ignoring her comments that they hadn’t much time. In the spacious bathroom, he pulled her to him again and lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue seeking hers, his hands moving over her, opening buttons, unhooking her bra, feeling her skin with a thrill of pleasure. Kelly moaned when his hands stopped, but it wasn’t for long, he undressed and led her into the shower cubicle.
It was top of the range with a huge square showerhead from which the water fell like rain. It was just what they needed. They stood under it for a long time, letting the water wash away the stress of the day. Then slowly, gently, West kissed her.
Suddenly, Kelly pushed him away. ‘We’d better get dressed,’ she said, kissing him lightly. She saw his surprised look, and kissed him again. ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I just can’t get what Sylvia told me out of my head.’
West closed his eyes. What an idiot he was. He gave her a gentle kiss and stepped out of the cubicle. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, dropping his head in his hands. Mixing business and pleasure was never a good idea, especially his business.
He was dressed before Kelly appeared, the over-large dressing gown supplied by the hotel making her look small, fragile. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was being particularly insensitive.’
Kelly smiled and shook her head. ‘It’s ok, Mike. Really,’ she said when his face remained sombre. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and have a pint with the others, I’ll be down in about ten minutes.’
West hesitated, and then with a brief smile, he left the room.
Jarvis and Andrews were sitting in front of the fire when he went into the lounge. Half-drunk pints in front of each showed they’d been there for some time.
‘Kelly will be down in a few minutes,’ he said, when they greeted him.
Andrews saw the look of concern on West’s face. ‘Is she ok?’
West shrugged. ‘She’s been through so much in the last year that I sometimes forget she’s a civilian. She’s not used to hearing stories like Sylvia’s. It’s hit her hard, I’m afraid.’
Jarvis grunted. ‘She gets locked in a passage, almost dies from hypothermia and then hears a terrible story about an artist she admires. It’s not surprising, is it?’
And then her boyfriend had expected sex, as if everything was rosy in the garden. West closed his eyes. He hadn’t been insensitive, he’d been a pig.
Kelly chose that moment to appear. She was wearing a turquoise dress that hugged her bust and waist before falling in gauze panels to the ground. She looked pale, but she was smiling as she stood in the doorway. ‘I hope you’re all ready for dinner,’ she said, ‘I, for one, am
starving.’
The dinner was superb, and following West’s orders nobody spoke about the case. Instead, they chatted about nothing in particular, drifting from topic to topic. Jarvis, a little uncomfortable at first, relaxed after his third pint and regaled them with an account of his holiday to the Grand Canyon the previous year.
‘It sounds amazing,’ Kelly said, ‘it’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go.’
Jarvis smiled broadly. ‘Honestly, it’s incredible. You should do what we did. A couple of days in Las Vegas, then hire a car and drive from there. We visited three national parks, Bryce, Zion and the Grand Canyon. It’s an easy drive from one to the other, no problem at all.’
He was so enthusiastic and painted such a fascinating picture of his travels that Kelly turned shining eyes to West. ‘Why don’t we do that?’
West grinned. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
Just make sure not to find any dead bodies, Andrews wanted to say but he bit his tongue on the comment. They looked so damn happy together.
29
They waited until after breakfast to sit down and discuss their next step.
Moving into the lounge, they gathered around the empty fireplace. Eamonn Hall arrived minutes later shaking rain from his coat and shivering slightly. ‘It’s miserable out there,’ he said, hanging his coat on the back of a chair and sitting in an armchair.
‘We’ve some information to share with you,’ West said, just as his mobile rang. Answering it, he said, ‘Hi Seamus, we’re all here listening, I’ll put you on speaker.’ He put the phone down on the coffee table between them. ‘Can you hear me?’
Seamus Baxter shouted a hello resulting in a noisy few seconds as everyone returned the greeting. ‘Get on with it, Seamus.’ West said finally. ‘What do you have for us?’
‘Something interesting for a change,’ he answered. ‘I had a call from Bob Phelan yesterday, he’d heard about your experience and the passageway. He wanted to know was there any proof that Finbarr was involved.’
Murder on Clare Island: A Garda West Novel (A Garda West Crime Novel Book 3) Page 21