Katie could hear nothing at all. The garda was saying something to her but she could see only his lips moving. She raised her hand to acknowledge him, and then she turned around and stepped out of the barn, into the rain.
Conor followed her. He stood close to her but he obviously didn’t want to hold her in his arms, not in front of all of these gardaí.
‘How did you do that?’ she said, at last, although she was still half-deaf.
‘What, the whistling, with the dogs? I suppose I can understand dogs better than I can understand people, that’s all.’
Katie looked up at him. She had raindrops in her eyelashes. ‘I don’t understand people at all, Conor. Not in the slightest.’
She was still standing there when a garda came across from the farmyard where the St Giles’ Clinic ambulance was parked. He had white hair and grey eyes and he looked very grim-faced.
‘We’ve searched the ambulance, ma’am, and in the back we found a deceased individual. From your description of his condition – his amputated legs, like – we believe it to be John Meagher.’
‘I see,’ said Katie. ‘Do you have any idea how he might have died?’
‘Throat cut, ma’am, I’m sorry to say.’
She looked up at Conor. She felt numb now, as well as deaf.
‘Why would they bring his body here, of all places?’ she asked him. Then she faintly heard the pit-bulls barking inside the barn, and she said, ‘Don’t answer that.’
Her iPhone rang. It was Bridie, and she sounded bewildered.
‘I went back to pick up John after I’d done my shopping, and there was nobody there but loads of guards who wouldn’t tell me nothing. What’s happened to him? He’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, Bridie. He’s grand altogether. He’s not suffering any more, anyway.’
‘I’m sorry, Katie. I don’t quite know what you mean.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me at all, Bridie. I’m not sure that I do, either.’
45
The next morning was cold, but at least it was dry and sunny. Katie’s first meeting of the day was with Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin, to discuss the details of John’s murder and the shootings at Bartley Doran’s farm, and how they were going to present these to the media.
Dr Gearoid Fitzgerald had survived his mauling by the pit-bull terriers, but he was being treated in the Mercy for catastrophic facial injuries. ‘If only he could operate on himself,’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin, wryly. ‘He’s about the only surgeon in the country with the skill to make himself look halfway normal again.’
Lorcan Fitzgerald had survived, too, with a punctured lung, and he was recovering in CUH. When he was ready to be discharged he would be arrested for dognapping and with grievously wounding Martin Ó Brádaigh. The knife that he had taken out to stab Katie had matched the plastic knife that Dr Kelley had 3D-printed, in every microscopic detail.
Katie still faced an enquiry into the suicide of Assistant Commissioner O’Reilly, and she had handed in her revolver until an investigation had been completed into the shooting of Lorcan Fitzgerald.
‘You’ve been through a fierce difficult time, Katie,’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin, as she went to his office door. She could feel how much he wanted to put his arm around her, and give her a reassuring hug. ‘You have a couple of weeks of time off owing to you, don’t you? Why don’t you take it?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘Let me bury John first. There’s nobody else to do it.’
She went up to her office, and to her surprise, Kyna was there, drinking coffee and talking to Moirin.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Kyna. ‘Moirin fetched this coffee for you, but we didn’t know how long you’d be.’
Moirin stood up and said, ‘I’ll get you another one. It’s no bother.’
When she had gone, Katie held Kyna tightly and they kissed.
‘From what Moirin told me, it sounds like you’ve been through hell and back,’ said Kyna.
‘I’m not sure I’m back yet. Do you know when you’re starting?’
‘Monday. Believe it or not, I can’t wait.’
‘There’s one thing you have to know,’ said Katie, sitting down at her desk. ‘This pet detective I’ve been working with, Conor. Well – we’ve become very close.’
‘Oh, yes?’ said Kyna. ‘How close is very close?’
‘Let’s just say that if he asked me—’
‘You’d marry him?’
‘I’m not sure I want to get married again. Not yet, anyway. But I wouldn’t say no if he suggested that we move in together.’
Kyna raised her eyebrows and turned her head to look out of the window. The sun was shining on the Elysian tower, it reflected on to her face.
‘Kyna—’ said Katie. ‘If working here again is going to be painful for you—’
‘No, no. Not at all,’ said Kyna, turning around again and smiling. ‘I’ve told you before. I’ve thought about this over and over. I’ve thought about us. I’ve thought about my feelings for you, and I can cope.’
‘You’ll find somebody else. I’m sure of it.’
‘Yes, I probably will,’ said Kyna. ‘It’s a little sad, though. It doesn’t matter how pretty she is, this somebody else, or how lovable, she’ll never be Katie Maguire.’
*
Just after 4:00 pm she decided to call it a day. She told Moirin that she could leave early, too, and then she rang Conor and asked him if he would like to go for a drink with her. She needed to sit down with him and talk about everything that had happened yesterday at Bartley Doran’s farm. He had seen John’s body in the back of the ambulance, but she hadn’t wanted to look, and now she wished that she had.
Conor agreed to come down to the city and meet her at the Long Valley.
‘I think I need to talk it all over, too,’ he told her. ‘I had a nightmare last night about those pit-bulls looking up at me and then their heads blowing up.’
Katie put on her coat but then her phone rang. It was Detective Ó Doibhilin, and he sounded serious.
‘It’s Keeno,’ he said. ‘He passed away about twenty minutes ago. Aortic embolism, that’s what the doctor told me.’
‘All right, Michael,’ said Katie. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
‘They won’t blame you for killing him, will they? I mean, it was self-defence, like, wasn’t it?’
‘It depends what the coroner has to say.’
‘I would have been perfectly happy to kick his head in, myself.’
‘I know. But it’s not up to us to be the judges. Nor the executioners, either.’
Wearily, she put down the phone, checked in her handbag to see that she had everything she needed, switched off her office lights and went downstairs. It occurred to her as she went down in the lift that if ever she wanted to spend a night with Conor, she wouldn’t have to worry about going home and looking after John. It made her feel guilty, thinking that, but she also couldn’t help feeling relieved.
As she crossed the reception area towards the main doors she saw a tall, handsome woman in a camelhair coat waiting by the front desk. The officer behind the desk was engaged in what looked like a long phone conversation, nodding and writing down notes.
Katie went up to the woman and said, ‘Can I help you?’
The woman smiled. Katie guessed that she was about forty, but her make-up was immaculate and she had striking blue eyes, slightly starey, as if she was wearing contact lenses, and blue enamel earrings.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for Conor Ó Máille.’
Katie said, ‘He’s not here at the moment, I’m afraid, and he won’t be here for the rest of today. Do you want me to tell him who called?’
‘That’s kind of you, yes,’ said the woman. ‘I’m his wife.’
We hope you enjoyed this book!
The Drowned: A Katie Maguire Short Story is coming in summer 2016
Find out more
The
next book in the Katie Maguire series will be released in winter 2016
For more information, click the following links
About Graham Masterton
About the Katie Maguire series
About the Scarlet Widow series
From the editor of this book
An invitation from the Publisher
About Graham Masterton
GRAHAM MASTERTON was a bestselling horror writer for many years before he turned his talent to crime. He lived in Cork for five years, an experience that inspired the Katie Maguire series.
Find me on Twitter
Visit my website
About the Katie Maguire series
Katie Maguire was one of seven sisters born to a police Inspector in Cork, but the only sister who decided to follow her father and join An Garda Siochana. With her bright green eyes and short red hair, she looks like an Irish pixie, but she is no soft touch. To the dismay of some of her male subordinates, she rose quickly through the ranks, gaining a reputation for catching Cork’s killers, often at great personal cost. Katie spent seven years in a turbulent marriage with builder Paul Maguire, with whom she bore, and lost, a son. She is now in a long-distance relationship with Irish-American John Meagher.
Find out more
Find out more
Find out more
Find out more
Find out more
Find out more
Find out more
SHORT STORIES
Find out more
Find out more
Visit Head of Zeus now
About the Scarlet Widow series
London, 1750
Beatrice Scarlet is the apothecary’s daughter. She can mix medicines and herbs to save the lives of her neighbours - but, try as she might, she can’t save the lives of her parents. An orphan at just sixteen, Beatrice marries a preacher and emigrates to America.
New Hampshire, 1756
In the farming community where Beatrice now lives, six pigs are found viciously slaughtered; slices of looking-glass embedded in their mouths. According to scripture, this is the work of Satan - but Beatrice Scarlet suspects the hands of men. As she closes in on the killer, she must act quickly to unmask him - or become the next victim herself...
Find out more
The second instalment in the Scarlet Widow series is coming in summer 2017
Visit Head of Zeus now
From the editor of this book
If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy reading these novels recommended by the editor.
Find out More
Find out more
Find out more
Visit Head of Zeus now
An Invitation from the Publisher
We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.
We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more.
Get in touch: [email protected]
Visit Head of Zeus now
Find us on Twitter
Find us on Facebook
Find us on BookGrail
First published in the UK in 2016 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Graham Masterton, 2016
The moral right of Graham Masterton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN (HB) 9781784081416
ISBN (TPB) 9781784081423
ISBN (E) 9781784081409
Jacket Design: Estuary English
Jacket images: Estuary English and Shutterstock.com
Head of Zeus Ltd
Clerkenwell House
45-47 Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.headofzeus.com
Living Death Page 45