‘Did Amy and Penny leave together, or were they with you?’
‘I’m not going out with either of them,’ he said quickly. She could tell by his face that he wished he was.
‘Which of them do you like the most?’
‘Penny.’
‘You don’t like Amy?’
‘I didn’t say that. For feck’s sake. That’s what you lot do, isn’t it? Twist everything. I’m saying nothing else.’
‘Sounds to me like you have something to hide.’
‘I haven’t. So there.’ He dropped the pen and folded his arms.
‘Did the girls leave together?’ Lottie asked again.
‘I don’t know. No, wait a minute. Amy left first. Me and Penny, we had another shot … and a snog.’
Lottie smiled to herself. A shot and a snog. ‘So you remained there with Penny after Amy had left?’
‘Amy wouldn’t wait. We were out in the beer garden. It was drizzling rain. Don’t think she even had a jacket.’
‘What was her rush?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Did she take a phone call or anything?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’
‘Where was she going?’
‘Home, I presume.’
Lottie decided not to give him time to think. ‘Did you leave with Penny?’
‘No. She left maybe twenty minutes later. Could have been longer, I don’t know. I’d had a lot to drink.’
‘And the girls, did they drink much?’
‘A few shots maybe. I wasn’t keeping count.’
‘Any drugs?’
‘Now you’re definitely pushing it.’ Ducky looked up at her and his eyes narrowed. ‘All these questions. Has something happened to them?’
Lottie decided to give him a little information. ‘Amy’s dad says she never came home Saturday night. She didn’t turn up for work yesterday or today.’
‘That’s a bit weird all right. What does Penny say?’
‘We have yet to talk to her.’ Yet to find her, Lottie thought.
‘But you came to me first. Why?’
‘Your name was on the list of contacts that we got from Amy’s dad.’
‘Amy’s very popular. Must be a long list.’
‘Actually, it’s short. Can you give me the names of anyone else who might know where she could be?’
‘Not really. Ask Penny.’
‘I will. When I find her.’ Lottie considered the young man. He wasn’t displaying any signs of concern for the girls. He just seemed nervous. Because she was from the guards, or was it something else? Did he know where they were, or was he usually this calm? ‘Where does Penny work?’
He shrugged. ‘She worked for a while with Amy in the chemist. But I think she got fired or something. The last I heard she was on the dole.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘She has a flat on Columb Street. Don’t know the number. She never invited me. I only visited her at her parents’ house. Try there.’ He gave Lottie the address, and she turned to leave.
‘Thanks for your help. If either of the girls contacts you, this is my number. Call me straight away.’
She handed over her card and escaped out the door. Ducky Reilly seemed to know a whole lot of nothing.
As she made her way towards the car, in which Boyd was now sitting, Lottie heard the rumble of an engine behind her. She stood to one side and a black Mercedes SUV pulled up beside her. The driver’s window whizzed down.
She recognised the man behind the wheel immediately. Cyril Gill was well known in the town. A shyster, her mother had once said. He was a developer and builder.
‘Mr Gill,’ she said, appraising him. He was dressed for an office meeting, not a site visit. Pristine blue shirt with a white collar, and a red silk tie. His face was clean-shaven and his black hair had a hint of grey above his ears. She thought his blue eyes looked jaded, but his face was clear of wrinkles.
He took her card and glanced at it.
‘Detective Inspector Lottie Parker.’ The soft, silken voice immediately put her on her guard. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Having a look around, though it seems I’m not authorised to go on site.’ She wasn’t going to let Ducky sink, not yet.
‘Anything I can help you with?’ His eyes were shifty, and Lottie thought he hadn’t the slightest intention of helping her with anything. Not that she needed help from him.
‘No, it’s fine.’ She drew away from him and headed to her car.
‘Access is strictly by appointment,’ he said, and the window whizzed back up.
She raised her hand in a wave. Back at the car, she sat in beside Boyd.
‘Was that Cyril Gill?’ he said.
‘One and the same. And trouble is never too far behind him.’
‘He was involved in some planning scandal years ago.’
‘So the story goes.’ Lottie waited for Boyd to start the car. ‘Nothing was ever proved, if I remember correctly. As usual in this country.’
‘Never liked him. Who can look so fresh at seventy?’
‘I don’t think he’s seventy. More like fifty-one or two.’
‘Whatever.’
‘That’s Chloe’s favourite word.’
‘Whatever.’ He grinned. ‘Where to next, then?’
‘Penny Brogan’s family. And let’s hope Amy Whyte is there with her.’
* * *
Cyril Gill parked in his private space, the only place without sludge running over it. He got out of the car and stared at the sky. Black and purple clouds chased each other across a grey blanket, and the rain continued to slap against his face.
‘Three months behind, and now this,’ he muttered as he headed to the Portakabins. The job was proving more difficult than he’d imagined at the tender process. Because the courthouse was a listed building, the exterior had to be maintained in its original form. And that hindered the total renovation required to modernise the place into a functioning twenty-first-century courthouse.
A blast of heat thrust its way outside as he entered.
‘What did the guards want?’ he called over to the foreman, Bob Cleary. ‘And why are you in here and not out there cracking the whip on the arses of those lazy fuckers?’
‘Came in for a cuppa. It’s my break. I am entitled, you know.’ Bob put the mug to his lips and slowly sipped the steaming liquid.
Cyril poured himself a coffee from the dispenser and wiped crumbs off his chair before sitting down.
‘What guards?’ Bob said.
‘They were at the gate as I drove in.’
‘Didn’t see them. Ducky must have stopped them.’
Cyril lifted the phone. ‘Ducky, what did the guards want?’
‘Nothing to do with work. Just enquiring about some girl I know.’
Hanging up, Cyril stared at Bob. ‘Three months behind? Is that right?’
‘More like five or six if this weather doesn’t improve. There’s a storm warning for the weekend.’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’ Gill slapped the desk and a file slid to the floor.
Bob picked it up and handed it back. ‘I’ll get back to work.’
‘Do. And I don’t want to hear anything about five or six months. Ever. You need to catch up on lost time.’
‘It’s the tunnels, Mr Gill. They need shoring up. The crane wobbled last week.’
‘Cranes don’t wobble. And those tunnels have been there for five hundred years, so they’re not going to shift any time soon.’
‘But once the lift shaft—’
‘I thought you were getting back to work?’
Once he was alone, Cyril pulled off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The fumes from the gas heater were giving him a headache, but he had work to do. He opened the daily work schedule spreadsheet and tried to figure out where he could make up the lost time. Otherwise, he would be in worse trouble than he had been last time. And Cyril Gill did not want to revisit that annus ho
rribilis ever again.
Twelve
Whyte’s Pharmacy was one of the few old-fashioned family-owned enterprises to survive in Ragmullin. When he arrived at the shop, Kirby was brought into a back room, where he sat himself down on the chair offered by the pharmacist, who introduced herself as Megan Price. The room was small and shelved from floor to ceiling, packed with medicines and drugs. Kirby kept his hands firmly clasped on his lap and was glad the boss wasn’t here. He knew about Lottie’s struggle with prescription medication, though he thought she was now over that addiction.
‘Ms Price,’ he said. ‘I’m making enquiries on behalf of Amy Whyte’s father. Do you have any notion of where Amy might be?’
‘No. Not a clue. Richard, Mr Whyte, arrived this morning all concerned.’ The pharmacist appeared to be in her mid thirties, with deep furrows grooved into her forehead. She rubbed a hand along her chin and eyed Kirby. ‘That’s not entirely true. He was more angry than concerned. Couldn’t believe she hadn’t turned up yesterday either.’
‘You hadn’t informed Mr Whyte that Amy was absent yesterday?’
‘I didn’t see the need to land the girl in any trouble.’
‘What kind of trouble?’ Kirby fumbled with one hand in his pocket for his notebook. Damn, he’d left it at the office, along with his phone. He’d have to remember the salient points of the conversation.
‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ The pharmacist was furiously back-pedalling. ‘I just don’t like telling stories out of school, if you catch my drift.’
‘And what stories might those be?’
A loud sigh was followed by a strained cough before Price spoke again. ‘Amy’s a good girl. She has her heart in the right place. Her father thinks she’s a saint.’
‘But you know different?’
‘You could say that. More often than not, she doesn’t appear on Sundays. Likes to party with that friend of hers who used to work here. Penny something … Let me think. Brogan. That’s it. Used to work here too. Richard had to let her go.’
‘When was that?’
‘About a month ago.’
‘Why did he let her go?’
‘She was lazy. Wouldn’t lift a hand to do a good turn for anyone. And in this type of job, you have to be prepared to help out. Some of our customers are ill, or caring for someone who’s ill, so they need to be treated with care and attention.’
‘And Penny wasn’t like that?’
‘No. Quite the opposite. I’d often find her trying out the lipsticks, testing nail polish or spraying expensive perfumes. Not good for business.’
‘Amy recommended her for the job, did she?’ Kirby wasn’t sure this had any relevance to where Amy might be, but just as well to let the pharmacist have her say.
‘She did. But I think Penny’s behaviour got too much even for her.’
‘Did they fall out?’
Price paused and rubbed her chin nervously. ‘Not that I know of. I think they’re still friends. They go clubbing together after all.’
‘Can you think of anyone else Amy was friendly with?’
‘She has a lot of friends. Not that I could name any of them. Amy’s a vivacious girl. Always smiling. She has a good word for everyone.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘Never heard her speak of one. That’s not to say she doesn’t have one.’ Megan Price twisted one hand around the other.
‘Can I have a word with the other staff? They might know of someone she was close to.’
‘You don’t know where she is then?’
‘We’re looking for her.’
Price said, ‘Richard’s a very influential man. He has a lot of friends in high places. I’d pull out all the stops if I were you.’
Kirby scratched his head, reminding himself to have a quick shower this evening, and wondered if the pharmacist was laying on a threat or a warning.
‘Usually people like that have a lot of enemies,’ he said.
‘You read my mind perfectly.’
* * *
‘I told you on the phone,’ Jordan Brogan said. ‘I haven’t seen her.’
‘We just want to ask a few questions.’
‘Are you deaf? Penny doesn’t live here any more. Kicked her out, so I did.’ Brogan was a small man with a big voice. Lottie had to stop herself putting her hands over her ears as she and Boyd followed him inside his rather cramped house.
‘When was that?’
‘What?’
She noticed then that he was wearing a hearing aid. ‘Can you switch on your hearing aid, Mr Brogan?’
‘I keep forgetting. Sorry.’ He fiddled with the small peanut-shaped device and put it back in his ear. ‘Ah, that’s better. Damaged my hearing while I was in the army. Dragged the bastards through the courts, and what did I get? I’ll tell you what. Six grand. Sure these yokes cost me four grand. Disgrace, that’s what it is.’ He sat at the table and indicated for Lottie and Boyd to join him. ‘Why are you asking about Penny?’
‘It’s really Amy Whyte we’re trying to locate, but we thought maybe your daughter might know where she is.’
‘That smart-arse madam got Penny fired, so she did.’
‘Where exactly is Penny living now?’ Lottie felt that if she didn’t stick to what she wanted to know, Jordan Brogan would give out about everything and anything all day long.
‘She has a flat. Number seven Columb Street. Don’t know how she’s paying for it. Must be that rent assistance shite from the social. Or maybe it’s from the council. I don’t know, because I haven’t seen her in like a month. She’s breaking her mother’s heart, so she is.’
‘And your wife, can we have a word with her?’ Lottie thought maybe Penny was in contact with her mother.
‘Breda’s at work. Works in motor tax at the council.’
Lottie stood. ‘I’ll call in and see if she’s seen your daughter. Does she work anywhere now?’
‘I told you. Motor tax.’
‘No, sorry, I mean Penny.’
‘I haven’t a clue. Whyte’s was the last place I heard. But sure I don’t hear that much,’ he tapped his hearing aid, ‘and no one tells me anything around here.’
Lottie headed for the door. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr Brogan.’
He followed her out. ‘Do you think my Penny is missing?’
‘We just need to talk to her in relation to our inquiries.’ Lottie smiled, hoping she sounded reassuring, but her stomach was tightening into a knot of disquiet. Where were Amy and Penny? Then again, they were both adults and they were entitled to their privacy. But something was niggling away in her gut. A warning of sorts, telling her to take note of everything she heard.
Jordan Brogan was shouting now. ‘That Amy is bad news. Ever since she got that lad sent down for armed robbery.’
Lottie’s heart stopped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, it must be ten years ago now. You remember Conor Dowling. Amy Whyte and another lassie said they saw him running from Bill Thompson’s house. Poor Bill used to own the pub on Friars Street. He’s dead now. Stroke, I heard. Maybe not more than a year after the assault. He got a right beating that night. All his cash was taken too.’
‘Amy must have been fourteen or fifteen at the time.’
‘That’d be about right.’
‘Thanks, Mr Brogan. Let me know if Penny contacts you.’
As she opened the car door she said, ‘Gosh, Boyd, I hope those girls are not in any trouble.’
‘As you said earlier, they’re probably sleeping off a massive hangover somewhere.’
‘I hope to God that’s all that’s wrong.’
Thirteen
Katie Parker pushed the stroller along the footpath, walking briskly into town. Louis was asleep with a see-through plastic cover over him, though she had no idea how long that would last. She allowed the rain to spritz against her skin and dampen her long hair. She’d recently taken to dying it a stark black, and had toyed with the idea of returning to using a kohl pen
cil around her eyes, goth-like. But that was from another lifetime. A time she’d shared with Jason before he’d been taken so cruelly away from her.
She turned into the shopping centre and headed for her favourite boutique, Jinx. They had advertised their autumn collection on Facebook, and she just had to have the leopard-print jeans.
The door was a tight squeeze with the stroller, but she was not going to leave her son outside. The second she entered, Louis opened his eyes and let out a squeal, then stretched out his hand and grabbed a white silk blouse from a hanger.
‘Ah Louis, can you not give me two minutes to myself?’
‘Is he a handful?’ asked June, the sales girl.
‘Sometimes. But most of the time he’s good.’ Katie knew June from their school days, and she welcomed speaking to someone her own age now and again.
‘I thought you were going back to college?’
‘I put it on hold again. It’s so expensive, and then there’s the childcare costs and the train fares. I don’t know how I’d manage it. I really need to get a job, but I’d still have childcare to pay for.’ She laughed. ‘Vicious circle.’
‘He is so beautiful.’ June tickled Louis under his chin.
‘I know. I’m blessed really. That’s what my gran says. She tells me that I should be grateful to have him when so many women can’t have kids. And I am. Grateful, I mean. But sometimes … you know … it just gets too much for me.’
‘Get a part-time job maybe. Here. Try this on,’ June said, hanging the silk blouse on the door of the changing room. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the little lad. What’s his name?’
‘Louis.’ Katie bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure I want to try that. Do you still have the leopard-print jeans?’
June whisked them from a rack and hung them in the changing room with the blouse.
‘Any special occasion?’
‘My sister’s eighteen next month and I was going to plan a surprise party for her. Haven’t told my mam yet.’
June took Louis out of the stroller and shoved Katie towards the changing room. ‘Try them on. They’d look great together.’
The cost didn’t worry Katie too much. Louis’ grandad sent her a monthly allowance for the baby’s upkeep. Lottie didn’t know about that because Tom Rickard had insisted Katie not tell her. Maybe she could ask him to pay for childcare. Now there was an idea.
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