‘He’s said worse than that, Dermot. He’s identified you as one of the two men who dropped Sister Barbara into the fountain.’
Dermot said, ‘I’ll kill him! I’ll fecking kill him! I’ll cut his mebs off and shove them up his arse!’
‘First of all, we need to get back to the stud, load up Sparkle the Second in a horsebox and get rid of him. Then they won’t have any evidence that he was a ringer.’
‘Lord Jay Suck, that’s grand! That’s absolutely grand! And where are we going to find a knackery that’s going to take him without asking any questions? You don’t even have a fake passport for him, do you? Fitzgerald’s won’t touch him!’
‘We can get rid of him the same way Paddy Fearon got rid of all those other horses.’
‘Are you pulling my chain?’
‘Dermot,’ said Riona, ‘this is desperate. We’re going to have to take desperate measures.’
‘Oh, yes, to save your skin,’ said Dermot. ‘What about me? I’m going to be banged up back in the loony bin at this rate!’ He paused for a moment to calm himself down, grinding his teeth. Then he nodded towards the iPhone in Riona’s lap and said, ‘Who was that ringing you anyway?’
‘Just somebody who knows what’s going on, that’s all. Now make a bust, will you? The speed you’re going, this is going to take us till Doomsday.’
‘Never a truerer word spoken, Riona. Never a truerer word spoken.’
52
Dr Mazdani wanted Katie to stay for another twenty-four hours at least, to make sure that she was suffering no complications, but after she had eaten a ham sandwich and a strawberry yogurt at lunchtime she told him that she was going to discharge herself.
‘I think you are probably okay,’ he told her. ‘But, please, I beg you, take things very easy. Any bleeding, come back at once.’
An armed protection officer in a black windcheater had been posted in the corridor outside her room ever since she had been admitted. After she had dressed she asked him to bring his car round to the front of the hospital. While she was waiting she rang Detective Inspector O’Rourke.
‘Francis? What’s the story? I’m leaving the hospital in a minute and I should be home in half an hour.’
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.
‘Like I’ve been through a mangle, to be honest with you. But surviving.’
‘I was going to ring you anyway. It looks like we have a good lead on the nun case. A fellow called – hang on, I have his name here – a fellow called Gerry Brickley came into the station about eleven o’clock. He said he knew who that four-fingered hoodie was who tied that roasted nun up to the lamp post. He was sure that it was the same guy who helped to drop Sister Barbara into the Berwick Fountain.’
‘So who is he, this four-fingered hoodie?’
‘He’s some gom who does odd jobs at a stud farm in Clontead, just north of Coachford. His first name’s Dermot, but he doesn’t know his surname. The stud’s run by some woman called Riona Mulliken.’
‘I’ve heard of her. There was some article in the Examiner about her not so long ago. One of Cork’s most successful female breeders and trainers.’
‘Well, she might be the most successful because she’s been cheating,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘This Brickley fellow said he paid an unannounced visit to the stud this morning to look at the horse he’s the owner of, and he only saw an identical horse. He reckons Riona Mulliken’s been ringing. Brickley’s horse was entered for the O’Grady Insurance Group Steeplechase at Mallow last Sunday but the horse that ran didn’t even finish, and now Brickley’s convinced that it wasn’t his horse at all.’
‘There’s something else I read about Riona Mulliken, too,’ said Katie. ‘That’s why the name of Sister Bridget Healy rang a bell with me! Riona Mulliken tried to sue Sister Bridget Healy for the abuse that she had suffered while she was living at Saint Margaret’s Mother and Baby Home and for having her child adopted without her permission. But Sister Bridget said she had signed away all her parental rights on the birth certificate and so the district court judge dismissed her action and awarded costs against her. I remember the story because Riona Mulliken said that Sister Bridget was a criminal in crow’s clothing and that just stuck in my mind.’
‘I like that,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘A criminal in crow’s clothing. That would apply to most of the clergy I’ve ever known. That Father Jenkins, he was a terror. Rosary in one hand and you can guess where the other hand was.’
‘Right,’ said Katie. ‘First of all we need to pick up this Dermot. Brennan will be the man for it. Do you want to send him out there with a couple of uniforms? Then we can make some more enquiries about Ms Mulliken and her race-fixing. If Dermot works for her he must know something about it. It may not be easy to prove it, though, and you know what the racing fraternity are like. Tighter than the stonecutters.’
‘Wait just a moment,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘When he was at Mallow, Brickley saw Riona Mulliken having what looked like something of a heated argument with, guess who?’
‘Francis, I’m not really in the mood for guessing games and there’s a protection officer waiting downstairs to take me home.’
‘Sorry. It was Paddy Fearon.’
Katie gave a wave to the nurse who had come to tell her that the protection officer was ready for her and mouthed ‘Two minutes!’ Then she sat down on the side of the bed and said, ‘Paddy Fearon? You’re not serious.’
‘It all fits together, ma’am. Some of the racehorses that were found on the beach had their coats dyed. We strongly suspect that it was Paddy Fearon who dumped them there. Riona Mulliken has been accused by this Brickley fellow of ringing. You don’t need to take your shoes off to count to eleven.’
‘All right, Francis. That’s grand. I’ll ring you as soon as I’m home. In the meantime can you find out as much as you can about Riona Mulliken? Horse Racing Ireland and Weatherbys should be able to give you most of what you need. And Ashley Iveson from the Examiner. Oh, and ask Dooley to have a word with his friend Michael O’Malley. He knows everybody in the racing game.’
‘I will, of course,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘But there’s just one more piece of jigsaw that might fit in. Gerry Brickley is the owner of Brickley’s Welding and Construction in Castletownroche.’
‘Is he now? I see. And?’
‘When he visited the stud this morning he was expecting to see a new horse barn that Riona told him she would be building, but she hadn’t even made a start on it. That surprised him because she’d bought several cylinders of helium from him, for the welding. Allegedly for the welding, anyway.’
Katie let out a breathy little whistle. ‘Oh, yes, Francis, you’re right. This definitely has that fitting-together feeling. But let’s get as much background information on Riona Mulliken as we can before we take this any further. Just make sure that we collar this Dermot, asap.’
‘I’ll talk to you after,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. But then he said, ‘Ma’am?’
‘What is it, Francis?’
‘You’ll make sure that you take it easy, won’t you? I’ll keep you informed, but I can handle this, no bother at all. That was a fierce bad blow that Karosas gave you. It’s going to take some getting over, in more ways than one.’
‘Thanks, Francis. That’s appreciated. I’ll ring you later.’
* * *
As the protection officer drove her home to Cobh, Katie tried three times to call John but still he wouldn’t pick up.
She found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t even talk to her. Even if he had decided that her pregnancy meant an end to their relationship, didn’t he even want to shout at her, or tell her she was a slut, or know who the baby’s father was and where he was and why he wasn’t around any more?
The protection officer helped her out of the car. He was only in his early forties but his hair was beginning to go grey at the sides already, his eyes looked like
sun-faded agates, and he was very taciturn. He hadn’t said a word to her all the way from CUH.
‘I’ll be keeping a watch outside, ma’am,’ he told her. ‘And you don’t have to worry. I’ll arrange for a relief to take over when it comes to the end of my shift.’
‘I’ll fetch you out some tea,’ Katie told him. ‘And you can come in and use the toilet if and when you need it. You don’t have to pee in the bushes.’
The protection officer almost managed to lift the corner of his mouth into a smile. He accompanied her up to the front door and waited until she had let herself in. Barney came charging up to her with his tail thrashing and almost knocked her over.
‘It’s all, right, Barns. Don’t jump up. I’m feeling a little sensitive, just at the moment.’
‘You’ll be okay, ma’am?’ asked the protection officer. ‘If there’s anything you need, give me a shout.’
‘Thank you,’ said Katie. I need a rest. I need somebody to hold me. I need a shoulder to cry on. I need my baby back, but my baby’s gone for ever. I’m hurting, my stomach’s hurting and I need to cry.
53
Dermot hooked up the single horse trailer to the back of his car while Riona waited impatiently, holding Sparkle the Second’s bridle.
‘You’re not going to change your clothes?’ Dermot asked her.
‘No, because we’re going to the convent first. It’s not only Sparkle the Second we’re going to get rid of today.’
Dermot shook his head. ‘Listen, is this such a bright idea, like? There could be shades at the convent, too.’
‘That’s precisely why I’m not changing my clothes,’ said Riona. ‘What chance would I have of getting into a convent in my fur jacket and thigh-boots?’
‘Oh well, fair play. But this is getting more and more cracked by the minute, there’s no mistake about that. And I thought I was the one who was supposed to be rulya.’
‘Go and fetch your shotgun,’ said Riona.
‘What?’
‘I said go and fetch your shotgun. And a box of cartridges, too.’
‘What have you got in mind, then? The Gunfight at the Fecking OK Corral?’
‘Just fetch it, Dermot. You’re wasting time.’
Dermot walked across to his lean-to shed at the side of the stables while Riona led Sparkle the Second up the ramp into the horse trailer and tied him up. Sparkle the Second let out a snort and she patted his nose.
‘Sorry about this, Sparkle. This isn’t your fault. There’s a heaven for horses, don’t you worry. All grass and sunshine and mares who feel like it.’
Dermot came back with the up-and-over shotgun that he used for killing rats around the stud farm and a box of Eley 28 gram cartridges. He tossed them on to the back seat and then he and Riona climbed into the car.
‘Maybe we should say a prayer,’ Dermot suggested.
‘Good idea,’ said Riona. ‘Dear Lord save us from sadistic nuns and people who can’t be trusted and incurable idiots. Now, let’s go!’
* * *
It took them over an hour to reach Gardiner’s Hill because they were towing the horsebox. Riona told Dermot to wait about fifty metres down the hill from the entrance to the Bon Sauveur Convent, in a cul-de-sac called Herbert Park.
‘Turn around, though,’ she said. ‘You need to be ready to leave as soon as I get back.’
‘You’re still sure you want to go through with this?’ Dermot asked her.
‘Jesus. I don’t know who’s the worse nag, Sparkle the Second or you.’
‘Okay, sorry. Just asking.’
Riona climbed out and slung her raincoat over her shoulders. Then she opened the back door, picked up the shotgun and broke it open.
‘You’re not taking that with you?’
‘What does it look like?’ said Riona. She took out two cartridges and loaded the shotgun, then she took out another four and pushed them into her raincoat pockets. Dermot was about to say something but decided against it. If he had learned anything about Riona, it was that once she had made up her mind that she wanted to do something she was unstoppable. Today she was making him feel totally helpless, as if he were being washed out to sea. He hadn’t felt like this since he was first sent to Carraig Mor.
Riona shrugged her raincoat higher on her shoulders and hid the shotgun underneath it, holding it by the barrels. She gripped her lapels tightly together with her left hand to make sure that it didn’t show.
‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be,’ she said. ‘It depends how quickly I can find Sister Virginia.’
‘Take your time,’ said Dermot, lighting a cigarette. ‘It’s not like I’ve got a doctor’s appointment or nothing.’
‘You were right before,’ said Riona. ‘You are a comedian.’
She walked off up the hill to the limestone pillars of the Bon Sauveur Convent. Two uniformed gardaí were standing outside, but as she approached they nodded and smiled and said, ‘How’s it going, Sister?’ She smiled back, but said nothing.
She climbed the steeply sloping car park. A green van was being loaded with shovels and riddles and folded blue sheets of vinyl and some of the search team of Garda reservists were standing around, talking and smoking. Riona walked past them and up to the convent’s front door.
She didn’t have to ring the bell. The door opened as she was approaching it and an elderly nun came out, and smiled at her. ‘Good afternoon, Sister,’ she said and held the door open for her. Riona nodded, but still she said nothing.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked along the gloomy corridor past the gleaming statue of Saint Margaret of Cortona. The shotgun was beginning to feel heavy and awkward underneath her raincoat and inch by inch it was slipping down, so she stopped for a moment to adjust her grip on it.
As she did so, a young nun in white came out of a side room. She smiled at Riona at first, but then she frowned because she obviously didn’t recognize her.
‘Can I help you at all, Sister?’ she asked her.
Riona said, ‘Oh! Yes, maybe you can. I’m looking for Sister Virginia O’Cleary. I’ve been told that she’s staying here for a while. She left her medallion of Saint Perpetua behind at her grand-niece’s house and I’ve fetched it for her.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said the young sister. ‘I believe Sister Virginia’s still sleeping at the moment because she hasn’t been too well. If you give it to me, I can make sure she gets it when she wakes up.’
‘I’d really prefer to put it in her hand myself, thank you. Can you show me where she is?’
‘I don’t think she’s supposed to be disturbed. She’s had some heart trouble.’
‘I won’t disturb her, I can promise you that. I’ll be quiet as a mouse. I’ll just tiptoe in and press it in her hand. It means so much to her.’
‘Well... I suppose that would be all right. She’s upstairs. Do you want to follow me? Shall I take your coat for you?’
‘No, no, I’m grand altogether. It’s fierce cold outside and I haven’t warmed up yet.’
The young sister led Riona to the end of the corridor. Two flights of pale-oak stairs led up to a landing on the first floor, illuminated by a yellow stained-glass window. They climbed the stairs and went all the way along another corridor, with Riona’s raincoat rustling as she walked. The shotgun was now feeling almost unbearably heavy and she was on the verge of dropping it.
‘Here,’ said the young novice. They had reached a door with a pewter crucifix on it and the number seven. She gently turned the handle and opened it up, turning around to Riona as she did so and pressing her fingertip to her lips.
Inside, in semi-darkness, Sister Virginia lay asleep. She was lying on a plain iron bed with brass knobs on it, covered by a fawn wool blanket. Apart from a walnut-veneered wardrobe and a framed print of Jesus holding up His hand in blessing, the room was completely bare. It smelled of antiseptic ointment and cloves.
Riona approached the bed. There, with her head resting on a flat skimpy pillow, was
the woman who had made her Sorley sleep all night in cold urine-soaked sheets. Her eyes were closed and her toothless mouth was half open, and she was breathing in quick little gasps as if she were dreaming that she was running.
She was much older, of course, than Riona remembered her. Her cheeks were sunken and her hair was white, tied with a black velvet band. But Riona could never forget that hawk-like nose and the wart in the middle of her chin.
Riona turned around to the young novice, who was still standing in the open doorway. The novice didn’t say anything but gave her an encouraging nod, as if to suggest that she should go ahead and place the medallion in Sister Virginia’s hand, so that they could leave her to sleep in peace.
Instead, though, Riona turned back to the bed, opened up her raincoat and lifted out the shotgun. The young novice clearly didn’t understand what she was doing, because she didn’t move and didn’t utter a sound. Riona took a step back and pushed the muzzle of the shotgun into Sister Virginia’s mouth, right up against her gums.
Sister Virginia instantly opened her pale-grey eyes and half raised one hand. She stared at Riona for a split second as if she were saying, Who are you, and what are you doing? But then Riona pulled both triggers, one after the other. There was a deafening double bang and Sister Virginia’s skull exploded, so that the pillow and the wall behind it were sprayed with blood and flesh and gelatinous lumps of brain and fragments of bone.
All that remained of her face was her lower jaw, with her long mauve tongue lolling over it. The bedroom was filled with pungent gunpowder smoke and the feathers from her pillow floated down on to the blackened, bloodied hole where her head had been resting.
Riona’s ears were singing and she felt as if she had been kicked in the shoulder by a horse. She turned around and the young novice was staring at her in shock. She took a step back from Riona, and then another, and then she rushed off along the corridor. Riona stood quite still for a moment. She was sorry that she hadn’t been able to inflict on Sister Virginia the prolonged agony she had intended for her. The best she could hope for was that she had realized in that final split second who Riona was, and why she was being shot.
Blood Sisters Page 43