Tell Nobody: Absolutely gripping crime fiction with unputdownable mystery and suspense

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘Something’s there all right, but I’m not sure it’s murder.’

  ‘You saw how angry he got.’ Boyd pulled on his cigarette. Lottie took it from him and had a drag. The nicotine made her feel light-headed, so she took another drag to balance it out and handed it back.

  ‘We know that minimal violence was used on the boys. That tells me it was a calculated assault. The killer knew what he was doing. And Rory Butler doesn’t fit that bill. I agree he is hiding something. I just don’t think it’s murder.’

  ‘He knew both boys. He had access to them via the football team. Some people I’ve interviewed mentioned that he took an unhealthy interest in Mikey—’

  ‘He was the boy’s father. He wanted to get to know him, but Jen wouldn’t allow it. Maybe that’s why it appeared unhealthy to outsiders.’

  ‘Did you stop to think that maybe he was abusing the boys?’ Boyd said, throwing the butt out of the window and starting the car.

  ‘That possibility crossed my mind. But Jen was here on Sunday night. She told him something and made him promise not to tell anyone else. And I believe she was here just now, when we arrived.’

  ‘Let’s go interrogate Mrs Driscoll then,’ Boyd said.

  ‘If we can find her.’

  Sixty-Four

  The media pack was still hounding the footpath outside the Driscoll home as Boyd parked the car. Lottie jumped out and made straight for the house, dodging the noisy barking of questions.

  Dolores, Jen’s neighbour, opened the door and the two detectives stepped inside quickly.

  ‘She’s in the kitchen,’ Dolores said. ‘I’m just leaving.’

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. Jen sat at the table, head down, a photo of Mikey clutched to her breast.

  Without preamble, Lottie said, ‘What’s going on between you and Rory Butler?’

  Jen didn’t raise her head, a shrug of her shoulders the only indication that she’d heard the question.

  ‘He tells me that Mikey was his son,’ Lottie said, sitting down, getting on eye level with Jen. ‘Is that true?’

  Another shrug.

  ‘You don’t know if Rory was Mikey’s father or not? You just wanted him for the money, is that right?’

  Slowly Jennifer Driscoll raised her head. Her face wasn’t tear-stained. It wasn’t filled with grief. No, Lottie thought, it was a void. Blank. No emotion. Not even the flicker of an eyelid. The woman was zombie-like.

  ‘Do you need a doctor?’

  The laugh stunned Lottie, and she felt Boyd shudder beside her. Jen had thrust her head backwards, her mouth hanging open emitting loud, manic laughter. Lottie caught Boyd’s eye and he shook his head. No, he had no idea what was going on either.

  ‘Jen, I have some disturbing news and there’s no easy way to tell you.’ Lottie changed direction quickly. ‘We believe your son was the victim of sexual abuse.’

  That brought the laughter to a stop. The dead eyes blazed fire. ‘What are you saying? You’re making that up. It’s not true.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is true. My top priority is to find your son’s killer. If you know anything about the abuse, it might help me find who took your son away from you.’

  ‘Now it makes sense.’

  ‘What does?’ Lottie was confused.

  ‘That must be the reason Mikey changed, about ten months ago.’

  ‘Changed how?’

  ‘He got so quiet and stopped eating properly. Sat in his room. Didn’t want to go outside with his friends. I had a running battle to get him to keep up the soccer. His school work suffered and his grades dropped. I put it down to hormones. Jesus, I had no idea what was going on. What type of a mother am I?’

  ‘Jen, don’t blame yourself. How were you to know if Mikey never told you?’

  ‘I should have known. He was my son.’ Her face twisted in anguish. ‘My boy was taken from me almost a year ago. Some bastard stole his childhood from him. You can’t bring that back. You can’t bring Mikey back. But I will make the fucker pay. Believe me, I will.’

  Lottie knew something had changed since she first met Jen on Monday. Something had happened to cause this transformation. She knew grief well, and this was way above that. This was pure hatred.

  ‘Was it Rory?’ she said.

  ‘Rory? No, that man can only hurt himself.’

  ‘Why did you tell him that Mikey was his?’

  ‘It was the only way I could support my son. I needed money and I knew Rory was loaded, especially after he inherited his grandfather’s place.’

  ‘A bit harsh on him, don’t you think?’

  ‘Harsh? I struggled for years raising that boy alone. On this dump of an estate. My job brings in next to nothing. I saw an opportunity and I took it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you let him have contact with Mikey?’

  Jen sniffed and bit her knuckles. She shrugged. ‘Maybe I should have done. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, and that’s probably another one.’

  ‘You didn’t think that maybe Rory would harm Mikey?’

  ‘I can assure you, Rory Butler would never hurt a child.’

  ‘Has he a partner?’ Lottie wondered if there was someone else in Rory’s life she needed to be looking at.

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘What did you tell Rory on Sunday night?’

  ‘Sunday night?’

  ‘I know you were with him. He admitted it.’

  ‘He promised me he wouldn’t breathe a word.’ Jen gazed vacantly at the photograph in her hand. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t gone out to his place, Mikey would be alive.’

  ‘You can alibi Rory, you know. If you were with him Sunday night. Even though Dolores said she was drinking with you here after bingo.’

  ‘Dolores is a good friend.’

  ‘Did you stay with him?’

  ‘I was there for a while. Went out there around nine. Didn’t bother with the bingo. Can’t stand the smell of that bus. Or the bastard that drives it. Waited at Rory’s for him to get home after the match. Must have been well past nine thirty. Not sure, really.’ She stopped speaking and stared at a point above Lottie’s head. Her mouth clamped shut.

  Lottie looked at Boyd for help.

  He said, ‘Jen, what was so important that you had to go and visit Rory on Sunday night?’

  ‘What?’ She turned to stare at him as if she had just realised he was in the room.

  ‘You had something you needed to talk to Rory about. Was it to do with Mikey?’

  Jen sighed, kept her head bowed. ‘It seems so inconsequential now but I just wanted to rekindle my affair with Rory. Of course, he rebuffed me. I made him promise not to mention it to anyone. I felt like a fool.’ She looked up at Lottie. ‘I’m stupid and I’m lonely, Inspector. I don’t like to spending my nights at bingo. Can you understand how I was feeling?’

  ‘You had Mikey.’

  ‘My Mikey is gone. No one can bring him back.’

  ‘You still called out to Rory again today, didn’t you?’

  ‘I told you, I’m stupid.’

  They were losing her again. Lottie reached out and gripped the other woman’s hand.

  ‘Jen, I need your help. There may be other boys in danger. Maybe the killer is hunting down another boy as we speak. You need to help us. Tell us what you know.’

  ‘Another boy? That could be Toby. You need to find him.’

  ‘Toby Collins?’ Lottie said. ‘Mikey’s friend?’

  ‘Toby might be next.’

  ‘Oh Jesus Christ,’ Boyd was exasperated. ‘Just tell us what you know.’

  ‘I don’t know anything. Mikey was so secretive. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but now that I know about the abuse, I’m thinking maybe the killer thought he had told someone. Was that why he was murdered?’

  First Butler sending her in circles, now Jen. Lottie didn’t know which way to turn.

  ‘Jen, please tell me more.’

  ‘Just go and get Toby. Before
someone else does.’

  Lottie knew it was hopeless to pressurise the woman any further. She had to find Toby Collins.

  * * *

  The satellite dish hung from one hook on the front of the house. Wires twisted in the growing breeze.

  ‘Summer didn’t last long,’ Boyd said.

  ‘I noticed.’ Lottie searched for the bell, but it swung precariously loose. She tapped the cracked glass panel on the door.

  ‘For feck’s sake,’ Boyd said, and tried to wipe the dog shit off his shoe in the overgrown scrap of lawn.

  The door opened and Toby’s dad stood there, a khaki shirt unbuttoned with a white vest beneath. He was wearing army fatigues and black boots.

  ‘Mr Collins, can we come in? We need to talk to Toby.’

  ‘Toby? You’ve already talked to him. Terrified the lad so much he’s hardly spoken a word since.’

  ‘Is he here?’ Boyd said. ‘Just a quick word will do.’

  Collins turned back to the stairs and shouted, ‘Toby? You up there?’ No answer. ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘Where do you think he might be?’ Lottie said.

  ‘I’ve no idea. Out kicking a ball around, I suppose.’

  She handed over her card. ‘Ring me as soon as he gets home.’

  ‘Did he do something? Because if he did, I’ll kill the little fecker.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Boyd said. ‘It’s about Mikey Driscoll and Kevin Shanley. The boys who died. You need to protect your son.’

  ‘What? He’s in danger? Why didn’t you say so? Max?’ He shouted up the stairs again. Still no answer. ‘I’ll get Max to watch the girls and I’ll go and look for Toby. Right. Thanks. I’ll call you.’

  The door was shut in their faces.

  Lottie turned to Boyd. ‘I hope to God he is only kicking a ball around somewhere.’

  ‘Isn’t that what Kevin Shanley was doing when he disappeared?’ Boyd said.

  Toby was still running when he came to the wall that separated the houses from the soccer pitch. He climbed up on top of the wall. He wasn’t sure if he’d shaken Barry off, but he had run through back gardens and over fences – places Barry couldn’t go on a bike. But he could have abandoned the bike. Couldn’t he?

  He jumped. Fell awkwardly and instantly knew he had damaged his ankle. He heard footsteps. Tried to drag himself backwards, came up against the wall. There was nowhere left to run.

  The club caretaker, Bertie Harris, stood in front of him. Breathing like he was about to die if he didn’t keep puffing in and out, Toby began to shake. His whole body trembled as he clutched his ankle.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me. I never said anything. I didn’t tell anyone,’ he cried.

  ‘What the hell is up with you? Running like the devil is on your heels. You never ran like that on the pitch, so what has you so scared?’

  Toby grabbed a handful of gravel in his fist and tried to stand up, but found his shoulder firmly held by the man. If only he could get up, then he could throw the stones in Bertie’s eyes and run. Keep on running. That was what he had to do.

  ‘He … he’s after me,’ he stammered.

  ‘Who are you talking about? I can’t see anyone after you. You seeing ghosts now, are you?’ Bertie laughed. ‘Is it Mikey’s ghost or Kev’s that you see? Which one of them is the devil, do you think?’

  Toby didn’t know what to do. Terror clutched at the back of his throat and he thought his words might be swallowed and he would never be able to speak again.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Bertie leaned down and ran his fingers over the swelling on Toby’s ankle.

  ‘I think I sprained it.’

  ‘Come on,’ Bertie said, dragging him upright. ‘Let’s go inside and I’ll make a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t like tea,’ Toby said.

  ‘A bottle of Coke, then. I bet you’d like that.’

  Toby was parched after all the running, and his ankle hurt so badly. A bottle of Coke sounded good. But he wasn’t sure he should be going anywhere with Bertie Harris.

  ‘Then I’ll phone the doctor,’ Bertie added, pushing him in through the door.

  And Toby could feel the blood draining from his face, all the way down to his bruised and swollen ankle.

  Sixty-Five

  When they returned to the station, Lottie ordered a search for Toby Collins. Gilly rushed into the office.

  ‘Inspector Parker, can I have a minute?’

  ‘I’m busy. Later.’ Lottie needed to go home. It was late, and Boyd was yawning. That was a sign the day had been way too long already.

  ‘But it’s about Max Collins.’

  ‘Toby’s brother?’

  ‘Yes. I found out from Wes Finnegan where Max hides out when he’s not at home. I went there, and you won’t believe—’

  ‘What, Gilly?’

  ‘Hope’s daughter, Lexie, was there. Alone. By herself. Crying.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘The old tyre depot, on the industrial estate.’

  ‘And where is she now?’ Lottie couldn’t help wondering why Hope would abandon her child in such a place.

  ‘Kirby called Child and Family Services. A social worker is with her and Hope’s uncle Robbie has arrived.’

  ‘But where is Hope?’

  ‘I don’t know. She must have been there. Maybe something happened and she had to run. Robbie says she would never leave her daughter alone voluntarily.’

  ‘Right. You deal with the little girl. I want Robbie Cotter in an interview room. Now.’

  ‘Kirby interrogated him but he found out nothing we don’t already know. And Lexie told us that a bad person took her mummy.’

  ‘We still have a team searching for Hope?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Tell Kirby to keep me up to date.’

  ‘I will.’ Gilly ran out of the office.

  Lottie’s phone rang. Would she ever get home tonight? She saw the caller ID and answered.

  ‘Hi, Jane. Good news, I hope, because I’ve had a bitch of a day.’

  Jane got straight to the point. ‘I re-examined the football shorts the victims were wearing. I found a minuscule hole near the waistband of both sets. Right where you would expect to find a plastic price tag.’

  ‘Okay. What does that tell us?’

  ‘Someone bit it off.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Someone bit off the plastic holding the tag. I know that for a fact, because I swabbed the material around the area and found a minute trace of saliva.’

  Lottie tried to stem the rising excitement in her chest. ‘Maybe the boy bit it off himself.’

  ‘I don’t think so, as I found it on both pairs of shorts. I sent the samples for DNA profile. Initial report states it doesn’t match either of the boys.’

  ‘Really? You got a result already? Amazing work, Jane.’ Lottie silently punched her fist in the air.

  ‘I rushed it through. I got so excited, and you know me, I don’t do excitement.’

  ‘I know,’ Lottie agreed.

  Jane was still talking. ‘It’s just that we had nothing. Not a trace of anything until this.’

  ‘You’re brilliant, Jane. I can’t thank you enough. We’ve taken DNA from some people of interest. I thought it was fruitless at the time because they all had reason to be with the victims at some stage. But if we can match someone’s sample to the profile you’ve discovered, that would be a step in the right direction.’

  ‘I’ve fast-tracked everything to the Dublin lab. They’re cross-checking as we speak.’

  ‘Fingers crossed.’

  ‘You know I don’t do that kind of thing,’ Jane said.

  ‘I know, but if I was with you right now, I’d kiss you.’

  ‘And I definitely don’t do that! Goodnight, Lottie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jane.’ Lottie ended the call.

  Night? Was it actually that late. Shit.

  * * *

  It was after eight o’clock by the time Lottie eve
ntually arrived home. Everyone possible had been mobilised, including the garda helicopter, but so far, nothing to report. No Hope. No Toby. Robbie Cotter had left the station with Lexie and a social worker in tow. They still had no idea why the baby had been killed and dumped in the canal, or whether Hope had been responsible. And they were no closer to finding the killer of Mikey Driscoll and Kevin Shanley. The day had contained many revelations, but nothing pertinent to catching a murderer.

  McMahon had hunted the team out of the office, telling them to get some rest and to be back at six in the morning. A replacement team was manning the investigations for the night. Boyd had disappeared before Lottie could ask him if he cared to have a drink to unwind before they headed home. Instead, she’d bought a bottle of wine in Tesco along with some groceries. When everyone was in bed, she’d relax.

  She flung her handbag on the hall table, put down the plastic shopping bag and pulled off her boots. Her feet were sore, her head was thumping and all she could think of was a warm bath and a bite of food. She glanced into the living room, where Katie and Chloe had Louis on the floor, making him roll over.

  ‘Looks like fun,’ she said.

  Katie glanced up. ‘Trying to tire him out for bed.’

  ‘All okay, Mam?’ Chloe asked. ‘You look wrecked.’

  ‘I am. Are you working tonight?’

  ‘Supposed to be.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Oh sugar, I’ll be late.’ She ran past Lottie to the stairs.

  ‘Where’s Sean?’

  ‘In his room, probably,’ Katie said. ‘Mam, there’s something I want to talk to you about …’

  ‘Later, okay? I need a wash.’

  ‘Sure.’ Katie picked up Louis, and Lottie brushed her grandson’s forehead with a kiss.

  In the kitchen, Rose was sitting at the range, her head lolling to one side, her eyes closed. She opened her eyes and straightened up in the chair when she heard Lottie come in.

  Immediately, Lottie saw that her mother had been crying. And Rose rarely cried. She noticed, too, how old she looked. Rose was only seventy-six, an active woman, but now she appeared drained. Was it the strain of having the family lodging here? Probably. The sooner Ben Lynch finished up his work, the sooner Lottie could move out and set up her new home. ‘What’s up?’ she asked warily, not at all sure she wanted to know.