by Val Collins
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‘Are you still angry with Blaine?’ Conor asked when they got a few moments to themselves after dinner. ‘I’ve never seen you this furious. Smoke is practically coming out of the top of your head.’
‘No, Blaine’s a kid and he believed what he said was the truth. The person who annoyed me is a full-grown adult.’
Conor grinned. ‘Want me to sort them out for you?’
Aoife laughed and her bad humour evaporated. She even smiled at Blaine when he entered the room. He ignored her.
*
Aoife was at work the following morning when her phone buzzed. She checked the caller ID: Jenny. Her finger hovered over the screen for a few moments, then she accepted the call.
‘Hi, Jenny. I take it Derek told you about our argument.’
‘You and Derek had an argument? Why?’
‘Basically, he told me I was immoral and not a suitable wife for Conor.’
Jenny was silent for so long that Aoife checked her screen to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected.
‘Tell me what happened, Aoife.’
*
When Aoife repeated her conversation with Derek, Jenny groaned.
‘Oh God! I’m sorry, Aoife. Derek shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. He’s a good man, but everybody has their faults. Derek’s is his inability to see shades of grey. To him, things are either right or wrong. I’ll talk to him.’
‘No, Jenny. Don’t. It’s not your problem. You and I are still friends. You don’t need to get involved in this.’
‘I have to get involved, Aoife. Derek obviously upset you, and he was upset too. I could tell something was wrong with him yesterday, but he claimed it was work. You’re both good people and you’re both important to me, so let me sort this out, please.’
‘Okay. I better get back to work.’
‘Bye.’
Her hands had barely touched the keyboard when Jenny phoned again.
‘I forgot to tell you why I rang. Ruth’s dead. She was murdered.’
TWENTY-TWO
‘Ruth was murdered? When?’
‘Sometime during the night. She had been at some corporate event and got home shortly after midnight. The last person to see her alive was the babysitter. The housekeeper found her dead body this morning.’
‘How was she killed?’
‘Her throat was cut.’
*
Conor phoned Aoife that afternoon. He wouldn’t be able to come around for dinner. He had been called into work urgently. It annoyed Aoife that he didn’t say why he was working. She hadn’t mentioned her meeting with Ruth, but Conor knew they were in the same book club. Didn’t he trust her? Derek had obviously mentioned it to Jenny.
*
That evening, when she and Amy were in the house on their own for the first time in weeks, Derek phoned.
‘I owe you an apology, Aoife.’
He didn’t sound apologetic. She thought she detected an undercurrent of resentment, but mostly he sounded bored. Aoife didn’t care. She had much bigger fish to fry.
‘Thank you. Are you investigating Ruth’s murder?’
‘No. That tragedy has raised new questions about the Grogan case. I will be working on those. Detective Inspector Moloney will oversee the investigation into Ruth’s murder.’
‘Did you speak to Ruth yesterday?’
‘Yes. I called to her house in the afternoon. She said she wouldn’t speak to me without getting legal advice. We agreed that she would be in my office at eleven this morning. We were informed of her murder at eight-thirty when her housekeeper found her in the kitchen.’
‘You think it was the same person who killed the Grogans?’
‘I think it’s a good thing her children were with their father last night.’
‘Oh my God! You’re right. The entire family could have been wiped out. Those poor boys. I wonder what will happen to them now.’
‘They’ll live with their father, I presume. He’s not going to risk their fortune falling into anybody else’s hands.’
‘I didn’t think of that. The boys inherited everything?’
‘Yes, as soon as they’re of age.’
‘What age are they now?’
‘Ten and six.’
*
When Derek hung up, Aoife phoned Orla.
‘What’s all that noise? Are you in a bar?’
‘A restaurant. We’re going to a club later. Who did you say was killed?’
‘Ruth, the woman who started the book club.’
‘And her throat was cut?’
‘Yes. Orla, I think it might be my fault.’
‘What’s your fault?’
‘I told Martin that Ruth had an affair, and a few days later she’s murdered. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
‘Hang on a sec, I’m going outside.’
The background noise became muted, then disappeared.
‘Okay, so Martin believes his wife had an affair years ago. Why would that cause him to cut her throat?’
‘Maybe that’s what he does when he loses control. He killed the Grogans because Shane broke up his marriage, and he killed Ruth because she cheated on him.’
‘I don’t know, Aoife.’
‘They knew each other, Orla. They died in exactly the same way. How likely is it that they were killed by two different people?’
‘Not likely, that’s true. Their murders must be connected, but the connection may not be Ruth and Martin’s marriage.’
‘What else could it be?’
‘All three were members of the same book club.’
*
‘You think somebody is cutting the throat of people who belong to my book club?’
‘It’s as good a motive as any.’
‘But it makes no sense.’
‘That’s precisely my point. Everyone is trying to find reasonable explanations why Shane murdered his family or why somebody else murdered Shane, but nobody is ever going to come up with one. Whoever the murderer is, he’s obviously not capable of rational thought. Killing members of a book club probably makes as much sense to him as anything else.’
TWENTY-THREE
Lisa
‘But that means the police have accepted that Shane didn’t murder anyone. Doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. All Aoife said was that the police now feel there are additional questions that have to be answered.’
‘Thank God. Oh Lisa, thank God. People will know Shane didn’t murder his family now. Won’t they?’
‘I hope so. But there are some who will still point out that Shane had no defensive wounds and that the note pinned to the door was in his handwriting.’
‘It’s a start, love. They’re going in the right direction at last.’
‘I told Aoife I’d help her. She can’t investigate two murders, hold down a part-time job and look after a toddler at the same time. She’s going to get me a list of everyone Ruth contacted in her last two weeks and I’ll check them out.’
‘That’s good, Lisa. I’ll help. It will be a relief to finally be able to do something to clear Shane’s name.’
TWENTY-FOUR
Aoife waited a week before visiting Martin’s office. Her plan was to offer her condolences and get some indication of Martin’s reaction to the murder. She hoped Martin would be so devastated she would be left in no doubt of his innocence.
Aoife blinked as she entered the reception area. It was a hive of activity. Every seat was occupied. The tables were covered in glossy brochures, the plants had all been replaced and several new ones added. The aquarium was fully stocked, the white-tiled floor shone and the walls had been repainted. A lot of money had been spent in the few weeks since her last visit. There was no sign of the young girl with the belly ring. In her place were three receptionists clicking away on keyboards.
A pretty, highly groomed young woman in a navy suit hurried to greet Aoife.
‘Good afternoon, I’m Charlotte. May I help y
ou?’
‘I’m here to see Martin.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but could you tell him Aoife is here and I’m happy to wait until he’s free.’
‘Yes, of course. Please take a seat. Would you like tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee, please.’
‘Would you prefer a latte, cappuccino or espresso?’
She took Aoife’s order and headed for the coffee machine, muttering into her headset. ‘Aoife here to see Martin. She doesn’t have an appointment but she’s happy to wait.’
Charlotte returned a few minutes later with a small tray containing a cappuccino in a china mug, and a matching china plate with three biscuits. ‘Martin is unable to see you today, I’m afraid. He suggested you ring his secretary and make an appointment.’ She put a business card on the tray. ‘This is Isabella’s number. Please take your time and enjoy your coffee. We look forward to welcoming you again to Martin’s Way.’
She rushed off to greet an elderly couple who had just entered.
Aoife glanced at the card. There was no point phoning Isabella. Martin obviously would not agree to meet her. She picked up her coffee and sipped it slowly. It was twelve-twenty. With his newfound wealth, she was willing to bet Martin wouldn’t eat lunch in his office. If she approached him in a packed reception area, it would be difficult for him to ignore her.
She took out her phone.
‘Hi, Jenny. I need a list of Ruth’s recent phone calls. I presume the police have it. I can’t ask Conor or Derek to get it for me. Any idea how I could get my hands on it?’
‘Oh God, Aoife, you’ll get us all strung up. Okay, I’m only telling you this because Derek was so horrible to you. There’s a guy in the department called Frank O’Meara. His wife got drunk at last year’s Christmas party and said something that gave her friends the impression that Frank sells information to the press. I heard the story third-hand and I’ve no idea if it’s true, but you could give it a go.’
‘Thanks, Jenny.’
‘Actually, on second thought, don’t talk to Frank yourself. You don’t want anybody getting the idea Conor is involved. Get Lisa to speak to him.’
*
Aoife finished her coffee and gestured to Charlotte. ‘Would it be possible for me to have a second coffee? I’ve walked so much this morning, I’m exhausted.’
Charlotte looked slightly concerned but assured her it was no problem. As she was returning with the coffee, a woman in her mid-thirties entered. She was medium height, slender with very short blonde hair. Something about her face was familiar.
‘Hi, Charlotte, is he alone?’
‘Good afternoon, Triona. His meeting should end in the next ten minutes.’
Triona? Ruth’s sister Triona? She was taller than her sisters, the blonde hair was probably highlights, but there was something about her that reminded Aoife of Ruth. The eyes, maybe?
‘I’ll go up. See you later.’
Triona waved at Charlotte as she headed for the lift. Charlotte handed Aoife the coffee.
‘Thank you. Have you worked here long, Charlotte?’
‘It’s my first week.’
‘You’re obviously very good at your job. I’ve noticed several of the clients greet you by name. The lady you were just talking to, for instance.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘Oh, Triona is here every day. I know her well by now. Excuse me.’ She hurried off to greet another client.
Aoife sipped her coffee. She angled her chair so she would have a better view of the lift. Every few minutes the doors opened and the lift emptied. After about ten minutes she saw them. As the lift door opened, Martin and Triona drew apart. There were several inches between them as they strode out of the office. Aoife gathered up her things and followed them. When they rounded the corner, Martin put his arm around Triona and she lifted her face for a kiss. They got into a brand-new Mercedes and drove away.
TWENTY-FIVE
Lisa
Lisa sat at a table near the door and watched everyone who entered the bar.
Twenty minutes later, exactly on schedule, Frank O’Meara entered. He took a seat at the bar and chatted to the barman. When another customer caught the barman’s attention, Lisa sat on the empty barstool beside Frank.
‘Hi.’ She smiled at him.
‘Hi.’ Frank looked away. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to flirt with strange women.
‘Bad day at work?’ she asked.
‘You could say that.’
‘Me too. My boss told me to get my hands on a list of phone calls the police have, but I have no idea how to get it.’
She had his attention now.
‘Who do you work for?’
‘The Sun.’
‘What list are you looking for?’
‘Calls Ruth Kinsella made a few days before she died.’
‘Tough one, that. Keep an eye on my beer. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Twenty-five minutes later he returned carrying a small manila envelope.
‘Usual terms?’
Lisa had no idea what that meant. She took out four hundred euros and left it in front of her.
‘Are you serious? My terms are one thousand euros. They always have been and they always will be.’ He put a hand on the envelope and drew it closer to him.
Frank was obviously a chancer. A chancer would expect to bargain, wouldn’t he?
‘Okay, five hundred. That’s our agreement and you know it.’
Without another word, Frank slid the money into his pocket and, leaving the manila envelope on the counter, strolled out of the bar.
*
‘I got it, Mum.’
‘I was so worried. I had visions of the police arresting you. What happened?’
‘It was child’s play. He was in the bar at the exact time, just like Aoife said he would be.’
‘How much did he charge?’
‘Five hundred. He wanted a thousand, but I talked him down.’
‘If we find something that clears Shane, it was well worth it.’ She reached for her glasses. ‘Let’s start on it now. I’ll call out the names and you ring them.’
Lisa took out her phone and checked to see her number was still withheld. ‘Right. Start with the last number and we’ll work our way back.’
‘What excuse are you going to make for phoning these people?’
‘It depends on who they are. If I recognise the name, I’ll hang up. Otherwise, I’ll say I’m Ruth’s secretary, that I’m going through a list of calls Ruth made before she died to ascertain if there are any outstanding issues we should be dealing with and could they tell me what their call was in connection with.’
‘Where do you come up with these ideas, Lisa?’
Lisa grinned. ‘An overactive imagination.’
She dialled the last number Ruth had phoned. A boy answered, presumably Ruth’s son. The call before that went to voicemail. It was Ruth’s sister. Then there was a Pizza Hut, one of the members of the book club, Ruth’s parents and a hairdresser.
‘This could take a while, Mum. I’ll make us a cup of tea to keep us going.’
TWENTY-SIX
Aoife searched the Internet until she found a picture of Ruth’s sister. Yes, it was the same Triona. Aoife had assumed Triona would be the younger sister, but she was at least five years older than Susan, much closer to Ruth’s age.
‘Jenny, it’s Aoife again. I have a question for Derek. Could you ask him if the police are aware that Martin and Ruth’s sister Triona are still a couple?’
‘I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.’
Six minutes later the phone rang.
‘Derek said Triona and Martin never completely broke up. They stopped meeting in public, but when Martin’s neighbours were questioned, they said Triona has been a regular at Martin’s house for several years now.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Lisa
Lisa’s mother put the list on the table and removed her glasses.
‘This is the last one, Lisa.’
‘Are you tired, Mum? Do you want to take a break?’
‘No, we’re nearly there. Let’s get it finished.’
Lisa dialled the number and a young girl answered.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi. Who am I speaking to?’
‘Natasha. Who’s this?’
‘Hi, Natasha, I’m Anna, Ruth Kinsella’s secretary. I’m going through her paperwork and I see she phoned you the day she died. Would you mind if I asked what that was in connection with?’
‘Anna? What happened to Dee?’
‘Dee?’
‘Ruth’s secretary. Don’t tell me she got rid of Dee too?’
Lisa could have kicked herself. Idiot! Why hadn’t she taken the time to find out the name of Ruth’s real secretary?
‘I don’t know. I’ve only been working here a few days. Nobody’s mentioned Dee to me.’
‘That bitch! She treated poor Dee like a slave for eight years and then she just gets rid of her. Did she have a nanny cam watching her too?’
‘Nanny cam?’
‘That’s how the bitch got rid of me. She filmed me on the sofa with my boyfriend. It was 11 p.m. and the kids were in bed. What did she expect me to do? Stand guard outside their bedroom doors?’
‘You were Ruth’s nanny?’
‘Oh, didn’t I say that?’
‘Why did Ruth phone you if she had already fired you?’
‘That’s how she fired me. She didn’t even have the decency to tell me in person.’
‘And she had a nanny cam watching you?’
‘Can you believe it? It wasn’t even the legal type. I googled it and it’s not against the law if it doesn’t record audio, but Ruth’s did. It was voyeuristic. I’ve seen porn that was less explicit.’
‘You saw the video?’
‘Ruth showed it to me.’
‘I thought you said Ruth fired you by phone. When did she show you the video?’