And to think that Mannix had the audacity to try to shift the blame on her. That somehow Kate was responsible. Because they hadn’t been getting on, she had forced him to look elsewhere for pleasure. That somehow Kate had a part to play in this murderous tragedy. What was the matter with him? she asked herself again. Couldn’t he have found some regular slut to play away with? It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty out there. But no. Mannix had to pick the nutter.
Kate felt deep distaste as she thought of all the times they’d since made love. The duplicitous shit. Had any of his affection been real? And then it hit her. She wondered if it had happened before. How much of their life together had been a sham?
It was only sex. He kept repeating it. If he said it one more time, she’d scream. It may have been just sex to him but it was a whole load more to her. It was trust. It was the inviolability of their marriage. Forsaking all others—when she’d said it at the altar, she’d meant it. But he had let that nutter in and things could never be undone.
Kate thought back to last March, about the time he’d been to Boston. She tried to remember exactly what had been going on in their lives. True—they hadn’t been getting on too well. There had been pressures. Money, or the lack of it. Debts. Fergus. She’d been fretting all the time about Fergus. And all the while, he’d been sleeping with her.
Later into the flight, Kate fell into to an uneasy doze, wishing the burden she felt could be lifted. She had no idea how things would play out when they landed, but of one thing she was certain. She had to be on her guard at all times. At every twist and turn. There was no room for complacency. There was no telling where this woman might be. Could she even trust the gardaí to protect her?
The damp light was beginning to fade as the aircraft followed the weave of the Shannon to the marshland airport. It was a landing like no other. Kate was usually happy to return home from any foreign jaunt. Not this time. As she tried to muster a smile for the kids, Kate felt sick to her stomach. They were no longer going home as a unit to the sanctuary of the family home. That too had been violated. The little terrace house that she so loved was now a murder scene.
She tried again to imagine the future without Mannix. She imagined different houses around the city, a nice small flat for her, Fergus, and Izzy. She needed to keep on imagining it, to make it real, because that’s where she was headed. Then it dawned on her. Why should Kate be the one to move? The house at Curragower Falls was home to Izzy and Fergus as well. There were going to be so many adjustments in their young lives, why heap an unnecessary cruel move on them as well? If anyone was going to move out, surely it should be Mannix?
How would Izzy and Fergus react to their father’s departure? It chewed her up inside as she tried to picture it. Fergus idolized his father. And how would Kate fare, cast in the role of villain, ejecting his hero from the family home? Fergus would have to be told very carefully, his father’s departure sensitively executed. Kate would think of something. She had to think of something. There was a solution out there—only she hadn’t thought of it just yet.
“Don’t worry, Kate. It’s going to be okay,” said Mannix quietly as they stood at the luggage carousel. He was looking out for the suitcases with their trademark yellow twine. “Spike will be just through those doors in arrivals along with the plainclothes gardaí.”
Kate didn’t bother to respond. It was going to be okay for him, all right. Mannix wasn’t the intended target. Kate was.
Kate thought she’d had the measure of this man. But Mannix’s ebullient confidence in the face of all that had happened was staggering. Did he really believe that he could somehow smooth things over? Was he stupid? Did he genuinely think that things could ever return to business as usual? Mannix had a death on his hands. And yet he appeared to have little or no idea of the depth of her anger and revolt.
Three of their suitcases arrived promptly and Mannix swung them onto the trolley as if he hadn’t a care in the world. She wondered then if his behavior was part of a ruse. Mannix was nothing if not a showman. Perhaps underneath the nonchalant exterior, he was as distressed as she was.
“Mum?” Fergus was wiping imaginary dust from the camera, which he’d insisted on holding on to.
“Yes, Ferg?”
“Why aren’t you talking to Dad?”
Fergus had an unhappy knack for pointing out and heightening any socially awkward situation. Tact was something she would have to try to teach him in the years to come. In fact, Kate was surprised he hadn’t remarked on the silence between them earlier. She noticed now that Izzy had pricked up her ears. Izzy was definitely unhappy with what she had been told so far. She felt her daughter’s dark eyes steadily fix on her. Mannix looked at her too, wondering what she’d say.
“Of course I’m talking to Dad. I’ve got a lot on my mind with this dreadful tragedy.”
“No, you’re not, Mum. You haven’t said a single word to him since we got on the plane. It’s not Dad’s fault we have to come home early. It’s not Dad’s fault there’s a psycho on the loose!”
Poor Ferg, always his father’s champion. If only he knew.
Sharp, astute, Izzy was quick off the mark.
“It’s not your fault, is it, Dad?”
Mannix looked at Izzy, flummoxed.
“Of course not, Izzy. Don’t be ridiculous,” chided Kate.
The words were out before she knew it. It wasn’t that she was trying to protect Mannix, but she did want to protect the children. There would be time enough for the whole truth at a much later date. For now, she’d protect the kids as much as she could. Again, Mannix looked at Kate with relief. She hoped her actions hadn’t given him false hope of any reconciliation. As soon as they were in private again, she would disavow him of any such notions.
“Let’s go, troops,” said Mannix as the last suitcase arrived. “We’re locked and loaded!”
Beset by a feeling of dread, Kate followed him toward the sliding doors. Each step like walking on wet sucking concrete. What lay on the other side of those doors? Kate’s heart fluttered and started to race. Her legs shook. Her palms perspired heavily. With each footstep, Kate’s heart beat louder. Thump, thump, thump. Suddenly the doors were open and they were through.
Was she there?
That nutter?
Slinking through the crowd?
Faces. Faces. A sea of faces.
All looking at Kate. Kate felt her skin prickle and the hairs stand up on the nape of her neck. Someone out there was watching her. She could feel it. Kate scanned the crowd, eyes swiveling, darting this way and that.
Stay alert. Keep looking.
Voices called out. Kate’s heart was beating wildly.
Who was that? There—at the back, behind the crowd?
That woman with the blue head scarf—she was steadily making her way toward Kate! Kate’s breath came in short bursts. Kate’s eyes fastened onto the woman—petrified. She was definitely headed in Kate’s direction. Kate should run! Get out of here. NOW! But Kate was rooted to the spot. She could see the woman’s lips were shiny—glistening with red lip gloss. A moment later she disappeared. Melted into the crowd. Where was she? There she was again. Directly in front of the man with the walking stick. Moving faster. Much, much faster—a purpose to her step. Suddenly, the woman’s expression changed, her face creasing into a smile. All Kate’s senses screamed. Was she smiling at her? Or was she smiling at Mannix? Kate shot a quick glance at Mannix. How had he not noticed the woman? She was nearly on them!
Whoosh!
Kate became dizzy as she felt the soft fabric of someone brushing by. The blood was thumping in her ears. Looking around, Kate stared as the woman wrapped herself in a tight embrace with a dark-skinned man. Relief coursed through Kate and a bead of sweat trickled down her back.
Kate desperately needed to get out of this crowd. To feel cold water on her face. Now. She would nev
er make it to the exit. The sign for the ladies’ toilets was there, to the right. Just a quick sprint away.
“Kate! Where are you going?”
It was Mannix. He spoke so sharply other travelers turned to look.
“Bathroom,” she said, and it occurred to her that if it weren’t for her kids, she’d love to keep on walking, to cut a line through the gathering of waiting taxi drivers and welcoming relatives, out through the concourse doors, to keep on walking and walking, without ever looking back.
“Quickly then,” Mannix barked. “We’ll wait here for you.” It was the first sign he’d given acknowledging any danger.
A ball of stress had formed inside her. As Kate waited for a free cubicle, she looked around her. She wondered if anyone else in the queue was expecting a homecoming quite as appalling as hers. “Muuuum, I’m really bursting,” moaned a small child, wiggling her tiny frame. “Shhh, Rosie, we’re in next,” said her mother.
Kate looked in the mirror over the hand basins. Her hair hung lank and there were dark circles under her eyes. Not the rejuvenated soul she expected to be on her return. Everyone else in the queue looked tired and drawn as well. Apart from the woman holding the flowers. Standing a few people behind, Kate watched as she fiddled with the petals, and when she lowered her head to smell the bouquet, Kate noticed her long ponytail beneath her woolly hat. The woman looked as if she’d been walking in the wind.
What was taking everyone so long? There were never enough toilets in these bathrooms.
A couple of ladies were applying powder at the mirror. Another young woman pinched her cheeks. As Kate waited, she unzipped her bag in search of lipstick. She turned to face the mirror, while keeping her position in the queue. As she concentrated, following the curve of her lips, Kate became aware that she was being watched.
No, she was mistaken. It was her imagination. She’d gone into overdrive.
Get a grip, Kate!
No, actually she wasn’t mistaken at all. She was being watched. By the woman with the flowers.
Kate was being scrutinized. The woman with the flowers was directly behind Kate now. There was something else that jarred about her. Apart from the flowers. She was in a long winter coat, muffled up in her woolly hat and matching scarf. As if she’d come in from outdoors.
There was something odd about her.
Kate turned around and froze. She was face-to-face with her now. How sleek and shiny and perfect her ponytail was. The woman kept staring at Kate. She didn’t lower her eyes. Not for a second. She looked Kate up and down, slowly, lingering on Kate’s hands, her rings. Kate froze.
In a sudden burst of panic, Kate skipped the queue, past the gray-haired ladies and the whining child, colliding with a woman exiting a cubicle. Kate slammed the door loudly and firmly slid the bolt in place. Darts of adrenaline shot through her body.
That was really weird.
Over the rush of blood in her ears, Kate heard the indignation of those outside.
“Disgraceful! Did you see that?”
“No manners, and a little one waiting as well . . .”
Kate was embarrassed. But more than that, she was petrified.
Was it her?
Was that Joanne Collins?
Was she still outside?
Oh God! What should she do now? Kate was trapped. But would Joanne Collins be stupid enough to come to the airport? When the gardaí were looking for her? And then it occurred to Kate that the woman probably had no idea the gardaí were looking for her. Joanne Collins thought Mannix loved her. In her sick and twisted mind, what she had done was in the name of love. Why would Mannix even go to the gardaí?
As Kate leaned against the door, thinking, thinking, thinking, she knew what she should do. There was one person who would know if it was Joanne. That was Mannix, and he was outside. Kate frantically unzipped her bag again to get her mobile phone.
“Mum! Mum, are you in here?”
That was Izzy’s voice!
Izzy was out there with that woman. She could be in danger! Dropping the mobile in the bag, Kate slid back the bolt and swung the door open.
“There you are,” muttered Izzy. The other faces in the queue were looking strangely at her now. Kate quickly scanned the washroom. But she was gone. The woman with the flowers was gone.
“Mum? Are you all right?” asked Izzy, looking concerned. “Dad sent me, because you were taking so long.”
“I’m fine, Izzy,” Kate said, trying to still her beating heart. She would really have to get this under control. She couldn’t transmit her anxieties to Izzy or Fergus. The woman was gone now. All she’d done was stare at Kate, and Kate had gone into a tailspin.
“Come on, Dad’s going mad.”
Kate’s days of pandering to Mannix were done. She took her time washing her hands and splashed cold water on her face. She wiped a moistened paper towel over the back of neck.
“Mum, come on,” said Izzy, as warm jets of air from the hand dryer ran over Kate’s hands.
“Ready,” Kate said as the machine clicked off. Kate suddenly felt a shiver run down her back. There was something there in the wastebasket at her side. She looked closely. A cello-wrapped bouquet of flowers. Freesias, lilies, and carnations. Discarded, dumped, headfirst into the waste bin.
“Let’s go,” Kate said, linking Izzy’s arm to steady herself.
What kind of woman discarded a fresh bouquet of flowers?
• • •
“Mum, you’re hurting me . . .”
Kate squeezed Izzy’s arm as they walked back out on the concourse. She felt afraid again. Mannix, Spike, and Fergus were only feet away.
“You doing okay?” asked Spike gently. She let him give her a hug. After the unsettling incident in the washroom it was a relief to see a familiar face. He looked genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been better,” she replied.
“You were a long time in there,” remarked Mannix.
“Yeah?” replied Kate with complete disinterest.
“Mum isn’t talking to Dad, Uncle Spike. She says she is, but she’s not,” piped up Fergus.
Spike looked from Kate to Mannix and back again.
“Your mum is tired and she’s had a shock, Ferg,” said Spike.
Kate just wanted to get out of the openness of this airport. She was frazzled. Everyone was looking at her, staring at her. Even now, someone else was headed in her direction. Another woman, headed straight for her, making a beeline for her. A serious woman. The woman was picking up her step. Kate reached out to grab Spike’s arm. She felt a scream forming in her throat. But the woman was upon her . . .
“Mrs. O’Brien? Kate O’Brien?” the woman was asking.
Kate breathed out.
There were two other people with her. Two men.
“I’m Mannix O’Brien.” Mannix held out his hand to the woman. “Special Branch, is it?”
“That’s right, sir,” said the serious woman, directing attention away from Kate, who remained mute, the blood drained from her face. Feeling stupid.
“I’m Detective Maria Nagle. And this is Detective James O’Rourke and Detective Shane Dwyer. Let’s get you all home first, guys. And then we can have a little chat.”
“Do you have the squad cars outside? Is the Armed Response Unit there?” asked Fergus excitedly.
“My son, Fergus,” Mannix said, smiling at the detective.
“Let’s get you home, young man. I’m afraid we just have unmarked cars today,” she said officiously.
Ten minutes later, all the O’Briens were in one car, Spike driving. The unmarked garda car with plainclothes detectives followed. Fergus was disappointed but he still held out hope that the Armed Response Unit would greet them at Curragower Falls.
• • •
There was a funereal feel to the convoy journey back to th
e house.
“The driveway to the house is still taped off but I’m sure we can use it now,” said Spike, closely following the car in front as advised. “The forensics guys were there for ages. They must have everything they need by now.”
“Are we going to be on television?” asked Fergus.
“I don’t think so, Ferg. The TV crew moved out a few hours ago.”
“Really?” said Ferg, sounding disappointed again.
“Where are the Harveys now?” asked Izzy.
God, that poor family. Kate didn’t want to think about the pain they must have been going through. Those poor children. That poor man. Kate tried to block it out. She had so much pain of her own.
“I helped them move up to the Strand Hotel late last night,” said a somber Spike.
“How are the Harveys doing?” asked Mannix. He sat next to Spike in the passenger seat.
How the hell did Mannix expect they were doing? They were in hell. He had swung a wrecking ball through all their lives.
“Yeah, in shock, you know,” said Spike. “The kids are very quiet. Some relative arrived over from the States to look after them. Not in great shape, to be honest . . .” His voice drifted off.
Mannix said nothing.
“Are my Man U bedclothes washed?” asked Fergus into a long silence.
“It doesn’t matter, Fergus,” said Kate. “I’ll wash them later or tomorrow. We can put another clean set on before you go to bed.”
“Okay.”
She hoped Fergus wasn’t going to fret.
Pulling up outside the terrace house, Kate’s stomach lurched as she saw all the police tape at the side of the house. Two uniformed gardaí stood at the gate. Detective James O’Rourke got out of the car in front and exchanged a few words with them. Moments later the tape was taken away and they were ushered into the driveway. One of the unmarked cars stayed out front on the main road and the other drove away.
“Can you see any blood?” she heard Fergus whisper to Izzy as they dragged their suitcases over the loose gravel.
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