But he wasn’t giving up on Grady yet. ‘Why did you take Edel on as a client?’
He held up his hands. ‘I swear, I didn’t know who she was until I met her. I recognised her from photographs Amanda had shown me during her obsessive phase.’ He frowned. ‘I would have assumed she’d go back to using her maiden name. Why did she hang onto the surname Johnson? It wasn’t as if she was ever legally married to the lying toerag.’
West looked as if he were going to ignore the question, then with a sigh, said, ‘Cyril stole the real Simon Johnson’s identity, and as a result, he was killed. Edel made a promise to his sister that she’d keep the surname in his memory.’
‘Edel’s a pretty decent sort, isn’t she? I watched her walk away from the office both times she came to see me, wondering what she ever saw in the likes of Cyril. He was a waster. A total dick. I never knew what Amanda saw in him, but, much as I love my sister, I’d be the first to acknowledge, she’s a bit rough. Edel is in a different league; good-looking, very classy and intelligent. I’ll never understand why she fell for him.’
‘He was a good liar,’ West said, ‘and the truth is, people generally see what they want to.’
Grady nodded and looked West straight in the eye. ‘I can see why you might have thought we had something to do with those photographs, but I swear we didn’t.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Amanda has the capability, don’t get me wrong, but if she’d been going to do something, she’d have done it a long time ago.’
West, catching Andrews’ quick look, nodded. There was nothing here. ‘We had Mr Power in earlier,’ he said, watching Grady’s eyes widen in surprise.
‘Aide? You can’t think he had anything to do with this?’ His voice became high-pitched, and he blinked rapidly. ‘Seriously, Aide isn’t capable of inflicting that kind of harm.’
‘No, maybe not,’ West conceded. ‘He has, however, shown a level of animosity toward Ms Johnson that warranted looking into.’
‘Animosity?’ Grady’s forehead creased. ‘I thought they got on okay.’
‘Perhaps you should stop talking about her in such an admiring fashion. I gather Mr Power had an unfortunate experience with Oisin O’Leary.’
Both detectives watched as the penny dropped with a resounding clunk. Grady slapped his forehead with his hand. ‘He’s jealous of her?’ He crinkled his nose. ‘No disrespect, Edel’s lovely, but she’s a woman.’ He stood up. ‘I assume I can go. It looks as if I have some explaining to do.’
At West’s nod, he smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said, reaching out his hand. ‘If you ever get tired of being a garda, a role as relationship counsellor might suit you.’
On that note, he left with a cheery wave.
‘Well,’ Andrews said, crossing his arms. ‘We went pretty rapidly from three potential suspects to none.’
‘Get someone in Cork to check out Amanda Pratt, will you? I think Grady is telling us the truth but we’d better be sure.’ He ran both hands through his hair. ‘Edel is not going to be happy.’
It was an understatement. Edel was furious. ‘It had to have been one of them,’ she said when he told her what had happened. She paced his small office, her arms wrapped around her waist as if trying to hold herself together.
‘They had reasonable explanations for everything,’ he said, keeping his voice calm.
She dropped down into the chair and rubbed her face. Everything he’d said sounded reasonable. ‘Aidan was jealous of me?’
‘It looks like it. Power has trust issues because of a previous bad experience. When Grady sang your praises, he must have thought history was repeating itself.’
‘That’s just great,’ she said bitterly. ‘So, if they’re all squeaky clean where does that leave me?’
West checked the time. ‘Let’s go and get something to eat,’ he said, ‘we can talk about where we go next.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, and shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m being childish. That’s a good idea. Let’s go somewhere nice.’
The general office was empty apart from Baxter sitting in front of his computer, fingers tapping. ‘We’re going for something to eat, Seamus,’ West said, ‘would you like to join us?’
He shook his head. ‘I want to get this written up, and then I’m heading home. Tanya is still unpacking; she’ll kill me if I don’t get home to help.’
‘Who’s Tanya?’ Edel asked, as they made their way to the car park.
West pressed the key fob to unlock his car. ‘His girlfriend,’ he said, as they sat and fastened seat belts. ‘They’ve been together a couple of years, I gather, and just recently bought a house in Gorey.’
‘Nice,’ she said, but her mind was on other things and the conversation ground to a halt.
West drove to Greystones and parked outside a small Italian restaurant near the marina. ‘This okay?’ he asked, turning to look at her.
She smiled. ‘Perfect. There’s nothing in this world that can’t be solved by pizza and a glass of wine.’
27
The restaurant was busy. The owner, a Sicilian with a charming smile and expansive manner, showed West and Edel to a table near the back window with a view over the marina. He handed them menus with an elaborate flourish and left them alone.
‘Mushroom and artichoke,’ Edel said, ‘my perfect pizza topping.’ She closed the menu with a snap.
West closed his. ‘Seafood pizza for me.’ He handed her the wine menu. ‘You decide, I don’t mind what we have.’
The Sicilian returned to take their order. ‘It’s a lovely wine list,’ she said, ‘is there a white wine you’d recommend?’
‘Certo,’ he said pointing to the menu, ‘this is very good.’ He grinned. ‘Sicilian, like me.’
Pizzas and wine ordered, they sat back to admire the view.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, looking out at the lights of the marina.
‘Beautiful,’ he echoed, looking at her.
She laughed. ‘Stop being Mills and Boonish, Mike.’ But she looked pleased all the same. ‘I’m not dressed for a romantic night out,’ she said, looking down at her navy clothes. ‘I still haven’t worn that dress I bought.’
He reached for her hand and held it tightly. ‘I promise, we’ll get a weekend away soon. In fact, I know just the place.’
She tilted her head. ‘Not a lighthouse in Clare?’
‘No, not this time,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’s a hotel, near Aughrim. It has a spa and an award-winning restaurant. I’ll send you the details and you can see what you think.’
The wine arrived, the manager chatting about its provenance while he uncorked the bottle. He poured with great ceremony and waited with a look of anticipation on his face as they tasted.
‘Oh, that is very nice,’ Edel said.
‘Excellent,’ West agreed, raising his glass to the man.
The manager made a little bow of acknowledgement and left them once more.
A burst of laughter came from a table on the other side of the restaurant. It drew Edel’s eyes and she stared for a moment, a wry smile on her face. ‘I was so happy when I got that damn publishing contract. I felt like all my troubles were over and now look at me.’
‘We will find out who did this,’ he said, taking her hand again.
‘Did?’ she said. ‘You think it’s over?’
West hadn’t even realised he’d used the past tense. Did he think it was over? No, he sighed, it probably wasn’t. Nobody was going to go to that much trouble without achieving what they’d set out to do. Which was? His eyes narrowed. Professional and personal destruction? The photographs had certainly achieved their aim at destroying her professionally. Pulling out of it would be a tough struggle. Personally?
She was waiting for an answer. ‘No,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think so. Someone wants to cause you trouble, Edel.’
‘They’re doing a pretty good job,’ she said, draining her glass and refilling it. She held the bottle towards
him. ‘Another glass?’
‘I’m okay,’ he said, ‘maybe when I’ve had something to eat.’
As if they’d heard him, a waiter weaved his way through tables with a plate in each hand. He deftly placed one in front of each of them, leaving them with a buon appetito and a smile.
Ignoring the cutlery, Edel picked up a slice of her pizza and took a bite. ‘Delicious,’ she said, finishing the slice in a few mouthfuls and immediately reaching for the next.
West was more of a knife and fork man when it came to pizza. He cut into his and nodded his approval as he ate the first bite. ‘We’ll follow up on Amanda Pratt, just to be on the safe side,’ he said, pouring himself a second, smaller glass of wine.
‘But you don’t think she’s involved?’
He swirled the wine around. ‘No, I don’t. Grady says she’s moved on. Whoever did this, it took time and effort. The photographs are good.’ He smiled at her pantomime-outraged look. ‘You know what I mean.’
Laughing, Edel nodded. ‘Yes, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were me.’ Lifting her glass, she looked at him. ‘Tell me truthfully, when you opened them, did you think, even for a second, that they were of me?’
He smiled. His moment’s suspicion that she might be having an affair with Grady seemed unworthy of a mention. ‘Not even for a millisecond,’ he said.
Curiosity lit her eyes. ‘Why? They are well done. You really need to look carefully to see that they’re composites, so why were you so sure?’
‘Well, firstly because I know enough about you to know you’d never pose for something like that, and secondly because unlike Aidan Power I don’t have trust issues.’
‘Is there a thirdly?’ she asked, smiling at him across the table.
‘I love you, and would never believe anything bad of you,’ he said, ‘will that do?’
She nodded before standing to reach over and kiss him on the lips. ‘I think so,’ she said. Sitting again, she refilled her glass and held the bottle toward him. ‘You won’t have more?’
He shook his head and picked up a glass of water instead. ‘I’d better not.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Edel said. ‘Self-publishing is perfectly acceptable these days; I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I can self-publish my family saga and concentrate on my next novel.’ She cited all the writers who’d successfully self-published and who swore they’d never go the traditional route.
‘Is it the same as vanity publishing?’ he asked, knowing very little about it apart from a vague memory of reading about people who paid thousands to have books published and never made a penny. ‘Don’t they charge a fortune?’
‘It’s not the same,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘There’s no financial outlay with self-publishing. I just decide which platform I want to use, download my novel, choose a cover and that’s it. It’s published.’
West put his wine glass down. ‘That’s it?’
She smiled. ‘I could do it straight away, but I need to make sure it’s as good as if FinalEdit were publishing it. That means finding and hiring an editor. It also means employing a cover designer; I don’t want it to look amateurish. I will also have to learn about marketing which will be something completely new for me.’
‘Ah,’ he said, picking up his wine again. ‘I see; you’d have to do all the advertising and promoting yourself.’
‘Yes, it’ll be a challenge, but I think I can do it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m a good writer, Hugh wouldn’t have taken me on if he hadn’t believed in me. I’m not letting whoever is sending those photographs destroy my career. Self-publishing isn’t easy; I have a lot to learn but I will succeed. Meanwhile, I’ll write the next novel and keep going.’
He smiled at her determination. ‘I predict a bestseller,’ he said and raised his glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to your success.’
Finally, the wine was finished and the restaurant almost empty. ‘I think we’d better leave,’ West said with a smile and a slight nod toward the hovering waiter.
Outside, the mild night and clear, starry sky prompted him to suggest a stroll along the marina. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while and stopped to look out to sea.
West put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. ‘We’re good together,’ he said simply. And then, because the mood had become a little serious, he told her about his lunch in Fiona’s apartment.
She was slightly taken aback at first. This was, after all, the woman he’d been laughing so uproariously with in Monkstown.
‘She has a penthouse in one of those lovely apartment blocks between the Park and the Liffey, with fabulous views over both.’ He told her about the sudden downpour they’d been caught in on the way there, and Fiona’s kindness in providing an alternative while she put his wet shirt into the dryer. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘getting into it was easier than getting out, so there was I, hands in the air, trying to wriggle my way out of a scrub top that was several sizes too small, expecting her to come back any moment. It could have been so embarrassing.’ He held his arms up to demonstrate and wriggled his body frantically.
Edel smiled. Seriously, what had she been worrying about? As West continued his contortions, she started to giggle.
‘It wasn’t funny,’ he said, grabbing her in a bear hug.
She giggled louder and kissed him soundly on the mouth. ‘What an idiot,’ she said fondly.
Back home, by mutual agreement, they went straight to bed and made love until after midnight.
Then, relaxed, sated and sure of their world, they slept.
28
Waking early, West resisted the temptation to stay just where he was. Instead, he kissed the sleeping woman beside him and got up and had a shower. Instead of hanging around drinking too much coffee, he decided to go into the station and get some work done.
He arrived early enough to chat with the night shift, swapping stories with officers he hadn’t seen for a while before heading to his office to switch on his computer and check emails. There were a number from various children’s groups he’d reached out to. But, like the others that had replied, they had nothing positive to offer.
The child in the suitcase. It looked like she was going to be left with that name and that didn’t sit easily with him. The team, especially Andrews, wouldn’t be happy having to put it to the back of the pile, but they’d understand. Despite their best efforts, they just couldn’t solve them all. They’d leave that reconstructed image of her on the noticeboard, and they wouldn’t forget.
The Ollie Fearon case was also stagnant. He had half a mind to head out with Jarvis and Allen to interview that friend, if they could find him. He sighed, they wouldn’t appreciate him tagging along and, if he were honest, he’d just be in the way. Opening his diary, he groaned. More damn audits due. This one an audit of their response time.
He wished he could do an audit of the time wasted doing them instead of proper police work but he was afraid if he suggested it, even with heavy sarcasm, Morrison would think it was a good idea. The man did love his audits. He might rarely interfere with what went on in the detective division yet forget to do the damn audits and he’d pester him for days.
He pulled up the relevant forms and figures and started on the tedious job of transferring one to the other. He’d made little headway when he heard voices outside and Andrews’ cheerful face peered around the door.
‘You’re in early. Coffee?’
He nodded, saved what he’d done and sat back with his hands locked behind his head.
Andrews returned moments later, a mug in each hand. Handing one to West, he sat down. ‘Jarvis and Allen are heading into the city first thing,’ he said. ‘They’re hoping to catch Fearon’s pal before he heads off to do whatever it is he gets up to.’
‘Let’s hope when they find him that he has something to tell us,’ West said, picking up his mug. ‘Before I forget, will you contact someone in Cork to have a look at Amanda Pratt?’
<
br /> Andrews nodded. ‘I thought I’d ask Tom to do that. He has a lot of contacts down there.’
‘Good idea,’ West said and put the woman out of his head. ‘You know, I half expected to find more photographs in the post this morning. It seems to me, whoever is responsible, they’ve left the job half-done.’ He saw Andrews’ puzzled frown. ‘The photographs were sent to professional contacts, and they did a bloody good job there. But they were also sent to me. That’s personal, Pete.’
‘You think they’ll try again?’
‘I just can’t think that they’ll leave it at that, or what motive someone would have for trying to destroy her.’
Andrews sipped his coffee thoughtfully. ‘She has been involved in a number of high-profile cases. Maybe she’s picked up a follower?’
West nodded and smiled grimly. ‘A stalker? That’s what woke me so early this morning. If it isn’t someone she knows, it’s someone who has his sights on her for some reason, and what you say makes sense.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past that young Finbarr,’ Andrews said with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of that young gurrier.’
West laughed. ‘I agree but for the moment Finbarr is safely ensconced on Clare Island. Edel has kept in touch with Sylvia. She says Finbarr has been very supportive.’
‘Hmmm,’ Andrews said, ‘I can’t imagine that will last.’
‘No. Probably not.’ West put his half-empty mug down. ‘I think we’ll just have to wait until whoever it is takes the next step. Meanwhile, Mother Morrison will be shouting for this damn audit, so I’d better get back to it. Let me know as soon as Jarvis and Allen get in contact.’
* * *
Dismissed, Andrews took his mug and headed out to have a word with Tom Blunt about Amanda Pratt.
Sergeant Blunt, a big man who listened intently, remembered everything and said little, was a popular garda, liked by both the uniforms and detectives. Andrews found him in his office directly behind the front desk.
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