The Game Changer

by Louise Phillips

  Flicking through the rest of the notebook, she checked to see if other pages had been removed, but none had been tampered with, as far as she could tell. It was only the pages after the day she had disappeared. She checked again, doubting herself, telling herself to take it slowly this time.

  It was only when she looked at the back of the notebook for a second time that she saw the plastic pocket on the inside cover: in it, a folded page of a newspaper. She opened it. The article had a photograph of her and Adam leaving the Circuit Court in 2012. It was during the William Cronly trial, the man responsible for the murder of two twelve-year-old schoolgirls that year. Both she and Adam looked sombre, trying to avoid the cameras as they walked down the steps of the court.

  Kate couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Why had Michael O’Neill an article about her and Adam at the trial? Cronly was still serving out his prison sentence. Did someone want her to find the clipping, perhaps for the same reason they had sent the note to the apartment? Her visit to the lock-up had been random, dependent on Ethel’s unreliable memory, yet something about it felt orchestrated.

  She thought about Malcolm. There was an age gap of at least fifteen years between him and O’Neill, but now that the connection with Kevin was clear, she knew Michael O’Neill and Malcolm must have been neighbours at one point. They could have known each other back then. She needed to talk to Adam. She swallowed hard. Time was running out. She couldn’t risk leaving Ethel on her own any longer. On leaving the lock-up, she fired the protective gloves and footwear into a nearby skip.

  Ethel awoke as soon as Kate opened the car door. She hoped she didn’t smell too bad, but she also knew she had to bring the conversation back to the lock-up and its contents.

  ‘Ethel, the notebooks?’

  ‘Notebooks? Oh, yes, I remember now. Did you find them?’

  ‘They were in the tea chest, as you said.’

  ‘There’s so much stuff in there. I knew Michael was a hoarder but, heavens …’

  ‘Do you remember when the things were stored in the garage? Was it when you moved house?’

  ‘I think so. It was so long ago. Some friends of Michael’s helped him move it all.’ Her eyes lit up with delight, as if she had won a prize by remembering such a tiny thing.

  ‘Who helped?’

  She looked confused again. ‘I can’t …’

  ‘Were they neighbours?’

  ‘I’m not sure. They might have been.’

  ‘Please, Ethel, it’s important.’

  She bit her bottom lip. ‘Valentine. There was a man called Valentine.’

  ‘Valentine Pearson?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Did you know him?’

  ‘For a time.’

  ‘There was another man too.’

  ‘Who, Ethel?’

  ‘I can’t … I don’t … It’s there, the name, but I can’t catch it.’ Kate wanted to scream, but with Ethel becoming increasingly upset, pushing it wasn’t going to help. Turning the ignition key, she said, ‘Don’t worry, Ethel. Let’s go and get the milk and eggs.’

  ‘I think the name started with M.’

  Malcolm Madden, Kate thought. His name started with M, but then again, so did a great many others. Was she creating links that might or might not exist, and what about Adam, why hadn’t he mentioned Kevin being O’Neill’s foster son? Why had he held this information back from her?

  The Game Changer

  IT WASN’T LONG BEFORE KATE AND ETHEL’S VISIT TO the lock-up was reported to the Game Changer. Success meant anticipating a variety of moves and potential counter-moves, and having eyes and ears in any number of places was always useful. The group member who reported the incident believed Ethel O’Neill could be troublesome.

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS 20

  Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Confidential Record: 122

  Ethel O’Neill is in denial, clinging to the notion that her husband was a good man, in the same way that desperate people believe in some form of salvation, a reward beyond this life. Why? They’re not prepared to face the consequences of another answer.

  Michael O’Neill didn’t like being reminded of his sins – a man uncomfortable with the truth. If you get away with something for long enough, you come to believe you have invested a great deal in it. All those lies and cover-ups and near misses, and people who could have ratted on you, but didn’t, feed into the belief that you have managed to bury the truth.

  The Game Changer had to convince him that what he needed most in life was forgiveness. It was an easy pill to swallow, a sugar-coated alternative when punishment didn’t look nearly as attractive. It helped him to part with his money, and once that was done, forgiveness was denied. Humiliation played a role too: being forced to urinate and soil the walls of the lock-up eradicated the last of his pride. His death was always on the cards, and if fragile Ethel decides to complicate things, she too will be crushed.

  (Page 1 of 1)

  Kate

  KATE HAD BARELY AN HOUR BEFORE SHE COLLECTED Charlie from school, but she wasn’t prepared to wait any longer to ask Adam why he had been selective with the information he had given her on the O’Neill investigation. Walking through Harcourt Street station, she was greeted by the odd nod and cheerful wave from people she’d worked with in the past. Only those within the Special Detective Unit would have known she was taking time out, making it easier for her to reach Adam’s office without too many questions being asked.

  Ever since she’d dropped Ethel off, things had kept churning in her mind, and her uncertainty around the length of time she had been missing all those years ago had taken on a whole new lease of life. She felt as if an enormous chasm had opened, and she had no idea how deep it was, or how far she would fall before she reached something solid. What had felt like vague, unanswered questions, coupled with slight memory loss, had been magnified to something far more ominous by her parents’ lack of truthfulness, and with that came more questions.

  Right now, the only person who could give her answers was Adam. A group of male detectives were huddled together outside his door. She knew a couple of them, but she wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation, shuffling her way through, barely acknowledging anyone. Tapping on the door, she turned the handle and walked in without waiting to be asked.

  ‘Kate.’ Surprise showed on Adam’s face. ‘Is something wrong?

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about O’Neill’s foster son?’ She slammed the door behind her.

  ‘Calm down,’ he said.

  ‘Well, why didn’t you?’ she asked again, louder.

  He moved to her side of the desk, leaning against it, facing her. ‘Kate, let’s keep the volume down, shall we?’

  ‘All right, but I want answers.’

  ‘For a start, you’re not part of the investigation team.’

  ‘That didn’t stop you asking me questions, seeking my opinion …’

  ‘Is it wrong that I value your views?’

  ‘No, but you could have told me about Kevin.’

  ‘Look, when we found out O’Neill’s foster son had died in a similar manner, it added weight to O’Neill’s death being suicide – a kind of copycat death, the guy reflecting a form of solidarity or regret for what had happened before.’

  ‘No argument there.’

  ‘But the boy’s death happened a long time ago.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I already guessed it was the guy you mentioned but, frankly, Kate, that was it. End of story.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘The truth would help.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’ He folded his arms. ‘I knew you were upset over the note.’

  ‘What has that to do with anything?’

  ‘And then with the possible connection to Madden. When the link to the boy’s death was made, I didn’t …’

  ‘You didn’t what?’

  ‘I didn’t want you jumping to conclusions.’
/>
  ‘What kind of conclusions? You’re not back to that crap about me not being myself?’

  ‘When you got that note, almost immediately it was like you wanted to connect it to what happened to you all those years ago.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I was wrong.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t, but with Kevin’s death happening the same year, I was afraid you’d put two and two together and come up with—’

  ‘With what? Some sort of conspiracy theory?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that.’

  She sat down on the chair, keeping her voice calm. ‘You knew I was going to talk to Ethel O’Neill. You should have briefed me.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’

  ‘In this instance, I thought that the more open you were going in, the better.’

  ‘I don’t agree.’

  ‘Look, it was a long shot that you’d get anything out of Ethel. I told you that from the get-go.’

  ‘Something stinks here.’

  ‘What stinks is that you’re used to being in the driver’s seat.’

  ‘That’s harsh.’

  ‘What happened to you wanting to take time out to be with Charlie?’

  ‘You’re changing the subject.’

  ‘Can’t a guy make a point?’

  ‘I want to be assigned to the case.’

  ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Why? It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I came back early, even if only to concentrate on this particular investigation.’

  ‘It’s not going to happen, Kate. Accept it.’

  ‘It can happen if you make it happen.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be wise for anyone involved.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’re personally involved, that’s why not.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  ‘That’s different. I was assigned to the case before any connection was made. Listen, Kate,’ his tone softening, ‘you’re doing the right thing taking time out. Even I can see the difference it’s making to you and Charlie.’

  ‘Bullshit. Let’s leave my parenting skills out of this.’

  They both turned as the office door opened.

  ‘Everything okay, boss?’ It was one of the detectives Kate had worked with before.

  ‘Yes, fine, Fitzsimons.’ Adam sounded snappy. ‘I won’t be much longer.’

  With the door closed, Kate walked over to the window. Adam followed her, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Don’t be angry, Kate. You know how these things work.’

  She shrugged him away. ‘I read O’Neill’s notebooks.’ She sounded calm but stern, not turning to face him.

  ‘What notebooks?’

  ‘He kept records of his school years – at least, those from 1980 to 1988.’ She emphasised 1988 so that he was aware of the significance.

  ‘I didn’t know anything about any notebooks. Where were they? At the school? At his house? We searched that place from top to bottom.’

  She turned to face him. ‘Ethel told me about them.’

  ‘She didn’t say anything—’

  ‘Rapid dementia. Remember, I had plenty of experience of it with my mother.’

  ‘Where did you find them, the notebooks?’

  ‘A lock-up garage off Buckingham Street in Rathmines. They’ve had it since their move in ’eighty-eight.’

  ‘You should have phoned me straight away. You shouldn’t have gone in unsupervised.’

  ‘I tried to call you but your phone rang out.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to leave a message or talk to anyone else?’

  ‘I didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Anyway, I wasn’t alone. I was with Ethel.’

  ‘You still should have waited.’

  ‘It might have been nothing.’

  ‘Who’s talking bullshit now?’ It was his turn to pace the room. ‘Did you at least wear protective gear?’

  ‘I had gloves and shoes in the car.’

  ‘That’s something, but— Jesus, Kate, can’t you see? It’s why being involved isn’t a good idea. This is too close to you.’

  ‘I don’t believe Michael O’Neill killed himself, not with his wife being the way she is. It goes contrary to his profile. He wouldn’t have left her to fend for herself.’

  ‘You can’t be sure what thoughts went through his mind.’

  ‘I know that, Adam, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘O’Neill had an entry about me in the notebooks, about my disappearance. But that’s not all. The place was soiled with urine and possibly human excrement.’

  ‘Hold on. Are you saying someone broke in?’

  ‘I don’t know, but what I do know is that for a short while the O’Neills lived in the same neighbourhood as me, with their foster son, and not everything is as it should be.’

  ‘I realise that.’

  ‘There were missing pages and entries in the notebooks.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The pages after the note about my disappearance had been cut out and …’ She paused, as if still trying to work out how it was all connected.

  ‘And what?’

  ‘They were cut out using the same type of scissors as the note delivered to the apartment.’

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she continued: ‘You’ll need to take your time in the lock-up. Michael O’Neill was quite a collector, or someone else was. He had any number of collections, books, stamps, even insects.’

  Adam looked as if he was trying to digest the information she had given him. Finally, he said, ‘The lock-up must have been rented. The team checked all O’Neill’s assets. There were a number of official items held at his solicitor’s office and at the bank, but nothing referred to a garage off Buckingham Street.’

  ‘The notes confirmed I was missing overnight …’ She wondered if she should tell him about Ethel O’Neill mentioning her father’s name, and him helping them with the move. Could she trust what Ethel had said? The name could have been triggered by their earlier conversation about her disappearance. Instead, she said, ‘Adam, you can’t keep me out of this.’

  ‘I’m more determined than ever to do exactly that.’

  ‘I know I should have got clearance about the garage before going in.’

  ‘Too right you should have, but it’s not only that.’ He was angry now. ‘There are too many things linking you directly or indirectly to this.’

  She moved closer to him. ‘Assign me to the case. If an absolute link is established, I’ll pull back. I promise.’

  ‘You’ve already given me the link. You’ve connected the clipping sent to the apartment to the pages from the notebooks, and entries about you.’

  ‘It’s a common enough style of scissors.’

  ‘Stop backpedalling, Kate. If you thought it was nothing you wouldn’t be jumping up and down in my office asking to be assigned to the case.’

  ‘Fine. If I can’t be assigned to the investigation, can I at least have access to the individual case files?’

  ‘No can do. The chief super would have a heart attack.’

  ‘Adam, I can’t do what I do best unless I have the necessary information to work with.’

  ‘I realise that, but remember, you’re not on the case. You don’t need to work on anything.’

  ‘You want to shut me out.’

  ‘Stop being melodramatic.’

  ‘If I can’t work with you, I’ll have to work without you.’

  ‘Kate, if you start marching around unofficially in this investigation, it will only mean trouble, and there’s going to be shit to pay about you going to that lock-up garage alone.’

  ‘That’s your final take, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then there’s no point in me wasting my time here.’

  Walking towards the door with her back to him, she said, ‘Tell your guys when they’re looking in O’Neill’s lock-up to pay particular attention to the framed c
ollection, especially the hair samples.’

  ‘Hair?’

  ‘Yes – hair.’ She turned to face him again, holding the handle of the door behind her.

  ‘Kate, we’ll need a full statement from you, sooner rather than later. I know you have to collect Charlie but arrange a minder for him and get yourself back here. I’ll ask one of the new guys to take it from you. It’ll be easier that way.’

  ‘I’m always willing to co-operate with the police.’ A note of sarcasm in her words.

  ‘Now you’re being childish.’

  ‘Adam, I have one last question for you.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘William Cronly. Is he still locked up?’

  ‘Yes, as far as I know he is. Why?’

  ‘Someone with access to the O’Neills’ garage and the notebooks has a special interest in us.’ She knew she was thwarting him, but she didn’t care.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘At the back of the 1988 notebook, you’ll find a page from a newspaper with a picture of us walking out of the Circuit Court during the Cronly trial.’

  ‘What do you think it means?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Kate, quit messing. If you have a theory, spit it out.’

  ‘Okay, then. I think whoever left it there is playing games.’

  ‘Like the evidence left at the Mason crime scene?’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’m not going to stop trying to find out, whether I’m part of this investigation or not.’

  ‘Kate …’

  She put up a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t waste your breath. You’ve already told me what you think.’

  ‘I’ll need to be kept in the loop.’

  ‘You mean I’ve to tell you my every move?’

  ‘I mean exactly that.’ Fitzsimons knocked on the glass panel. Adam raised his hand, spreading his fingers, telling him, another five minutes. ‘Kate, however this unfolds, I can’t have you playing renegade cop.’