Full Irish Murder (Fiona McCabe Mysteries Book 2)

by Kathy Cranston

  Fiona glanced at Power’s hand. Her phone was still lit up. “You’ve a choice here Alan,” she yelled, even though he was standing close to her. “If you come for me, they’ll have backup here before you can uncuff me and get away. If you run now, you can get back to your car and be long gone before they come.”

  “Don’t take me for a fool. You’ve cameras in this place. I can see them. How do I know they’re not on a different circuit to the speakers? The lights never went out. You’ll have me on camera.”

  “Maybe so,” she said with a shrug. “Which means you’re screwed either way. If you go, you might get on a ferry to England before they catch up with you.”

  “Fiona!” Garda Conway said sharply.

  “She’s right,” Alan hissed, before turning and bursting away towards the flat and the back door that led out onto the street.

  33

  “WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING?”

  Fi shook her head, only half-focused on what he was saying. “I hope he got all that. I hope to God he didn’t reactivate his voicemail in the time between Power first calling him and that call just now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Come on. We have to go after him in case Dad didn’t hear all that. Can you call him just to make sure?”

  “I have more important things to do. Like catching that murderer before he gets away.”

  “He’s not the murderer,” she said, confused. “Why do you say that?”

  Garda Conway said nothing, he just pointed at her hand.

  “Oh this? Yeah, it’s a long story. Can you get this cuff off me? And can I borrow your phone for a sec? Power ran off with mine.”

  “Where did you get these? They’re real cuffs not those plastic things. Hold on. I should have a key here somewhere.”

  She waited impatiently as he searched his pockets. “They’re not mine. They’re his. And I don’t know for sure but I have a good idea how he got them.”

  Mercifully, Garda Conway found a key and Fiona’s hand was free at last. He handed her his phone and she dialled Colm’s number from memory.

  He answered within seconds.

  Fiona didn’t bother with formalities.

  “It’s Fi. Did Dad call you?”

  “Mam did.” His voice was high and distorted. She realised he was running.

  “You’re on the way to the place we were earlier?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll meet you there.”

  She ended the call and nodded. “We’ll be grand as long as he goes home. Dad’s on the way there and so are my brothers.”

  Garda Conway winced. “He’s armed with a knife.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about them.”

  Mrs Davis made her way back into the pub with a pained expression on her face. “I had to ring directory enquiries. Those calls are very dear. I couldn’t face ringing 9-9-9 again and having your one complain to me.”

  “Did you get through Fitzpatrick?”

  “I did. He’s on the way.”

  THEY DROVE in Garda Conway’s car to Power’s house in silence. Mrs Davis had been offered to stay behind and look after the bar. Fiona had awful visions of her pottering around the flat upstairs, gathering dirt on her to share at ICA meetings—or worse.

  “Louise Graham is the murderer,” she blurted.

  She had almost forgotten that in the standoff with Power.

  “What? So what was your man doing breaking in and threatening you?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said, rolling her eyes. They were nearly there. “He was key to us finding out the truth.”

  Garda Conway nodded. “And have you?”

  She smiled sadly. “It looks like it. I’ve no proof though.”

  “Proof exists?”

  “It did at one stage. Mrs Stanley must have had pictures on her computer because Alan Power mentioned a picture of the sergeant with Bernard Boyle. Who would have thought that people actually handed over brown envelopes in real life? I thought that was a made up sort of thing. Surely they use bank transfers these days.”

  “Is that what he was at?” Garda Conway sounded resigned but not surprised. “Ah, sure you can’t be making a bank transfer for a bribe. That leaves a trace, see.”

  They pulled up to Alan Power’s house. Fiona was dismayed to see it was dark. The garage door was down so it wasn’t clear whether Power had managed to get back and make a getaway or if he’d opted for a different plan, though she couldn’t imagine him stealing someone else’s car. Then again, she hadn’t thought him capable of kidnapping either.

  It was only when they got out of the car that they saw the shadowy figures on the lawn.

  Francis McCabe sat across Power’s chest; Colm sat across his legs. The man was completely immobilised; his knife a safe distance away on the grass.

  The two McCabe men looked so calm and casual that they might as well have been sitting there having a lovely picnic.

  “Garda Conway,” Francis said.

  “Francis. You got here fast.”

  He nodded. “I ignored the first call from Fiona but answered the second time. I was going to give out to her for calling so late, but then I heard what appeared to be a ruckus.”

  Fiona hugged her arms around herself. Her wrist was sore from the metal cuff that had been around it for hours. “It’s lucky I saw the call had gotten through to you. He got distracted when Garda Conway came in.”

  “I sent Mrs Davis out to call for backup while I kept an eye on him. I didn’t know what you were at, Fiona.”

  “I was trying to stop him going for me with that knife. I figured Dad was listening. To be honest, even if he wasn’t I’d rather have Power away from me and not having a stand-off with you.”

  “Too right, love,” Francis said, seeming to wiggle around on Power’s chest. “We should have known the eejit might try something like that. Ah, if only we’d made you stay the night, love.”

  “It’s alright, Dad. No one came to any harm.”

  “What about me?” Power wailed. “They’re assaulting me as we speak. I hope you’re going to do something about this, Garda.”

  Garda Conway walked over to where they sat. Francis and Colm moved away as the officer rolled Power onto his front and cuffed him, making it look effortless. He got to his feet and dragged Power with him.

  “I know you were only acting to get yourself out of danger, Fiona. But a little faith wouldn’t go astray. I’d have got to him before he even considered hurting you, if it came to it.”

  Fiona smiled. “Sorry, Garda Conway. It was no slight to you. I just knew Dad would spring into action if I shouted enough information when he was on the line.”

  “Oh quit it you,” Francis said, waving his hand and pretending to be disgusted though he was clearly delighted by his daughter’s compliment.

  “I’d better get this deviant back to the station,” Garda Conway said, pushing Power in front of him. “I’ll need a statement from you as well Fiona, but I’ll give you an hour or two to get the pub fixed up.” He shot her a significant look. “And we need to discuss other matters too.”

  She nodded and led the way along the path, ignoring the confused looks from her father and brother.

  34

  MRS DAVIS WAS TUCKED AWAY in the snug when they arrived back at the pub. She had a steaming cup of tea and a scone from the batch Fiona had made the day before. She was flicking through a magazine Fiona had left on her bedside table. There was no doubt in Fi’s mind that Mrs Davis had had a good root through her belongings.

  Mrs Davis glanced up and saw Fiona was staring at the magazine. “I got bored,” she said defensively. “I’ve only an old brick of a phone. I don’t be stuck on it like you young ones.”

  Fiona was resentful for a moment, but then a realisation hit her. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Davis, she’d likely still be cuffed to the bar—or worse. That thawed her feelings somewhat.

  “Thanks, Mrs Davis. Read awa
y. You calling Garda Conway really saved my skin back there.”

  The older woman looked up and seemed to scrutinise her. A smile played at her lips—she appeared to be fighting it to the bitter end, but it won nonetheless.

  “I cannot believe your strategy was to blare the music so I’d call the guards and complain. Am I really that much of an old biddy in your eyes?”

  She was so close to the truth that Fi couldn’t help but smile. “If you weren’t an old biddy, that maniac might still have me as his prisoner. There’s a lot to be said for being an old biddy.”

  Mrs Davis smiled. It was the first time Fiona had ever seen any warmth in her expression—at least when it came to her. “I suppose I’m set in my ways. I thought you were having some sort of rave.”

  “Sorry,” Fiona shrugged. “He took my phone and cut the cord to the landline. It was the only way I knew of getting help.” She looked around. “Where’s Marty? Has he come in? I owe him too: if he hadn’t nagged me about wiring the speakers into the wall, I’d have just got plug-in ones. Power would’ve had the music turned off within seconds.”

  Francis shook his head. “He went to the train station. We thought it was best to go our separate ways just in case Power decided not to go for his car.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “I see that expensive speaker system of yours is ruined,” he said, after doing a tour of the place.

  She shrugged. “And I’m going to have to get a plumber over to get the batteries out of the sink.”

  “What were you doing putting batteries in the sink?”

  “I had to put them out of Power’s reach.”

  “Maybe so,” Francis muttered, moving behind the bar. “But you needn’t be calling a plumber for that. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. All you need to do is get under the sink and pull out that section of the pipe. And you’d throw good money at a plumber?”

  Mrs Davis nodded enthusiastically. Fiona yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t realise, alright? It’s not as if I’ve ever had to throw batteries down the sink to hide them from a madman.”

  Mrs Davis’s ears pricked up. “What was he even doing here? Is he mad at you over some failed romance or something?”

  “My goodness, Mrs Davis,” said a cold voice from behind them. “How could you even suggest such a thing? My granddaughter is far too good for a fella like that. He’s not only mad but he’s got no respect for his elders. You’d never go near a young man like that, would you, love?”

  Fiona spun around and hurried towards her granny, falling gratefully into a hug. “Granny. Mam told you?”

  “Oh, love! She’s been trying to get through to me for hours but I had the phone on silent. The notification sounds wake me during the night if I don’t turn off the ringer. What’s been going on? Come on, I’ll make us a pot of tea and you can tell me everything.”

  “I’ve a pot on in the kitchen,” Mrs Davis piped up. “And I’ll take a hot drop if it’s going.”

  35

  THE PUB WAS STILL in a bit of a state when Fiona left an hour later, but her family had rallied round to sort the place out. Marty had already removed the blown out speakers and called an electrician in to check the wiring. Colm was in the process of fixing the lock on the front door and reinforcing the frame where it had splintered. And Mrs Davis was still in the snug, happily reading her magazine and proclaiming the bar not so bad after all for a young person’s spot.

  The Garda station was quiet when she arrived. She was relieved to see the sergeant hadn’t arrived yet.

  “I’ll tell Conway you’re here,” Garda Fitzpatrick said. “He told me to let him know as soon as you arrived.”

  She nodded. “How are things going with Power?”

  “As well as could be expected.” He smiled. “He broke down after a few minutes and confessed to everything, though he did make some strange allegations about your family.”

  Fiona froze for a moment. The McCabes would be in serious trouble if they got charged with intimidation, no matter how good their intentions.

  Garda Fitzpatrick smiled. “Of course, he’s obviously a lunatic judging by his carry on earlier. I wouldn’t worry about any unsubstantiated claims he might make. Go on in there. Garda Conway will be with you in a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “FIONA,” Garda Conway said, looking harassed.

  It was a surprise to her, given Garda Fitzpatrick’s sunny demeanour. She said as much.

  He shook his head. “He doesn’t know about my suspicions about the sarge.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Sergeant Brennan’s corruption hadn’t exactly been front and centre in her mind that morning given everything else that had been going on.

  “I know. Anyway. First things first.”

  She gave her statement about Power’s break-in. It didn’t take long to pull together as she was mainly recounting information that she’d already told him earlier that morning. Besides, Power had crumbled under pressure and confessed to everything.

  “Did he tell you what Mrs Stanley had on him in the end?” Fiona asked. “I only ever had my suspicions based on the handcuffs.”

  “Only that he was being blackmailed as a result of his membership of a progressive club. Progressive was his word of course. And you know, I could have pushed him but to be honest I don’t want to know. I can only imagine what he got up to with those handcuffs.”

  Fiona winced. “Thanks for the mental image. Very nice of you.”

  He laughed and shrugged, but Fi could tell there was still tension beneath the humour. She leaned forward.

  “It was Louise Graham, like I said earlier. I can’t imagine there’s any connection between her and the sergeant or Bernard Boyle, but I don’t know.”

  Conway nodded. “And how did you come to know this?”

  “I’m sure you know about our chat with Power.”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said, holding up a finger and double-checking his dictaphone was off. “We’ll keep that between ourselves.”

  “Well, he told us he’d arrived at Mrs Stanley’s house on the day she was murdered. He intended to steal her computer then, see.”

  “Ah,” Conway said, brow furrowing. “Now, that’s something he didn’t own up to.”

  Fiona frowned. She hadn’t thought about finding admissible proof.

  “Don’t worry,” Conway laughed. “We’ll get it out of him in an official interview.”

  “Oh,” she said, relieved. “Anyway, he was there. We asked why he didn’t try to get in and help and he told us he ran away because there was someone in there with Mrs Stanley. A woman.”

  Conway gasped.

  “I know. All of this could have been avoided if he’d only had the sense to call ye. I mean, it’s come out about his secret… whatever… anyway, or at least it’s going to. It’s so cowardly. My mother went through endless hours of questioning because he was too selfish to call and provide a lead in a murder case.

  “Anyway, he was very unhelpful when it came to telling us her age or anything about her. But he remembered she was moving her shoulder very strangely.”

  Conway nodded.

  “It took a while. I only remembered just before Alan Power appeared in the pub and cuffed me to the bar. I’m kicking myself now—it’s so obvious. She was on Mrs Stanley’s blackmail list. And the really annoying part is that I overheard her in the pub complaining about an injury to her… Now, I can’t remember the name of the muscle she mentioned, but I should have remembered from the way she was moving her shoulder.”

  “I see,” Garda Conway said. “Unfortunately that’s all circumstantial. I hate to say it, but it seems we’re reliant on Power identifying the woman he saw in the house. And I’m not even sure that would stand in court. Any lawyer worth their salt would tear him apart and accuse him of trying to lie in return for a softer sentence.” He sighed. “And here was I thinking I was going to coast into retirement.”

  Fiona felt a tug of regret. �
�Don’t retire, Garda Conway. You’re the only decent one out of the lot of them.”

  “Ah now here. Don’t be so syrupy sweet: it doesn’t suit you.”

  She grinned. “You sound just like my father. Should I take that as an insult?”

  He shook his head but didn’t say anything. They both fell silent for a while as Fiona went over the details of the case in her head again for the umpteenth time.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “It all hinges on those Facebook accounts. Remember?”

  “I remember. Nothing’s changed.”

  “But it has! It’s different now,” she said, sitting forward with excitement. “You’ve got Power in there saying he was blackmailed. I’m sure if you lean on him he’ll admit to seeing Louise Graham.”

  “I already told you that won’t mean much in court. He’s admitted to kidnapping you.”

  “But it’s proof the blackmail is a thing. Come on, Garda Conway. Even if you’re not going to investigate Mrs Stanley’s fake account, you’ve got to admit there’s likely some trace of communication on Louise’s phone or computer.”

  He nodded. “And Power’s testimony may not be enough to get a conviction, but it’s likely to convince a judge to give us a search warrant for her house.” He looked around before his expression darkened and he shook his head. “Thanks, Fiona. Of course we might have found her a long time ago if the sarge hadn’t been so eager to keep this blackmail thing from surfacing.”

  “Have you any idea what he might have going on with Bernard Boyle?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Garda Conway said. “But I have a fair idea.”

  “What are you going to do? I suppose you can’t do anything if it’ll mess up your retirement plans.”

  He looked miserable, but he didn’t say anything. Fiona thought she caught a glint of defiance in his eyes. She certainly hoped that was the case. He held her eyes for a long moment before he shook his head and started to get to his feet. “All I know is we’ve enough to be getting on with for now. I’d better hurry along if I want to claim my first murder solve and not lose it to you-know-who.”