‘What do you mean?’
‘Look around you, O’Connor. The place is barren. It’s like Amelia was less worthy. You can’t deny the similarity between both girls. I mean, they look almost like twins. He obviously has a fit he’s trying to achieve.’
‘Jesus Christ, Kate. Whatever about the public outcry and the shit we’ve been dealing with up until now, it will be nothing compared to the fucking mayhem this is going to cause.’
‘I know that.’
‘Rohan is going to buy us time with the second burial site, Kate, but it will have to be announced soon.’
‘The ribbons, the plaiting, the positioning of the body, it’s all part of his signature, but with Amelia, apart from the choice of burial site, there is another important difference. She’s not wearing a silver cross.’
O’Connor threw his hands up. ‘Thank heavens for small mercies. Nolan hates all that religious shit raising its head.’
‘Caroline’s parents, what did they say about the one she was wearing?’
‘It was just a cheap thing, like you’d find in any pound shop.’
‘But he left it on her, although the earrings were missing. This guy does things for a reason. If he left the cross on Caroline, he deliberately wanted it there.’
‘We can’t be sure he took the earrings. They could have fallen out.’
‘Maybe, but the crucifix is an iconic symbol, he didn’t leave it there unless it pleased him. People do similar things for different reasons.’
‘Talk English, Kate.’ O’Connor sounded tired.
‘Okay, listen. We have to look at each girl, then compare them to establish what they have in common and what makes them different from each other. If Amelia was a threat he needed to get her out of the way, his intention was to kill her from the moment the abduction took place. Caroline’s death was different. The blows to the head don’t fit, too messy for him, unless, of course, they were the result of things not going according plan.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, maybe he hadn’t intended to kill Caroline to begin with. But the positioning makes sense to him. He was able to dispose of Amelia quickly, indicationg he felt very little guilt, if any. He is a killer capable of compartmentalising events, O’Connor. Killing Amelia has proved that beyond doubt, and killers who are capable of that are the most dangerous kind.’
O’Connor turned away to answer his phone. He spoke briefly, then ended the call abruptly.
‘Leave your car here, Kate. That was Dermot O’Brien. They’ve picked up a well-known bastard on the CCTV footage from the canal where Caroline went missing, and we’re both about to pay him a visit.’
Meadow View
HE HAD SET THE ALARM FOR 5.30 A.M. GETTING UP early was something he did whether it was a work day or not. The Cronly family had an ancestry of army men known for their discipline, and despite his aversion to joining such a hideous profession, he was more than willing to churn out the family history at times of convenience, especially when such information could put him in good stature. In truth, the surname and the army ancestry came from his mother’s side, but he wasn’t going to share incidentals like that with anyone if he didn’t have to.
Irrespective of the previous night’s events, continuing his daily routine was important. Teeth brushing for a minimum of ten minutes, using the ‘firm’ toothbrush variety with a designated life span of no more than two weeks. Weighing was another part of his routine. He had kept his BMI at twenty-four for the past five years; with a height of five foot ten inches and a waist of thirty-four inches, maintaining a body weight of no more than twelve stone was imperative.
It was still dark when he finished showering. Down in the kitchen, the kettle was full from the night before. His routine had changed since he moved out of Cronly, but of course the schedule would have been different either way in the big house. Tasks such as lighting the morning fire, turning on the immersion and looking after the old hag would have delayed things considerably.
Porridge made with water was a sturdy start to the day. By the time he sat at his kitchen table for breakfast, he felt a soothing sense of equilibrium return, already looking forward to browsing the newspapers online.
Exactly ten minutes later, he switched on his computer in the living room, ready to pick up whatever details were available. He was intrigued when he read the term ‘Mr Invisible’ used in one of the lower-grade publications to describe the abductor and killer of Caroline Devine. It sounded to him like a superhero character from a comic. Had he entered the world of superhero status? Of course, it wasn’t with candid admiration that the media referred to him that way, but, nonetheless, the inference was there and the language was, at the very least, dramatic.
Unsurprisingly, the story was the lead item on the news when he turned on the radio. ‘Gardaí are appealing for witnesses who may have travelled through the Dublin Mountains area over the course of the past few days.’
Going back to the internet again, it pleased him to find that the term ‘Mr Invisible’ also appeared in one of the more respectable publications. It seemed the use of the term had stemmed from the lack of concrete details about Caroline’s disappearance and murder.
There was no mention of Amelia. No surprise there. It was still early days.
Ellie
IT IS NOT YET SIX WHEN I HEAR THE BIRDS. THEY SWOOP between dark and light while others sleep. Each morning they are my first connection to the living. In the same way as everything about being here is safe in its predictability, so too are they. I don’t envy them their energy, although the night has exhausted me. I envy them their delight.
Soon, I hear Bridget. She is putting her things away in the closet at the end of the corridor. She will hang up her coat on one of the iron hooks, take off her outdoor shoes and put on her slip-ons. Then she will clear her throat. Bridget is the first sound I hear after the birds. The long night is over, and with this the knowledge that I must now face another day.
Was Andrew the beginning of my madness? Would I have done things differently if I had known? All those years ago, yet I still remember how I loved him, how every inconsequential detail of my life revolved around the two of us being together. The fact that we became lovers was inevitable. But now when I think of him, I think beyond our time of secrets, beyond our passion, I think of how, even back then, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a deep-rooted sense that in the end what we had together would be tinged with regret.
Before Bridget arrives into my room, I make the decision to ask her for a pen and paper. No harm to have it, just in case. I know this will surprise her, but I have no intention of asking her until just before she leaves. I am not ready to have my motives questioned, not just yet.
If I am to write, what will I write about? Will I write about how I got here? How Ellie Thompson became the shadowy figure that I am today. Could this draw a line under all that has happened, something that I have failed to do for the past fifteen years? We are all products of our past I suppose; none of us is born the person we ultimately become. I have long since stopped feeling shame about the affair – though it was not because of shame that I denied myself absolution. If it was just that, some lover’s cruel recall, I would not be haunted as I am haunted now.
House of Charles Innes
Saturday, 8 October 2011, 10.30 a.m.
KATE HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN THEY turned into the narrow street where Innes lived. O’Connor stopped the car slowly, pulling in like someone who knew he wasn’t going to be welcome and with no desire to warn anyone of his arrival.
Terraced houses crept along on both sides of the road. In some ways, they reminded Kate of the house on Landscape Avenue where she grew up, although they were a lot smaller. There, too, the houses followed each other in orderly fashion, regardless of whatever notions the owners held about individuality. But whatever similarities existed between the two streets, one difference was quite apparent: Landscape Avenue was upper-middle class; this place most cer
tainly was not. The discreet movement of curtains in each of the windows they passed didn’t do anything to settle her, although O’Connor, if he noticed them, didn’t comment. His mind was focused on Charles Innes.
The front door of the house had glass panels on either side at the top half. Kate could see the dark shape walking from the back of the house to the front, and braced herself for the encounter.
Maybe Innes had expected someone friendly, but the original smile that greeted them when he opened the door vanished quickly, replaced by one of utter disdain. He may not have met O’Connor before, but Innes knew he was a copper even before he opened his mouth and asked to have a chat with him.
‘I don’t have time for chats. Now bugger off while I’m still being polite.’
‘Your car went through a checkpoint near Rathmines canal yesterday, and a couple of days before that.’
‘Is it a crime to drive? Last I heard we live in a free country.’
‘Suppose you’ve heard about the murder of Caroline Devine?’ O’Connor moved in closer to him, but Innes wasn’t shifting.
If she had to guess an age, Kate would have put him in his late forties, small, overweight and balding. He wore pyjama bottoms with navy stripes and a white sleeveless vest that had seen better days and was nearly as grimy looking as what was left of his thinning fair hair. She didn’t know what Innes worked at, but his tanned arms to below his armpits and rugged face told her he wasn’t the kind of man who sat in an office.
‘I’ve got nothing to do with it, so get the hell out of here.’
O’Connor eyed him coolly, but Kate could sense the tension in his body as he tried to keep his feelings in check. ‘Listen, Innes, we can keep shooting the breeze out here on the doorstep or go inside. I don’t much care either way, but maybe your neighbours might get a little jittery if we continue the party out here and I have to send a couple of squad cars around.’
Innes looked at O’Connor sulkily, but Kate could see him weighing up what had been said. ‘You have a warrant?’
‘I’m not looking to search the place, just talk. But I’d have no problem getting one if you want. Mind you, it’d be easier to drag your fat arse in for questioning, so why don’t you just invite us in, like nice civilised folks.’
Innes stood back to allow both of them to pass. ‘Kitchen’s straight ahead,’ he said off-handedly.
O’Connor allowed Kate walk in through the narrow doorway ahead of him. Innes smiled at her as she passed. Once inside, she took in the various rooms – the whole place looked like someone had just done it over. In the kitchen, dishes were piled high in the sink, the bin stank to high heaven and there were bits of rubbish on every surface – empty drinks cans, cardboard takeaway packaging, newspapers, and the remains of, most likely, this morning’s breakfast, a plate with hardened egg yoke and the remains of a burned sausage.
‘The cleaning lady not working today?’ O’Connor asked sarcastically.
Innes shot him a dark look, then knocked some clothes off a kitchen chair, and newspapers off the next, indicating they should both sit down. Kate was fascinated to see that once they were in his house, his manner changed markedly, switching from open hostility to a tone that approached friendliness.
‘Cup of tea anyone?’ he offered.
‘Not for me,’ snapped O’Connor.
‘No thank you,’ Kate followed.
‘I see the lady has manners.’
‘Listen, you little shit, I don’t have time to play tea parties with you. Tell me why you were in Rathmines, and what you were doing three days ago, at four o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Innes replied, smirking at them. ‘For your information, Detective, I needed to pass that area for work, and as for three days ago? Hmm, well, let me see, that would be Wednesday. Oh yes, I remember now. I was visiting an old friend at the Welfare Office, Jimmy Deavy, lovely man, has a nice warm heart, does his best for people down on their luck.’
‘Down on your luck, are you?’ O’Connor didn’t even try to hide his disgust.
‘We can’t all have fat salaries, you know. Times are tough. You lot have no idea what it’s like for ordinary folk to try and make ends meet.’
‘My heart bleeds for you.’
Recognising that O’Connor’s tactics weren’t getting a whole lot of information out of Innes, Kate decided to weigh in.
‘Mr Innes, a young girl has been murdered. If you were in the area, you might have seen something?’
When he smiled at her again, it took a lot for her to return the compliment. She had a sick feeling about him, even without knowing his back story. Everything about him felt rotten, and she had to suppress the memories that were threatening to surface whenever he looked directly at her.
‘Miss, I really wish I could help you.’
‘Kate. My name’s Kate.’
‘Nice name. Kate.’ He smiled again. ‘I’ve seen a picture of the girl, very sweet, but not my sort I’m afraid.’ He gave Kate a leering smile, then added, ‘A little old for me.’
Kate held his stare, her face a mask. O’Connor had heard enough, though. He snapped, grabbing Innes by the front of his vest and slamming him back against the kitchen sink. Innes wasn’t rattled at all. O’Connor’s outburst brought another smirk to his face.
‘Quite the temper, Detective. Did I hit a sore spot?’
‘You are a piece of filth, Innes,’ O’Connor said in a quiet voice. ‘I’m going to check out your alibi and if there’s any holes in it, I’ll be back to pay another social call. In the meantime, I suggest you keep your fat arse at home. I’ll have guys watching you. One slip and I’ll nail you. Any questions shithead?’
‘You’re the one with the questions; me, I’m just your average law-abiding citizen.’
‘Really, well then you won’t mind if we borrow your PC?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘You’re quick, I’ll give you that.’ O’Connor took the warrant he wasn’t supposed to have from his jacket pocket and handed it to Innes. ‘A surprise for you, Mr Law-Abiding. I like to be a man of surprises, sort of adds a little extra spice. We’ll have this piece of junk back to you before you know it.’
They made their way out of the house, with O’Connor carrying the hard-drive of Innes’ PC. As he put it into the boot, Kate sat into the front seat, glad to be out of Innes’ house and company. O’Connor snapped open the driver’s door, hurling himself into the front seat before slamming the door shut. It was obvious he was in no mood for talking, but Kate risked it anyway.
‘He’s not our man, O’Connor.’
His hand stopped halfway to the ignition and he turned to look at her. ‘Maybe not, but I still need to check out his alibi. The bastard’s sick enough, that’s for sure.’
‘Creepy, yes, but the killer, no.’
‘You can’t rule him out just like that, Kate,’ O’Connor said, unable to hide the impatience in his voice.
‘I can,’ Kate replied evenly. ‘Everything about Innes, even his house, is wrong. The place is a pit, everything is way too messy. And he’s not exactly fit. If he was involved with Caroline’s death, he’d have to have been working with someone else, and somehow Charles Innes doesn’t strike me as the sharing type.’
‘Fucking creep,’ O’Connor muttered, his shoulders still tense with anger.
‘Not a nice man, for sure.’
‘I’ll tell you something, Kate. I’m very glad I’m not the one who’ll be looking through that fucking computer of his. The likes of him make my skin crawl.’
Kate needed to pull his mind back onto the case. ‘I still want to visit the first burial site, O’Connor. I’ve been thinking about the blood pooling down the right-hand side of Caroline’s body. If Morrison is right that Caroline’s body wasn’t moved once the pooling occurred, then the killer did more than force the rigor, he maintained the position of the body the way he wanted it to be, not just within the burial but prior to it, as she lay waiting for him
to bury her. Choosing that particular place to bury her was another layer of importance to him.’
‘You’ll have to go alone, so. I’ve another briefing in half an hour.’
‘That’s fine. Can you drop me back up to my car?’
‘Sure, I want to check in with Hanley and everyone before the next conference.’ He flicked a glance in her direction. ‘Kate, you seem distracted, something else on your mind?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s just a theory, nothing concrete.’
‘Go on.’
‘I don’t think our guy is sexually motivated.’
‘You can’t be sure.’
‘We can’t be sure of anything yet, but there are lots of reasons, other than sexual ones, why an adult male can be drawn to a child or, as in this case, a pre-teen girl. He may find it difficult to relate to other adults, for example. Children don’t pose the same threat. There is every possibility that he had the highest respect for Caroline, may have found her company more comfortable and interesting than many of the adults he encounters. Also, if he was sexually motivated and Amelia was a loose end he needed to get out of the way, then he would have taken his opportunity with her. The place couldn’t have been more isolated.’ She paused. ‘There’s something else, too.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘He was particular with both girls – the ribbons, the plaiting, the joining of the hands, the positioning of the bodies. It’s almost like he was preparing them for something, but what?’
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Kate,’ O’Connor attempted to soften his tone, ‘you look a little pale.’
‘No, I’m fine. It’s just, well, creeps like Innes can get to me too, you know.’
He nodded. ‘They’re part of the territory, but none of us likes it.’
‘Do you remember being young, O’Connor?’
‘I’m not exactly old, thanks very much.’
Kate smiled. ‘No, I don’t mean that. Do you remember being their age?’
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