Peter shrugged and smiled. He’d never really believed that Cormac could pull him out of this fire, had he?
Cormac took a breath. ‘Look, it might be better for you when I’m gone. Give it time. With a bit of distance from me, and some good work under your belt, there’s every chance you’ll be brought back into the fold.’
Peter started to laugh. He picked up his beer bottle and took a long drink. ‘I think it’s a bit late for that,’ he said. ‘I’ve been busy burning a few bridges at this end too.’
Cormac raised an inquiring eyebrow.
‘There was a double murder a few months back, here in Roundstone,’ Peter said. ‘I was supposed to tidy up the paperwork – the investigation was done and dusted and the murders attributed to a Dublin gang on a rural raid, though there were no arrests. But it didn’t make any sense. I asked some questions and . . . look, to tell you the truth, I stumbled across some of it. I think now that the local GP did it. I think he had agreed to buy land from the victims. He thought the land was about to be rezoned and skyrocket in value and when he found out that that wasn’t going to happen, he wanted out of the deal.’
Peter still wasn’t exactly sure how and why Barrett had been led to believe the rezoning had been about to happen. Maybe he’d listened too closely to a rumour and had allowed a bit of gold-rush madness to sweep him up. Or maybe he’d been more involved than that. Maybe he’d had a corrupt pal in the planning department who’d let him down at the last minute. It would be something to question him about, if Peter ever got the chance.
‘I think Miles Lynch, one of the victims, wasn’t willing to let the good doctor off the hook, and so this GP – Barrett is his name – I think he lashed out in a fury and killed Miles and his nephew Carl. Then murdered another man who was in on the same deal, but this time he planned it, covered it up as a stroke. And . . . this might sound crazy . . . but I’m pretty sure that he’s been slowly poisoning my grandmother.’ Peter quickly explained what they had learned about Maggie’s medication and her rapid descent into ill-health.
Cormac was listening carefully, his expression intent, his eyes very dark. ‘And your arrest of this man has lost you some friends?’ he asked.
Peter laughed. ‘There’s been no arrest. It’s just my theory, and not a very popular one. My father has made it very clear to me that I either shut my mouth and do as I’m told, or there’ll be no room in the gardaí for me, either.’
‘Christ,’ Cormac said. ‘Is your grandmother all right?’
‘I hope that she will be. She’s asleep upstairs,’ Peter said. ‘We’re going to get her to the hospital, as soon as the weather clears.’
‘What’s the connection?’ Cormac asked. ‘Between your grandmother and these other victims, I mean? Was she in on the land deal you’re talking about?’
Peter shook his head. ‘No, but she was their friend. She talked about playing cards with Miles Lynch the first time I spoke with her. I think James Madden was part of that little group. I think maybe Miles told James and Maggie about the deal.’
‘And your father doesn’t want this investigated? That makes no sense.’
‘If you knew him, it would,’ Peter said.
Cormac opened his mouth to say something and then some of the animation went out of his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said flatly.
A shrug. ‘I’m going to leave the force,’ Peter said. ‘It was only a matter of time, once I came here. I knew that.’
‘I’d hoped to get you back.’
Peter took a breath. ‘I blamed you for it all, you know? I laid it at your door. I knew Murphy had it in for you, and I told myself that he took a hard line with me because it was a way of getting to you.’
Cormac laughed ruefully. ‘You weren’t wrong.’
‘But that’s all crap, isn’t it? Because I got myself into this mess. I dealt with the whole situation badly. I should have waited for backup. Should have done something other than pull out my gun and shoot that man three times in the chest. They were right about me. I was trigger-happy.’
‘Jason Kelly abducted Peggah Abbassi. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. If I’d had a little more time, I would have been able to prove it. And who could you have brought with you? When you left the station that day, you didn’t know if you were going on a wild-goose chase or not. The only officer left was Deirdre Russell, and you couldn’t empty the station entirely.’
Peter thought about it. ‘The way I see it now, it’s not so much that I did the wrong thing as it is that I did it for the wrong reasons. I was so sure I was right, and I didn’t have the patience to wait.’
‘There was a little girl out there whose life was at risk. As far as you knew, she was running out of time. I probably would have done the same thing.’
Peter shook his head. ‘Maybe.’ He paused. ‘I wanted to be the man. The truth is, inside my head, it was more about me than it was about Peggah. I wanted to be the one everyone was talking about, the one on the fast track. So when everything went to shit, when Murphy hauled me over the coals, I didn’t have the words to defend myself. Because I knew I couldn’t justify it. A man is dead because I wanted to show off how smart I was.’
‘Kelly isn’t worth your regrets,’ Cormac said. ‘What he would have done to that girl if we hadn’t scared him off. We would never have found her body.’
Peter drank again, finished his beer, wished there were another in the fridge. ‘I’d like to think I’ve learned a lot . . . There’s so much I’d do differently. But I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’ve got to figure out something else entirely.’
Cormac drained his bottle in one long swallow. ‘Any thoughts on what that might be?’
‘Not a fucking clue. You?’
Cormac shook his head slowly, smiled a slow and rueful smile.
‘I thought you’d go to Europe for sure. With Emma already there, and your background.’
‘That’s not for me,’ Cormac said. ‘It’s not real police work. And I think it’s safe to say that the raid closed that door pretty firmly.’
‘We’re screwed, basically,’ Peter said. He didn’t ask where that left Cormac with Emma. Something about the look on the other man’s face made him think that the situation there wasn’t good.
Cormac laughed. ‘I think I’m going to have to start thinking about something completely new. But you’ve got options, Peter, if you want to stay in policing. You should look overseas. I heard the Australians are back over, looking for recruits. You could start again, in the sunshine. Learn to surf.’
It was Peter’s turn to laugh. He shook his head. ‘What kills me is that they’ll get away with it. Healy’s going down – and, by god, I’d love to know how they’re planning on keeping him from talking – but all of the rest of them. The Murphys and everyone who worked with them. You’re convinced that Brian Murphy was in on it?’
‘As much as I can be. But I’ve no evidence and nothing to work with.’
‘Was he in on it from the beginning, or did he just step in when he found out that Trevor was knee-deep in it, do you think?’
‘I think he knew enough. Up until the raid, I wasn’t sure, but now, whether he’s in on it or not, he’s willing to protect those who are. And now he’ll head up the investigation – he’ll be the one questioning Anthony Healy and any other fall guys they come up with. Trevor Murphy will continue on, the whole thing will be downplayed, and other than Healy and whoever else they throw under the bus, everyone involved will just stay in place. How long before they have something similar up and running again?’
They sat in silence for a long moment.
‘I don’t suppose you have anything stronger,’ Cormac said, waggling the empty beer bottle in Peter’s direction. ‘Also, I don’t suppose you have a couch I can commandeer until the morning?’
Peter laughed again. Everything was in the shit, and yet he felt oddly cheerful. ‘I’ll have a look for something stronger. As for the couch, we might be fighting for it.’ He we
nt to the corner cupboard. Maggie nearly always had a bottle of whiskey tucked away somewhere. He talked as he moved things about, looking for it. ‘I don’t know who does more damage. Trevor Murphy, because he’s corrupt as fuck or my father, because he’s lazy. You know, they settled on that Dublin crime gang theory for the Lynch murders purely on the basis of a few tyre tracks. Barrett’s driving a brand-new Nissan Patrol now. But I’ll bet you a tenner his last car was a Land Cruiser, and I’ll bet you a hundred he got rid of it right after the murders.’
‘A brand-new Nissan Patrol,’ Cormac repeated slowly. He looked up. ‘It wouldn’t be red by any chance, would it?’
Peter turned and stared at him.
‘The roads are empty,’ Cormac said. ‘I didn’t pass anyone for the last forty minutes or so, except for a few cars abandoned in ditches. Including one red Nissan Patrol, about fifteen minutes’ drive from here, on the Galway Road.’
‘Jesus,’ Peter said. ‘Barrett must have made a run for it. He came to see Maggie earlier today. I’d told Anna not to let him in. That must have spooked him.’ He thought. ‘Do you think he’s still there?’
‘The car looked abandoned when I passed it, or I would have stopped,’ Cormac said. ‘But as far as I can remember there were no homes nearby. If I were him, I’d have been tempted to try to ride it out until morning, set off again then. If he thinks you’re after him, he wouldn’t go home.’ Cormac gave Peter a slow smile. ‘The weather’s getting worse,’ he said. ‘Should we be good Samaritans and go and give him a lift, do you think?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Cormac drove very slowly down the hill. Peter sat in the passenger seat, his right knee bouncing with pent-up energy. He wanted Barrett. Wanted him in a cell.
‘I can’t believe you came all the way to Roundstone,’ Peter said. ‘In this weather.’
‘It wasn’t exactly the kind of news I could share over the phone,’ Cormac said. He gave Peter a glance. ‘And I was at something of a loose end.’
‘How far, do you think?’ Peter asked.
‘To where I saw the car? About ten kilometres, give or take.’
It was getting dark, the roads were utterly deserted and the snow was still falling. It took nearly forty minutes of slow and careful driving before they turned a corner and Cormac said, ‘We should be coming up to it soon.’
And there it was, Barrett’s red Nissan Patrol, driven into a ditch and sunk into deep snow. The car was on, the engine running. Cormac pulled the Range Rover in, though he was careful to stay on the road. Barrett had obviously tried to dig the car out. Some of the snow had been pushed away and he’d tried to jam the floor mats from inside the car behind the back wheels, presumably in an attempt to gain traction. His efforts had obviously failed, and Peter wasn’t surprised. The car was in too deep. It would have been all but impossible to get the car out without a tow.
Cormac and Peter got out of the car.
‘Do you want to lead?’ Peter said quietly.
‘You do it,’ Cormac said.
The driver door of the Nissan Patrol opened before they reached it. Barrett climbed out. He saw Cormac first.
‘Thank god you stopped,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know if I had enough fuel to keep the engine running all night.’ His eyes moved to Peter, he did an obvious double take and stopped in his tracks.
‘Hello, Doctor Barrett,’ Peter said. ‘Having car trouble?’
‘Peter,’ he said, uncertain. His eyes went to Cormac, then back. ‘Yes, I lost control and slid into the ditch. I can’t get it out, and I have to get to Galway. A family thing.’
‘Oh yes?’ Peter said. ‘Something last minute? It must be important to get you out in weather like this.’
‘I got a phone call. A family member, my uncle, is very unwell. I’m hoping to see him before he passes.’ Barrett’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. ‘And you needn’t worry about Séan Cummins. He went home.’
Peter nodded. They were right up in Barrett’s face now. There was nowhere he could go. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your uncle,’ Peter said. ‘We seem to be having quite an epidemic, don’t we? Of older people passing suddenly.’
Barrett clearly didn’t know if he was expected to answer. His eyes were darting back and forth, back and forth. ‘It’s the time of year,’ he said, in the end. ‘The weather. It’s very hard on older people.’
‘Yes,’ Peter said. ‘And if the weather doesn’t quite do them in, you can always give them a little push, can’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Barrett said.
‘I think you do.’
They stood like that, in a stalemate, for a few seconds. Peter felt a great roaring of satisfaction that he kept hidden behind an impassive face. Maybe it was the fact that he had been sitting, trapped in a snowstorm for the past hour or maybe it was the simple fact of being questioned, but Barrett was clearly shaken and afraid. Career criminals said little to nothing in an interview. Amateurs could, on occasion, be gifted liars. Most ordinary people could lie reasonably well, at least for a little while, until the wheels started to come off. And then, every once in a while, you’d come across someone like Richard Barrett. Just a half a minute standing there in silence, with Cormac Reilly’s hulking, unexplained presence to his right, and Peter’s accusation hanging in the air, and Barrett was terrified. He wouldn’t last ten minutes in an interrogation.
‘You murdered Miles and Carl Lynch in a dispute over land,’ Peter said.
‘I did not.’ Barrett shook his head, took a step back. His foot sank deep into the snow and he staggered, tried to recover his balance. The wind started to pick up, and Peter had to raise his voice to be heard.
‘We’re going to take you back to Roundstone, where I will interview you with the assistance of my colleague here, Detective Sergeant Cormac Reilly.’ Peter took great satisfaction in using the title, in enunciating each word carefully, and watching its impact on Barrett’s face. Cormac might be suspended, but he was still a Detective Sergeant until he wasn’t. They might as well get the benefit of it on what would probably be their last day in the job.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Barrett said, his voice shaking. ‘Of course I haven’t killed anyone.’
Peter stepped forward, put a hand on Barrett’s shoulder and moved him firmly out and around. ‘Hands behind your back, please.’ He wasn’t going to put Barrett in a car with no safety barrier without handcuffs. Barrett moaned as the cuffs went on, as Peter cautioned him and gave him the formal notification of arrest.
‘I’ll be searching your vehicle now, Doctor Barrett,’ said Cormac. He opened the driver door and bent to look inside as Peter walked Barrett to the car.
‘You didn’t just kill Miles and Carl,’ Peter said. ‘You killed James Madden too. You tried to make it look like a natural death, but there’ll be an autopsy now. The pathologist will know what to look for, I suppose. What do you think the chances are that they’ll figure out the real cause of death?’ He put Barrett into the back seat, put a seatbelt around him and pulled it taut. He closed the door. In the few minutes they had been there Cormac’s car had begun to sink a little into the snow, the residual heat from the vehicle melting the compacted snow and ice on the road. It would freeze again soon. They should get moving.
‘Ready?’ he called to Cormac.
‘Just a second,’ Cormac called back.
Peter climbed into the passenger seat, turned to speak conversationally to Barrett who looked utterly shell-shocked.
‘Oh, and along the way, you poisoned Maggie Robinson. I haven’t quite figured out your motive for that. My best guess is that you were worried that James Madden had told her something you didn’t want known. She was his friend, wasn’t she? His confidante. And you couldn’t have that.’
Barrett’s eyes were wild and terrified. ‘I absolutely did not kill anyone,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where this is coming from, but I’m not talking to you until I’ve seen my lawyer.’
Co
rmac got to the car, climbed into the driver’s seat. He had a computer bag and a medical bag with him, and some papers, taken from Barrett’s car. He handed them to Peter before putting on his belt and slowly turning the car back towards the village.
‘What’s this?’ Peter said.
‘I thought you’d find it interesting,’ Cormac said. ‘I found it on Doctor Barrett’s passenger seat.’
Peter started to read. It was a contract, for the sale of land, signed by James Madden. The purchaser was a company, Wired Land Management Limited. Peter lifted the document, showed it to Barrett. He pointed to the company name.
‘Is this you, Barrett? If we trace this company back, will we find you at the other end of it?’
Barrett’s eyes filled with tears of self-pity, and Peter felt a wrenching disgust.
‘You took this from James Madden’s house yesterday, didn’t you?’ Peter asked. ‘After you killed him? You should have destroyed it straight away, you know. Sloppy, sloppy.’ Peter tapped the contract in his hand. ‘What happened, Doctor?’ he said. ‘Did you run out of money?’
Barrett was still crying. He just kept shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’
‘It was buyer’s remorse, wasn’t it, Doctor Barrett?’ Cormac said, his eyes still on the road. ‘You convinced them both to sell their land to you, but after they’d signed the contracts you decided you didn’t want the land after all. Only, they didn’t want you to walk away. They wanted to sell. A deal’s a deal, after all.’
‘No,’ Barrett said again. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘What was it like, Doctor Barrett?’ Cormac asked, and his voice was low and gentle. The voice of a good friend. The voice of a confessor.
Barrett clenched his eyes shut and closed his mouth.
The Good Turn Page 30