Beneath the Surface

by Jo Spain

  His wife froze.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I said get your coat. Maria, walk that baby or feed her. Do something. She’s going to burst a blood vessel.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to do. See, Mam, I’m going upstairs and picking her up. Oooooh, a break in the routine! Expect the sky to have fallen in when you return.’

  Louise glared at her before stomping out of the kitchen, followed by Tom.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she barked at him.

  ‘We’re going for a walk. You need some air.’

  ‘I don’t need air,’ she muttered as she pounded away from the house in the direction of Castleknock village. Tom nearly had to run to keep up with her. ‘I need a bloody punchbag. I’m so frustrated with that girl. She’s too immature. She hasn’t a clue what she’s doing but thinks she knows everything. She wants to be a mother, a student, and earn money all at the same time, and she thinks she can do that without the child having any kind of structure. Why won’t she just listen?’

  ‘Like you listened to your mother when Maria was born?’ Tom replied.

  Louise ground to a halt, throwing her scarf back around her neck.

  ‘That is not the same thing and well you know it. You and I were older and more than capable.’

  ‘Have you been working out or something?’ He took the opportunity to catch his breath. His wife hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

  ‘I power-walk with the buggy in the mornings, when Maria’s enjoying her lie-in. How’s that going to work out for her when she moves? I’m not driving across town every morning to collect my grandchild from some dingy bedsit so her mammy can go back to sleep. How can she even consider moving Cáit out of her home? We have the space. She has everything she needs. And it’s hard enough now when she’s just got medical theory to study. What happens when she’s interning in a hospital, working fifteen hours a day? How will she make it work then?’

  ‘She can’t make it all work but if you keep pushing her, she will move,’ Tom retorted. ‘And it will do her no harm to have a dose of reality. You can’t stop her being independent. Do you remember when my parents offered to let us live with them after Maria was born? So we could save on rent and build up a deposit to buy our own place? You nearly had a fit.’

  ‘Again, our situation was entirely different,’ his wife fumed. ‘There were two of us, for heaven’s sake. I could choose to become a full-time mother. There’s no comparison.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if the situations aren’t identical; I’m making the point that Maria is her mother’s daughter. She wants to make her own decisions for her baby. She doesn’t need to move into a bedsit: we have the resources to support her in a nicer place. We don’t need to abandon our daughter and grandchild if they move out. And maybe it would be good for us too. We could get our lives back.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’ Louise shouted, causing a passing dogwalker to stumble off the kerb in shock. Tom cast the elderly man an apologetic glance, but his wife forged on. ‘You think I’d abandon her? I would never do that. I only want what’s best for her. And how dare you talk about us getting our lives back. Seriously? The life where you move from case to case and I wait patiently for one to be closed before another one opens, without ever complaining or throwing it in your face that we barely bloody see each other? What will I do all day if I don’t have the baby to mind? I finish my English studies, what then? All you’re concerned with is getting sleep because you’re a – a – you’re a big lazy oaf!’

  Tom was alarmed to see tears in his wife’s eyes.

  ‘Louise,’ he said softly, and tried to pull her to him. She shook him off angrily. They stood there, at an impasse, while Tom rewound the conversation in his head and tried to think of what to say next.

  ‘What are you more upset about?’ he asked, treading carefully. ‘Maria not taking advice about parenting or the possibility of her and Cáit moving out?’

  She sniffed and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘I don’t want Maria to move out, let alone Cáit. Oh Tom, I’d miss them so much, rattling around the house on my own. I’m not ready for an empty nest. I’ve barely got my head around Maria not being a child any more.’

  This time, she let her husband take her hand.

  He caressed her fingers with his, feeling her soft skin, knowing every line on her palm.

  ‘If that’s the case,’ he said, ‘then you need her to know that if she stays with us, you’ll let her make her own choices about the baby. You raised her well; let her show you what a good job you did. Stop breathing down her neck and reminding her you would do it better, because she already knows what an amazing mother you are.

  ‘But, love, she will move out one day. I’m not best pleased about it either. But I had my moment of realisation when she told me she was pregnant. She’s not a child any more. And as for my job, I didn’t realise it was taking such a toll on you. You manage it so well, I just assumed . . . well, it doesn’t matter what I assumed. We can fix it. I’m not going to work forever, you know that.’

  Now Louise was sobbing. Tom panicked. What had he said? What could he do?

  ‘Why didn’t we have more children?’ his wife wailed. ‘I wanted more. I still want more and now I’m a dried-up old prune and I can’t have any.’

  Tom nearly laughed. Red-eyed, snotty-nosed and bathed only in the harsh light of a street lamp, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ he said. ‘An old prune? Look who you’re talking to. I just turned fifty, apparently.’

  ‘But I can’t ever have another child,’ she sobbed plaintively.

  Tom said nothing. Her eyes were so full of pain. He couldn’t remedy this one with humour.

  He put his arms around her and held her close.

  ‘I’m sorry, Louise,’ he said. ‘I had no idea that you felt this way. I . . .’ He was lost for words. She was right, of course, and there was nothing he could say that would make it better. Being a grandparent was lovely, but it was a pale imitation. Their one little girl had grown up. Why hadn’t they had this conversation a decade ago?

  He knew why, really. His job was all-consuming and Louise’s days had been full with Maria. Neither of them could have imagined how they would feel at this point in their lives.

  Tom must have looked upset because this time Louise took his hand in hers.

  ‘It’s okay, pet. I’m just . . . blowing things out of proportion. I’m tired and I’ve been feeling a bit low lately. You seem to always be busy. I wouldn’t swap our life together for anything but sometimes I wish I had a bit more of you. If Maria and Cáit go, I’m worried I’ll be left climbing the walls.’

  ‘How can I make this better now?’ he asked. ‘Are you sure it’s too late for us to try again?’

  She snorted. ‘Oh my God, yes. That ship has sailed. If for no other reason than Maria would be absolutely mortified if she found out we were trying to give Cáit an aunt younger than her.’

  Tom smiled weakly.

  ‘Should I take time off work? When this case is put to bed, if it ever is – we could just go away, the two of us.’

  ‘In addition to Cuba? Do you think we’re made of money?’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  She smiled sadly. ‘I know you are, love. It means the world to me that you are. But I feel better already for getting this off my chest. I do. You know what would make me happy right now?’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘A bag of chips. I’m starving. I need something dripping in grease and smothered in salt and vinegar.’

  ‘You’re a cheap date.’ He kissed her forehead.

  ‘Not that cheap,’ she said. ‘I might require a burger as well. Come on.’

  They strolled, hand in hand, Tom stealing occasional glances at his wife’s face.

  He knew, deep down, that he neglected her at times. They had an unspoken arrangement that seemed to work for their marriage – she allowed him to f
ocus on his cases and he made it up to her when work was quiet. Many of his peers had failed to establish a similar understanding and he’d seen plenty of marriages fail because of it. The birthday party in the middle of an investigation had been a surprise and a break from the norm. She had been putting her foot down, reminding him that she wouldn’t always bend to what his job demanded. The last year had been unusually hectic. Had he been pushing it?

  Louise squeezed his hand.

  ‘Don’t worry about it until after you’ve wrapped up this case,’ she said, reading his mind. ‘You have until Hallowe’en.’

  He smiled. If only it were that easy.

  They went to bed early, exhausted and full of starchy food. As they lay in the darkness, Tom brought her up to speed on the case, talking until he felt her head grow heavy on his chest and the rise and fall of her breathing become steady and deep.

  He was just on the cusp of sleep when it came to him. His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in the bed. Louise muttered crossly and turned over, plumping the pillow beneath her head.

  Tom considered shaking her awake but knew she wouldn’t thank him for it. He wanted to talk through his theory with somebody, but he also needed more information.

  He’d been looking at the Ryan Finnegan case all wrong. The pointers had been there; he just hadn’t seen them. He had allowed himself to be distracted and missed what was under his nose.

  Tom lay back on the pillow, making a mental list of all the things he would have to find out tomorrow. And if all of that clicked into place, then he might just have it.

  He would know who’d murdered Ryan Finnegan.

  Saturday

  ‘You’re here early for a Saturday,’ Michael observed. He’d entered his boss’s office to drop off some paperwork and was surprised to find Tom already at his desk. They were all used to working weekends during an investigation, but there was no team meeting scheduled for today.

  ‘Michael – good. Where is everybody else? Never mind. Who was tracking down the CCTV footage around the vicinity of Ryan’s hit-and-run?’

  ‘Ian Kelly, but I was giving him a hand. We haven’t found anything. There’s some footage near Ryan’s house, but the last clip we have is from a garage where he stopped for petrol and a coffee.’

  ‘You’ve read the accident report, then?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Does it say anything in there about Ryan’s condition at the scene of the accident? Was he conscious or unconscious? What was in his statement when he came round?’

  ‘He was barely conscious when they got to him, but was able to nod and say a couple of words to one of the paramedics while they were taking him from the car. When he came to, all he could remember was leaving the house that morning. The doctors said that level of memory loss wasn’t unusual for the trauma he’d sustained.’

  ‘He spoke to a paramedic? What did he say?’

  ‘He didn’t raise a pointed finger and name the person who drove into him, if that’s what you’re getting at. The report says he asked for help but was struggling to make sense and stay awake.’

  Tom massaged his jaw, deep in thought.

  ‘Find that paramedic, Michael. Is it a man or a woman?’

  ‘A man.’

  ‘See if you can get him in. I take it he’s named?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll round him up this morning.’

  ‘Tell him it’s urgent.’

  Tom glanced at the clock on the wall as Michael left. Was it too early to start ringing people? He’d struggled to fall asleep last night, as his theory floated around his head. No matter what angle he came at it from, he kept arriving at the same conclusion. It was all so obvious now, but that bloody Resources Bill had completely distracted him.

  The inspector looked at his list. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to start dialling.

  By the time the other members of his team began to arrive, Tom had almost completed the calls.

  Ray walked in as the inspector was finishing a conversation with Shane Morrison. He took a chair in front of the desk and waited, his forehead creased in puzzlement as Tom asked his final question.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ he asked, when the call was finished. ‘Was that Morrison? Isn’t he being interviewed today?’

  ‘Ah! Decided to turn up, did you? That’s good of you. I thought you lot lived in work and it transpires you were just getting in five minutes before me. Yes, it was Morrison. I couldn’t wait for his interview. And he’s given me what I need. Now, I want you to do a job for me.’

  ‘What?’

  Tom pushed the notepad he’d been scribbling on across the table.

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Ray asked, startled, as he read the question his boss had written alongside a list of names.

  ‘You’ll see. Don’t tell any of them why you’re asking.’

  ‘That’s hardly likely, considering I haven’t a clue myself.’

  ‘I have an idea. I don’t want to go into detail yet because it’s left field, but I feel in my gut it’s right.’

  ‘Are you moving on somebody today? If I get you the answer you want from this, how does that help?’

  ‘I’ll fill you in when you find out that information for me. I’ll tell you one thing, though. You and Linda were right when you said at the start that it was unlikely Ryan was killed over a piece of legislation. You were dead right.’

  Ray was confused.

  ‘What about the interviews with the ministers?’ he asked. ‘I’ve moved them twice now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve spoken to everybody.’

  His deputy raised his eyebrows.

  Michael popped his head around the door.

  ‘That paramedic is en route, boss. He was just coming off a shift in the Mater Hospital up the road.’

  ‘Excellent. Right, I’ll be there shortly. Michael, while you’re here, organise a squad car to go out and keep an eye on Kathryn Finnegan’s house, will you?’

  Michael looked questioningly at Ray, who shrugged to show he was equally in the dark.

  ‘Where’s Laura?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Why, is she the main suspect now?’ Ray jibed.

  ‘Funny. Get her in here. Don’t delay her with your witty repartee.’

  While Tom waited for Laura he entertained himself by drawing circles around the list of names he’d called already.

  The detective arrived minutes later, looking flustered.

  ‘Sorry, boss, I didn’t realise you were in. If it’s about Morrison, I’ll be doing the interview myself.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it; I’ve already spoken to him. I’m ahead of everyone this morning. Hopefully.’

  Laura cocked her head, wondering what was going on.

  ‘Tell me again about the two interviews you did with Grace Brady,’ he said.

  ‘I gave you the reports.’

  ‘I know. I’ve read them. I wish I’d spoken to her myself, but it’s too late now. Go through them with me again, in any case.’

  Laura took a deep breath and relayed, as best she could, the exact exchanges over the course of both her encounters with Grace.

  Tom leaned back in his chair, listening intently and nodding.

  ‘And she mentioned Morrison, too?’ he asked, when she’d finished.

  ‘Yes,’ Laura confirmed.

  ‘Hmm. He was everywhere, just like Ray said. I’m surprised we missed it.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing. Family matters, indeed.’

  ‘You’ve lost me.’ Laura shook her head.

  ‘Something that Darragh McNally said in his suicide note.’

  Tom pushed the phone across the desk.

  ‘I want you to ring Grace and ask her something. Go gentle on her. Be apologetic, even sympathetic. Let her talk. And find out where she is. Discreetly. Don’t scare her.’

  He flipped to another page in his pad, where he’d written yet another question that had occurred to him last night.

/>   Laura viewed her boss quizzically but didn’t comment. Instead, she picked up the phone and dialled the woman’s number.

  The conversation lasted a number of minutes, most of them involving Grace being rude and uncooperative. Laura kept her cool and managed eventually to coax the woman into answering the inspector’s question.

  ‘Well?’ Tom asked, when she had replaced the phone receiver.

  Laura looked even more baffled.

  ‘She says she slept with Blake. Boss, I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. Why would we give any credit to what Grace Brady has to say?’

  Tom sat forward, his elbows resting on the desk.

  ‘Exactly. Who would believe anything Grace Brady has to say? That’s why he slept with her. It’s why Ryan Finnegan was willing to resort to using the photographs to change Aidan’s mind. He knew how he’d be painted if he just came out publicly against the minister. An embittered PA, claiming Blake was manipulative, untrustworthy, and had a sordid past. Who’d believe him?’

  ‘So, he went against his own principles.’

  ‘Yes. But there was something far bigger going on than that Bill. Something that we overlooked and Ryan hadn’t even considered. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Come and talk to this paramedic with me.’

  They left Tom’s office and made their way to the interview room, where a very tired man awaited them. The inspector took one look at Simon Kelleher and apologised profusely for having to bring him in. To his credit, despite having just worked a twelve-hour shift in a tough job, the young man was eager to help.

  ‘Whatever you need, Inspector, though I’m not sure I can be much help. That said, you’re lucky you’re not relying on my partner, Eddie. He struggles to remember what day of the week it is, let alone the details of an incident six months ago.’

  ‘You do remember the accident then?’ Tom said.

  ‘Yes. When I saw on the news that the same man had been murdered it brought it all back. I held his hand while my colleagues from the fire service cut the car roof off. It’s awful to think he came through that only to die so tragically months later.’

  The inspector agreed.

  ‘It says in the report that he was semi-conscious when you arrived at the scene and managed a few words. Do you recall exactly what he said?’