Broken Souls: An absolutely addictive mystery thriller with a brilliant twist (Detective Lottie Parker Book 7)

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘Stop. Stop. You’re jumping all over the place. First you accuse Giles, and now you mention Colin. Make up your mind, woman.’

  ‘I witnessed Colin Kavanagh leaving your property in haste the other day. I have a witness who has implicated Kavanagh, Giles Bannon and Christy Clarke in criminal activity. Care to comment on that?’

  ‘What the …?’ the priest started, then clamped his flabby lips together.

  ‘Well?’ Lottie prompted.

  ‘I’ve nothing to say on matters told to me in the sacrament of Confession.’

  ‘Don’t give me that speech. I know they were dealing in stolen cars. I’m not concerned with that at the moment. I want to find Lily, and I think Giles and Colin somehow organised her abduction and even the murders. Either together or alone.’

  Though the room was chilly, Lottie felt her skin tingle with heat. She unzipped her jacket and rolled up the sleeves. She took a few paces around, running her hand over surfaces, and when she turned back, Father Curran was seated opposite Boyd. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it.

  ‘Tell me about Cara,’ Boyd said softly.

  ‘A beautiful but damaged human being. Cara wanted everyone to love her, but as I tried to tell her, only Jesus on the Cross loves us unconditionally. She could never understand human frailties.’

  ‘Did she know Robert Brady?’

  Lottie wondered where Boyd was going with this.

  The priest smiled. ‘Another broken soul. Kindred spirits have a way of finding each other in this world.’

  ‘Did you place the chain and cross at the scene of his death?’

  ‘No, but I suspect Cara did. She had one just like it.’

  ‘How did Cara and Robert know each other?’

  ‘Through Fiona, I suppose.’ The priest let his eyes wander around the room, avoiding looking at Lottie.

  She walked over and sat beside him. ‘You can tell us. There’s no one left to protect.’

  ‘But there is.’

  ‘Who?’ Lottie asked. ‘Beth?’

  The priest shook his head slowly, bowed, studying the floor.

  Lottie’s phone rang again. She was about to reject the call when she saw McKeown’s name. She answered it and listened intently, then hung up without a word.

  ‘Where is Lily?’ she said.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ Father Curran looked up and folded his arms defiantly.

  The pieces were clicking into place. The bank statements. The missing passports. Kavanagh’s criminal activities. ‘Fiona came to you not about the wedding but to plan an escape. Who was she afraid of? Giles Bannon? Ryan Slevin? Or Colin Kavanagh?’

  The priest sighed, blessed himself slowly. ‘The poor girls. Both of them. Cara and Fiona. I didn’t want to believe he’d harmed them.’

  ‘Who are you talking about? Tell me what happened.’ Lottie was glad she had Bannon and Slevin back at the station. All she needed now was to find Lily, then arrest Kavanagh, lock him up and throw away the key.

  The priest settled back in his uncomfortable-looking chair, and steepled his fingers as if in prayer. ‘It started with Robert. He’d fallen on hard times. He tried to blackmail Colin Kavanagh over something or other. Colin was having none of it. Robert spoke to Fiona and young Beth Clarke. You see, Beth’s father was involved too – but you know that.’

  ‘Involved in what?’

  ‘In the shenanigans at the garage. Holding stolen cars, and Colin doctoring the paperwork so they could be shipped to England. Laundered money through the pig farm too.’ Father Curran began to cough.

  ‘Will I fetch you some water?’ Lottie said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’ll be okay in a minute.’

  ‘Do you think Kavanagh killed Christy Clarke?’ she said. ‘To keep him quiet?’

  ‘I doubt it. Christy was up to his neck in debt and had signed everything over to Colin at that stage, so why the need to kill him? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I’ll see what Kavanagh has to say for himself. When we find him. Next port of call, Boyd,’ she said.

  He nodded, but she could see he wasn’t really listening to her. He was staring hard at the priest.

  ‘Father Curran,’ he said, ‘the day we saw Kavanagh here, was he looking for Lily? Did he think you had the child?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Why would he think that?’

  ‘He knew Fiona had been to see me.’

  ‘About the wedding?’ Lottie volunteered.

  ‘Aye, and other stuff.’

  Boyd glared at her. Keeping his voice soft and low, he continued to speak to the priest. ‘Fiona asked you to help make arrangements so that she could flee the country.’

  Father Curran said nothing.

  ‘Do you have Fiona and Lily’s passports and flight tickets?’

  Still no reply.

  ‘She asked you to collect Lily that day and hold on to her until she could pick her up.’

  Big salty tears flowed one after the other down the priest’s face. One nod.

  Boyd was on his feet and kneeling in front of him. ‘Tell me. Is Lily safe?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Is she here?’

  Sobs now tore from Father Curran as his head jerked up and down.

  ‘She is here!’ Boyd said.

  But Lottie had already interpreted the priest’s nods. She fled from the room. Into the kitchen. Not a soul.

  Up the stairs. Opening doors, shouting Lily’s name as she ran.

  She tore back to the living room. ‘Where is she? Where have you hidden her, you demented old man?’

  Father Curran rose slowly, wiping his nose and eyes with his sleeve. ‘I couldn’t help Cara when she asked me. I thought I could help Fiona. All that Satan stuff I told you, that was just so you’d leave me alone. I was terrified after Fiona died. I didn’t know what to do with the child. I knew Fiona wouldn’t have wanted Colin to have her. I just … kept her here.’

  He moved to the hall, pulled open a door almost invisible under the stairs. He dragged down on a string and a single bulb exploded into light.

  Lottie pushed him out of the way and flew down the old wooden stairs.

  ‘Lily? Sweetheart, don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.’

  On the bottom step, she paused. Even with the light, the room was gloomy, but she could make out the three suitcases in a corner and the figure of a child sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees.

  ‘Lily, I’ve come to take you …’ She was about to say home, but she had no idea where the child would call home any more. ‘You’re safe now, honey.’

  She heard a soft, pitiful sob.

  ‘I want my mummy.’

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Kirby couldn’t shake his anger at how Robert Brady had been let down. He knew McKeown should be the one to feel bad because he’d closed the case too quickly. No further investigation needed. Well, it was needed now, and Kirby sensed he was the one to do it.

  He reread Beth Clarke’s article and studied the photograph of Doon Forest with the lake in the background. So close to Colin Kavanagh’s house. The scene was visible from the hilltop at the back of Ryan’s cottage, where they’d been yesterday.

  He stuffed the last of a tired sandwich into his mouth and headed to the cells. As he chewed, he concluded the bread was fusty. Too late now. It was in his belly.

  The duty sergeant opened the door and Kirby stepped inside the bare room. An ultraviolet light gave everything a blue hue, transforming Slevin into a ghoulish form under its glow. He remained lounging on the narrow bed, one leg hanging off it, the other beneath his body. Kirby gave him a kick to move and sat down beside him.

  ‘Tell me about Robert Brady,’ he began.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘You didn’t like him as much as young Beth did, then?’

  ‘He filled her head with lies. Telling her he was going to get enough money that they could hide out in a tropical
island, away from pig swill, and he without a euro in his pocket. Fucking queer.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘About the island? It’s true. He gave her brochures and—’

  ‘About being queer, dickhead. Do you mean he was odd?’ Kirby knew what it was like to be classed as odd.

  ‘Robert was as gay as Christmas. Not that I think that has anything to do with anything, other than that he led Beth on. Poor girl believed everything he told her. He was only stringing her along until he got money from Kavanagh. He knew she was good at her job and he used her to snoop for him.’

  Kirby digested this, and the sandwich caused his stomach to gurgle in protest. ‘Tell me more.’

  Ryan sighed, crossing one leg over the other and clutching his ankle. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. Will you let me off the assault charge if I do?’

  ‘Not my call. But I’ll have a chat with the boss.’ And fuck you if you think you’re getting away with that one. Kirby smiled to himself.

  ‘Right.’ Ryan seemed to accept it. ‘When Robert was working on my cottage, he told me he’d met this guy.’

  ‘Go on.’ A sour taste reached Kirby’s mouth, and he wasn’t at all sure it was from the sandwich.

  ‘He told his boyfriend the story of Kavanagh’s criminal dealings and the papers he’d found that proved Kavanagh was involved in laundering money and doctoring paperwork on stolen cars. The boyfriend blackmailed Kavanagh and got this cabin built for himself on Kavanagh’s property. It’s behind the house, close to the forest.’

  ‘I can’t believe Colin Kavanagh would give in to that kind of pressure.’

  ‘No one can understand Kavanagh and his motives. I’m sure down the line he had plans to extricate himself.’

  ‘Who was the guy?’

  ‘I can be as inquisitive too, so I did a little poking around. It was Trevor Toner.’

  Kirby sat up straighter, his throat filled with bile. ‘The gobshite dance teacher?’

  ‘Yeah, one and the same. He latched onto Robert, all possessive and a bit too needy, if you ask me.’

  ‘You told Beth about him?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You knew he was Lily’s dance tutor and you never said anything about his connection to Robert. What type of a lug are you?’

  ‘Yes, but Giles would have had access to Lily at the dance school too. Here’s the thing.’ Ryan stood up and paced the tiny enclosure before turning to Kirby. ‘I saw something in one of my photos of the Christmas market the other day, and it got me thinking.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘These weird little voodoo doll yokes. On a stall.’

  Kirby grinned. ‘Saw them myself. Awful-looking things. Know anything about them?’

  ‘I know someone who has one on his key ring.’

  ‘Trevor Toner?’ Kirby said.

  ‘Yeah, and if that prick has hurt Lily, I’ll kill the bastard myself.’

  McKeown was relieved when Lottie phoned to say she’d found Lily safe and well. But with the day wearing on, he was tired and narked that he still had to babysit Giles Bannon.

  Bannon was constantly on his phone. Trying to get through to his solicitor, his face growing redder with each unsuccessful try.

  ‘Look, Giles, why don’t I get this interview started? Then you can go home to your wife and kiddies. How does that sound?’

  Bannon said nothing. Tapped his phone again.

  McKeown leaned against the wall, folded his arms. ‘What I don’t understand is why you bought the dress on the theatre account. Did you not think we’d trace it to you eventually?’

  Bannon looked up. ‘Read my lips. I did not buy the fucking dress.’

  ‘Evidence says you did.’ Flimsy at best, McKeown thought.

  ‘Show me that invoice again.’

  McKeown eased his back from the wall and opened the file on the table. He passed over the invoice he’d printed from his iPad.

  Bannon put on his spectacles, his lips moving as he read. He picked up the receipt. Read it too. Stopped. Looked up at McKeown.

  ‘What?’ McKeown said, stretching exhaustion from his arms.

  ‘The dress was purchased on the theatre account all right, but I have two company credit cards. This one here … look at the number; it’s not the one I use.’

  He took out his wallet and extracted a Visa card. Picking up the card, McKeown compared the number to the receipt. They were different.

  ‘So where is the other card?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t have it, because it’s used specifically by the dance school. The head tutor, to be exact.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Now do you believe me?’ Bannon sat back triumphantly, but McKeown was already out the door.

  In the corridor, he met Kirby huffing up from the cells.

  ‘Trevor Toner,’ they said simultaneously.

  Lily was placed in the ambulance as Father Curran was whisked away in the back of a squad car.

  Lottie and Boyd sat in Brennan’s Pub while SOCOs began their work on the priest’s house. Gossip was flying in all directions as the village came to life in the watering hole. Because Boyd had looked grey one minute and green the next, she’d insisted they eat before they did another thing. She tore into her soup and sandwich and noticed Boyd hardly touched his.

  ‘At least the child is unharmed,’ he said, twirling the spoon around the creamy soup.

  ‘You don’t think he did anything to her?’ she said between bites of her chicken sandwich.

  ‘No, I tend to believe he thought he was doing the right thing by helping Fiona, and then when she was murdered, he didn’t know what to do.’ Boyd put down his spoon. ‘Lily is fine, Lottie.’

  ‘Physically she seems okay, but the mental trauma will be with her for life. I know what it was like for Sean, and even Katie and Chloe. It’ll haunt that child.’ Lottie gulped down a sob. Her own children had been through so much over the last few years and yet she continued to sweep it all to one side. No wonder they escaped from her at every opportunity.

  ‘Stop, Lottie,’ Boyd said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Beating yourself up.’

  ‘Shut up, Boyd.’ She smiled. ‘But why didn’t Father Curran admit to Colin Kavanagh that he had Lily?’

  ‘Because he believed Fiona was terrified of Kavanagh and didn’t want to put Lily in what he thought might be a dangerous situation.’

  ‘Lily has to be told her mother is dead.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ Boyd said. ‘Much as I hate to say it, we’d better inform Kavanagh she’s been found.’

  ‘Even though he’s not her father?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Okay. We need to bring him in over his criminal activity. I still think he killed Christy Clarke,’ Lottie said.

  ‘And we have to locate Beth.’

  Boyd went to pay for the food. Lottie’s phone rang and she answered.

  ‘Kirby. What’s up now?’ She listened intently. ‘Okay. That’s great. You and McKeown head to Toner’s apartment. We’ll be there soon.’ She hung up. ‘Boyd, let’s give Kavanagh a miss for now. We need to concentrate on Trevor Toner.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because both Bannon and Slevin have separately put him in the frame for the murders.’

  She explained the conversation she’d had with Kirby.

  ‘Look, we’re in Ballydoon,’ Boyd said. ‘It will take us five minutes to call to Kavanagh, then we can head back to Ragmullin with him. Okay?’

  It wasn’t, but she nodded and said, ‘Okay.’

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The gates were unlocked and there was no sign of Kavanagh’s car. When no one answered her persistent knocking, Lottie moved to the rear of the house.

  ‘That doesn’t look like a car Kavanagh would drive.’ She pointed to a battered-looking black Toyota Yaris parked at the back door. She peered through the windows. ‘The keys are in the ignition.’

  Boyd pressed his nos
e to the glass. ‘Holy fuck, what’s that on the key ring?’

  Lottie put on protective gloves, opened the door and pulled the keys out. ‘It’s similar to the voodoo dolls at the market. Call in the registration. Confirm ownership of the vehicle.’

  But after Kirby’s information, there was no doubt in her mind whose car it was.

  She walked across the expansive lawn and came to a stop behind a hedge, from where she had a good view of the cabin with the blacked-out windows.

  As Boyd approached, she put a finger to her lips and indicated for him to hunker down beside her.

  ‘Trevor Toner owns the car,’ he whispered.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you think he’s in there?’

  ‘You go round the back,’ she said. ‘See if there’s another door. I’ll wait here.’

  ‘I know you, Lottie. You’ll be through that door before I …’

  His words faded as the cabin door opened. Toner walked out, hooked a padlock on a chain over the handle and locked it, then started to walk away, juggling the key from one hand to the other. His face was lit up by something akin to glee in the dark December day.

  Lottie held her breath and knew Boyd was doing the same. The only sound came from the swans on the lake. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d stood up and burst out into the man’s path.

  The change in Trevor was instantaneous. His eyes darkened like the sky above his head, and he dropped the key. It distracted her for a moment. He ducked beneath her outstretched arm and ran, leaving nothing in his wake but a whoosh of thin air.

  ‘Stop!’ Lottie shouted, and took off after him. ‘Check inside the cabin,’ she yelled at Boyd as she hurdled a bush and found herself in a field.

  Trevor was heading for the forest. Fuckity-fuck, Lottie thought. If he goes in there, I’ll never catch him. But still she followed.

  The darkness clouded around her. She fought off branches and briars, trampled through ferns, bushes and grass. Her heart was thumping so loudly it drowned out the persistent drip of water from the trees and ferns.