The Trespasser

by French, Tana

  ‘You know this needs doing,’ Steve says, worried. ‘It does. What do you want us to do? Ignore all this, go ahead with Rory, and have his defence dig this up and throw it in our faces halfway through the trial?’

  ‘I want you to have some respect. Something like this, you want to bring it up, you do it in private. Not in a fucking interview room. With a fucking camera going. Jesus.’ He shoots a narrow, furious glance at the camera.

  ‘If I was any other D,’ I say, ‘I would’ve. But I’ve taken enough shite from this squad that nowadays, anything that matters, I’m getting it on record. We’ll try and keep it to ourselves, but I can’t promise anything till I know what I’m dealing with.’

  It’s the oldest line in the book. McCann’s mouth curls. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘So let’s hear it,’ I say. ‘Start with the first time you and Aislinn met. When, where, how.’

  McCann leans back in his chair, stretches his legs out and folds his arms, settling in. ‘Horgan’s. Last summer; I don’t remember the date.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. We can find that out. Had you seen her in there before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You would have noticed her.’

  ‘Yeah, I would. All the lads noticed her. Probably some of the girls, too.’ Snide look at me.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen photos. How’d you get up the brass neck to chat her up?’

  ‘I didn’t. She came on to me.’

  I laugh out loud. ‘Course she did. Gorgeous twenty-something, could have any fella in the bar, throws herself at some middle-aged guy with a faceful of wrinkles and a beer gut. She just won’t take no for an answer; what choice has the poor guy got?’

  McCann has his arms folded tight, not budging. ‘I’m telling you. She wasn’t forward about it – I wouldn’t’ve been into that. But she was the one that gave me the eye.’

  I’ve still got one eyebrow high. ‘Jaysus, come on,’ Steve says to me, reasonably. ‘People have different tastes. Just because someone wouldn’t be your cup of tea—’

  ‘I like them young enough to be some use to me,’ I tell McCann, throwing him a wink. ‘And good-looking.’

  ‘What do you do, pay for it?’ We’re starting to get to him.

  ‘—that doesn’t mean he’s not some other girl’s,’ Steve finishes. ‘It happens.’

  ‘It does happen,’ I admit. ‘On the soaps. Every time I turn on the telly, there’s some young babe hanging out of an uggo old enough to be her da. Does this look like the set off Fair City to you?’

  ‘Ah, Conway. It’s not just on the soaps. Real life, too.’

  ‘If you’re Donald Trump, sure. You been holding out on us, Joey? Are you a secret millionaire?’

  He doesn’t like the ‘Joey’, but he almost hides it behind a wry grin. ‘I wish.’

  ‘Not everyone’s all about the money,’ Steve says. ‘Aislinn could’ve just liked the look of him. Nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Maybe. Do you look like George Clooney, Joey? On your days off, like?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  I grimace, waver one hand. ‘Gotta tell you, pal, I’m not seeing it. So I’m dying to know: why would she go for you? Don’t tell me you never wondered.’

  McCann shifts. Unfolds his arms, shoves his hands in his pockets. He says, ‘She was a badge bunny.’

  We thought the same thing. Aislinn led the whole lot of us down her garden path. What me and Steve need to know is whether McCann believes it still.

  ‘A girl like that goes hunting for a badge,’ I say, ‘and you’re what she brings home? Seriously?’

  McCann’s jaw moves. ‘I was there.’

  ‘And so were plenty of others. Horgan’s is wall-to-wall cops. So why you?’

  ‘Because she wanted a D. She liked to hear about the job: what cases have you worked, what was it like, what did you do next? Gave her a thrill. You know what I’m talking about?’ The grin’s a nasty one. I don’t blink. ‘She picked me out because I was old enough, and dressed nice enough, that she figured I was a D – she knew her stuff, that one. When she heard I worked Murder, that was it. Her eyes lit up. I’d’ve had to hold her off with a garden rake. And you saw her: why would I want to do that?’

  ‘Because you’re married?’ I suggest. ‘I hear to some people that means you don’t go sticking your dick in any hole you can find.’

  McCann lifts one shoulder. ‘We had a few shags. It happens. It was no big deal.’

  Good call. If Aislinn was nothing but a shag, then there’s no reason he would’ve killed her for having another fella. I ask, ‘You do that on a regular basis, yeah? Cheat on your missus?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ever done it before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what was so special about Aislinn?’

  ‘Never had a bird that good-looking try it on with me before. And me and the missus, we hadn’t been getting on great. I figured, why not?’

  Me and Steve throw each other a quick sideways glance, letting McCann catch it. I say, ‘That’s a lovely story. Romantic. But it doesn’t match Lucy Riordan’s.’

  McCann shakes his head. ‘Who’s Lucy Riordan?’

  ‘Aislinn’s best mate. Short? Dyed-blond hair, cut up to here? Ring any bells?’

  At that he laughs, teeth bared like an angry dog’s. ‘That little dyke? I’d say her story’s different, all right. She wasn’t Aislinn’s best mate, whatever she told you. She’s a hanger-on who was arse over tip in love with Aislinn, and she was raging that Ash had found herself a fella. Of course she’s going to tell some story that makes me the bad guy.’

  Steve says, ‘Where’d you meet Lucy?’

  ‘You already know that. Your witness who saw me meet Aislinn, you think I don’t—’

  ‘We need your version.’

  McCann flings himself back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest again and stares at us, lip curling up. ‘The two of ye are pathetic. Do you know that? Sitting there, trying your little interrogation techniques on me, going off on tangents— I was doing that to scumbags, actual scumbags, when ye were picking your spots and snogging posters of pop stars. Do you honestly think I’m going to fall for it?’

  ‘It’s not about falling for it,’ Steve says, wounded. ‘We’re hoping you’ll help us out here.’

  I say, ‘Where’d you meet Lucy?’

  ‘Was that not in her story, no?’

  ‘Ah, come on, man,’ Steve says, leaning forward across the table. ‘You know as well as I do, we’re looking to scupper her story. You think we want you to be our man? Are you serious? If we find out you did this, we’re fucked. You think we want to sit out in that observation room trying to decide whether we’re going to charge one of our own squad with murder?’

  McCann turns those deep-set eyes on me. He’s got years more practice being expressionless than I do; I can’t read anything there. He says, ‘You’ve got no reason to love this squad. You’re fucked anyway; might as well take someone down with you.’

  Even though I know what he’s at, the matter-of-fact tone sends something cold into me. I say, ‘I’ve got no problem with you. You’ve never done anything on me.’

  He nods. ‘If you’ve got any sense at all,’ he says, ‘you’ll walk away. That’s me giving you my best advice; the same as I’d tell one of my own young fellas, if he was sitting where you are. I didn’t do this, so you’re not going to prove I did. If you try, all you’ll do is fuck yourselves up. Forget leaving the squad; you’ll have to leave the force. Maybe the country.’

  We’ve all told a suspect his life is over if he doesn’t do what we want. The cold works its way in deeper anyway. I say, ‘Where’d you meet Lucy?’

  After a moment McCann shakes his head, slow and heavy. ‘Your funeral,’ he says. ‘She was in Horgan’s with Aislinn – keeping an eye on her. Aislinn sitting there in her little shiny dress, sucking on her glass and enjoying everyone staring while she picked out who
she wanted; and the other one with a puss on her, giving the filthies to anyone who looked twice at Aislinn. Aislinn told me after, she said Lucy dragged her to the pub because she wanted to cry on Aislinn’s shoulder about how she couldn’t get a fella . . .’ The corner of McCann’s mouth goes up; for a second his face looks almost soft. ‘She was a real innocent, Aislinn, in a lot of ways. She was like a kid. She honest to God thought Lucy was looking for a fella. Have you checked Lucy’s alibi?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, and realise what I’ve admitted when I see his grin widen. ‘Rock-solid. Sorry.’

  ‘But you wondered.’

  ‘We did our job.’

  ‘Like you’re just doing your job right now.’ The grin’s turned savage. ‘I’ll bet a hundred quid that Lucy one’s trying to put this on me. What’s she saying? I hit Aislinn? I treated her like shite?’

  Me and Steve do the sideways glance again. ‘Not exactly,’ Steve says.

  ‘Actually,’ I say, ‘not at all.’

  McCann’s face has gone back to blank. He wasn’t expecting this.

  ‘According to Lucy,’ I say, ‘you treated Aislinn like she was made of diamond. What you two had going on wasn’t a few shags. It was the real thing. The big L.’

  He laughs, a ferocious bark, loud enough to startle all three of us. He’s trying too hard. ‘Jaysus fuck. You believed that?’

  ‘Are you saying you never told Aislinn you loved her?’ Before he can answer: ‘Careful. We’ve got texts from Aislinn to Lucy.’

  ‘Maybe I did. I’ve got news for you, Conway: when a fella who’s trying to get into your knickers says it’s love, there’s a chance he might be bullshitting you. Or has no fella ever bothered?’

  ‘According to the texts,’ I say, ‘you and Aislinn saw each other a bunch of times in August, but yous didn’t start doing the do until the beginning of September. If you were only there for the riding, what was that all about?’

  McCann shuts down again, takes his time weighing up his options. In the end he says, ‘I liked Aislinn. She was a good girl. Sweet. She was looking for thrills, like I told you, but she wasn’t some vampire type getting off on the guts and gore. She hadn’t had an easy life; her da died when she was only little, her ma had multiple sclerosis, Aislinn was one of those carer kids till the ma died a few years back. There hadn’t been a lot of excitement in her life, so she wanted to hear about mine.’

  I’d swear he believes that. I can feel Steve clocking it too: we’ve still got our grenade.

  She told Rory the same story: dead da, MS ma. No wonder she skidded away from it so fast. Using it to get McCann where she wanted him was one thing; using it on someone she wanted in her real life, that was something else. But the story was getting stronger, getting away from her. It came out anyway.

  ‘Me and the wife, we’ve been having a rough patch. It was nice to be around a woman who liked my company; nice to have somewhere peaceful to go, no one giving it all that about what a waste of space I am. Made everything that bit easier. That was what it was about, at first. Just the bit of peace.’

  The pull at the corner of his mouth says we don’t need to point out the irony here. I say, ‘Where’d you hang out?’

  ‘I’d pick Aislinn up somewhere near her place, and we’d go for a drive. It was summer; she’d bring food, we’d take it for a picnic down the country. We’d find somewhere with a view where we could sit and talk.’ McCann’s trying to keep his voice flat, but the longing rises up and he can’t force it back down. He stops talking.

  ‘Aah,’ I say. ‘Sweet. You never brought the poor girl for an actual meal, no? Or a drink, even? Just had her make you sandwiches and sit on the grass getting ants in her knickers?’

  ‘She never had a problem with it, why should you? We went to her local once. I didn’t like it. Dublin’s still a small town. The wrong person sees you, he tells his missus who tells her ladies’ club pals and one of them’s your wife’s best friend, and bang, you’re sleeping on someone’s sofa.’

  ‘Because you went for a pint?’ Steve raises his eyebrows. ‘Sounds to me like you knew, deep down, this wasn’t just friendly chats.’

  McCann’s lip lifts; it’s meant to be a smile, but it edges on a snarl. ‘Sounds to me like you’ve never been married. “Well, yeah, sweetheart, I did spend the evening on the piss with a gorgeous young blonde, but we were only chatting, honest to God” – you think that’s going to fly? Not with my wife, it’s not.’

  Steve gives him a grin for that. ‘Fair enough,’ he acknowledges. ‘I’m starting to think I should stay single.’

  ‘You and everyone else.’ But the grin fades fast. ‘Me and Aislinn, I’m telling you: it started out innocent.’

  ‘How’d that change?’

  McCann shrugs. He’s turning wary; we’re moving into the edges of dangerous territory.

  ‘Jesus, Moran,’ I say, in an undertone McCann can hear just fine. ‘He stuck his dick in her, is how that changed. He waited for his chance, and when he got it, he banged her like a cheap drum. You want the guy to draw you a diagram?’

  McCann stretches his neck sharply; he doesn’t like that. ‘Jesus yourself,’ Steve tells me, in the same undertone. ‘I’m not asking for their favourite position. I’m just asking what made things go that way. This is the Monk McCann we’re talking about. He didn’t go in there planning to cheat on his missus.’ He gazes hopefully at McCann.

  McCann stares back. ‘What do you think made it go that way? Man and a woman spend a bit of time together, they get to fancying each other, one day it gets out of hand—’ I’ve got one eyebrow high. ‘Laugh all you want. You tell me: why would Aislinn be with me if she didn’t want me? Just like you said at the beginning: I’m not rich and famous.’

  ‘You’re a D,’ I point out. ‘To some people, that could come in useful.’

  ‘I thought of that. I’m not a fool. I wondered if she might be dodgy and looking to get a cop on side.’

  ‘So you ran her through the system.’

  ‘I did, yeah. Go ahead and dob me in to the gaffer, if that’s what it takes to make you feel big. But don’t tell me you’ve never done it.’

  ‘Ah, background checks,’ I say. ‘The foundation of every beautiful romance.’

  ‘Like I said: I know I’m nothing special. I had to check. But Aislinn came up clean as a whistle. She wasn’t even looking for me to square penalty points. She wanted nothing from me.’ McCann spreads his hands. ‘This is all I’ve got. If she wanted me, it was for this.’

  Me and Steve let that lie just long enough, and come just close enough to looking at each other, that McCann gets edgy. ‘What?’ he demands.

  ‘The affair,’ I say. ‘That began in September?’

  ‘The beginning of September. Yeah.’

  ‘Date.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  I’ve made him lie, rather than sound like the sap who’s clinging on to every tiny detail, and he knows we know. I let a flicker of a smile slip through, and see his jaw muscle roll.

  ‘We’ll leave it at the beginning of September,’ I say, being generous, which gets another twitch of his jaw. ‘And it kept going till last weekend. Any breakups along the way, anything like that?’

  McCann has his arms folded again; his cop face is back, a flat slab. ‘No. No problems. No arguments. Everything was great.’

  ‘Autumn,’ Steve says thoughtfully, examining his Biro. ‘Winter. And not being crude, but you two weren’t just chatting any more. I’d say the picnics up the mountains weren’t doing the job for yous, were they? Where’d you meet?’

  None of your business grits McCann’s teeth, but he says, ‘Her place.’

  Steve frowns. ‘None of the neighbours ever saw you.’

  ‘Because I didn’t want them seeing me. I went down the laneway behind Aislinn’s house, over the wall, in by the back door. She gave me a key.’

  And there’s the autumn intruder. ‘Fair play to you, climbing walls at your age,’ I say, almost
holding back a grin – McCann doesn’t like that either. ‘Better than the gym any day. How often were you there?’

  He’d love to lie about that, but he can’t risk it. ‘A couple of times a week. It depended. On work, my family, all that.’

  ‘How’d you make the appointments?’

  ‘Sometimes we’d make plans for next time before I headed off. Other times I’d leave her a note saying when I could call round. Or if I got a free hour or two I wasn’t expecting, I’d just go round to her.’

  ‘Where’d you leave the notes?’

  ‘Post-it in a 7-Up bottle, throw it over her back wall. She knew to check.’

  ‘We didn’t find any Post-its in the house.’

  ‘I’d take them back when I got there. Get rid of them.’

  I do startled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think? Because I’ve been in this job too long to leave evidence floating around.’

  The cold flat glance says And way too long to get tied in knots by the likes of you. ‘Jaysus,’ I say. ‘Lot of hassle for the odd shag.’

  ‘Depends how good of a shag.’ That nasty grin again, but I’ve seen McCann use it on suspects and it doesn’t work on me.

  ‘Why not ring Aislinn, or text her? Your number wasn’t even on her phone. Why not?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want it there.’

  ‘And why not go in her front door like a normal person?’

  He eyes me with dislike. ‘Why the hell do you think?’

  ‘I’m asking you. Did she get off on the top-secret hush-hush vibe, yeah? Or did you get off on knowing she had to be ready for you to show up at any minute?’

  ‘She didn’t have to do anything. I wasn’t her boss.’

  I say, picking my words carefully, ‘Would you not have been . . . angry, let’s say, if she hadn’t?’

  McCann’s jaw clamps. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘What I said. You had Aislinn sitting at home, day in, day out, ready to jump whenever you decided to pull the strings. If you had pulled and she hadn’t jumped, what would have happened?’

  ‘Nothing. Most of the time I let her know I was coming; it was only now and then that I called round to her out of the blue. If I’d showed up and she hadn’t been there, or she’d been busy, I would’ve left and come back another time. End of story.’