by Noreen Mayer
Libby was fascinated by the vivid red suntan covering his face and neck. 'Did your wife enjoy herself?'
He frowned. 'No, unfortunately she caught a stomach bug, she was sick too.'
'And your sons, did they have a good time?'
'The whole lot of them drove me around the bend - my sons decided at the last minute to bring their kids. I thought they were just taking their wives. I nearly died when I arrived at the airport and saw them all.'
'I see.' Libby pictured the airport scene in her mind and laughed out loud.
'My youngest son got himself arrested for drunk driving. His wife had a canary.' Finbar took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one of its contents.
'How awful, did you get it sorted?'
'Oh, yes. He spent a few hours in a jail cell, but finally, after much negotiation and some cash changing hands, he got off with a fine.'
'Still, it must have been nice for you all to get a break,' Libby said, still laughing.
'I'm glad to be home, I can tell you.' Meenan straightened his tie. 'I'm looking forward to things being back to normal. I've got a new case of infidelity on at the minute.'
'Great,' said Libby.
'Tell me about the case you're working on, the young doctor, what's her name?'
'Kathleen Lynch.'
'The husband Mick Doody rang this office looking for me this morning. He's in the same golf club as I am.'
'Which club is that?' Libby asked.
'The Old Head Golf Club in Kinsale.'
'I'm thinking of joining a golf club near Ballyhasset.'
'This one is very exclusive, it wouldn't suit you. The members are mainly men.' Finbar grinned. 'No offence, Libby. It's a great place for us men to relax, away from nagging wives.'
'I'll join one nearer home,' said Libby, unperturbed. 'That club sounds a bit stuffy anyway.'
'I met Mr Doody in the bar there a few times,' Finbar continued. 'He was in the army like me, before he left and joined the county council. He's the Chief Planning Officer for West Cork. Nice friendly chap he is.'
Libby's eyes flashed with maybe just a touch of annoyance. 'Why's he pestering you? He knows I'm handling his case, I'm working as fast as I can.'
'Well, he wants you to work faster, according to Dawn. She took his call. He knows me you see, he trusts me better than you.'
Libby scowled. 'Mr Doody doesn't trust the police either, he told me this when we met.'
Finbar grinned. 'Stubborn fella.'
'I'll ring him today, tell him what I've found so far.'
'No, I'll speak to him first. I'll explain that you're handling his case.' Finbar Meenan leaned forward and stubbed out his cigarette. 'Well, go on then - what's the story about the wife, the doctor?'
Libby said, 'Someone killed Kathleen when she was on night duty, in the hospital, our local hospital.'
'I hate hospitals - too many sick people.' He grimaced. 'How did this killer get into her room?'
'With a spare key perhaps,' Libby said. 'He, or she, may have stolen a set from one of the maids. I spoke to a maid who mislaid a set ten days ago.'
'So the killing was planned,' Meenan said, rubbing his chin. 'Any obvious motive for Kathleen's colleagues to kill her?'
'Well, everyone she worked with said she was a bitch. And she had a fling with one of the doctors.'
He leaned forward with interest. 'That's only a motive for the husband. Mind you, it usually is the husband who's the culprit.' Meenan breathed heavily. 'Still, he'd hardly hire us to find her killer if he did the job himself.'
The man could have hired us to throw off suspicion, especially if he thought we were inept, she thought.
His face brightened. 'Kathleen might have been murdered by one of Mr Doody's enemies. I know it's a bit unlikely.' Finbar paused. 'Dig deeper and see if you can find any dirt on him.'
'Maybe Mick's not the devoted husband he appears,' added Libby, raising an eyebrow. 'You know he's a lot richer since she died. Kathleen was very wealthy.'
Meenan's eyes lit up. 'Now you're talking. Keep up the digging. We'll get to the truth eventually.'
'The pathologist found no sign of sexual assault and nothing had been stolen,' Libby continued.
'Which pathologist is this now?' Finbar stiffened his shoulders. 'Not that giant fellow with the funny Russian accent?'
'No, Dr Gallagher.'
'Oh, him.' Finbar relaxed in the chair. 'He's okay, he's fairly sound. Anyone else with a strong motive?'
Libby consulted her notebook. 'We talked to the intern who worked under her and a registrar called Raman Sharma.'
'Raman, what kind of a name is that?' he asked in disgust.
'Indian.' She kept her gaze on the floor. Here we go again, she thought.
'Another foreign doctor.' He frowned. 'This place is full of them. Does that lad speak English clearly?'
'Of course,' Libby replied evenly, her expression deadpan. 'He was very helpful, he told me a lot about how the hospital is run.'
'What about this lad Raman's alibi?' Meenan gazed at her keenly. 'I hope you checked that carefully.'
'I did try, but anyone could have slipped into the victim's room unseen.'
'Probably was a man, though,' Finbar said slowly, scratching his head. 'The killer had to be strong enough to suffocate our victim.'
Libby nodded. 'The whole process was soundless.'
'How do you know that for sure?' Finbar asked.
'Because a doctor slept on either side of her and they heard nothing.'
'Are you sure those doctors weren't on the wards at the time?' He narrowed his eyes.
'The pathologist said she died about two am. All of them said they were in bed by then.'
'Strange they heard nothing.' He digested this information for a while.
'How's young Dawn getting along?' he asked.
'Grand. She's a real help to me.'
'Really? Make sure you keep her busy. Her father said she can be a messer.'
'I haven't found that,' said Libby, frowning.
'I only took her on as a favour to my sister. She's a bit disappointed in Dawn.'
Libby asked, 'Why's that?'
He snorted. 'Dawn threw aside her degree when she qualified. She turned down a good job, she's a trained nurse.'
'She told me about that.' Poor Dawn is in the doghouse, Libby thought.
Finbar's features softened. 'You know your father was a great man, Libby. I really miss him in the office, even though it's six months since...'
'Since he passed away,' Libby finished for him. She sighed. 'Yeah I know. I hated coming in here the first few days. All the furniture, the photos, the files, everything in here reminded me of him.' She gave a small smile. 'But I've got used to it now, that he's not coming back, I mean.'
'He had a good life, your dad,' said Finbar.
She nodded. They both remained silent.
Finbar's phone rang shrilly. Before he answered he said, 'See you later Libby. Listen, you're going to be handling this case on your own. My back is so bad my doctor told me to cut down all unnecessary driving. You have Dawn anyway, to help you.'
'Oh right. No problem.' Very handy for you, this bad back, she thought, but she felt relieved, nevertheless, to hear she'd get less interference from Finbar. She rose to leave, in better humour after hearing this.
Chapter 7
Libby called on Friday evening to Mick Doody's house in Kinsale, ten miles away from Ballyhasset. She drove slowly up the long driveway and parked in front of the house. She spotted a sleek black Jaguar sports car in front of the porch. She remembered seeing the car the last time she was there. At least Mr Doody is in, she thought as she climbed the steps up to the front door.
The maid answered, gazing at her with the same surly expression Libby remembered from the last visit.
'Hi there,' Libby said. 'I'd like to speak to Mr Doody. I came before.' She showed the maid her ID card.
The young woman reluctantly opened the door wide. Libby followed
her into the kitchen, noticing the dazzling white presses and a polished wooden floor.
'What's this about?' the maid asked.
She's rather rude, Libby thought.
'Kathleen Lynch,' said Libby. 'Your employer's wife.'
'Kathleen is dead. She died last week.'
'I know,' replied Libby, 'It's a terrible tragedy.'
'I get Mr Doody for you. Take a seat.'
'Thanks,' Libby said as she sat at the kitchen table.
After a few minutes, the planning officer appeared in the kitchen, seeming tired.
'Hi Libby,' he said in a dull voice.
'I understand how hard this is for you,' Libby said softly. 'I just have to ask you a few more questions.'
He smiled. 'Will you have a cup of tea?' He quickly switched on the kettle.
'I'd love a cup,' Libby said.
He produced a plate of biscuits and a sugar bowl and handed Libby a full mug of milky tea.
'I've been meaning to ask you,' Libby began, after she drank some of her tea. 'Was your wife a heavy sleeper?'
'Yes, she would've slept during an explosion.'
Libby gazed at him thoughtfully. 'So she probably never heard the killer come into her room.'
'I guess not.' Mr Doody answered flatly.
'I spoke to the doctor who worked with Kathleen.'
'Pamela Kelly,' he said. 'Giddy young girl. Kathleen said she was a hopeless doctor.' Libby took that in as she schooled her facial expression. Your wife was not much older, she thought.
'Did Kathleen mention anything was bothering her?' Libby asked, leaning forward in her seat. 'At work, for instance?'
He gazed at the floor, his mind evidently elsewhere. 'No, she didn't worry much about her job, she had no reason to.'
'Tell me a bit more about you and Kathleen. How long have you been married?'
'Six years,' he answered. His face brightened for an instant. 'We were very happy. She was my golden girl.'
'Really,' said Libby, feeling a sudden stab of pity for him. 'Have you any children?'
'None, I'm afraid.' He grimaced. 'Kathleen and I planned to start a family this year. That's never going to happen now.' His voice was bitter.
'I see you keep electric gates,' Libby said, drinking her tea.
He sighed. 'I got them in because we had a couple of break-ins recently.'
'Was anything stolen?' she asked.
'No, that's the funny thing, nothing was taken.' He frowned.
'Did Kathleen leave much money?'
'The house, mainly. I inherit it all, of course. Kathleen paid for this place with an inheritance from her father.'
'How much is it worth?'
'A hundred thousand pounds, or thereabouts,' he replied in a flat voice. 'There's no mortgage. The Lynch family made their money years ago in banking.'
Libby's eyes widened. 'What about life insurance?'
'I get about ten thousand pounds from that. Kathleen had a similar policy on my life.'
Quite a motive to kill someone you had gotten tired of, Libby thought. 'A lot of money, even nowadays in 1972,' she said. 'You're quite a rich man.'
'I've always had money.' He stopped. 'I hope you're not implying Kathleen's money gave me a reason to kill her?'
'No, but the police will see it like that.'
He nodded and gave a deep sigh. 'They do. That's why they're hounding me.'
'Now about the time you came into Shannon Airport,' Libby said, remembering what the sergeant had told her. 'Surely you have some evidence you flew in on the Tuesday, not the Monday as you planned?'
'Well no, I haven't, that's the problem.' He wrung his hands in agitation. 'You see my mates came back the day before I did. I was due to come with them, but I missed the flight. My ticket booking says Monday. The police think I came back on Monday, which would've given me plenty of time to kill Kathleen.'
She frowned. 'There must be a boarding pass, or did you pay extra for the next flight?' The airlines should have a record of this, she thought.
He sighed heavily. 'No, I didn't pay extra, and I lost my boarding pass. The police are on about this too. I can't bear all this crap right now.'
'May I see Kathleen's bedroom?' she asked.
He shrugged. 'You can if you want. When you go upstairs, it's the big room to the left. My bedroom is next door. You can't miss it.'
Libby climbed the stairs. She was expecting to find a Spartan place, in keeping with Kathleen's apparently rigid personality. Instead, she stared in surprise at the king-size bed, which dominated the room. The walls were pale-pink. A decorative bright-pink wardrobe stood on one side of the bed. A big bedside locker stood on the other. A fancy chest of drawers, which held a large ornate mirror, lay against a third wall, facing the window. On top of the white bedspread sat a teddy bear.
Wow, so Kathleen had a feminine side after all, she thought. Wouldn't be my taste, though, too girly, too much pink. She realised that Mick and Kathleen used separate bedrooms, which was mighty odd for a young couple.
Chapter 8
Libby went for a stroll with her dog along Seapoint Beach in the evening. The sea was calm and grey; the tide was out. A few fishing boats stood far out in the deep waters, barely visible from the shore. Seaweed lined the wet sand near the water's edge and seagulls screeched overhead. A chill rose from the water, and she shivered in her light cotton summer dress.
Buddy skipped around, he wet his feet but would go no further into the water. Instead, he charged up and down at the water's edge, his stumpy tail wagging furiously. A Jack Russell Terrier ran towards them. He chased Buddy and caught up with him. The pup stopped and rolled over on his belly, and the Jack Russell sniffed him curiously.
A small girl came up to the dogs and said, 'Here, Rex. Come here, boy.' The dog ignored her completely. Buddy began circling madly around the Jack Russell. 'Rex, come here now,' the girl repeated. Buddy ran up to the small girl and jumped at her legs. He then raced back to the other dog.
Libby ran over to her dog and clipped his lead onto his collar. She approached the thin fair-haired child, who seemed about ten years old. The little girl wore pink Wellington boots and a blue tracksuit and looked rather forlorn.
'Buddy is just a pup, he won't harm you.' Libby smiled.
The child's face brightened, she gazed at Libby with interest. 'I know, I love dogs.'
'What's your dog's name?'
'Rex,' replied the girl, 'he's very bold. He won't come back to me.'
'Here Rex,' Libby called. She held out a dog treat. The dog did not react, just stared at her blankly. 'He's not answering to his name,' Libby said, looking puzzled. She watched the dog as he raced around, ignoring everyone. 'Here Bob,' she said, on impulse.
Sure enough, the dog bounded up to her, taking the treat from her hand in an instant. She remembered the photo of Bob, and the black patch. This dog belonged to a certain frail old lady, Libby knew.
'Where did you get this dog?' she asked the girl.
'I found him on the beach. He was all alone so I took him home.'
'When was that?' Libby asked.
'A few days ago.' The little girl's face held a defiant expression.
'I know who his owner is,' said Libby. 'She's a little old lady, and she's been searching everywhere for Bob.'
'I want to keep Rex, Bob - I mean,' said the girl, pouting.
Libby said softly, 'He'd be happier with his real owner, she misses him very much.'
'I like Bob, he's furry and soft like a teddy, and he plays with me. I want to keep him.' She bent down to pat Bob, who merely ignored her. The dog sniffed at Libby's shoes.
'Surely your mammy will get you your own dog, just like Bob.'
'Maybe.' The girl thought for a few minutes. Libby waited in silence, hoping the child would change her mind. 'Okay then. You can take him back to the old lady.' She handed Libby the dog's lead. 'My mammy doesn't like Bob, anyway.' Her eyes danced as she spoke. 'Ma says Bob humps her.'
'You're a goo
d girl,' said Libby, taking the thin, short lead. 'Bob's owner is going to be delighted when she sees him.' Libby turned to face the little girl. 'Where do you live? I'll walk home with you. I'll tell your mother I'm taking the dog.'
'Over there.' The child pointed to a house just across the road from the beach.
'Come on dogs,' shouted the little girl, as they all left the beach.
When they approached the little girl's house, a woman came out. She was young and wore a worried expression. She carried a baby in her arms. She turned to the child and said crossly, 'There you are, Emma. I've been searching for you everywhere. You shouldn't have gone off on your own.' The woman then stared at Libby, with a question on her lips.
'I'm taking this dog back to its owner,' Libby explained, pointing to Bob.
'Great,' said the woman, her face relaxing. 'Emma found him, but I told her I can't keep a dog, I've too much to do.'
Libby brought the Jack Russell to her own home. Then she searched her notebook for the elderly owner's phone number, found it and rang her. Libby opened wide her front door to the woman, ten minutes later. The old woman's face lit up as she grabbed the wiggling animal.
'Bob, where did you go, you bold boy?' The terrier licked his owner's face while wagging his stumpy tail ferociously.
'He's glad to have found you again,' said Libby, smiling.
'What's the charge?' The woman struggled to open her shoulder bag while holding the dog. 'I'll write you a cheque.'
'Not at all. I found Bob this evening on the beach when I was taking a stroll.'
'Oh thanks, you're very kind.' The elderly woman smiled. 'Bob strays a lot,' she said, as she stroked his wiry coat.
'You'll have to mind him better,' replied Libby, 'get him neutered maybe.' The woman left, and Libby sighed with relief.
***
Later that same evening, Libby sat in front of the TV with a ham sandwich and a cup of tea. She was engrossed in Coronation Street. Buddy sat beside her on the sofa, chewing one of her old shoes.
The back door slammed as Andrew arrived in from the local school dressed in a muddy tee shirt, shorts and runners, his face pink from exercise. He threw his heavy bags down on the floor.