by Noreen Mayer
Libby felt shocked. 'Why didn’t she leave him?'
'He threatened to kill her if she left him. She had every reason to believe he would do it. I didn’t know anything back then, but later on I understood.'
Libby felt puzzled. 'If a doctor suspects abuse, they’re obliged to report it to the police.'
'Ma always had an explanation, and she was convincing. She would say anything to protect him. She might say she was drunk and fell down. Ma never touched alcohol, but of course the doctors didn’t know that.'
Libby remained silent, unsure of what to say.
'I think what kept her from leaving was my brother and me,' Nuala said after a while.
'Where is your mother now?'
'She died of dementia a year ago, not long after Dad died of bowel cancer.'
'That must have been hard for you, losing her,' Libby replied. What a sad tale, she thought. Who knows what horrible memories decent, respectable people like Nuala carry around. Witnessing her father's brutality at a young age must have affected her relationship with other men. It must be hard for her to trust them. She noticed Nuala seemed to be living alone.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Nuala opened it, saying in a dull voice, 'Oh it's you.' Her brother Brendan marched in and sat down opposite Libby.
He scowled at his sister. 'I hope you're not wasting Libby's time with idle gossip. You do talk rubbish sometimes. Have you cooked a meal for me?'
Nuala replied nervously, 'Yes, I have. Your favourite, fish and chips.' She told Libby that Brendan always had his Sunday dinner with her.
Brendan waited as Nuala served him the food, and fetched him his knife and fork. Libby wondered why he waited for her to do everything, like she was some kind of a slave. Brendan had a tough side to him, she realised. Moreover, what was even odder, was that Nuala obeyed his demands without question. Libby watched Nuala's tense face, and wondered why she was so scared of her brother.
Libby then wondered how she had ever found him attractive.
.
Chapter 1
3
Dr Pamela Kelly rang Libby and they arranged to meet in the Green Lemon pub late on a Sunday afternoon. While Libby waited, she ordered herself a drink at the bar and sat down at a table in the corner.
Shortly after this Pamela entered the lounge, spotted her and came over. She seemed flustered. 'I'm sorry I'm late, but I was on duty all day yesterday, and before that I've been up to my eyes in work.'
'No problem. What did you want to discuss?'
'I want you to help me find my boyfriend,' Pamela said in a flat voice. 'I haven't seen him for a week. I rang his house again last night and this morning to see if he was back but there was no answer - it's very odd.'
Libby asked Pamela to describe what happened after the party.
'We talked after everyone left. Then I went home.'
Pamela saluted some young people who walked in. 'They're all hospital staff. We usually drink here because it's so handy for us, with the hospital being straight across the road.'
Libby shuddered as she imagined a crowd of loud doctors sitting together after work, discussing diseases. She sipped her fizzy drink and then said, 'Shane Collins is a good friend of Conor, I know.'
'That's right. They sometimes go on drinking binges, which I dread.' Pamela stiffened her shoulders.
'What's the harm in having a few drinks?' Libby asked.
'It's not the drink that's the big problem, it's the drugs. Shane's a bad influence on Conor, he takes cocaine.'
Libby's eyes opened wide. 'Conor takes drugs?'
'Well, just a little, now and again. He only takes it when he's with Shane.'
'Does Conor have a drink problem?' Libby asked.
The doctor hesitated. 'Not now, but he used to. He went sober years ago, but he breaks out now and again.'
'I see.'
Pamela shifted her position on the seat. 'The thing is you never know what Conor's going to do next, if he's pissed.'
Libby asked her curiously, 'Does he get into fights?'
'Yeah, sometimes,' Pamela said. 'The bouncers here banned him for a while for being drunk. The owner Pat Sharpe doesn't like him.'
It sounds like he's got a drink problem all right, thought Libby.
Pamela's lips tightened. ' I'm starting to think something bad has happened. I hope Conor's not... I hope he's not dead or anything.'
'I'll try to find him.' Libby grimaced. 'You haven't given me much information to go on, though.'
'Sorry,' said Pamela, with a weary smile. 'Brendan doesn't know where he is. I asked him. He should know since he works with Conor. Conor's gone a week now.'
The pub was starting to get fuller. Beside them, some men were having lunch, talking loudly and ordering pints. In the background, she heard the clink of glasses as the barman collected empty glasses from the tables.
Libby said, thoughtfully, 'So its a full week now since anyone's seen him.'
Pamela hesitated, fiddling with her hair. 'Yes. I should have looked for him sooner but I've had a lot on my mind lately. I found out last Saturday that I'm pregnant.'
So that's why she's got nausea, Libby realised. She knew then why Pamela looked exhausted - her face was drawn, and her eyelids drooped. 'Did you tell Conor about your pregnancy?'
'Yeah, after the party. He was shocked.'
So he got scared after that news, Libby guessed.
Later on, Libby rang Brendan Sullivan who said that Conor was probably at his house in Galway. He said Conor had taken a week's holidays and gave Libby the address of Conor's house.
***
Libby drove to Galway on that same Sunday, in the evening. She wanted to check out Conor's second house. She arrived at the address Brendan gave her, stepped out of the car, and walked up the driveway.
It was a small semi-detached house, which had the hallmark signs of having been newly built, the paintwork was fresh, no curtains were on the windows and the lawn was just beginning to sprout grass.
There was a car parked outside the front porch. She rang the doorbell loudly. There was no answer. Just as she was about to walk away, the door opened slowly.
To her surprise, Conor stood there gazing at her, a sheepish grin on his face. 'There you are,' said Libby, 'it's about time you showed your face.'
He sighed and then ushered her into the bare sitting room, where they sat on the new red leather sofa. The room had cream walls and a beige carpet. Conor took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened it and extracted one.
'Pamela has been worried about you,' Libby said.
Conor groaned. 'I got a shock, and I had to get away. Pamela told me, after the party, that she was six weeks pregnant.' He lit his cigarette, took a puff and inhaled deeply. 'She talked about us getting married.'
'So you ran away.' Libby glared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. .
'I got scared. I came down here to think.' Conor bent over the ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette viciously. 'I needed to think about things.'
'You went through a lot of trouble to hide yourself from her,' said Libby.
'I knew Pamela would be searching for me. I just wanted a break from her.' His face was flushed. 'What are you going to do now, anyway?'
She replied, 'I'm going to tell Pamela, of course.
Conor gazed at her in silence. 'I was afraid you'd say that. Alright, tell her but don't tell Brendan.'
'Why are you suddenly so afraid of him?' Libby asked. She thought of Nuala and her unease around her brother.
'I'm not.' Conor appeared puzzled. 'Why do you think I am?'
'His sister appears to be afraid of him.'
'I've never seen Brendan touch her,' Conor said. 'I've known the two of them since they were kids. Anyway, she's a year older. She was always bigger than him.' He sighed heavily. 'She's afraid of all men. Their father used to whack them around a bit, her and Brendan.'
'So she said. Did you ever see him do it?' Libby asked with curiosi
ty.
'No, but Brendan showed me the marks on his back one time, where the father gave him lashes with his belt. Big ugly red lines, it was awful.'
Libby was horrified. 'Didn't you tell anyone about this at the time?'
Conor gazed at her dully. 'No. What was the point?'
Libby didn't know how to answer this. I guess hitting children was not illegal back then, she thought. But hitting his wife was a definite crime and Brendan's father had got away with that, according to Nuala. She asked Conor, 'Will you come back with me now to Ballyhasset? Can't you meet Pamela? She seems miserable at the moment.'
He said slowly, 'No, I want to stay here a few more days. I'll ring Pamela myself tonight.'
Libby drove back to her office. She rang Pamela straight away to give her the good news about Conor.
Libby could hear the relief in her voice as the young doctor asked, ''Where was he hiding, anyway?'
'In his Galway house.' Libby replied. ''He told me clearly that he wants to be alone for a while and he'll ring you later.'
There was a silence before Pamela said, 'He must be annoyed about the baby.'
'You'll have to sort that out between yourselves.' You pair are worse than two children, Libby thought.
'Thanks, Libby.'
'Did you manage to track down the fellow you thought knew Doctor Kathleen Lynch?' Libby asked her after a moment.
Pamela said, 'What fellow?'
'The man you mentioned at Conor's party. You said he lived around here and that he knew Kathleen from years back.'
'Oh, him. No, I was wrong. I asked him and it turned out he didn't know Kathleen at all. I mistook him for someone else.' Pamela rang off. Libby wondered if she was lying.
Chapter 1
4
On Monday Libby's husband Derek came to drop Andrew back to her. The boy had spent a long weekend with his father since he was now on his summer holidays from school. Derek arrived at the front door with Andrew and Derek's new woman. Libby invited them inside. They all sat down in her cramped living room while Andrew made tea for everyone.
Libby studied Derek's new woman, whose name was Emma. This was the first time Libby had been able to get a good gawk at her. She was about twenty-five, a good ten years younger than Derek or Libby, she was blond and tall. She's even a bit like me, when I was younger, Libby noticed, with amusement.
The new girlfriend gave a high-pitched whiny laugh when anyone said anything faintly amusing. Libby was glad to see Andrew completely ignoring Emma's repeated attempts to engage him in conversation. He behaved as if he was deaf when she asked him what time he was going out later to meet his friends. Libby caught her throwing irritated glances in Andrew's direction when she thought no one was looking. Good old Andrew, she thought, he knows nobody can replace his mother.
Libby remembered the time years ago, when she had first caught Derek in bed with another woman. It was after only five years of marriage. She had thought everything between them was fine, they talked a lot, had good times, and had a wonderful son. The bubble burst for her one day however, when she came home early and saw a woman coming out of their upstairs bathroom, wearing only a towel.
'Who are you?' the overweight young blonde had asked her.
Libby had been momentarily speechless. Then she had exploded. 'His wife. Who did you think I was? Get out of my house now.'
The girl gasped and ran into the main bedroom, Libby's bedroom, to retrieve her clothes. She left the house without a word.
After that Libby had fallen into a deep depression and she stayed in bed for a few weeks.
Eventually she sought out a therapist, who gave her counselling. She recovered and went back to work. Derek had promised her faithfully after that he would never stray again. So they had stayed together. He kept his promise for ages while Andrew was growing up. Alas, he strayed again however when Andrew was a teenager and finally Libby asked him for a separation.
Andrew resented her in the beginning for divorcing his father. But he had wanted to live with his mother and eventually accepted that he could only see his father periodically, usually on a weekend. He always resented his father's new women when they came and went.
Libby glanced at Derek. He had put on about a stone in weight. She thought he looked younger than he had done previously, apart from having a few extra lines and having lost some of his dark wavy hair. He looked rested and healthy. He still had his suntan from the year in the harsh African sun, she saw. He was dressed in tight pale-blue jeans and a tight red Levi check shirt, very similar to Andrew, she noted with distaste.
Whereas the clothes were attractive-looking on Andrew's slim figure, on Derek, they just seemed silly. He was like an ageing rock-star. His stomach hung over the tight jeans. He's trying too hard to be young, she thought.
Andrew said he needed to talk to his friend who lived a few doors away. He left the house.
'I hope Andrew changes his mind about becoming a fisherman,' said Libby, seizing her son's absence to bring up the subject.
Derek replied, 'He can do whatever job he likes, as far as I'm concerned.'
Libby's face grew red with anger. 'Can you afford to live with the guilt if he drowns?'
'Of course he won't drown. The job will be good for him, all that physical exercise. It'll toughen him up.' He gave Libby a superior smile. Libby silently fumed.
She felt nothing but contempt for him at that instant… she wished she could smash his smug face. She glanced at the younger woman. Emma was staring down at her long red-painted fingernails, a bored expression on her face. Libby wondered, without emotion, how serious the relationship was between this woman and her husband.
Legally she was still married to Derek. I wish I could get a divorce and get this shitball out of my hair for good, she thought, regretting bitterly that in the seventies there was no divorce in Ireland.
Chapter 1
5
On the morning of Wednesday, a retired man decided to walk his dog at Seapoint Beach. He parked his old car near the sandy inlet of the beach, the area used for bathing. His golden retriever Lucky sat in the backseat, pawing the door to get out.
The man got out and opened the back door of the Audi. Lucky scrambled down from the seat with his tail wagging. Madly enthusiastic, he ran ahead towards the beach.
The man locked the car and checked he had the dog lead. He was ready for his stroll down the strand, towards the west pier of Ballyhasset Harbour. The wind was light. He wondered if Lucky would take a swim in the sea as he usually did, when the tide was in.
The dog raced down to the water's edge. Then he stopped to sniff at a five-foot red and white object, barking and circling the object at the same time. 'Here Lucky, come back boy,' shouted the man, running after him. Lucky refused to budge. The dog pulled at the lump, trying to drag it.
'What's wrong with you?' he asked, approaching with the lead. He clipped the lead on Lucky. The man smelt a sudden pungent odour like rotten meat. His eyes bulged as he recognised the object – it was definitely a dead person.
He turned away as his stomach began retching. When he glanced at the corpse again, he noticed it lay face down. It was a woman's body, he saw, noticing the woman's red summer dress. He decided not to touch her and turned away.
Then the elderly man wondered if he knew her, since he knew most people in the small town. Curiosity got the better of him. He lifted the shoulder to see the face. He saw that she was young, but he did not recognise her.
After a few seconds, he dragged the dog away and drove home quickly to dial 999. He reported his findings to the operator who contacted the Ballyhasset police station.
***
Dawn drove up a short avenue off Seapoint Beach. She parked near the bathing area inlet, on the narrow road, which presently held two stationary police cars.
Libby and Dawn stepped out of the Mini car. Libby immediately spotted the Garda as he stood near a dark object down at the water's edge. In the far distance, Libby observed the bare
outline of the Ballyhasset West Pier, one of the two piers that surrounded the harbour. Behind her, she could hear the noise of traffic on High Street.
The forensic team, consisting of a photographer and a fingerprint expert, arrived and made their way down the stone steps, across the sand and over to the body. The photographer deftly took pictures of the body from all angles.
Brendan Sullivan came over to the two private investigators. He smiled grimly at them, his face pale. 'I was walking along the promenade and saw the commotion. I came down here out of curiosity.' Brendan stopped. Libby noticed he was trembling. 'I saw the body and I recognised the dress. I met the officer standing over there beside the body. I told him that I was fairly certain who it was. The officer turned the body over for a moment while I took a peek at the face. I recognised her at once. It's Pamela, she's lying over there, dead. Her face is all swollen.'
Libby stared at him in total shock. Then the news dawned on her and her shoulders fell. Libby had liked the dark–haired earnest little doctor.
'Pamela, the young doctor is dead,' Dawn said, her jaw dropping. 'That's terrible. We met her only a few days ago.'
Libby and Dawn walked to the cordoned-off section of the beach where the body was located.
They gazed at the lifeless body of the young doctor who lay face down, at the edge of the water. Pamela's long wet hair was tied in a ponytail, which clung to the back of her neck. Along the hairline, at the base of her skull there was a small narrow horizontal laceration, dark-red in colour, surrounded by blackish purple bruising. She wore a short red dress, and her feet were bare.
Libby shivered and pulled her jacket in tighter. A sudden gust blew sand into her eyes. She stood well back, her light jacket wrapped tight against the breeze, her shoulders hunched. It was such a sad thing, seeing a young person dead, their dreams ended, their potential never fulfilled. Pamela had been full of life, and had so much still to do. Only a few days previously Pamela had been working hard, running up and down the hospital stairs, worrying about her patients.