No Easy Answer

by Valerie Keogh

  Unwilling to give up, West wandered over the sprawling grounds for several minutes before finally locating a security guard on his beat. He showed his identification and told him why he was there. ‘Can you get me in?’

  ‘Sure thing.’ The guard pointed towards a dark laneway between two buildings. ‘We can get in this way. It’s a bit of a warren but I’m free for a bit so I’ll take you.’

  After five minutes’ walk along narrow passageways and up and down two different stairways, the guard stopped at a keypad, tapped in a code and opened a doorway onto a brightly lit wide corridor. ‘This is the McGivney wing. St Laurence’s Ward is on level five.’ He pointed to lifts opposite. ‘When you get out of the lift turn right. You can’t miss it.’

  And he was right. A few minutes later, West was standing at the end of Jarvis’s bed. Luckily, a nurse who came to shoo him away was impressed by his identification. ‘Okay, but don’t get in our way.’

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Not a bother,’ the nurse said, reaching forward to adjust the intravenous drip. There were still two in place. One blood, one a clear fluid. ‘His observations have been stable all night. He was awake and talking a while ago but he had some pain so I gave him a shot that’s knocked him out.’ She smiled at someone behind him. ‘His ma and da were able to chat to him so that was something.’

  West turned to see Dr and Mrs Jarvis looking tired but less anxious than the previous night. ‘Sam sounded just like his old self,’ she said.

  ‘Good. When he wakes again will you tell him I called in. I’ve no doubt the rest of the team will be in, too, over the course of the day.’

  ‘We’re going to head home soon,’ Dr Jarvis said. ‘Dr Wilson is covering my clinics for me so I’ll get some sleep and come back later.’

  ‘I’ll send a car to bring you in,’ West said. ‘Save you having to find parking each time.’

  Dr Jarvis looked as though he were going to refuse but his wife put a hand on his arm. ‘That would be extremely kind, thank you.’

  ‘Anything we can do to help, we’ll do.’ With that organised, West said his goodbyes, took a final look at the sleeping Jarvis and left.

  The journey back to Foxrock wasn’t as bad as he anticipated, and less than an hour later, he turned into the station’s car park.

  The night desk sergeant, Delaney, shook his head when West pushed through the door. ‘You ever sleep?’

  ‘I’ve been in to see Jarvis. He’s doing okay.’

  ‘Good to hear.’

  The detective unit was empty. The coffee percolator was still switched on, the contents a sludgy grey colour. West threw it out and made a fresh pot. It would help him get through the day.

  29

  In the period of quiet before the rest of the team turned up, West worked through paperwork pertaining to the events of the day before. It was a cold way of looking at it, but paperwork wasn’t emotional and he tried to distance himself from the memory as he described the blood on the path and on Allen’s clothes and hands.

  He had it almost done before Andrews came through the door. ‘I’ll have some more coffee. It’s not long made.’

  Andrews vanished and returned a minute later with two mugs. ‘You haven’t been here all night, have you?’

  West laughed. ‘No, I was home. But I didn’t sleep well and woke early so decided to visit Jarvis before I came in. He’s doing okay according to a nurse I spoke to and had been speaking to his parents not long before I arrived.’

  ‘I’ll get in to see him later.’ Andrews took a mouthful of the coffee. ‘You want to have a meeting this morning, see where we are with Doris Whitaker.’

  ‘Wait till this afternoon, hopefully we’ll have the DNA result to link her to those body parts and tie everything together.’

  ‘Checkley isn’t going to give it up easily.’

  West picked up his coffee and tapped his free hand on the desk. ‘It will be him against the DNA–’

  ‘Don’t say science doesn’t lie,’ Andrews said, holding up a hand. ‘We’re still stuck on that Muriel Hennessy conundrum.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ West groaned. ‘Right, let’s have a catch-up at 1pm–’

  ‘Can we make it later?’

  Surprised, West raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I need some personal time… just a couple of hours. If it’s not convenient…’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ West hurried to say. He was instantly suspicious but a request for personal time didn’t allow for questions. ‘What time will you be back?’

  ‘3pm. At the latest. I’ll organise a meeting of the team for then.’ Andrews stood, then obviously thought of something, and sat again. ‘Did you find out about the department that Checkley was visiting?’

  ‘Yes. It deals with prosthetics. Maybe our friend has a glass eye.’ West shrugged. ‘He might have simply been visiting a friend.’

  ‘Probably.’ Andrews, always suspicious, didn’t look convinced. ‘I might have a nosy later when I’m visiting Jarvis.’

  If there was anything suspicious attached to Checkley’s visit, Andrews was the perfect man to find out. He could squeeze information from the strangest of places.

  But what Checkley was or wasn’t up to in the Mater wasn’t Andrews’ key concern that day. Back at his desk, he took out his mobile and rang his wife. ‘All set for 1pm,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you outside Brown Thomas, okay?’

  ‘Grand,’ Joyce said. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Are we going to use fake names? It’s all very exciting.’

  ‘Don’t get carried away,’ Andrews said calmly. ‘No fake names, and stick to what we said, okay?’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ Joyce laughed and hung up.

  Andrews parked his car outside Pearse Street Garda Station and walked around Trinity College to Grafton Street. Joyce was early, waiting in the doorway of Brown Thomas as they’d arranged. She was a beautiful woman in her usual casual clothes but she’d made a special effort that day and was wearing a coat he hadn’t seen in some time. Even at a distance he thought she looked stunning.

  She saw him, lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. Not for the first time, he acknowledged what a lucky man he was. ‘You look lovely,’ he said, slipping a hand around her waist.

  She kissed him lightly. ‘It’s my disguise.’

  ‘We should do this more often. Maybe next time just for fun though.’ He reached for her hand and held it tightly in his as they walked the short distance to Debeerds. ‘You remember what I told you?’

  ‘I’m to pretend to be such a silly woman that I’m dazzled by the engagement rings on display and ask him to choose what he thinks would suit my hand. Once we’ve chosen, if he takes it away to be cleaned, we have him. If he doesn’t, we’ve to scarper before we have to fork out a ridiculous amount of money for a ring.’ She turned to Andrews with a grin. ‘Do I have it?’

  He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Perfect.’

  Debeerds was empty which was in their favour. But there were two assistants behind the counter, which wasn’t. But Andrews had already done some work. He knew the assistant in question was the only male working in the shop so ignoring the woman, he addressed the man. ‘We’re looking for an engagement ring.’ He put an arm around Joyce’s shoulders. ‘One good enough for this beautiful woman.’

  ‘We’re delighted you chose Debeerds,’ the assistant said. ‘Please, take a seat and we’ll see what we can do.’

  Diamond ring after diamond ring was taken out for their perusal. Andrews wasn’t sure if Joyce was acting or not, but her eyes were growing rounder and rounder.

  ‘I’m bedazzled,’ she said, having tried on the tenth ring. ‘They’re all so beautiful.’ Her fingers lingered on the most opulent of the rings, a diamond and sapphire cluster. ‘This is lovely but I’m not sure.’ She looked up at the assistant. ‘Which do you think suits my hand better?’

  ‘That one is lovely,’ he said. ‘But you have such dainty hands, I think something simple would be better.’
He picked up a solitaire, a marquise diamond that glittered beautifully under the lights. ‘This is a particularly fine stone. Half a carat in a simple four claw design with tapered shoulders to enhance the appearance of the stone.’ He slipped it on her finger. ‘And look, it fits you perfectly.’

  Joyce lifted her hand. ‘Wow, you’re right, it’s absolutely beautiful.’ She turned to Andrews, waving her hand towards him. ‘What do you think, darling?’

  ‘I think it’s perfect.’ He looked to the assistant. ‘Looks like your job is done.’

  ‘I don’t need to take it off,’ Joyce said happily.

  The assistant was taking the credit card machine from under the counter and Andrews felt a moment’s panic. Even if he wanted to go through with it, his credit card would laugh hysterically. The ring, at the least computation, had to be way beyond their means.

  The assistant slipped an invoice discreetly across the counter to Andrews who looked at it with his best poker face. Seven thousand euro. He had to brazen it out for a moment more. ‘Fine,’ he said. He reached for his mobile. ‘I’ll just need to transfer some funds. It’ll take me a minute.’

  ‘No problem, while you’re settling that, I’ll take the ring for a final polish.’

  With great reluctance, Joyce slipped it off her finger and handed it across.

  As soon as the assistant was out of sight, Andrews put his phone away and jumped to his feet. He turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and locked the catch. The woman behind the counter gasped and took a step back. ‘Garda Síochána,’ Andrews said quickly. He pulled out his identification and waved it at her. ‘Is there a manager here?’

  She pointed to a door behind.

  ‘Get him out here, please.’

  The assistant, who didn’t need to be told twice, opened the door and disappeared inside and seconds later, a grey-haired man came out, eyes darting around the shop before stopping at Andrews. ‘Guards?’

  ‘Detective Garda Andrews.’ He held his identification out again. ‘This is my wife Joyce. We need your assistance with catching a thief.’

  Puzzlement creased the manager’s forehead but he nodded slowly.

  ‘If you’d wait behind the counter,’ Andrews said, and quickly took his seat when he heard footsteps approach. ‘Here you are,’ the assistant said cheerfully. ‘All polished for you.’ His attention was on the ring and the couple on the other side of the counter and he paid no attention to the manager staring from the other side of the shop.

  ‘That’s great,’ Andrews said, taking the ring. He turned with it in his hand and held it out to the manager. ‘Could you have a look at this for me?’

  ‘What?’ the assistant said, glancing up to see the manager making his way towards them. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’d like this half carat diamond to be double-checked by your manager. Have you a problem with that?’ Andrews saw the quick dart of panic as the assistant glanced at the corridor behind, now blocked by the bulk of the manager, then to the front door.

  ‘I wouldn’t try it,’ Andrews warned. ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘I’m not sure what is going on here,’ the manager said. He took the ring from Andrews and looked at it, then with a frown pulled a loupe from his pocket, screwed it into his eye and looked at the ring again.

  With a sigh, he allowed the loupe to drop into his hand. ‘I think we’d better go into my office.’ He wrapped long fingers around the assistant’s arm and pulled him along with him. ‘Perhaps you could open the shop again, Miss Dickson.’

  The manager’s office was spacious and well appointed. The assistant was pushed into a chair as the manager took his seat behind the desk. He waved Andrews and Joyce into other chairs.

  ‘My name is Noel Charlton,’ the manager said. ‘I’ve worked for Debeerds for the best part of twenty years and this–’ he held up the ring between his thumb and first finger, ‘–has never happened before.’

  ‘It’s not a diamond,’ Andrews said.

  ‘No, it isn’t. The green/blue light it gives off would lead me to favour it being moissanite – probably a man-made variety too. It looks good, and would fool most people, but it is not a diamond.’ His face tightened. ‘The fact that you’re here leads me to believe that this isn’t a one-off swap.’

  Andrews shook his head and quickly filled him in on Edel’s visit to Cunningham’s Jewellers and her discovery that the ring they’d bought was a fake. ‘Neither she, nor Sergeant West, wanted to make a fuss and spoil what had been a special day so I decided to step in with a sting of my own making.’

  ‘You did a good job,’ the manager said. ‘And thank you. I know Jim Cunningham, I’ll have a word, tell him it’s been put to rights.’ He met Andrews’ eyes. ‘This isn’t something we want broadcast. It could damage our reputation beyond repair.’ He turned to the assistant. ‘How many?’

  Sweat beaded the assistant’s forehead. ‘Four.’

  ‘Four!’ Charlton looked horrified for a moment, then gathered himself together and turned to Andrews. ‘If Debeerds assures you that all four will be contacted and compensated, can we keep this from leaving this office?’

  ‘This is strictly off the books,’ Andrews admitted. ‘I’ve done this for my colleague.’ He turned to the assistant who was sitting with his head down. ‘What did you do with the real rings?’

  ‘I kept them for a couple of weeks in my locker in case the buyer returned them. Had they done so, I’d have swapped them back before anyone noticed.’

  ‘A few weeks? Do you still have the original ring you sold to Mike West and Edel Johnson last week?’

  There was a slight hesitation before the assistant nodded. ‘Yes, it’s still in my locker.’

  Accompanied by the manager, the ring was retrieved and handed to Andrews who opened it. ‘This will make their day.’ He snapped the box shut, put it into his pocket and looked at the young man. ‘You were lucky this time, you may not be in the future. Take this as a valuable lesson.’

  Charlton walked to the shop door with them. ‘I am most grateful,’ he said again.

  ‘What are you going to do about him?’ Joyce asked.

  ‘Keep him on. He’s good at what he does, good with the customers.’ He shrugged. ‘But I won’t be stupid. I’ll have a CCTV camera set over where he works to ensure he never has a chance to be tempted again. And he’ll repay any compensation that we need to pay out.’ With final words of gratitude, he returned inside.

  ‘That was exciting.’

  Andrews took her hand. ‘It worked out better than I expected. Mike and Edel will be happy.’

  They walked along Grafton Street to the DART station on Stephen’s Green where they were in luck, one was waiting to leave. Andrews pulled Joyce closer and kissed her lightly. ‘Thank you for helping.’

  ‘I had fun.’ Joyce hopped on board and sat on a seat, looking out at him. She raised her hand in a wave.

  Andrews waited until the DART pulled away before retracing his steps down Grafton Street, his fingers closing over the box in his pocket. It had been a job well done.

  30

  When West hadn’t heard from Niall Kennedy by 2.30pm, he picked up the phone to ring him. Unfortunately, he was out of luck and the pathologist was in the middle of a meeting.

  ‘I can get him to ring you when he’s free,’ the receptionist said.

  ‘Good. Tell him it’s regarding the DNA results.’

  West hung up feeling frustrated with cases that seemed to be going nowhere. He rang the hospital for an update on Jarvis and put the phone down when he was reassured by the nurse that he was improving by the hour. Good news there at least.

  It wasn’t yet 3pm, but he was restless and went out to the main office to stare at the Wall in the hopes that the information there might inspire him. It didn’t. Within a few minutes he was joined by the others.

  ‘You doing okay?’ he asked Allen. ‘You didn’t need to come in today.’

  ‘No reason for me to stay home.’ Allen loo
ked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t get stabbed.’

  ‘And you weren’t to blame for Jarvis getting stabbed either. He was unlucky, you were lucky. It’s the way it goes sometimes.’ West waved a hand at the Wall. ‘But I’m glad you’re here, we need all heads together to try and make sense of this.’

  Baxter stepped up and stuck a sheet of A4 paper to the Wall with a wad of Blu Tack. ‘We might be getting somewhere. Not all the info is back but Edwards and I have put what we have together.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s not quite 3pm, d’you want to wait.’

  Almost as if he were conjured by the words, Andrews came through the door on a wave of voices that vanished as it shut behind him. ‘Not late, am I?’

  ‘Baxter was about to solve the mystery of the Whitaker case for us,’ West said.

  ‘Not precisely solve.’ Baxter grinned.

  ‘A mug of coffee and I’m all ears,’ Andrews said, crossing to the percolator.

  ‘Right, so what do you have?’ West folded his arms and sat on the desk behind while Baxter stepped up to the Wall and tapped the sheet of paper he’d fixed to it. ‘It took a bit of digging but–’ he tipped his head at Edwards, ‘–we think we’ve got it together.

  ‘When she was eighteen, Doris Black married Benjamin Whitaker. They lived for several years in Sallynoggin where they had two children, Rebecca and Benjamin Junior. When the children were in their late teens, early twenties, Doris inherited money from her parents and they moved from Sallynoggin to the house in Foxrock.’ Baxter looked around. ‘So far, all very straightforward but then we get to the interesting bit. Benjamin Whitaker worked in a variety of poorly paid, unskilled jobs over the years and never stayed in any one job for long. Then forty-nine years ago, he stopped paying tax. And there’s no further record of him. The two kids were enrolled in university but we couldn’t find any record of them graduating. And neither ever paid tax in Ireland.’