The Liar’s Daughter (ARC)

by Claire Allan

  we can.’

  Tidying it up the best they could involved hauling me to

  the nearest old lady, style-and-set hairdressers. They begged a

  really rather fed up-looking hairdresser to do her best to fix it.

  She was clearly about to head home for the day, so they offered

  her a generous tip.

  She did the best she could but fashioned what could only

  be described as a crew cut out of it all. The result certainly

  provoked a reaction, but not one I might have hoped for.

  ‘Look at you! Just look at you, cutting all your hair off like

  that. Oh, Heidi, when it broke your poor mammy’s heart to

  lose her to hair to the cancer and you’re after hacking your

  own hair off,’ Granny had wept and I had felt worse than I

  thought was possible.

  Perhaps unexpectedly, Ciara had a cruel reaction. ‘Did you

  have nits or something? Because I’ll have to get Daddy to boil

  wash every towel and sheet in that horrible hovel of yours

  before I come and visit again,’ she sneered.

  When I had curled up on my bed and sobbed, no longer

  buoyed by the thought my actions might actually make my life

  a little easier, Kathleen had come and sat beside me, tenderly

  resting her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘You know we all just need to be brave now, Heidi, don’t

  you? And we all have to work together to get through this. I

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  know it’s very, very sore on you. And it’s not one bit fair, but try to remember there are other people hurting, too. Yes, you

  lost your mammy and that’s awful, sweetheart. But Joe lost his

  partner. He loved your mother very much and he’d hoped to

  spend the rest of his life with her. He’s hurting too and he

  doesn’t always get it right. But he does try. If we all try, it will come good. I promise.’

  That was the first time I almost told her. The words were

  on the tip of my tongue. She was being kind. She was listening,

  at least. She was saying it was hard for us all. But she didn’t

  know the truth. She didn’t know that after my mother had

  died Joe had started to do those things to me. Maybe if I told

  her, she’d talk to him just like she was talking to me. She would

  tell him to stop. Tell him that he had to try harder, too.

  I wanted so much to tell her, but I was eight. I couldn’t find

  the words. I couldn’t say why it felt wrong, or how I knew it

  wasn’t natural, or how I just wanted it all to stop. So I curled

  up in a tighter ball and shrugged her hand away. I didn’t speak.

  Didn’t interact. And after a while she stood up and without

  saying a word, left.

  I think she had already made up her mind about me.

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  Chapter Thirty-One

  Heidi

  Now

  ‘I heard about your doll; I’m very sorry. You must be very

  upset about it,’ Ciara says. ‘I know how much she meant to

  you.’

  I feel my cheeks burn. The room is silent. Kathleen is staring

  down at the table. She looks as if she has aged ten years over-

  night. I’ve come downstairs with Lily to find them all, apart

  from Stella, sat around the table drinking tea. Alex can’t quite

  meet my eye and I know without having to ask that they have

  been talking about me. I notice Kathleen looking at the dressing

  on my hand. God only knows what they have been saying but

  I feel my paranoia grow.

  Ciara sounds genuine in her sympathy, but she has always

  been one to manipulate a room.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I lie. ‘I’m over it. It’s only a doll, right?’

  ‘Oh, but she was your special doll, from your mum.’

  Her tone is so subtle that not everyone would pick up that

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  she is goading me. I try to ignore her. I don’t have the patience for her games right now.

  ‘Has there been any news?’ I ask, eager to change the subject.

  Kathleen answers, ‘Not yet. Marie phoned earlier, said she

  was trying to get some information from that DC King woman.

  I just don’t like it one bit. This is cruel. To take him away from us like this. It’s cruel and unnecessary. You think they could at

  least keep us informed. I’ve had people calling, texting, asking

  what’s happening and what am I supposed to tell them? That

  he has unexpected marks on his body?’ She bursts into tears,

  her shoulders shuddering. ‘It’s mortifying.’

  ‘It’s just procedure,’ I say. ‘We have to keep telling ourselves

  that. I’m sure none of us has anything to hide.’

  ‘I’m sure Mum will call as soon as she has any more news,’

  Ciara adds. ‘But maybe I’ll text her again to be sure.’

  Kathleen nods as Ciara starts to tap a message to Marie on

  her phone. There’s a moment’s silence that does nothing to

  quiet my growing paranoia.

  ‘I think I’d like to stay here tonight,’ Kathleen says, breaking

  the silence. ‘In case there’s any word. I mean, it’s getting on

  a bit and I don’t want to be anywhere else if he comes

  home.’

  ‘I’d say they probably won’t release his remains until the

  morning now,’ Alex says.

  Kathleen and Ciara both glare at him as if the thought has

  only just struck them for the first time.

  ‘I’m just saying, we’ve had no word at all. It’s almost eight

  now and if they did release him, sure it would the best part of

  two hours down the road from Belfast. The roads are icing up,

  too. Might be better for everyone if we just settled ourselves

  to the notion it will be the morning.’

  ‘Well, we’ll be staying here anyway,’ Ciara pipes up. ‘And if

  Kathleen wants to stay then she should stay.’

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  ‘But where will she sleep?’ I ask. ‘We’ll be in my old room.

  You and Stella are in the spare room.’

  ‘Sure, there’s Joe’s room,’ Kathleen says.

  I look around waiting for someone else to say that there’s

  something a little weird about that. His room, where he died.

  Where all his belongings still are. His bed, which he died in.

  No one speaks. ‘Is that not a little . . .’ I start.

  ‘It’s not a little anything,’ Ciara snaps before turning to

  Kathleen. ‘I’ll get you some fresh linen and towels. I can ask

  Stella to pick up some of your things from Pauline on her way

  back here.’

  ‘That would be brilliant. I can call Pauline and let her know

  she’ll call in. It will really mean a lot to me to be here,’ Kathleen says, blinking back tears.

  I look at her and think of the vibrant young woman she

  used to be.

  ‘Of course it will,’ Ciara says, rubbing her hand. ‘This was

  your brother’s home.’

  There’s no doubt this dig is entirely in my direction.

  I bite my tongue again
. Now is not the time to say I want

  space. I can’t in good conscience force them to leave, or tell

  them they should all go until we have news from Belfast. And

  I certainly can’t make a solid case for Kathleen not sleeping in

  Joe’s room, other than the thought of it makes my skin crawl

  more than a little. If she’s happy enough to do so, if it doesn’t

  make her feel uncomfortable, who am I to argue?

  Kathleen stands up, wipes away her tears on the sleeves of

  her cardigan. ‘I think I’ll go and get the room ready. Maybe

  even have a sleep.’

  ‘I’ll help you make up the bed,’ Ciara says, getting to her

  feet.

  I’m about to ask Alex if he finds it all as strange as I do,

  when the doorbell rings.

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  ‘I’ll get it,’ he says and leaves me holding the baby and feeling an impending sense of doom.

  I hear an unfamiliar voice, solemn, formal. Alex says, ‘I think

  you’d better come in.’ He calls to Ciara and Kathleen, and me,

  that DI Bradley is at the door with two of his colleagues and

  he would like to speak to us.

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  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Heidi

  Now

  We expected a phone call. We expected the funeral directors.

  We didn’t expect DI Bradley to show up at the door. I’m not

  naive enough to think that a senior police officer calls out to

  a home at night without good reason or simply to pass on

  ‘good’ news.

  DI Bradley follows Alex into the living room, asks if it’s okay

  to sit down. I follow them in. The woman in the room is DC

  Eve King who came out earlier. I don’t recognise the third

  colleague but watch as he awkwardly sits down on one the

  dining chairs we have moved into the room. He’s at least six

  foot four and looks as if he is made of right angles. His legs

  too long, gangly. I stare at his feet, which seem inordinately big.

  DI Bradley introduces the big-footed man as DC Mark Black,

  who in turn takes out a notebook and pen, his large hands

  dwarfing the pencil in them. None of us speak, and we are

  joined by Kathleen and Ciara.

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  ‘Is Ms Brown here?’ DI Bradley asks.

  ‘Stella’s running a few errands. She’ll be in about an hour or

  so,’ Ciara says.

  ‘Okay,’ DI Bradley nods as if he is giving himself time to

  think.

  I wish he’d just spit it out. I can’t breathe with fear.

  ‘I’m afraid I have some distressing news for you, and in light

  of this we will need to speak to each of you on an individual

  basis. We can speak to you all here, or if you would prefer, we

  can talk at the station.’

  I see Ciara glance to Kathleen. There is panic on her face.

  Ciara never usually shows anything but cold coolness in her

  expression. That she is rattled makes me feel worse. I press my

  fingernails into the palm of my hand, hope the sharpness will

  stop me from spiralling into a panic.

  ‘What is it, Officer?’ Kathleen asks, her voice thin and reedy.

  She is twisting her hands together, pulling the skin tight against her bones.

  ‘We have the preliminary results from the postmortem exam-

  ination that took place this afternoon on Mr Joe McKee. These

  are, as I stated, preliminary results and we are awaiting further

  findings,’ he cleared his throat and continued. ‘It would appear

  from examination there is evidence to support the hypothesis

  that Mr McKee’s death may not have been natural or indeed

  accidental.’

  Kathleen blinks. ‘What? Sorry? I don’t . . . Can you speak in

  plain English?’

  ‘What do you mean, not natural or accidental?’ Ciara asks,

  cutting across her aunt.

  I just sit and try to take in how this has all shifted again.

  How Joe has become the victim for once.

  ‘There are early indications that Mr McKee, your father, died

  as a result of asphyxiation, most likely suffocation. There are

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  further injuries on his body, which the pathologist believes are of a non-accidental nature.’

  Ciara’s mouth hangs open. Her eyes are fixed uncomfortably

  on me before she staggers to her feet and gasps that she needs

  air.

  DC Black is quick to stand too, indicates to Kathleen that

  she should remain seated as he guides Ciara by the arm out

  into the hall, where the cold night air is whistling through the

  still open front door.

  I hear muttering. Kathleen is blessing herself and whispering

  what I think are the prayers of the rosary. It’s hard to tell through the buzzing in my ears. Lily starts to fuss and Alex tries his

  hand at settling her, but I can see he is thrown, too.

  ‘What indications?’ I ask. ‘He looked very peaceful when

  Alex found him.’

  And he had. When Alex had called us up, Joe had been lying

  in his bed as if he was merely asleep. One hand was under the

  covers and the other arm curled across his chest. He was flat

  on his back, his mouth just slightly open as if he were about

  to snore. His head turned just a fraction to the left. The bed

  was tidy. The room was tidy. I can still see it now.

  ‘The pathologist will provide more information in due course,’

  DI Bradley said. ‘Suffice to say, the pathologist is a very expe-

  rienced professional. I believe there may be some unexplained

  bruising, to the torso and one of his hands. Some internal

  markings also.’

  ‘But couldn’t whatever marks you found just be down to the

  surgery, or bruising afterwards, or him bumping into something

  or falling or any number of things?’ I note there is a more than

  a hint of hysteria in my voice and yet I seem powerless to quell

  it.

  I think of how Ciara stared at me. Does she think I did it?

  Did she think I was capable of killing someone? Maybe I need

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  some air, too. Am I allowed to leave the room? Will DI Bradley have to escort me?

  ‘As I’ve said, the state pathologist is a very experienced

  professional. We expect that further results will corroborate his

  hypothesis.’

  Big words with a big impact. I see Kathleen look up from

  her prayers. Her brow furrows. She looks at me and I wonder,

  is she thinking I’m responsible? Has Ciara been whispering in

  her ear? Am I being judged for the messed-up teenager I was?

  ‘We fully appreciate this must be a terrible shock,’ DI Bradley

  says.

  It’s seems such a bizarre thing to say. So completely under-

  stated.

  ‘A terrible shock? You’re telling us one of us might be a killer

  and the best you can say is tha
t “this must be a terrible shock”.’

  I feel Alex’s arm on mine, steadying me. He is trying to

  ground me. I shake it off. I don’t want to be grounded. I’m

  scared. I’m scared that someone in this room might be a murderer

  and I’m terrified that most of the people in this room seem to

  think that the murderer is me.

  ‘What happens now?’ Alex asks. ‘Are we all under arrest?

  How does this work?’

  Under arrest? No. That can’t be . . .

  DI Bradley shakes his head. ‘No. We are still gathering evidence,

  which is why we need to speak to you all. There isn’t sufficient

  evidence to arrest anyone at this time. You may, if you wish,

  have a solicitor present while we talk, but I want to make it

  clear that we are examining all possibilities and no one person

  is under direct suspicion at this time. What we do need to do

  is have forensics come in and look around the house, in particular Mr McKee’s bedroom, where we believe he died. Can I ask,

  has anyone been in that room since this morning?’

  ‘We’ve all been in it,’ Kathleen says. ‘The girls tidied and

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  stripped the bed. I’ve just put new bed sheets on. I was going to sleep there. Alex, you were in too, weren’t you?’

  He nods. ‘I think so, earlier. Yes, I brought some laundry up,

  put it in his chest of drawers.’

  ‘Okay,’ DI Bradley says with a slight shake of his head. ‘We’ll

  still need SOCO to come in and look around, although the

  scene has been compromised. The bed linen? Has that been

  washed yet?’

  Ciara comes back into the room, her face sheet white, and

  answers, ‘Yes. Washed and dried. It’s still in the drier, though.’

  DI Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. ‘That’s unfortunate.

  We’ll take it anyway, just in case. Detective Constable Black

  will be staying here with you until SOCO arrive. We’ll appoint

  a family liaison officer. It might be less distressing for you all if you have somewhere else you can go while the team examine

  the house.’

  ‘I’ll be staying here, thank you,’ Ciara says. ‘I don’t want you

  rifling through my father’s belongings without a family member

  present.’

  Kathleen has stopped praying and finally speaks. ‘This has to

  be a mistake,’ she says. ‘I don’t care how experienced your

  pathologist is, he or she is wrong. No one murdered my brother!