The Galway Homicides Box Set 2

by David Pearson

  He was going through a rudimentary shopping list in his head, when the door to the station opened, and one of the old timers from the area came in.

  “Hello Aongus, you’re out early. What can I do for you?” Brosnan asked.

  “God, I’m after having a right shock, Pascal. I was out for a walk across on the headland with Texas, when he took off like a mad thing. I eventually caught up with him, and he was sniffing around something that had washed up on the rocks. There was an awful smell – it was putrefied, and that’s for sure,” the old man said.

  “I see. So, what do you think it was then, Aongus?” Brosnan asked.

  “That’s just it, Pascal. It’s a body!” the old man said, clearly upset by the event.

  “Are you sure, Aongus? A body you say.”

  “I am that. It’s a body all right,” Aongus said.

  “God help us. Well I’d better come and have a look. Can you show me where you found it?” Brosnan said, reaching for his overcoat and peaked cap.

  The two men got into Brosnan’s car, and drove down the track leading to the headland till it came to an end where Brosnan parked.

  They walked out across the stumpy grass till they got near the end of the promontory where there was an almost sheer drop onto the rocks and the sea below. Brosnan could smell the undeniable stench of rotting flesh from the top where he stood, and far below, lodged in the craggy terrain, he could make out the twisted form of what had once been a living thing, now blackened by exposure to the elements.

  Aongus gagged on seeing the body for a second time, and told Brosnan he was going back into town to get a glass of whisky to settle his stomach.

  “Fair enough, Aongus. But you’ll have to come back in to me later to make a statement. I’ll have to get the detectives out from Galway to deal with this. Dead bodies are way above my pay grade.”

  * * *

  Inspector Maureen Lyons was busy completing the monthly reports on crime in Galway for November when her phone rang. She disliked paperwork intensely, but it was becoming a more prominent feature of policing of late, and her ultimate senior officer, Superintendent Finbarr Plunkett was very unforgiving if these reports weren’t submitted on time. She would much prefer to be out catching thieves than sitting in the office, even in the cold weather.

  “Lyons,” she said.

  “Hello, Inspector. This is Pascal Brosnan out in Roundstone. One of the locals has found a body out here on the headland, I’m out there now. I need some backup and all the usual,” Brosnan said in as near to an excited voice as the usually placid man could manage.

  “Take it easy Pascal, it will be fine. Now where exactly is this body, and do you know if it’s male or female, clothed or naked, or anything else about it?”

  “I can’t get down to it, Inspector, it’s on the rocks out here. All I can tell you is that it’s in an advanced state of decay. It smells awful, and it’s all black. What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, stay there in any case. Can you cordon off the area? I have to meet Superintendent Plunkett in half an hour, but I’ll get Eamon and Sally out to you. Have you told Sergeant Mulholland?” Lyons asked.

  “No, not yet, I called you first,” Brosnan said, calming down a little now that he had some moral support.

  “OK. Well, call him as soon as we’re finished here and he’ll be able to get someone out to you as well. It will take Eamon forty-five minutes to get there. And try and preserve the site as best you can, Pascal. OK? Before you go, Pascal, does it look like natural causes – like maybe someone just slipped off the high ground?” she said.

  “God, I don’t know. There’s been no one reported missing recently, though I suppose it could have been a tourist,” Brosnan said.

  “Hardly, at this time of year, Pascal. But I suppose you never know. Oh, and can you text me the co-ordinates of the location so I can give Eamon proper directions,” Lyons said.

  “Right, no bother. Anyway, I’ll wait here and make sure no one interferes with it till backup arrives,” Brosnan said.

  “Just what we bloody need, this week of all weeks,” Lyons said to herself as she went to find Eamon Flynn and Sally Fahy to get them moving.

  Chapter Two

  Sergeant Séan Mulholland had just put the kettle on for the first of his morning cups of tea when the phone rang. He had opened the Garda Station at nine o’clock as usual, and was glad to get in out of the weather. The thin north westerly breeze was making it feel a lot colder on the streets of the small town than the actual temperature warranted.

  Mulholland was in his late fifties, and could have retired earlier from the force, but had elected to stay on for a few more years. He was a confirmed bachelor, and had few interests other than his work, and a bit of coarse fishing on any of the many lakes that surrounded the town. While not universally liked by everyone in Clifden, he was known to be a fair man, and would often overlook small demeanours rather than get involved in masses of paperwork to prosecute someone who had failed to renew their shotgun license on time, or hadn’t taxed their car or van at the appropriate time.

  The station had a total of eleven Gardaí assigned to it, so there were generally three officers and Mulholland on duty at any time once shift patterns, holidays, training and other forms of leave had been taken into account.

  Mulholland took the call from Brosnan who had calmed down a bit since his first call with Lyons. Brosnan explained what had been discovered.

  “You’ll have to stay there a while, Pascal,” Mulholland said, “Jim Dolan is away out at Clifden Glen with the car just now – there’s some talk of a break in overnight. But I’ll get him out to you as soon as I can. The folks from Galway will probably get there first. It’s a bad time of year for someone to end up like that,” Mulholland said.

  * * *

  Detective Sergeant Eamon Flynn and Detective Garda Sally Fahy set off with sirens and flashing lights at high speed towards Clifden. Sally Fahy was the youngest detective in Hays’ team. She had started out as a civilian worker helping the team with paperwork a few years ago, and enjoyed it so much that Maureen Lyons had little trouble in persuading her to apply for a post in the force. Sally had excelled during her training at Templemore, and when she had passed out, Hays pulled in a few favours and got her assigned to his unit in Galway. Sally had proved to be a very useful member of the team, and she got on well with the rest of them, which was an added bonus.

  They had been briefed by Inspector Lyons about the discovery out at Roundstone, and both were keen to demonstrate that they were up to the task in hand with promotions in the offing. They arrived in Roundstone some forty minutes after leaving Galway, and went screaming through the little village, much to the amazement of the locals who were just getting up and about at half past ten in the morning.

  They managed to get the car out onto the grass down at the end of the track leading to the magnificent beach at Dog’s Bay, and drove as quickly as they dared to where Pascal Brosnan was standing at the end of the peninsula.

  “God, that was quick,” Brosnan said as the two detectives climbed out of the car.

  “Morning, Pascal. What have you got for us on this cold and frosty morning?” Flynn asked.

  “It’s down there,” the young officer said, indicating the rocks below.

  “Have you been down to have a look?” Fahy said.

  “I have not! It’s treacherous down there, and what good would it be if I got stuck on the rocks along with the corpse? Anyway, it stinks,” Brosnan said indignantly.

  “I have a rope in the car. We can tie it off around the axle, and I’ll lower myself down and see what the story is,” Flynn said.

  Sally Fahy retrieved the bright blue nylon rope from the back of the squad car, and scrambled down on the cold grass to tie it securely around the front axle of the Hyundai. She then presented the other end of the rope to Flynn who secured it snugly under his arms and around his torso.

  “Be careful, Sarge. It looks slippery down there,�
� Fahy said.

  “It’ll be fine. Just make sure the handbrake is on in the car,” Flynn replied walking backwards towards the precipice.

  It took Eamon Flynn a good seven minutes to get down to where the remains lay between the rocks at the edge of the sea. He manoeuvred with a combination of abseiling and just scrambling against the loose stones, and relied heavily on the rope that was securing him to make the perilous journey. When he got to the bottom he managed to find a foothold on a smooth flat rock, and he bent down to examine the stinking mess. After a couple of minutes, he looked up to the two Gardaí who were peering anxiously over the edge.

  “I’m coming back up. Put some tension on the rope for me,” Flynn shouted, and slowly he clambered back up the near-sheer face of rock and shale, arriving back on the short grass at the top quite out of breath.

  “So, what’s the story?” Brosnan asked.

  “Jesus, Pascal, give me a minute to get my breath back, will ye?” Flynn said, red faced and gasping slightly.

  Fahy and Brosnan waited for a few moments while Flynn recovered.

  “Well some bloody detective you are, Pascal. That’s only a fucking sheep down there, isn’t it?” Flynn said at last.

  “What? You’re joking me. That’s no sheep, I’m telling you, it’s a body!” Brosnan protested.

  “I’ll give you a clue, Pascal. It’s a four-legged corpse, covered in rotting wool, with two pointy ears and a snout a bit like a dog. Oh, and it has a short stubby tail too. Ring any bells?” Flynn said.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Sarge. I could have sworn it was human. And the old fella that found it said it was a body too. I just kind of assumed, if you know what I mean.”

  Sally Fahy had turned away from the other two, unable to keep a straight face. She could just imagine the banter in the canteen back in Galway when it came out that they had gone chasing halfway across the county after a dead sheep.

  Flynn couldn’t resist rubbing it in a bit too.

  “I suppose we’ll have to cancel the forensic team that are on their way out too. Or would you like a post mortem carried out on the animal, so we can inform its relatives?”

  “God, I’m really sorry. Will you apologise to Inspector Lyons for me?” Brosnan said.

  “Oh no you don’t, Pascal. You’re going to call this in yourself. But do me a favour, put it on speakerphone so we can all hear her reaction. I’d say it will be priceless!” Flynn said, not intending to let the young officer off the hook that easily.

  “Right. Well let’s get back to the station. I’m sure you could both do with a cuppa to warm up a bit. Then I’ll make the call, God help me,” Brosnan said, and all three set off back to the Garda station in Roundstone.

  When Pascal Brosnan had endured the ribbing on the phone from both Sergeant Mulholland and Inspector Lyons, the two Galway detectives left Roundstone and drove back to Mill Street.

  “What a waste of time,” Fahy said on the way back in the car.

  “Ah, yeah, but it was worth it to be able to take the piss out of Brosnan for the rest of time. He’ll never live this down,” Flynn said.

  “I hope we don’t get it in the neck too,” Fahy said.

  “We’ll be OK. It wasn’t our call after all. There’ll be a bit of banter about it back at the station, but we’ll get over it.”

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, Superintendent Finbarr Plunkett sat at his largely empty mahogany desk in his generously proportioned office on the third floor of the Garda station in Mill Street in Galway. Despite the inclement weather outside, typical for a December day in Galway, his office was warm, if not indeed a bit stuffy. In front of him, neatly typed on three pages of good quality cream bond paper with the gold embossed insignia of An Garda Síochána at the top of each page, was a letter from no less than the Garda Commissioner himself.

  The letter was in response to a proposal Plunkett had submitted over two years previously, outlining how he wanted to expand the Detective Unit in Galway. It read:

  Dear Superintendent Plunkett,

  I write in connection with your proposal of February 2016 concerning the expansion of the Galway Detective Unit within the Western Region of the force. Having consulted with senior members of An Garda Síochána, and with my colleagues who have some expertise in these matters, I am amenable to your proposal in an overall sense, but with some modifications as set out hereunder.

  As you suggest, the Detective Unit should be expanded. To achieve this expansion, I propose that a new post of Detective Chief Superintendent be created, based out of the Mill Street station, and that you might consider filling this position yourself.

  The vacancy at Superintendent level could therefore be filled from within your own ranks, and in keeping with your proposal, I suggest that Senior Inspector Michael Hays be made up to Detective Superintendent.

  Further positions should be recruited by both Hays and yourself to bring the unit up to a new strength comprising two Detective Inspectors (one at Senior Inspector Level at your discretion), two Detective Sergeants, and three Detective Gardaí, while maintaining the current levels of civilian support and technological support for the unit.

  Further assistance for the unit will be provided by additional posts in the forensic team, but these will be recruited separately through the usual channels, and you will be advised in due course.

  In implementing these changes, I would ask you to have regard to the current policies on gender balance and equality within the unit, and to ensure that all of the correct procedures are followed meticulously before any appointments are made.

  To allow sufficient time for the recruitment, and any additional training that may be required, these changes will take effect from June 1st next year, and budgetary adjustments will be made to reflect the new organizational structure from that time.

  I will leave it to you to decide when best to share these new arrangements with your team, but please make it clear that the changes will not be effective until the date indicated, although I have no issue with any of the individuals “acting up” in the interim, provided that their pay scale remains as is until the implementation date.

  As I understand it, Mill Street is currently operating above capacity, so I have today sent a note to the Office of Public Works to ask them to find a suitable overflow arrangement close to the station until such time as our new Western Regional Headquarters comes on stream in the near future.

  You may contact Ms Irene McFerriter here at Headquarters for any Human Resource assistance that you may require to implement these measures.

  Yours sincerely,

  Dónal J. Whelan

  Garda Commissioner

  “Well that’s a good one all right,” Plunkett said to himself whilst rubbing his chin, “I thought they had forgotten all about it. It just goes to show, it always takes longer than you could imagine to accomplish anything in this outfit. Still, it’s all good!”

  Superintendent Plunkett lifted the phone and dialled an internal number. The phone was answered by Detective Garda Sally Fahy.

  “Sally, is Inspector Hays in his office?”

  “Eh yes, sir, he is.”

  “Could you ask him to drop up to see me if he has a few minutes? Thanks.”

  A few moments later, there was a knock on the superintendent’s door.

  “Come in, Mick. Sit you down. Coffee?” the superintendent said.

  “Yes, thanks sir.” Hays replied.

  Plunkett rang through to his secretary and asked for two coffees, and then swivelled the letter from the Commissioner around towards Hays.

  “Have a read of that, Mick. It looks as if something has come through at last.”

  Hays studied the letter in silence, reading through all three pages before making any comment.

  “Congratulations, sir, that’s excellent news. It looks as if they have agreed to just about everything you asked for,” Hays said.

  “I asked for a good bit more, Mick, but I’ve learnt in
this game that’s what you do – ask for a dozen, and you get three or four. It’s all I really wanted anyway – we couldn’t handle too much change all at once. What do you think about stepping up to Super?”

  “If you’re happy with it, sir, then I’d be delighted. You know it wasn’t so long ago I was thinking of handing in my papers here. I had an offer to go to a UK force to head up a new digital crime unit. I’m glad I didn’t now,” Hays said.

  “I heard about that, but I’m glad you decided to stay. So, can I assume that’s a done deal then, all in due time, of course? There’s a bloody lot of administration and paperwork that goes with it mind you. Less operational work. Are you OK with that?”

  “Yes, sir. Perfectly, and I’m sure there will be times when I’ll still be able to get my hands dirty,” Hays said.

  Just then the phone on the superintendent’s desk rang and he picked it up.

  “It’s for you, Mick. You’re wanted downstairs. Let’s continue this discussion later, or maybe tomorrow, and in the meantime mum’s the word, OK?”

  “Fine, sir,” Hays said getting up to leave, “and thanks.”

  The superintendent gave Hays a nod and went back to studying the letter.

  * * *

  “What’s up Sally?” Hays asked Detective Garda Sally Fahy as he returned to the open plan office where the detective unit plied their trade.

  “There was a call for you, sir. Some bloke called ‘Rolo’ or ‘Rollo’ he said. He said you know him. He’s going to ring back in five minutes.”

  “Thanks Sally,” Hays said and went into his private office and closed the door.

  A few minutes later, his phone rang.

  “Hays.”

  “This is Rollo. We need to meet,” a man’s husky voice said.

  “Usual place, half an hour?” Hays said.

  Rollo said nothing, and just hung up.