“It’s OK mum, I don’t mind,” Amy said, turning to her mother, and then turning back to Flynn. She went on, “she was OK, but I didn’t like her that much. She always seemed kinda cold to me. And Emma had some issues with her too. You know Mrs Fortune wasn’t her real mother.”
“Yes, we know about that. Did you ever see any trouble between Mr and Mrs Fortune – rows or anything, or harsh words?” Flynn said.
“No. I didn’t. But he wasn’t there much when I was there, like after school and that,” Amy said.
“And what about at school,” Flynn said, “how did Emma get on with everybody?”
Amy looked down at her shoes, and started to wring her hands together. She had changed her demeanour noticeably in response to Flynn’s question.
“Yeah, all fine,” she said, and stole a quick, furtive glance at Williams.
Flynn read the signals, and decided not to pursue matters any further with the teacher present.
“Did Emma have a boyfriend, Amy?” Flynn asked.
“No one special. A few of the lads fancied their chances, but she wasn’t interested. She said they were all too immature,” Amy said.
“I see. And do you have a boyfriend, Amy?”
The girl looked a little nervously at her mother.
“Not really. I’ve been out with Gavin a few times, but it’s not serious.”
“OK. Thanks very much Amy, we’ll leave it at that for now. You’ve been very helpful,” Flynn said, smiling and getting up. Williams followed his lead, and the two men said their goodbyes and left.
As Flynn drove Williams back to the school, he asked the teacher, “What did you think of that then?”
“She’s obviously very distraught. Can’t blame her. It’s an awful thing to happen.”
“Do you think she knows more than she let on?” Flynn said.
“Why do you say that? No, I don’t. She’s just seventeen for heaven’s sake, and her best friend has just died. What did you expect?” Williams said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Flynn said, but he wasn’t convinced.
Chapter Twenty
“Right team,” Lyons said as she put her coffee down on the table at the top of the room, “let’s hear whatever you’ve got from today.”
Mary Costelloe was first to speak, and this time James Bolger made no attempt to hijack her work.
“We interviewed Fallon and he gave us an alibi for the night before the accident, but it didn’t check out, boss. He said he was with his mates in the pub, but they said he took off early,” Costelloe said.
“Interesting. I think we’d better get Mr Fallon back in for another little chat, don’t you? And this time, let’s not be so gentle with him. Make sure you get his fingerprints as well. First thing tomorrow, OK?” Lyons said.
“Yes, boss. No problem,” Costelloe said.
“Eamon, did you get to see the Cunningham girl?”
“Yes, I did. There’s no doubt she was holding back. She definitely knows something, but I’ve no idea what. She didn’t want to speak up in front of her mother, or Mr Williams for that matter,” Flynn said.
“OK. That’s a shame, but it could just be some information about weed or something. Emma had some traces in her tox report. We have to be very careful with her, she’s underage, and any decent barrister would rip anything we get from her to shreds unless we follow procedure to the letter,” Lyons said.
“Eh, boss, she’s no longer underage. She was eighteen last week,” Fahy said.
“Are you sure, Sally. How do you know?”
“That photograph that the headmaster gave us of the class that Emma and Amy are in. It has all the names and dates of birth on the back. Emma was still seventeen, but Amy turned eighteen last week, so she’s technically an adult, and we can question her without an appropriate person present, unless she wants a solicitor,” Fahy said.
“I’d still like to go very carefully. If she has something important to tell us we don’t want it thrown out on a technicality. Sally, can you see if you can get to talk to her on her own somehow? Offer to take her out for a coffee or something and see what you can get – but by the book, OK?” Lyons said.
“Sure. I’ll call her tomorrow morning.”
Just then, Sinéad Loughran appeared in the door of the room looking tense.
“Hi, Sinéad, what’s up?” Lyons asked, sensing the woman’s distress.
“Sorry to interrupt, Inspector, but I thought you should know at once. The plastic tube O’Dwyer took from the Cessna is gone. It was in the evidence room all bagged up and labelled, and it’s not there anymore.”
“Bloody hell. Has anyone any information on this? Now would be a good time,” Lyons said.
The group stirred uneasily in their seats and looked around at each other. After a moment’s difficult silence, James Bolger spoke up.
“It’s in my car, Inspector,” he said.
“And perhaps you could share with us, James, exactly why that is?” Lyons said.
“I was using my initiative, boss. I was going to take it around to the shops in town that sell home brew kits and wine making stuff, and see if anybody recognised it.”
“And tell me, James, that you signed it out against your name in the evidence log,” Lyons said.
“What log? I didn’t know there was one,” he said rather sheepishly.
“There is. It’s that huge book with the red cover on the shelf by the door with the label ‘Evidence Log’ stuck on the front of it, and a year’s supply of ballpoint pens beside it in the tray.”
“Oh, sorry, boss, I didn’t know,” Bolger said.
A subdued murmur went around the room, but no one laughed out loud.
“Well, perhaps you’d be kind enough to return it as soon as we’re finished here,” Lyons said.
“Yes, OK. But what about the home brew shops?” Bolger said, not wanting to let go of his idea completely.
“That’s not a bad idea. But just go around and get them to give you a list of their regular clients, and see if any names pop up that are involved in this thing. Ask about anyone who bought that type of tubing recently. There’s no need to actually take it with you,” Lyons said, keen to let her new recruit redeem himself a little in front of the rest of the team.
“And while we’re at it, Superintendent Hays had an idea too,” Lyons said, looking at Bolger.
“He’s curious about what the saboteur did with the proper length of fuel pipe he took from the plane. We’ve searched all around out at the airport, but there’s no sign. And Superintendent Hays suggested we find out from Fergal O’Dwyer what tools you would need to remove the correct fuel line. We know he or she used a screwdriver to tighten the jubilee clips on the plastic pipe, but we didn’t find one of those either,” Lyons said.
Eamon Flynn spoke up, “That’s a good point. And where would the suspect have put the fuel line he removed anyway, if he didn’t discard it at the scene?”
“Probably in the boot of his car, if you ask me,” Sally Fahy said.
“Agreed,” Lyons said, “so we have a good root in the boot of Fallon’s car when we bring him in. Now, did we find out about Mrs Fortune’s bank accounts?”
“Yes. I had a good go at them earlier. There’s nothing strange. A good deal of expenditure in high-end shops, beauty salons, that sort of thing. Then the regular stuff like petrol, parking tags, tolls, but nothing untoward,” John O’Connor said.
“Ah, excellent, John. So, can you use your well-honed techy skills to check out where her car was parked on the fateful night? See if we can substantiate her alibi even further, just in case,” Lyons said.
“Sure, will do.”
“OK. Tasks for tomorrow. James, you can do the rounds of the beer shops and see if that brings up anything? Mary, can you go with Eamon and lift Fallon? Have a good look at his car too while you’re at it. Sally, I want you to see if you can get some more from Amy Cunningham. Oh, by the way, John, have you had a peek at Emma Fortune’s co
mputer yet?” Lyons asked.
“No, not yet, boss, I haven’t had a chance.”
“OK. Well, see if you can find time tomorrow. I don’t suppose there’ll be anything of interest, but you never know. That’s it everyone, have a good evening.”
As she was packing up her stuff, James Bolger came over to where she was tidying up.
“Can I have a word, boss?” he said.
“Sure, James, what’s on your mind?”
“I’ve been thinking – I don’t think I’m really cut out for this job. It’s not at all what I expected it to be, and I don’t seem to be doing very well at it,” he said.
“I see. Well, to be fair, James, you haven’t given it much of a chance, have you? It’s always a bit rough when you start off – I had a terrible time at first until I got a few collars under my belt. Everyone treated me like the tea girl. You need to give it a proper chance,” Lyons said.
“It’s not just that. No one respects me. It’s like I’m the standing joke around here. I really don’t think I can continue.”
“Respect, James, has to be earned. Every one of the detectives on my team has had to work hard to prove themselves. Some have made mistakes, and so have I. But after a while it’s not the mistakes that are important, it’s the triumphs. Those are what people remember. If I were you, I wouldn’t hang up your boots just yet. Why not give it another couple of months at least?” she said.
“Well can you at least give me some actual detecting to do then? Going round the shops asking about home brew kits isn’t exactly challenging, is it?”
“James, there’s something you need to understand about the work that we do. Ninety, no, ninety-five percent of our work is boring hum-drum procedure. Occasionally, the work is punctuated by a few seconds of sheer brilliance that sometimes bears fruit, but mostly it’s just dogged persistence that gets us there. It’s not like you see on TV, not at all.”
Bolger said nothing, but it was clear from his facial expression that he wasn’t happy. Lyons sensed his feelings and continued, “Tell you what. Why don’t you carry on with this case till we get somewhere with it? That’ll make you feel better, and if you’re still of the same mind when this is over, I’ll have a word with Superintendent Hays and we’ll see what can be done?”
“What if we don’t solve the case, boss?”
Lyons just looked directly at him, and said nothing.
“Sorry, Inspector. I gather you haven’t failed yet. That was thoughtless.”
“Go home, James. Do your house calls tomorrow. We’ll bring Fallon in and give him a good grilling, and let’s see what happens after that. OK?”
“OK, oh, and mum’s the word, boss.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Lyons nursed her first cup of coffee of the day and busied herself in the office while Mary Costelloe and Eamon Flynn were out collecting Tony Fallon before he could disappear into the undergrowth out at Terryland.
It was twenty to ten when the phone on her desk rang.
“Hi. Eamon here, we have him downstairs.”
“OK. Great. Have you taken his fingerprints?” Lyons said.
“Mary’s doing it now. And you’ll love this – we have his car. What a Pandora’s box! The boot is jammed with tools of every kind. We’ve asked Sinéad to come over and deal with it, she knows what she’s looking for.”
“Nice one. OK. Leave him on his own for about fifteen minutes, then I’ll come down. Will you sit in with me?”
“Yes, sure,” Flynn said.
“Has he asked for a solicitor?”
“No, no he hasn’t.”
“But you did caution him?” Lyons said.
“Yes, of course. We did that before we put him in the car in case he said something on the way back we could use. But he stayed shtum.”
“OK. See you soon,” Lyons said.
* * *
“Look, what’s all this about?” Tony Fallon said when Lyons and Flynn entered the room.
“Good morning, Mr Fallon. We’ll explain everything in a moment. Have you any idea why you’re here?” Lyons said, sitting down opposite the man.
“No, I bloody don’t. All I know is you may well have got me fired, so this better be good!”
“Mr Fallon, the last time you were questioned about the untimely death of three people in the plane crash, you told us that on the evening before the accident, you were in the pub with your friends after working late. I have your statement here,” Lyons said, opening her folder, and pulling out a copy.
Fallon looked away, but said nothing.
“Would you like to amend that story now?” Lyons said.
Again, Fallon remained quiet, but was clearly becoming uneasy. He was shuffling in his seat, and fidgeting with his hands.
“You see, Mr Fallon, we’ve checked that out, and it doesn’t stack up,” Flynn said.
“How do you mean?”
“I think you know very well, Mr Fallon. You weren’t in the pub, were you? So that gives us a problem,” Lyons said.
Fallon remained silent.
“Just so that you know, while we’re sitting here, our forensic team are going over all the tools in your car with a fine-tooth comb. So, is there anything you’d like to tell us at this time?” Lyons said.
Fallon looked straight at Lyons for a few moments, and she held his stare.
“OK, look. You’re right, I wasn’t in the pub,” Fallon said.
“So, where were you and what were you doing?” Flynn asked.
“I was doing a nixer. I’m trying to get back on my feet, so I put down wooden floors for people after hours, but the job can’t find out. They expect us to work till sunset in the summer. If they knew I was bunking off, they’d probably fire me,” Fallon said.
“And I presume you can give us the name and address of the person you were working for on that occasion?” Flynn said.
“Do I have to? It’s all cash in hand work, and I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”
“We’re not tax collectors, Mr Fallon. We have enough to be doing without all that. But obviously we need to check your story,” Lyons said.
Fallon recited the address of a house where he said he was working on the floor on the night in question. Lyons pressed him, and he reluctantly gave up the name and phone number of the householder too.
“Right, Mr Fallon. You need to stay here while we check this out and finish up with your car,” Lyons said, tidying up her folder and getting up from the table.
“Can I not go back to work?” Fallon pleaded.
“Mr Fallon, so far, you’ve lied to the Gardaí and concealed information that could be relevant to our enquiries. So, just sit back and relax, and we’ll let you know if you can get back to work, or if we’re going to charge you with something,” Lyons said, and turned and left the room.
Flynn went off to check Fallon’s new alibi with the householder that was having a new floor laid on the cheap, while Lyons caught up with Sinéad Loughran about the car.
“Hi, Sinéad. Anything?”
“Hi Maureen. There’re loads of Fallon’s prints all over the car, but they don’t match the print we got from the lock out at the hangar, or any of the prints on the plane’s engine cover. I have two of my folks going through the tools now, but there’s no sign of the fuel pipe. Most of this stuff is woodworking kit – chisels, planes, hammer, glue – that sort of thing. Nothing like the tools O’Dwyer described that would be needed to do the job on the plane,” Loughran said.
“Shit. OK. Well, keep going. Let me know if you get anything, won’t you?” Lyons said.
When she had finished the call, Flynn knocked on Lyons’ door.
“Come in, Eamon. What gives?”
“His story checks out. I spoke to a Mrs O’Shea. She confirms Fallon arrived at the house at about six and was there till eleven working on the floor. It’s a laminate job, and they’re having it fitted throughout the living room, lounge and hall.”
“Yes, sure. What now?”
“Let’s just hope Inspector Bolger comes back with something.”
“Don’t hold your breath!” Flynn said, and left the room.
Lyons was stumped. She didn’t know which way to turn. They appeared to have virtually no leads now that Fallon was almost certainly going to be cleared of any involvement, and she could feel the pressure mounting for some sort of breakthrough.
In desperation, she called Superintendent Hays.
“Hi, it’s me,” she said as he answered the phone.
“Hi. How goes it?”
“Shite, to be honest. Are you free for lunch?”
“That bad, eh? Yeah, should be. I have a meeting with Séan Ennis, the guy from Traffic in a few minutes, but that shouldn’t take long. I’ll stop by and collect you at about half-twelve. Does that work for you?”
“Yep! Thanks, Mick.”
“No worries, see ya,” Hays said.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lyons didn’t get to keep her lunch date with her partner. Soon after she had spoken to Superintendent Hays, her phone rang.
“Inspector, it’s Sally. I’m out here at the Cunningham’s. There’s a problem. Amy has disappeared,” Fahy said.
“Tell me more,” Lyons said.
“I came out to see if I could take Amy out for a coffee or something as you suggested. Her mother said she was still in bed, but she went to get her for me, and found the bed empty. There’s no sign of her anywhere. Mrs Cunningham is in bits.”
“I bet. Any sign of a note? Has she packed a bag or anything, or can you tell?” Lyons said.
“No note. I don’t know if she’s taken any clothes or anything, but I’ll get her mother to check now.”
“OK. Get a recent photo too. I’ll put the word out, and then I’ll come over. I should be with you in fifteen minutes or so. Hang on in there.”
* * *
Fahy had managed to get a neighbour to come in to be with Mrs Cunningham, who was, as Fahy had identified earlier, in a bad way. The girl had apparently not packed a bag, nor left any sign of the reason for her sudden departure from the family home.
The Galway Homicides Box Set 2 Page 39