Sally brought him up to the incident room and introduced him. Then Hays asked him to come into his office where Maureen’s PC was sitting on his desk. Hays again emphasised the need for total discretion and thanked the lad for coming to help.
Trevor had brought his own laptop with him too, explaining that he had a number of specialized programmes on it.
“Well at least it’s Windows 7, not 8 or 10,” he said as he moved the touchpad on Maureen’s PC bringing it to life.
“Does that make a difference?” Hays asked.
“7 is much easier to work with. It’s pretty open, and there are lots more tools to use on it. Let me just open the email and see what we’ve got.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to trace it?”
“Well certainly for a good bit back, yes. All emails leave a trail of the route that was used to get them to the ultimate recipient. But of course the sender has various ways of disguising who he or she is if they really want to. Most people don’t bother though, and I can usually get behind the camouflage in any case.”
Trevor opened his own laptop and started it up. He was looking at the message that had been sent to Lyons and typing furiously on his own machine.
“Hmm,” he said, “this is interesting. Most emails we get here come in via New Jersey. There’s a huge hub there that nearly everyone uses. But this one has come the other way, via a server in China!”
“Is that a problem?” Hays asked.
“No, not at all, it’s just unusual.”
“Would you like a coffee?” Hays asked, feeling a bit superfluous.
“Great, thanks. Just a drop of milk, no sugar,” the young man replied. Hays went to their somewhat basic kitchen and brewed two cups of coffee. Sally came in just as the kettle boiled.
“Here, let me do that for you, sir,” she said, reaching for the mugs.
“No, it’s fine, Sally. Do you want one?”
“Yes please, milk, no sugar. How’s he getting on?”
“Well he’s got as far as China so far, so I guess that’s progress!”
“Poor Sergeant Lyons. That’s an awful thing to happen. Does that sort of thing crop up often?”
“Hardly ever. In fact, I can’t remember it ever happening before. She’s OK though. She’s strong. It will take more than a nasty email to shake her.”
“I know. We had a day out last Saturday, shopping and stuff. She’s really nice, but I can see she could be tough too. Is that important if you’re in the Gardaí?”
“Not essential, but it can be helpful if things get difficult. Are you thinking of applying?”
“Do you really think I would be any good?”
“Better than that, from what I’ve seen. You should,” Hays said, and lifted the two cups of coffee and returned to his office.
Trevor Fahy was enjoying himself more than a little. He worked on the two laptops, and his hands were dancing from one to the other as he keyed in instructions. Hays put down his coffee beside him and asked, “How’s it going?”
“This is really cool. I don’t think the sender has done anything to disguise himself apart from a few very basic precautions. But the routing on the email is really weird. So far, I’ve traced it to China, then to Hong Kong, and then back to mainland China, and now I’m working on the next leg. Should have more in an hour or so. Thanks for the coffee.”
Hays stayed in his office with the young man who rarely looked up from the two PCs. At ten to four, Sally knocked on the door and beckoned Hays out into the corridor.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’ve been back onto Meteor about the phone number we got from the two Limerick lads. They say that the phone was purchased in their shop in Cork, Oliver Plunkett Street.”
“Interesting. Did they say when?”
“The day before Paddy O’Shaughnessy’s house burnt down.”
“Nice work, Sally. Now, can you get on to our good friends in Cork. Don’t tell them too much. Tell them we’re sending down a crew to see if the shop has any CCTV of the day the phone was bought.”
“Right, boss, I’m on it,” she said, turning back towards her desk.
At just after six, Trevor Fahy brought Hays up to date on everything that he had found out about the email sent to Maureen Lyons.
“Sorry it took so long. That China stuff is hard to work with. You have to keep translating from Cantonese!”
“Thanks, Trevor, that’s great. I’ll see if we can dig up a few bob to pay you for your time.”
“Don’t worry about that, Inspector, I enjoyed it, and it’s great experience.”
“Well, thanks again, it’s been very helpful.”
When Trevor had left, Hays phoned Maureen and told her that he was leaving now and would be home shortly.
“Bring some food, I’m starving,” she implored him.
“OK,” he said laughing. “Chinese or Indian?”
“Just anything edible will do. Now hurry up!”
Hays was about to leave when he got a call from Eamon Flynn.
“We’re round at Kelly’s house, boss. Looks like he’s done a bunk. The place is empty, and a neighbour said she saw him leaving with the car piled high at about two o’clock. Do you think I should break in and see what I can find?” Flynn asked.
“I think you’ll find the back door of the house is either open or has been jimmied already, Eamon, if you get my drift, so you’ll be investigating a burglary. Give the place a good going over. If he left in a hurry then he’s probably left something of interest. Let me know if you find anything,” Hays said.
“Right, boss. Catch you later.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Hays arrived back at his house forty minutes later, armed with a large carrier bag full of a ‘Luxury Dinner for Two’ from the Chinese take-away down the road.
When he got indoors, he handed it over and said he was going upstairs to change, and could she open a bottle of wine. Ten minutes later he reappeared, a shocked look on his face. Maureen wasn’t sure how he had taken the changes he encountered upstairs. So, she asked rather tentatively, almost defiantly, “Well, what do you think?”
“It’s fabulous. Really. Like a five-star hotel. You’re amazing,” he said, pulling her to him and giving her a hug.
“I didn’t realize it had got so scruffy. And even the curtains, how did you manage that so quickly?”
“Not telling,” she said.
“Well, it’s clear you’ll have to stay on here a bit longer. After all there’s the kitchen, the lounge, and…”
Maureen punched him gently in the stomach.
“Don’t push your luck, Hays. Let’s eat!”
They devoured the food largely in silence and drank the bottle of wine between them.
* * *
“That’s better. Us home decorators don’t get time for lunch these days,” Maureen said, sitting back and relaxing.
“I still can’t believe what you did, it’s amazing,” he said, “I’ll have to pay you of course, how much did it come to?”
“Don’t you dare, Mick Hays. It’s just a thank you for being there for me. Anyway, how do I know who’s been sleeping on those old sheets of yours? And don’t answer that!”
Maureen cleared away the empty cartons and put them out in the kitchen, thinking to herself, he’s right you know, this place really needs freshening up. It’s grubby.
Back in the lounge she asked, “Any news on the case and that stinky email?”
“I’m almost afraid to tell you,” he replied.
“Why?”
“Because it’s probably safe for you to go home, but I don’t want you to.”
“Well maybe I’m not ready to leave, not tonight anyway, so tell me.”
Hays explained how Sally had volunteered her brother to trace the email, and how he had finally discovered where it had come from.
“It was sent from an internet café in Cork. The sender set up a Gmail account, sent the email, then deleted the Gmail account all within
the space of about five minutes. He managed to do it without the usual Gmail authentication too.”
“I wonder how he got my email address?”
“A guess, I’d say. Your email address isn’t exactly rocket science.”
“I’ll change it after this, that’s for sure.”
“What do we do now?”
“Have another glass of wine.”
“Idiot! You know what I mean.”
“The internet place is run by Chinese, so I’ll wager they have CCTV. I’m going to get it checked out. We got a break on the phone the two Limerick lads were using too. It was also sold in Cork, in the Meteor shop on Oliver Plunkett Street.”
“So, all roads lead to Cork then. You know what I’m thinking?”
“I do. But it’s all a bit circumstantial for my liking. Oh, and the boss tried to warn me off.”
“You’re kidding. Was he serious?” she asked.
“No, not really. But he’s had a phone call or two from Dublin. He’s a bit uncomfortable.”
“I bet he is. Hope you told him where to go.”
“Yes, but not in a Maureen Lyons way!”
She punched him again.
“And Mr QFA has done a runner. His house is empty, a neighbour said he left at about two o’clock fully laden. I have Eamon round there now giving it the once over. Then we’ll put out a shout for him round the country, after all we have his car reg so I doubt he’ll get far.”
“Great. Just what we needed. I knew there was something fishy about that guy,” she said.
“So, when are you sending me back to my poor lonely bachelorette pad then?” Lyons went on.
“Not tonight anyway. Let’s go and road test that lovely new bed linen.”
“Good idea. Home refurbishment is tiring,” she said.
“Not too tiring, I hope!”
* * *
It was ten o’clock when Flynn called Hays to report progress on the Kelly house. Hays told Lyons to stay very quiet while he took the call.
“Eamon, how did you get on?”
“Interesting, boss. We found a stash of stuff under the floorboards in the back bedroom. Looks like maybe cocaine or heroin – white powder in any case. And there was some cash too, about fifteen grand in used notes, wrapped in bundles of a thousand. There’s quite a lot of paperwork here as well. I’m getting forensics and the drug guys out right now to get prints and all the usual.”
“No wonder he scarpered. That’s good work, Eamon. If you have time, do a bit of house to house – see if anyone nearby knows if he has relations or connections anywhere around, you know the ropes,” Hays said.
Chapter Twenty-six
The following morning Lyons was back at work. They had arrived separately so as not to set off the gossip machine. Hays called a team meeting as soon as they had all turned up.
“Right, folks. Thanks to Sally and her brother, we now have a lot more information.” He went on to outline the details of the mobile phone, and the trace on the email.
“I need someone to go to Cork and follow up on those leads with the locals. Eamon, fancy a drive?”
“OK, boss. Can I take someone with me?” Flynn replied.
“Aw, diddum. Will you be lonely?”
A ripple of laughter went around the room.
“Well, as you always say, four eyes and ears are better than two,” he replied, blushing.
“Sally, fancy a trip to the deep south to see what police work is like in the front line?”
“Sure, if you think that’s OK, sir, I’d love it.”
“Right then, off you go. You know what to do, Eamon. Bring back some nice video footage of our man.”
* * *
The two left for the long drive to Cork. On the way, Sally called ahead to line up the local Gardaí, so as not to intrude on their patch and cause trouble.
When they had gone, Hays told Lyons and O’Connor that he was going to see the superintendent and bring him up to speed. It was looking more and more as if Ciaran O’Shaughnessy could be involved in the death of his uncle. He asked Lyons to get busy on the QFA and see if he’d been spotted anywhere.
“If necessary, elevate it to priority one – I want that little scrote back here to answer some questions as soon as possible. I don’t like being pissed about by the likes of him!”
Superintendent Plunkett was not in a good mood. Hays sensed that what he was about to say would not please his boss one little bit. When he had outlined the details of what they had discovered about Paddy O’Shaughnessy’s nephew, Plunkett said, “Jesus, Mick, this could be dynamite. From what you say, it’s almost all circumstantial anyway. Have you any prospect of getting any hard evidence?”
“Not that I can see just now, sir, unless the CCTV comes back nice and clear.”
Hays held back from telling the superintendent about the tie wraps that Lyons had lifted from the ITOS office, as strictly speaking, that was illegal and would not be admissible in court.
“OK, well let’s see how it goes, but for Christ’s sake be careful, Mick. If this blows up in my face there’ll be very few survivors! And what about this Kelly chap?”
“Well, he’s done a runner, but to be honest I doubt he killed O’Shaughnessy. He may be a bit of a con man, but I don’t see him as a killer, but we’re following it up all the same.”
When Hays returned to his office he asked Lyons to come in for a moment.
“The Super is going nuts. He’s being put under pressure. He didn’t elaborate, but I can tell. Any word on the tie wraps yet? Oh, and by the way, I didn’t tell him about those, so keep that little morsel to ourselves for now.”
“Nothing yet, but now that you mention it, I’ll get on to forensics and see what’s holding them up.”
The word on the tie wraps was that they were the same brand as the ones used to anchor Paddy O’Shaughnessy to his chair, but they were from a different batch. When she told Hays, he grumbled, “More circumstantial clap trap. Let’s hope Eamon and Sally get something a bit more conclusive.”
“Mick, do you think it was a good idea to send Sally off with Eamon?”
“If she’s going to be a Garda, she’ll need to be able to handle these kinds of situations. Eamon is sound. She’ll not come to any harm.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. He never made a move on me anyway!”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Eamon Flynn and Sally Fahy took almost three hours to reach the Garda station in Anglesea Street in Cork. They were expected, and having introduced themselves at the front desk, they were soon joined by Detective Garda Kevin O’Driscoll who welcomed them and treated them to a coffee apiece in the Costa Coffee across the road from the station. It was a very welcome gesture after their long drive.
“So, what’s the crack with the case you’re on then?” O’Driscoll asked.
Flynn explained the link to the mobile phone and the internet café, and asked O’Driscoll how he would like to play things. O’Driscoll hadn’t any strong views one way or the other, but suggested that three Gardaí descending on the two shops might be a bit much, as they were small premises in any case. Sally offered to stay at the station, but the other two wouldn’t hear of it, and it was agreed that the two Galway folks should head off on their own, and simply update O’Driscoll if any wrong-doing was discovered.
O’Driscoll gave them directions to the Meteor store on Oliver Plunkett Street. When they reached the shop, they asked for a manager, and Flynn showed his warrant card. Almost immediately an attractive girl in her mid-twenties with a name badge approached and introduced herself.
“I’m Mary Casey, I’m the manager here. How can I help you?”
Flynn explained the reason for the visit and asked if she by any chance had the CCTV footage from the day in question still on file.
“We should have. We normally keep the DVDs until the drawer is full, and then we throw out the older ones. Give me a few minutes and I’ll see if I can locate them.”
While
Mary was gone to find the DVDs, Sally and Eamon browsed the phones on display.
“I wish I could afford one of these new Samsung models, they’re gorgeous,” Sally said, fondling the display model.
“I’m an iPhone man myself. I know they are mad expensive, but I just love them.”
“Oh well, I’m due an upgrade later this year. Maybe then,” she said.
Mary returned holding four DVDs in little see-through sleeves.
“I think these are the ones you’re looking for. I brought the day before and the day after as well, just in case,” she said, handing the DVDs to Sally.
“When you load them, three images come up. Two are of the tills and the other is taken from above the display racks. They’re not high definition quality, but they’re not bad,” she said.
“Thanks. Do you need a receipt?” Sally asked.
“Not at all. We just bin them after a few days anyway. You’re welcome to them.”
“Thanks very much,” Sally said, putting the DVDs into her handbag.
Next stop was the internet café on Morgan Street. The small window was crammed with cheap second-hand mobile phones, and large plastic decals advertising ‘Unlock any phone €20’. Then there was a long list of places you could call from the shop, headed up with the boast ‘Cheapest call rates in Cork’.
Inside, the shop was dingy and crowded. Down along the right-hand wall were five booths separated by roughly cut unpainted chipboard with a hand-written sign stuck on the outside of the first booth, ‘Internet just €1 an hour’.
The place smelled of a mixture of fast food and body odour and was none too clean. There was a small counter at the front of the shop, and behind it sat an oriental man surrounded by cables, broken phones and other electronic bits and pieces. Again, Flynn showed his warrant card, and the man said in barely understandable English, “Wait. I get Susi.”
When the man disappeared behind a panel to his rear, Sally nudged Flynn’s arm and gestured with her head to the ceiling where a little cluster of cameras were fixed, each with a small, blinking red light.
After a short interval, Susi emerged from behind the panel. She too was oriental. She was strikingly good looking, and when she spoke, her English was near perfect.
The Galway Homicides Box Set Page 23