Chapter 7
Detective Sam McKeown was quickly losing his patience by the time Lottie rocked up beside him. A man was remonstrating with the surly, shaven-headed detective.
‘I only came to pick up the bouncy castle,’ he was saying. ‘Can I go now?’
McKeown stood to one side as Lottie approached.
‘Boss, this is Christy Kearney,’ he said sharply, unable to keep his annoyance under wraps. ‘He reported the crime.’
She nodded at the anxious man. He was fair-haired, tall and slim, wearing workman’s trousers with bulging pockets and a black donkey jacket. From his creviced face, it was hard to tell his age. He could be fifty years old give or take a few years either side.
‘Mr Kearney, this must be disturbing for you, and you’ve probably already told my colleague everything, but I want you to talk me through it again from the minute you arrived on the scene. That your van over there?’
‘Yes, and I need to get going. I suppose I can’t take the equipment with me?’
‘Correct. Nor your van.’
‘Wait a minute. I need it for work.’
‘It’s on the property of a crime scene. It has to be processed. Once that’s completed, it will be released.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong. God, I should have reversed out and said nothing. This is what I get for being a Good Samaritan.’
‘And I appreciate it. But I have to follow procedures. So, Mr Kearney, talk to me.’
‘Right. I deliver bouncy castles and the one here is due on the other side of the county by two o’clock today. I really need to…’ He paused as Lottie gave him one of her glares. ‘Sorry. I know. It’s awful.’
‘Did you pull up where your van is now parked?’
‘Yeah. I rang the doorbell. No answer.’
‘Was the door locked?’
‘I have no idea. Didn’t check – no need, or so I thought. I was making my way round to the back when I looked in that window there.’ He pointed towards the sitting room. ‘Being nosy like.’
‘Go on.’
He rubbed his hands anxiously, and she noted tiny beads of sweat lining his brow. His lips were cracked and dry.
‘I saw him in there. On the couch. The knife and the blood. Nearly shit myself. You see things like this on the telly but you never expect it to happen in real life, do you?’
It happened a lot to Lottie, but she didn’t inform him of that. ‘Were the blinds up?’
‘Yes.’
‘Any lights on?’
‘I didn’t notice.’
She hadn’t either. ‘What did you do then?’
‘I phoned 999. Told them there was a dead man in the house. Gave them the address and waited until the guards and ambulance arrived.’
‘Did you know the dead man?’
‘No, never met him. I assumed he was Caroline’s husband.’
‘Caroline?’
‘Mrs Healy. She told me to call her Caroline when I was here yesterday morning to set everything up. God, it feels like a lifetime ago now.’
‘I understand. So, there was a party planned, is that right?’
‘Yeah, for her daughter, she told me. Can’t remember the girl’s name. Something Irish, or foreign maybe. Not a Mary or an Anne, anyhow.’ He was babbling. Shock did that to you.
‘Did you notice anything unusual yesterday morning?’
‘Not a thing. Caroline offered me a coffee, but I had another delivery lined up so I showed her how everything worked and left her to it.’
‘And this morning. Did anything unusual stand out for you?’
‘Except for the body in there, no, nothing else.’
‘Thanks, Christy. Give your details to Detective McKeown. He’ll take your clothing and provide you with replacements.’
‘My clothes? Why?’ He looked everywhere but at her.
‘In case of cross-contamination, trace transference. Forensics will have to check.’
‘I told you I simply looked in the window.’
‘Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. When it suits, you’ll have to make a formal statement and provide fingerprints and a DNA swab for elimination purposes. The forensic team will deal with your van as quickly as possible and have it returned to you.’
‘Okay, I suppose. My car’s at home if I can get a lift there.’
She left McKeown to deal with him and glanced all around her at the increasing activity. Still no sign of the pathologist.
It bothered Lottie that there was no sense of chaos or disorder in the house. With a family murder she’d expect blood and mayhem, but this scene presented as systematic. Methodical, even. Could a man do that to his family then calmly sit down and slit his wrists?
‘A neighbour down the road filled me in.’ Kirby hurried over to her, checking his notebook.
‘The little girl was called Freya and it was her twelfth birthday party. The mother is Caroline and her husband is Cameron Healy. Neighbour couldn’t go to the party because she was in Limerick for the weekend, so she sent a voucher for Freya.
She arrived home this morning. She said Caroline’s best friend is a woman called Sadie Clarke.
I have the address. Will I go talk to her? ’
‘I’ll do it. Stay here and notify me the second Jane Dore arrives. I need the time and order of deaths so that we can get the investigation moving.’ She made to walk away but stalled. ‘Where’s Boyd this morning?’
Kirby blushed. Which wasn’t that unusual, as he was ruddy-complexioned. ‘Erm, I have no idea.’
‘Liar,’ she quipped.
‘Honestly, I don’t know. I rang him but got no answer.’
‘Call him again. Tell him I said he’s needed here.’