Chapter 15
In relation to Lily Clarke, Lottie was doing everything by the book and then some.
The Clarke house and garden and the surrounding area had been thoroughly searched.
Wider searches were well under way until a biblical downpour hampered the team’s efforts.
CCTV was secured from wherever they could source it, but it was limited.
No sign of the girl anywhere.
No clues from either case.
She was running two investigations, even though the super wanted her to close the Healy murders asap. That would be dependent on the outcome of the post-mortems and whatever forensics could throw into the mix.
Sitting in her car outside the Clarke house, Lottie rubbed her eyes in frustration. It was all so depressing. Martina had called her to come talk to Sadie. As if she hadn’t enough to be doing.
The young garda came sloshing through the puddles and sat in, shaking water all over the car seat and dashboard. ‘What did we do to deserve this weather?’
After listening to what Martina had to say, Lottie said, ‘What’s your impression of Thomas?’
‘You still haven’t met him?’
She caught Martina’s undertone – she didn’t like Thomas. ‘No, I haven’t. I’ll see if my impressions tally with yours later.’
‘Are you taking him to the station?’
‘I’d rather have a casual conversation with him first. Can you keep Sadie occupied while I speak to him?’
‘Sure. McKeown was talking to him in the garden before the heavens opened.’
‘I don’t think McKeown is best placed to be involved in a domestic situation,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ll send him back to the station to help with the CCTV.’
‘He’ll go berserk.’
‘I don’t care. He’s good at that sort of work. I’ll butter up his ego. I want to talk to Thomas Clarke here, where he thinks he’s safe.’ She stared out the windscreen. ‘Ah. There’s a break in the clouds, let’s make a dash for it.’
Thomas Clarke was the epitome of a sharply suited businessman.
White shirt, sleeves rolled up in perfect folds, tie neatly knotted, pressed pinstripe trousers, and an immaculate suit jacket hanging on the back of a chair.
His cologne smelled expensive too. But his face was creased like wrapping paper.
His hair was so black, Lottie was sure he must dye it.
His blue eyes were dark, with worry she assumed.
‘Please sit.’ He gestured to a plush office chair and seated himself behind the modern glass-topped desk, devoid of paper, an Apple Mac to one side. ‘My home office is where I can think most clearly. Have you any word on Lily?’
‘Nothing so far. I was hoping you could help me out by answering a few questions.’
‘Oh, so you think I abducted my own daughter and hid her where no one will find her?’
‘Did you?’ She kept her expression deadpan, in stark contrast to the crinkle of worry knitting his brows together.
‘I apologise. That was flippant. I’m up the walls with anxiety. Lily’s too young to have run off alone, isn’t she?’
‘You’d be the best judge of that, Mr Clarke.’
‘Call me Thomas, please.’
‘Thomas, do you know of anything that might have upset your daughter? However insignificant you think it is, it might turn out to be a crucial piece of information.’
‘She must have heard the awful news about what happened at the Healys’. Freya was her best friend. Maybe she panicked or something.’
‘How would she have heard about the murders?’
‘Sadie. Who else could it be? I wouldn’t be surprised if she blurted it out without tact or diplomacy.’
‘Your wife knew nothing of the murders until I called here this morning. I doubt she had a chance to tell Lily as it’s likely she’d already been gone by then. I believe your daughter had access to the online world?’
‘She has a basic phone, even though she’s too young for it. And she has a tablet with parental controls.’
‘Is she closer to your wife than to you?’
‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘I’m trying to get an understanding of the relationships in your family.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘It could have everything to do with it if your daughter has run off.’
‘She’s twelve, for God’s sake. Someone took her.’
‘There’s no evidence of a break-in.’
‘So you have to blame the workaholic father?’
‘Are you a workaholic, Thomas?’
‘Sadie would say I am.’ He swept his hair from his forehead. ‘Lily thinks I hide away in here and play computer games.’
‘What do you work at?’
‘I’m an architect. A business I built up myself. I’m proud of that. I can work from home, but my team is based in town. Hence I wasn’t here today when Lily… Whatever happened, I want her found.’
‘How is your relationship with your wife?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Really?’ Lottie raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve yet to come across a married couple who enjoy a perfect relationship.’
‘You don’t mix in the right circles, then. Sadie and I are totally compatible, and we have a beautiful daughter. We couldn’t be happier. Until today. You should be out looking for Lily.’
‘I have a team doing that. Can you tell me about the Healys? You were at their party.’
‘Freya’s party. A bit OTT for a twelve-year-old. We all got along just fine, though they were trying to be something they weren’t.’
‘In what way?’
‘The big house, big car, which I reckon they couldn’t afford, unlike us. Pretentious is how I’d describe Cam Healy, and his wife wasn’t much better. He was only an accountant, for God’s sake.’
‘They’d built a lovely house. Did you design it?’
‘No. They got some architect from Dublin. Apparently I wasn’t good enough for them.’
‘Did that displease you?’
‘God, no. Their house is a cheap replica of mine.’
Lottie decided to get him off his hobby horse of dissing the Healys. ‘Do you have any idea why they were murdered, or who was responsible?’
‘I thought Cam did it? That’s what they’re saying online. Though he was such a bigmouth, I’m sure he had plenty of enemies. Probably forgot to file someone’s taxes.’
‘We’re keeping an open mind at this stage,’ Lottie clarified. ‘Did you socialise with them?’
‘Sadie was friends with Caroline. I disapproved of it.’
‘Why?’
‘The Healys were not our sort of people. Built that house just to show off. It was blatantly obvious that they couldn’t keep up.’
The man was a total windbag, and Lottie had a hard job seeing him as a murderer or child abductor. But if Sadie was to be believed – and Martina had her doubts – he was an abuser. She struggled with how best to go about tackling him over it. Did it even have anything to with her investigation?
‘Do you ever hit your wife?’
‘That’s preposterous. What’s she been saying about me?’
‘Thomas, your daughter is missing. It’s possible Lily witnessed something and—’
‘You’re bang out of order.’ He jumped up. ‘My marriage is none of your business.’
‘It is if it helps me find Lily.’
‘I think you should leave, Inspector. Contact my solicitor if you require further information.’