Chapter 36
Sam McKeown sat on a high stool at the bar.
She walked towards him, her toes and fingers tingling with nerves.
She’d told herself on the drive that she would have to come up with a better story than needing the information for her studies.
She didn’t want him to know about the suspicion that fuelled her curiosity.
But he wasn’t stupid. And what did it matter? It was probably nothing.
Her bones were sore from the uncomfortable drive in her gran’s car, which was now hers since Gran was no longer allowed to drive.
She missed her, even though over the last year Rose’s health and mind had deteriorated and it was difficult to hold a conversation with her.
But in a few moments of lucidity at Grace Boyd’s wedding, Rose had talked some sense into Lottie, who then had not vetoed Chloe accepting her place in Garda training college.
‘Hi, Sam.’ She slid onto the stool beside him.
He turned to face her, his eyes wandering the length of her body, and she was glad she’d worn jeans rather than a skirt. He had a lecherous look about him and she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake.
‘Well, if it isn’t mini Lottie Parker.’
She tittered nervously. ‘Don’t bring my mother into this and don’t mention it to her either.’
‘No need to worry on that score. We’re not exactly bosom buddies. Your mother retains that luxury for a certain Mark Boyd.’
‘Don’t tell him either.’
‘I’m intrigued, Miss Parker. Why the need for such deception?’ He raised his pint glass and she noticed he had a hotel key card on the counter. He caught the direction of her glance. ‘Saves me getting pulled over for drunk-driving. What will you have?’
‘Diet Coke. Please.’
‘Go on. Be a daredevil. Something stronger?’
‘No thanks.’
While he ordered her drink and another pint for himself, she tried to calm her breathing.
Surely this wasn’t a mistake? Working on her initiative had got her into trouble as a teenager, but this was different.
Even so, McKeown had a reputation. What had Martina called him?
A barracuda. A predator fish. If that was what he was, she could be a piranha.
She was well able to look after herself.
Shaking off her nerves, she accepted the Diet Coke.
‘I’m all ears,’ he said, ‘even though Boyd is the one with the big ears.’
‘I happen to like Mark,’ she said, standing up for the man who’d helped her with her Templemore application.
‘I’m joking. Everyone likes him.’
She sipped from her glass and pulled a face when she discovered it was a normal Coke. It felt like he was testing her.
‘Tell me about the Healy case,’ she said, deciding to get straight to the reason for meeting him.
‘No foreplay? I’m disappointed.’
Narrowing her eyes, she picked up her bag and made to leave. ‘That sort of language is just not on.’
‘I apologise. Forgive me. Please sit down. This is my third pint. I was here early. I’ve had a hard day, but I’ll be good.’
The more he talked, the more she regretted her decision to meet him. He was obnoxious. Her mother was right. But wasn’t she always? That thought made Chloe more determined to prove that she could think on her own two feet. That she could handle herself.
‘I forgive you this time,’ she said. ‘I want to know the facts about the case. Not the watered-down press-release version.’
‘Can I ask why you’re interested?’
‘I told you, it’s for an assignment. I’m studying familicide and murder-suicides and the psychology behind those sort of crimes. I’d like to learn a bit more by hearing about a live case.’
‘Nothing much live about it. The three family members are dead.’ He was trying to be smart, and that exasperated her.
‘Can’t you just humour me?’ She forced a semblance of lightness into her tone. ‘After all, I had to borrow a car and drive the whole way up here.’ A blatant lie. ‘I don’t want it to be a wasted journey.’
He reached over and put his hand over hers where it rested by her glass on the counter. He squeezed her fingers. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t be wasted.’
Staring at him, she slid her hand out from under his and wiped it on her jeans. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just reassuring you that I can help. What exactly do you want to know?’
As she was about to open her mouth, a burst of karaoke music exploded from the far corner of the lounge and lifted her off the stool. ‘Jesus, the noise.’
‘Let’s get out of here.’ He scooped up the key card and downed his pint. ‘We can talk in my room.’
A bad idea, but she wanted information and he had it. She leaned over so he could hear her above the din. ‘I need to use the ladies’.’
‘I’ll wait in the lobby by the elevators.’
In the bathroom, Chloe splashed water on her cheeks and washed her hands. She was a big girl and could manage this. Couldn’t she?
Lottie tossed and turned as the rain pounded above her head. She hoped the roof wouldn’t leak any worse than normal, because that would be that. No way could she continue to pour money into the house. It was too early to sleep and her headache had abated, but she had no intention of getting up.
She froze at the sound of a soft knock on her bedroom door. It was just gone 9 p.m. Must be her grandson, Louis.
‘Go back to bed, Lou. Nana’s tired.’ She hadn’t the energy to get up and bring him back to his room.
The knock landed again right before the door opened.
‘For God’s sake…’ She dragged herself upright and swung her feet to the floor before finding the switch for the lamp. ‘Boyd?’
‘Did I wake you?’
‘I wasn’t asleep.’
‘Just wanted to say that Rose is finally settled. I gave her two paracetamol. Hope that’s okay? She said her ankle was paining her.’
‘Thanks,’ she said grudgingly, waiting for him to leave. He stood half in, half out of the room, leaning on the door frame. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘Can I say something?’
‘You can if you leave me alone to get some sleep.’
‘Right. Well. The thing is, you need to be a bit more gentle with your mother. She can’t help the way she is. Just agree with whatever she says. It’ll make life easier for you.’
Rage bubbled in her chest like a cauldron of boiling oil. She didn’t care that she was dressed only in a thigh-length T-shirt. She jumped up and was about to let fly when he turned and left.
‘Mark Boyd!’ She ran out the door after him. ‘Don’t interfere in my life. You made it clear we were done and I let you stay here for your son’s sake. And if you try—’
He spun round, putting his hands on her shoulders, silencing her.
‘I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.
The plumbers started today, then the plasterer has to fix the damaged ceiling.
I appreciate you letting us stay here. Now go back to bed and sleep, because I intend to. ’
She was too tired to retaliate. She watched Boyd enter his room, closing the door and shutting her out. Then she heard the click-clack of crutches on the tiles in the hall below. She looked over the banisters. ‘Mother?’
‘What’s happening up there?’ Rose said. ‘You’d wake the dead. I’m going to make breakfast.’
‘You can’t,’ Lottie said, forgetting Boyd’s advice. ‘It’s midnight. Go back to bed.’
‘Don’t be daft, girl. Get your uniform on. You don’t want to be late for school.’ Rose continued into the kitchen, where she fumbled for the light switch.
Lottie sank to her knees on the rough floorboards and stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep from crying.
Maybe that was what she needed. A good cry.
But there was no time for self-pity in her life.
She fetched a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on her bed and made her way downstairs to cajole her mother back to bed.