Chapter 50
Martina was seated in the office checking out Dermot Macken’s background. It was McKeown’s job, but he hadn’t been around when the boss rang with the request. Boring work. Birth certificate, previous addresses, driver’s licence, passport. Other than that, she was coming up with a big fat blank.
She was about to go to the canteen for a coffee, hoping it might instil some enthusiasm, when she had a call. Unknown number. She answered it.
‘Is that Garda Martina Brennan?’
‘Clarice, is that you?’ She suspected it was the barmaid, though the young woman was whispering.
‘Yeah, you said to ring if I thought of anything else.’
‘And did you?’
‘No, but mean-arse just walked in.’
‘Who?’
‘Lucozade Zero man. Listen, I can’t say anything else in case he hears me. You want to talk to him? You better get over here now.’
Clarice hung up and Martina looked around the office.
No sign of Kirby. McKeown had returned from wherever he’d disappeared to earlier and had buried his head in his laptop.
No way would she ask him to accompany her, and she couldn’t be listening to Garda Lei with his constant chatter.
On her own so. She threw her coat on over her uniform, having dumped the hi-vis, and left the station.
The Canal Bar was quiet. The lunchtime crowd had dispersed to their offices and workplaces.
The smell of cooked food lingered, and Martina realised she was starving.
She grabbed the sticky menu and glanced around surreptitiously.
She hadn’t met Liam Scanlan before, and Clarice was doing her best to point him out by nodding towards the corner under the television, trying not to be noticed.
Scanlan was thin, and even though he was seated, Martina could see he was tall. Definitely not her type, and no way could she imagine the spry Clarice in bed with him.
‘Plate of chips and a Lucozade Zero,’ she said, grinning.
Clarice looked like she might faint but recovered quickly. ‘No bother.’
How to play this? She’d arrived with no idea how she could get talking to him. But she needn’t have worried. He’d copped her. Made her for a guard. She could see the look on his face in the mirror behind the bar. He jumped up so quickly, he banged his head on the shelf holding the television.
‘Going somewhere, Mr Scanlan?’ she asked.
‘Back to work. Are you following me?’
‘I came in for my lunch.’
‘Haven’t seen you here before. Not your local, is it?’
She decided not to engage in chit-chat. ‘If you’re finished eating, I’d like a word with you.’
‘Not here,’ he said, eyeing Clarice, who was polishing a glass to within an inch of shattering, her eyes glued to them. She wouldn’t make it as a spy.
‘We can go to the station.’
‘There’s no need for that. My apartment is upstairs. We can talk there.’ He threw a glance toward the bar. ‘It’s more private.’
‘Hold my food. I’ll be back shortly,’ Martina said. She didn’t want Liam to realise she’d already spoken to Clarice, but she did want the barmaid to know that it would be odd if she didn’t return.
‘No problem at all,’ Clarice said, and screwed the top back on the bottle of Lucozade Zero.
The apartment had a series of bolts on the inside of the door.
‘Expecting trouble?’ she asked.
‘Tea?’ he said without replying to her question.
‘No thanks.
‘I reckon Clarice has coloured your judgement of me.’ He held up a hand to shush her. ‘No need to pretend you never met her before, because she was on her phone and ten minutes later you walked in. I’m not stupid.’
‘I didn’t think you were.’
‘What do you want to ask me?’
She pulled out a wooden chair that was shoved in at the narrow table.
He leaned against a breakfast bar, little more than a shelf protruding from the wall.
She’d lived in small flats, but this place was tiny.
He towered over her, his head almost touching the greasy stippled ceiling. God it was hideous.
‘You weren’t at your office earlier.’
‘Is that a question?’
‘I’ll rephrase it.’ She took out her notebook and pen and placed her phone on the table, thinking she’d have to sanitise it afterwards.
‘You spoke to my inspector this morning. Something came up in another interview that she wanted to run by you, but when she called to your office, it was all locked up.’
‘Late lunch.’
‘I’m talking about a few hours ago.’
‘So what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that my boss has been murdered. I walked around the town park. Looked in a few shops. Is that a crime?’
‘No. You lived here long?’
‘I hate this place, but it’s all I can afford.’
‘Cameron Healy not pay you much?’
‘I’m nothing more than a glorified assistant and he pays… paid me as such. Next question.’
‘But you were on good terms with the family, is that correct?’
‘I suppose so. I was treated well despite the wages. I’d no complaints.’
‘Ever been to their house?’
‘A few times. Cameron has an office there too.’
‘So I believe. When were you last at the house?’
He pulled out the other chair and sat. His knees close to hers. He tapped the table with an overlong fingernail. ‘I gather someone said I was there on Sunday.’
‘They did.’
‘Not a crime.’
‘You neglected to tell Inspector Parker about that visit on the occasions when she spoke with you. Why was that?’
‘Maybe I forgot.’
‘Or maybe you didn’t want us to know.’
‘That’s your opinion.’ His lip curled, and she could understand how Clarice had changed her mind about sleeping with him.
‘Enlighten me then.’
‘About why I was there on Sunday or why I didn’t say I was there?’
‘Start with why you were there.’
‘Cam was in a bit of a bind over his personal finances. He’d messed up transferring money when he built the house. He thought he had more than he had. He massaged the figures a little.’
‘There’s massaging figures, but he’d have needed actual money. How did he…?’ Suddenly it dawned on Martina. ‘He stole client money?’
‘Something like that. But it has nothing to do with the murders.’
‘You can’t know that. Who did he steal from?’
‘It wasn’t stealing. It was borrowing. I can’t tell you any more than that.’
‘We didn’t find Cameron’s personal account on the files we got. Why?’
‘Because it’s on a separate server and it’s in a state. I had a look at it, and… God almighty, it’s a glorified mess.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Send it over.’ She paused, wondering if she had pushed him far enough. Feck it. ‘Why were you really at the house on Sunday? Surely it could have waited until Monday morning.’
He fidgeted with his nails. Much too long. She shivered. He said, ‘A guy called me…’
‘What guy?’
‘Doesn’t matter who. He wanted me to deliver a message to Cam.’
‘And what was that message about?’ Jesus, she’d never make a detective because she’d be done for murder first. You’d need the patience of a saint.
‘That the money better be in his account by Sunday evening or Cam was a dead man walking. His exact words.’
She felt her heart quicken. Was this the reason for the murders? ‘You need to tell me his name.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then you’re coming with me to the station.’ She stood, her knees knocking against his, and a tremor of concern shook her body.
‘I don’t think I am.’
She caught the glint of steel in his hand before she felt the intense pain in her side. She tried to reach for her phone, but her hands automatically went to her ribs. Stars pixelated the face above her as she slipped to her knees. She hit the floor right before everything went dark.