Chapter 17 #2
The Chief Superintendent still had nothing to tie MacGowan or Knowlan to the crime, but he had a gut feeling.
In half an hour, Healy delivered the requested information. O’Brien pored over the cell phone and email records for Keenan Moynihan, chewing on his unlit cigar as he read. He needed anything that could give him a clue as to why someone murdered Moynihan.
“Get me a list of the students in MacGowan’s class,” O’Brien yelled to Healy. “I need as much information about those students as possible.”
“Right away, sir.” Healy called the University and asked them to fax a list of students in MacGowan’s class, including demographic and contact information for each student. Five minutes later, he handed the list to O’Brien.
“You do good work, Healy,” O’Brien said, the wet unlit cigar stub clenched between his teeth. “I don’t care what the boys at the pub say,” he chuckled and winked at Healy. The two men had a good working relationship. O’Brien’s sense of humor helped.
“So you go to the gay pub, sir?” Healy chuckled as he left O’Brien’s office.
O’Brien compared Moynihan’s email list with the student list. He found several names that matched. He looked at the cell phone list of calls and texts, but only had numbers.
“I need the names that go with the numbers on this cell phone list of Moynihan’s,” O’Brien yelled at Healy.
“Right away, sir.” Healy placed a call to the cell phone company. He gave them the numbers and asked them to fax him a list of names that matched those numbers. The cell phone company asked for verification that this was a Gardaí investigation.
“Sir, we need verification for the cell phone company. Can you ask the Deputy Commissioner to notify them?”
“I’m on it,” O’Brien said, picking up the phone and dialing the home office for his region.
“Deputy Commissioner Cassidy,” O’Brien said when the phone connected on the other end, “Chief Superintendent O’Brien calling.”
“O’Brien. What’s up?” Cassidy answered.
“Sir, we need the phone company to release records to us. The murdered lad, I need names attached to the numbers connected to his cell phone calls. I sent a list of those numbers to you.”
“I’m on it, O’Brien. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Expect to hear from the phone company within the hour.” Cassidy disconnected the call.
“Healy, let me know when those names come through from the phone company.”
“Yes, sir.”
Within minutes, Healy’s phone rang.
“Healy,” he answered. The cell phone company asked for his fax number. The fax machine spat out the student information. He delivered the fax to O’Brien.
“Thanks, Healy.” O’Brien glanced at the list. “Remind me to give you a raise,” his clenched teeth firmly grasped the soggy cigar butt.
“Yes, sir, I’ll remind you tomorrow,” Healy chuckled as he left O’Brien’s office
O’Brien cross-referenced the list of texts and calls with the list of names from the cell phone company, then compared that with the list of students from MacGowan’s class. He came up with twenty names. “Healy, get in here!”
Healy appeared in the doorway almost immediately. “Yes, sir?”
“I need these twenty students brought in this afternoon or tomorrow. I want to interview each of them separately.”
“Yes, sir.” Healy took the list from O’Brien. “Do we issue warrants or suggest they volunteer to appear?”
“Let’s try the volunteer route first. If that doesn’t work, we’ll resort to warrants.”
“I’ll have the desk sergeant contact them.”
“You do good work, Healy. Remind me to send your mother flowers.”
“My mother is dead, sir,” Healy chuckled.
Even in tense situations, O’Brien kept his humor about him.
Ten of the twenty students came to the Gardaí station that afternoon. The lads were nervous about being called to the Gardaí station. They were eager to share any information that would help them get out of there quickly.
O’Brien asked if they knew Moynihan and if they were in his group. Of the ten, five answered yes to both questions.
All five confirmed that Moynihan suspected MacGowan planned for the projects to overlap. All five confirmed that Moynihan spoke about the connection. All five confirmed that MacGowan could have a grand plan that involved the individual projects the students were assigned.
One student, Garrett Burke, seemed particularly nervous.
“Mr. Burke, we’re not accusing you of anything. We merely want information.” O’Brien tried to soothe the lad, but his stature and natural gruffness did not help the situation.
“I-I-I’m sorry. I-I’m uneasy about Dr. MacGowan.” Burke studied his clasped hands, knuckles white from the tight grip.
“What about MacGowan?” O’Brien pressed.
“He reminds me of my father. All sweet while my mother was in the room, but he would lash out at me the second she was gone. Like my dad, Dr. MacGowan always seems to simmer below the exploding point.”
“Why does your dad criticize you?”
“He wants me to work in the mines like him. He says I’m wasting time working with computers and attending school.”
“You stick to your schooling, lad. The world runs on computers.”
“Aye, sir,” Burke said.
“Has Dr. MacGowan done anything to any of the lads at school?”
“Not that I have seen, but I only see him in class. He’s so driven about this project that it’s almost scary. Mistakes are not tolerated.”
“Has he threatened anyone?”
“Not that I heard.”
“Burke, you are a big help. Best not to tell anyone what you shared with me. No reason to alert anyone else to your suspicions. Keep a low profile, but please let me know if you notice anything odd or unusual. And definitely let me know if you feel threatened. You can be my eyes and ears.”
“Yes, sir,” Burke said.
“You may go, and Burke? You did good, lad. I’m proud of you. Best not to mention anything to your dad.” O’Brien figured a bit of boosting would help nervous lads like Burke be more forthcoming, especially since there was trouble at home.
A look of relief crossed Burke’s face. “Thank you, sir.” He stood and hurried away.