‘When did you stop believing Maryanne was alive?’
‘I don’t know, after a few years, I suppose. And then when that one started going on about declaring her dead, well, it just kind of confirmed that something bad must have happened. And she was always hitching into town, you know? Jumping into the first car that stopped, not a bother on her. “Too fucking lazy to walk,” me old fella used to say. From him! A man who’d been on the social his whole bloody life.’
‘What did the Guards make of it?’
‘Bog all, really,’ he shrugs. ‘Me old fella wasn’t exactly on great terms with them so that didn’t help. Although to be fair, she was seventeen and she was known for being a bit wild. She’d ran away before, you see – only to Ballina for some festival but she was gone a few days, so I don’t think they paid much mind. Maybe I should have pushed them more but I was only fourteen. They’d have laughed me out the station.’
‘No other siblings?’
‘We’ve an older brother. He’d left home years before Maryanne went missing though and he’s in Canada now. We haven’t spoken properly in years. I get the odd Christmas card, pictures of his kids – well, they’re not kids now, they’re in their teens. I suppose I’ll have to give him a bell now .?.?. tell him about Maryanne, me dad .?.?.’
‘He doesn’t stay in contact with your dad?’
‘Nope. Let’s just say my folks weren’t really cut out to be parents. Both too fond of the sup. Mam was a happy drunk, at least. That’s how we saw it anyway. When the old fella was pissed, he’d dole out punches and rebel songs, but me mam, she’d be all kisses and promises. You know, things she was gonna buy us, places she was gonna take us. You knew it was baloney, but it was nice baloney. I miss her.’
‘How old were you when she died?’
‘I was twelve, Maryanne was fifteen. Cirrhosis of the liver. It wasn’t a nice death.’ A pause. ‘The women in our family don’t have much luck, do they?’ He reflects on this for a second but he’s not a wallower. ‘Come here, you said you’d answer any questions I have and I do have one. My question is, “what’s with all the questions?”’ What has Maryanne doing a runner out of Dodge all those years ago got to do with her being murdered yesterday?’
I steel myself to answer in the entirely politic, non-committal way that I’m paid to do.
‘We’re not sure at the moment. We’re just trying to get an idea of who she was. It could be the key to everything or it could mean absolutely nothing. I’m sorry, but that’s the most honest answer I can give you.’
And because screaming, ‘Wouldn’t I like to fucking know?’ in your face really wouldn’t benefit either of us.
‘Fair enough,’ he says – genuinely, I think.
He looks around the room, dwelling a beat or two on a canvas of pink poppies that I think he’s supposed to find soothing.
‘You know, Maryanne was a pain in the hole from the minute she got up in the morning until the minute she went to bed but she was my big sister, you know? She didn’t deserve .?.?. this. She wasn’t a bad person.’ He drags his eyes away from the poppies, plants them on mine. ‘Ah, would you listen to me, Cat. I haven’t set eyes on her in eighteen years, I’ve no idea what type of person she was. She could have been some gangland crime boss for all know. The Don Corleone of, where’d you call it, Thames Ditton.’ His smile gets broader. ‘Yeah, I could imagine that. Totally. Always had big plans, did Maryanne. Always so sure she was going to be someone. Be famous, like.’ A sharp rueful laugh. ‘She’s famous now, isn’t she?’
*
The office is quiet as I slink back in. Not exactly empty, but empty of anyone who’d have the remotest interest in what I’m up to. Seizing my chance, I breeze towards Steele’s office, smiling at people as I pass, even hovering for a few minutes to give my dishonest opinion on a pair of fleece pyjamas some Romeo has bought his lucky Juliet for Christmas.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
Just a lowly DC walking into a mighty DCI’s office and raiding her desk like a junkie scavenging for a fix.
Nothing to see here, folks.
I find the featherweight file under a pile of overtime sheets and there’s not much to see there either. They definitely weren’t joking when they said it was light on detail. I quickly scan the pages, all three of them – one standard Missing Persons form and two faded sheets which I’m loath to call witness statements as they read more like a sketchy Who’s Who of Mulderrin – a Sergeant Bill Swords’ private census, complete with withering observations and snippy little asides.
Martha Higgins – neighbour. Nothing relevant, couldn’t get any sense out of her, not playing with a full deck.
Manda Moran – friend. Hasn’t seen MD in days. Suggested some fella in Galway? Colette Durkin told her about him (Hazel Joyce told Durkin). Durkin a fierce liar though and M. Moran would believe the moon was made of cheese.
Colette Durkin – friend. Saw MD in the Diner on Sat morning (30th). Said she had ‘a right puss on her’. Denied knowledge of any fella in Galway. Wouldn’t know what to believe. Slippery as the day is long.
Pat Hannon – neighbour. Scuttered, uncooperative. Says MD has a ‘dirty mouth’ but a harmless old soul.
I find what I’m looking for three-quarters down the final page.
Jacqui McBride, fourteen, visiting from England (Agnes Kinsella’s crowd). Doesn’t know MD well, last saw her Thursday 28th sitting on St Benedict’s wall. Spoke briefly with parents. No relevant info.
So Jacqui had told the truth. She’d admitted she was a bit-part player and hadn’t tried to plant herself firmly in the thick of things like she normally did, back then more than ever.
In total it looks like Sergeant Bill Swords spoke with around twenty people. Not quite the ‘bog-all’ that Aiden Doyle suggested but perfunctory at best. A pass-muster B minus. Even the official Missing Persons form has a whiff of ticked boxes and jaded indifference.
Is the person suspected to be a victim of a crime in progress, e.g, abduction? NO
Is the person vulnerable due to age, infirmity, or any other factor? NO
Are there inclement weather conditions which would seriously increase risk to health? NO
Does the missing person need essential medication or treatment not readily available to them? NO
Does the missing person have any physical illness, disability or mental health problems? NO
Is there any information that the person is likely to cause self-harm or attempt suicide? NO
Has the person previously disappeared AND suffered or was exposed to harm? NO
Are there any indications that preparations have been made for their absence? Brother says bag is gone but nothing else obvious
Are there family and/or relationship problems or recent history of family conflict?
Jonjo Doyle well known to Guards for petty violent incidents
School, college, university, employment or financial problems? NO
Drug or alcohol dependency? NO
There’s part of me – the painstaking, zealous part that makes me tailor-made for Murder, despite what Steele thinks – that’s sick to my stomach at the thought of a teenage girl vanishing off the face of the earth and it warranting no serious follow-up. Yet tonight, as I crouch in Steele’s office, I could kiss Sergeant Bill Swords for his slap-happy half-job. For doing no more than what was absolutely required.
‘Spoke briefly with parents.’
And for his interpretation of the word ‘briefly’.
Because that’s not how I remember it. I remember two pots of tea drunk. A whole plate of fig rolls and half the coconut creams too. I remember the ‘Angelus’ ringing out at six p.m. and a big fat man, presumably Supersleuth Swords, leaping out of his chair, shocked that they’d been gassing for well over an hour when he had crimes to crack on with and cows to bring in.
But then, time always flies when Dad’s on good form.
And he was on sparkling form that day.