She watched his retreating back before heading inside.
Upstairs in Emma’s room, she pulled on her protective gloves as a precaution and rooted around for suitable clothing. She decided on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a hoodie, then searched through the shoes. Nothing really appropriate for bad weather. A pair of blue Nike trainers would serve better than white Converses. As she was putting them in a gym bag she’d found at the bottom of the wardrobe, her fingers rubbed against something inside one of the trainers. Letting them drop, she jumped back, falling onto her bottom, sure that it was a mouse.
It wasn’t a mouse. A roll of cash lay on the floor beside the trainer, held together by a hair bobbin. She picked it up and put it into a plastic evidence bag she had plucked from her pocket. The outside note was a fifty. A lot of money for a teenager, she thought. Had robbery been the motive after all? And why did Emma have it secreted away in the bottom of her wardrobe?
Putting the plastic bag with the money into her handbag, Lottie scanned the room for a jacket. Not seeing one, she went downstairs and rummaged through the rack of coats in the hall. She noticed a man’s black North Face jacket among the feminine attire, and wondered if it belonged to Arthur Russell.
Inspecting it, she found the outside pockets empty, but in the inside breast pocket her fingers touched a piece of paper, neatly folded, nestling at the seam. It looked like a receipt. Opening it up, she found that it was a receipt, dated the day of the murder. From Danny’s Bar. Arthur worked there. The time on the receipt was 19.04. She put it into another small plastic evidence bag.
Unhooking a jacket for Emma, she stuffed it in the gym bag and rushed outside.
‘Boyd?’
He stuck his head out from behind the shed door. ‘What?’
‘There’s a black North Face jacket hanging in the hall. Get it bagged, tagged and brought in for forensic examination.’
‘Sure,’ he said.
Lottie set off up the road to prepare Emma for the visit to her mother. First, though, the girl had a few questions to answer.
* * *
At Bernie Kelly’s gate, she met Detective Maria Lynch.
‘You took your time,’ Lottie said.
‘I’d things to sort out regarding the cottage fire. I’m sure Garda O’Donoghue won’t mind. I’ll take over now.’
‘I relieved her.’ Lottie held up the gym bag. ‘I just ran down to get fresh clothes for Emma. I’m bringing her to visit her mother.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’
‘Why not? She wants to see her. I can’t deny her that. But now that you’re here, you can take her.’
Bernie Kelly opened the door.
‘Takes two of you now, does it?’ she said, folding her arms.
Lottie walked past her into the house.
‘I’ll give this to Emma.’ The sitting room was empty. ‘Upstairs, is she?’
Bernie looked from Lottie to Lynch. ‘I thought you took her home to fetch clean clothes. Didn’t you?’
‘No.’ Lottie glanced into the kitchen. Natasha was sitting at the table, munching on burnt toast. ‘Lynch, check upstairs.’
Lynch ran up the stairs. She shouted back down, ‘No one here.’
‘Where is she?’ Lottie asked frantically.
Bernie shrugged her shoulders. ‘When I came in here, both of you were gone. I assumed she went with you.’
‘Where would she go?’ Lottie tried to stem the panic gathering in the pit of her stomach.
‘Maybe she went on ahead to the hospital,’ Bernie said.
‘Has she got her phone?’ Lottie tapped in Emma’s number. ‘Nothing. It must be switched off.’ She swung round to Lynch. ‘Did she pass you on the road?’
‘Not that I noticed.’
Rushing back into the kitchen, Lottie towered over Natasha. ‘Where is Emma?’
‘Hey, wait a minute, Inspector.’ Bernie Kelly grabbed Lottie by the arm. ‘No need to go accusing my daughter of anything.’
‘Natasha.’ Lottie ignored Bernie and leaned down to the wild-haired teenager. Looked her in the eye. ‘Where would she go? Has she other friends she hangs out with?’
Natasha shook her head. ‘Don’t know,’ she mumbled.
Lottie looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. Think.
‘Lynch, go to the hospital. See if she’s there.’
As Lynch left, Lottie rang Boyd. Emma hadn’t appeared there either.
She turned back to Natasha. ‘I know you know where she is, so you’d better tell me, young lady.’
Natasha glanced at her mother. ‘She took my bike,’ she said.
Bernie’s face was red. ‘Natasha, I told you to—’
‘Tell me!’ Lottie shouted.
The teenager melted into her chair. With toast crumbs stuck to her lipgloss she said, ‘She might be with her boyfriend.’
Thirty-One
Lottie collected Boyd from Marian Russell’s house. So far nothing had been found buried beneath the timber in the shed. But the plants in the fuel tank had been taken away for testing.
‘She has a boyfriend?’ Boyd clipped in his seat belt as Lottie took off down the road, wipers swishing trying to keep up with the rain.
‘Natasha admitted it. Lorcan Brady. We need to check him out.’
‘We should have found out about this boyfriend earlier.’
‘Boyd. Don’t.’
‘Shouldn’t he be at school at this hour of the day?’
‘He’s twenty-one. Unemployed, according to Natasha. We’ll run his name through PULSE database later.’
‘Did you get his phone number?’
‘Said she didn’t have it.’
‘Isn’t this a bit far for Emma to walk?’ Boyd said, following the road with his eyes.
Taking a turn at the hospital, Lottie headed along the cemetery road. ‘She took Natasha’s bike.’
‘All the same…’
‘She might have arranged to meet him somewhere and he picked her up,’ she said. ‘Wonder if he has a car?’
Three minutes later, Lottie pulled into the drive of a two-storey house. It looked uncared for, she thought, if not abandoned.
She stepped out on mud flowing towards the road. A lazy-looking collie dog lay on the front doorstep. It didn’t move. A red 2010 Honda Civic was parked at the side of the house.
‘If that car was any lower to the ground, you’d have to tow it.’ She noted the registration number to check later. ‘Souped-up exhaust pipe too.’
‘You’d hear it before you see it,’ Boyd said.
Lottie knocked on the door. No bell. No answer, either. They walked to the rear of the house. The dog followed silently.
The yard was piled high with black rubbish bags. Some bitten through by the dog or maybe vermin; tea bags and bits of vegetable peelings were scattered around. Picking her steps carefully, Lottie peered through the window.
‘No one home?’ Boyd said.
‘Curtains are drawn. It looks deserted.’ She hammered on the door. Waited. No one appeared.
‘Emma’s not here. Hospital next?’
‘Yes. Lynch should be there now.’
When she got back into the car, her phone rang. Lynch. ‘Emma’s not here at the hospital, but you…’
‘What?’ Boyd asked.
‘Shush,’ Lottie said.
Lynch was still talking. Lottie said, ‘We’ll be there in a few minutes.’
She looked at Boyd as she hung up. ‘I think we just found Lorcan Brady.’
‘Where?’
‘He’s one of the fire victims.’
* * *
Huddling in the hospital corridor, Lynch updated Lottie. Boyd lounged against the wall.
‘So one of the guys is Lorcan Brady,’ Lottie clarified. ‘But you don’t know which one yet?’
Lynch nodded.
‘How were you able to get the name?’
‘I ran the registration of the car found at the cottage.’
‘But we’ve just come from Brady’s place. There’s a red Honda Civic there.’
‘Maybe it belongs to the other fellow. We still have no positive ID on either man.’
‘We’d better run the Honda plates.’ Lottie walked around in a circle, tapping her phone against her leg. ‘Is the victim still unconscious?’
‘Yes. Severe burns and fingers hacked off.’
‘So it might be Lorcan Brady and it might not.’
‘Affirmative.’
‘Brady is in the system. See if anything else matches to this guy. Is his room still guarded?’
‘Yes, and Marian’s.’