‘I heard she was released at one stage, and committed again after trying to burn down a house.’
‘Mmm… I heard that too. But I don’t know the story behind it.’ She folded her arms, twitched her nose and set her mouth in a straight line. ‘I only know that when Stan came home that day and I told him what had happened, he told me to forget all about it. Never repeat it to a sinner, he said. And I never did. I’m only telling you because Stan is no longer around to know and now Tessa is dead too. And you’re not a sinner, are you, Inspector? So no harm done.’
Kitty leaned over and, with the aid of a walking stick, stood up, still doubled over. Lottie wondered if perhaps the old lady had paid with her health for not helping the young woman who had come to her door seeking refuge.
‘I still don’t understand why Carrie came all the way out here in the bad weather you’ve described. Why would she do that?’
‘I ask myself that question quite often. And I don’t like the answer I come up with.’
‘And what answer is that?’
‘That perhaps my Stan was one of those men who took advantage of her.’
‘Surely not,’ Lottie said.
‘This was a town of secrets. Open secrets. People knew everything and said nothing.’
Lottie knew only too well how the town worked. And she didn’t like it one bit.
‘I felt sorry for Carrie that day,’ Kitty said, her voice cracking. ‘Mainly because of her helplessness, but also because of her fear. But she made her own bed, as they say, and she had to lie in it, even if it did turn out to be in a padded cell in the asylum.’
‘I heard that one of her children was placed in the asylum too. I didn’t think that could happen.’
‘I know nothing about that.’ Kitty shuddered and gripped the mantelpiece for support. ‘But those were different times. Back then, children who were not wanted were put in any damn place an adult pleased.’
Lottie put out her hand to steady the old woman, who brushed away the help and flicked a long plastic flint. As the newspaper in the grate ignited, sparks shot out and a flame took hold. Another snarl of wind sent more soot trickling down the chimney. A gust appeared to shake the house to its roots. Should she ask the question or let it die? It would fester if she didn’t ask.
‘One last question,’ she said. ‘You mentioned Tessa was in cahoots with a guard. What were they involved in?’
‘Let me think.’ Picking up the poker, Kitty thrust it into the grate, moving the logs about. ‘The two of them eventually signed Carrie’s life away.’
Holding her breath for a moment, Lottie exhaled as she said, ‘What was his name?’
‘Detective Inspector Parker, are you sure you want me to answer that question?’ Two crystal eyes shot a look at her.
‘Yes,’ Lottie said.
‘I think you already know the answer,’ Kitty said and replaced the poker in the companion set. ‘Sometimes knowing is worse than not knowing. Can you understand that?’
‘I’m not sure, Kitty. I’m honestly not sure of anything.’
‘Well then, my dear, I think I’ve said all that I’m going to say. I’ll show you out.’
Seventy-Two
Detective Larry Kirby sucked hard on his e-cigarette, wishing he had never started the thing. A cigar, a nice fat Cuban. Yeah, that would be nice. He thought of Mick O’Dowd and how he had given him one the morning of the fire.
‘You know, Lynch,’ he said, ‘I’ve been thinking.’
‘You know, Kirby,’ she said, ‘that’s a dangerous thing.’
‘This Mick O’Dowd character. I can’t figure him out at all. If he had something to do with the fire or the drugs found there, wouldn’t he have been five hundred miles away at the time rather than reporting it and sitting waiting for us with no alibi other than his blasted cattle?’
‘Maybe it’s because he had nothing to do with it.’
‘But then Emma is killed on his farm and he disappears.’ He took a deep pull on his e-cig and let the vapour exit through his nostrils. Catching Lynch raising an eye, arching her eyebrow, he said, ‘And don’t even think about telling me to stop smoking this.’
‘I wasn’t going to. But I hope Superintendent Corrigan doesn’t arrive,’ Lynch said. ‘Back to Emma. If she went to O’Dowd’s voluntarily, then she thought she was safe there. So there has to be some connection between Emma’s family and O’Dowd, and the only thing I’ve found so far is his name in brackets next to Tessa’s on Marian’s family tree.’
‘That and the fact that the cottage he owned once belonged to Tessa Ball. Wait a minute.’ Kirby stood up and rooted through files on his desk. Not finding what he was looking for, he started thumping his keyboard. ‘Here it is.’
‘Here what is?’
‘There’s a map accompanying the folio number for the cottage.’
He stood beside the photocopier that doubled as a printer.
‘Come on. Come on.’ He tapped his foot on the floor, as if that would speed up the process. ‘Here.’
At his desk he lined up the pages of an outline property map. Lynch joined him to examine it.
‘That’s the folio number for the cottage.’ He pointed to the plot of land where the cottage was situated. ‘And that there is O’Dowd’s farm. We can assume he owns that. So why did Tessa transfer to him the piece of land with the cottage?’
‘Maybe because it was next door to him and she wanted a few quid, and he wanted to expand?’
‘But he didn’t expand. A drug king from Dublin moved in. Started a cannabis grow house.’
‘Perhaps he was fed up with farming. Wanted to branch out.’
‘That means he knew about the illegal activities. So why not let someone else report it when it went up in flames? That’s what’s stumping me.’
‘He reported it because he didn’t know what was going on. Maybe Tessa maintained overall control.’
‘Used him as a patsy?’
‘Yeah. Look and see who owned the farm before O’Dowd.’
‘I can’t see it from this. I’ll get back to land registry… Wait a minute, Lynch.’
‘What now?’
Kirby pointed to the map on his screen. Dragging the mouse, he zoomed in. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That there is Lough Cullion. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Lynch said, sitting forward.
‘And there is Dolanstown, O’Dowd’s farm, the cottage.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And that, on the other side, is Carnmore.’
‘I think I see where this is leading.’
‘Marian and Arthur Russell lived in Carnmore. And the land backs on to Dolanstown. Not accessed by road because of the new road. But the two are back to back.’
‘What’s that?’ With a pen in her hand, Lynch pointed to a square on the edge of Carnmore.
‘A big house?’ He zoomed in. ‘Feck this.’ He closed off the screen, brought up Google Maps. ‘That’s better.’ He keyed in Carnmore. ‘Okay. This is what you were looking at. It is a house.’
Lynch read from the screen. ‘Farranstown House.’
‘I recognise it.’ Kirby said. ‘I’d better ring the boss.’
‘I’m the boss.’ McMahon strode into the office, wet coat dripping water from his arm. ‘What is it I need to know?’
‘With all due respect, sir,’ Kirby said, ‘it’s nothing to do with the drugs angle. Just a little digging we were doing into land ownership. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.’
‘That is tantamount to insubordination. You had better tell me.’
Seventy-Three
The windows were as old as the house.
Kitty leaned on the window seat, pressing her face against the glass and looking out at the red hue tinting the darkness until the tail lights of the car disappeared at the end of the drive. As the black veil of night descended again, she withdrew back into the living room. The fire was struggling to ignite, but she wasn’t concerned enough with the cold to bother with it any further.
With the aid of her stick, she left the room and hobbled down the stone-floored hallway to the kitchen. In the darkness, from memory and by touch, she made her way to the phone hanging on the wall beside the bolted door that led to the old cellar.
Lifting the receiver, she hit the speed-dial button and waited for the pick-up.