As Cian advanced further, Boyd pounced. The knife fell to the floor, and before Lottie could react, Boyd had snapped handcuffs on the naked man. Cian crumbled and began to cry. ‘I didn’t mean to kill them. That wasn’t supposed to happen.’
‘Call SOCOs and get him out of here,’ Lottie said.
Boyd led the man to his bedroom, where he found a robe to hide his nakedness, before bringing him down the stairs, reading him his rights as he went. O’Shea had presented as a dangerous threat to two detectives, armed with a lethal weapon. They could probably hold him for twenty-four hours on that charge alone. He would likely retract the words he had just uttered. Lottie needed evidence to support Annabelle’s statement.
The study had multiple screens hanging on the wall. Wide screens. Flat screens. Two computer desktops and laptops. Wires were neatly pinned and secured along the walls. A set of headphones hung on a hook and the leather chair was situated in front of a desk full of technology.
With her finger still gloved, she hit the return button on one of the laptops. A screen burst into life.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she said, exhaling a long breath. What the hell was Cian O’Shea involved in?
Eighty-Five
Kirby and Lynch were going over the information they’d received from the land registry when Boyd’s computer pinged with an email.
‘Have a look at that, Lynch. Might be important.’
Lynch went over and tapped Boyd’s keyboard. Kirby joined her.
‘Health service records?’ he said.
‘The list of St Declan’s patients. This is a wild goose chase.’
‘Open it up,’ Kirby said.
‘You do it. I’m not a snoop.’
‘Ah, for Christ’s sake.’ Kirby jabbed a thick finger on the email, opening it up. ‘Screenshots of handwritten originals. I’ll print them off and let Boyd chase his own goose when he returns.’
He ambled back to his desk.
‘So,’ he said, ‘all this land was owned by Stan and Kitty Belfield in 1970.’
‘Who owned it before them?’
‘What matters is who owned it afterwards. I don’t know why or how, but by 1976, this portion here, consisting of two hundred and sixty acres, was in Tessa Ball’s name. This piece here, where Marian lived, twenty acres, was also in Ball’s name. The Belfields retained ownership of the manor house and the land banking down towards the lake. With me so far?’
Lynch nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Over the last couple of years, the two hundred and sixty acres of farmland, including the cottage, was transferred over to Mick O’Dowd. He was just a farm tenant before that. Why the transfer? And the land at Carnmore containing two houses was transferred to Marian Russell. Nothing remained in Tessa’s name except her apartment. She wasn’t dying or anything, was she?’
‘Nothing showed up at the post-mortem.’
‘So the question is, what prompted a wealthy former solicitor to divest herself of her wealth?’ Kirby said.
‘Does it even matter?’
‘This might all have to do with land ownership, not drugs.’
‘Money,’ Lynch said, ‘the root of all evil.’
‘We need to run this by the boss,’ Kirby said. ‘They’re taking their time getting back.’
‘Who’s taking their time?’ McMahon asked, entering the office with a swish of his shoulders.
‘Shit,’ Lynch said.
Eighty-Six
Dressed in a white forensic suit, Cian O’Shea cut a morose figure in his sterile cell. Lottie left him to ponder the walls and walked up towards the office with Boyd.
‘Bastard, saying nothing until he gets his solicitor.’ Boyd thumped his hand against the wall with every step he took ascending the stairs.
‘We can nail him for the Moroney murders once SOCOs lift something from the washed clothes.’
‘If what Annabelle said about the blood is correct, then they will.’
‘And his DNA should be in Moroney’s house. But why did he do it?’ Lottie headed for the car pool yard. ‘I’d kill for a cigarette. We deserve a break.’
Huddled in the rear doorway, Boyd lit the cigarettes.
Lottie dragged heartily and stared up at the misty sky. ‘Will it ever end?’
‘The rain?’
‘Boyd, will you give me a hug. Just a quick one. In the face of all this insanity, I want to feel a little bit human.’ She turned to him, and he dipped his head and kissed her cheek before wrapping his arms about her.
‘You are the most human person I know,’ he said into her hair.
‘The world is so full of monsters, I fear for my family. I panic when I think of what we’ll find next.’ She drew away from his embrace, took another drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out. ‘And then I wonder if my father had any involvement with Carrie King’s incarceration in St Declan’s.’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘Maybe he was a monster too.’ She glanced up at the clouds as they burst with a thunderous downpour. ‘If he was into something illegal, maybe he didn’t like what he had become.’
‘You think that’s why he killed himself?’
‘If he did in fact kill himself.’
Boyd threw down his cigarette. ‘You may never know, and you have enough to concern yourself with right now.’ He gave her one final squeeze. ‘Let’s go back inside before we drown.’
‘We’ll get nowhere until O’Shea’s solicitor arrives. But first I want to speak with Natasha Kelly. Will you be a star and pull the car up to the door?’
* * *
They passed Marian Russell’s house on the way. It stood ghostlike; a spectre in the rain.
‘Where can Arthur Russell be hiding out?’ Lottie asked.
‘We’ve interviewed all his known friends. Searched everywhere. He hasn’t left the country. We’ll find him.’
‘I don’t think he killed his own daughter. When we spoke with him, he seemed to genuinely love her.’
‘You never know what can drive people to murder. Look at Cian O’Shea,’ Boyd said.
‘What was his motive for killing the Moroneys? That’s what I’d like to know.’
‘We don’t know that he killed anyone.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Do you think he murdered the others too?’
‘I don’t know, Boyd. I honestly don’t know what to think. But we really need to find Mick O’Dowd as well as Arthur.’
He parked outside the Kellys’. ‘No car.’
‘They might be at the shops,’ Lottie said. The house looked as empty as Marian Russell’s. She rang the bell, hammered on the door until her knuckles turned red.
‘No one home,’ Boyd said.
‘Check the rear.’ Lottie took off at a run and Boyd followed.
‘Definitely no one here,’ she said after a minute. ‘I thought they’d decided to stay. So where are they? I need to find out why Emma phoned Natasha.’
‘Calm down. They’ll be back.’
‘I’ve a bad feeling about this.’
‘You’ve a bad feeling about everything.’
‘Check their car registration number and radio traffic to watch for them. Shit, there isn’t even a neighbour to ask when they were last seen.’
‘Will you quit panicking? They’re not gone far.’
‘And how do you deduce that?’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’
Lottie watched as Boyd stomped back to the car. He leaned in and grabbed the radio. Looking around the house once again, she noted the lie of the land and wondered if Kirby had received any additional information about the land. Next on her list.
From the car, Boyd shouted, ‘McGlynn wants us at O’Shea’s house.’
Eighty-Seven
‘We’ve sent the clothes for analysis,’ McGlynn said, leading the way up the stairs.
‘They were washed. Will you get anything from them?’ Lottie asked.
‘Fingers crossed we will.’
‘I didn’t know you were the superstitious type.’
‘Detective Inspector Parker, you don’t know anything about me.’
‘True,’ Lottie said as they reached Cian’s study. ‘So, what did you want to show us?’
‘This here is Gary. He’s a technical genius.’
Lottie nodded at the young man. He was suited up, as she was, but she assumed he was young. Not too many technical geniuses in her age group. ‘What did you find, Gary?’
‘This is some set-up,’ he said, and she could hear the admiration in his voice. ‘There’s a whole games development suite here. I could sift through it all day long.’