Soon, I hear Bridget. She is putting her things away in the closet at the end of the corridor. She will hang up her coat on one of the iron hooks, take off her outdoor shoes and put on her slip-ons. Then she will clear her throat. Bridget is the first sound I hear after the birds. The long night is over, and with this the knowledge that I must now face another day.
Was Andrew the beginning of my madness? Would I have done things differently if I had known? All those years ago, yet I still remember how I loved him, how every inconsequential detail of my life revolved around the two of us being together. The fact that we became lovers was inevitable. But now when I think of him, I think beyond our time of secrets, beyond our passion, I think of how, even back then, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a deep-rooted sense that in the end what we had together would be tinged with regret.
Before Bridget arrives into my room, I make the decision to ask her for a pen and paper. No harm to have it, just in case. I know this will surprise her, but I have no intention of asking her until just before she leaves. I am not ready to have my motives questioned, not just yet.
If I am to write, what will I write about? Will I write about how I got here? How Ellie Thompson became the shadowy figure that I am today. Could this draw a line under all that has happened, something that I have failed to do for the past fifteen years? We are all products of our past I suppose; none of us is born the person we ultimately become. I have long since stopped feeling shame about the affair – though it was not because of shame that I denied myself absolution. If it was just that, some lover’s cruel recall, I would not be haunted as I am haunted now.
House of Charles Innes
Saturday, 8 October 2011, 10.30 a.m.
KATE HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN THEY turned into the narrow street where Innes lived. O’Connor stopped the car slowly, pulling in like someone who knew he wasn’t going to be welcome and with no desire to warn anyone of his arrival.
Terraced houses crept along on both sides of the road. In some ways, they reminded Kate of the house on Landscape Avenue where she grew up, although they were a lot smaller. There, too, the houses followed each other in orderly fashion, regardless of whatever notions the owners held about individuality. But whatever similarities existed between the two streets, one difference was quite apparent: Landscape Avenue was upper-middle class; this place most certainly was not. The discreet movement of curtains in each of the windows they passed didn’t do anything to settle her, although O’Connor, if he noticed them, didn’t comment. His mind was focused on Charles Innes.
The front door of the house had glass panels on either side at the top half. Kate could see the dark shape walking from the back of the house to the front, and braced herself for the encounter.
Maybe Innes had expected someone friendly, but the original smile that greeted them when he opened the door vanished quickly, replaced by one of utter disdain. He may not have met O’Connor before, but Innes knew he was a copper even before he opened his mouth and asked to have a chat with him.
‘I don’t have time for chats. Now bugger off while I’m still being polite.’
‘Your car went through a checkpoint near Rathmines canal yesterday, and a couple of days before that.’
‘Is it a crime to drive? Last I heard we live in a free country.’
‘Suppose you’ve heard about the murder of Caroline Devine?’ O’Connor moved in closer to him, but Innes wasn’t shifting.
If she had to guess an age, Kate would have put him in his late forties, small, overweight and balding. He wore pyjama bottoms with navy stripes and a white sleeveless vest that had seen better days and was nearly as grimy looking as what was left of his thinning fair hair. She didn’t know what Innes worked at, but his tanned arms to below his armpits and rugged face told her he wasn’t the kind of man who sat in an office.
‘I’ve got nothing to do with it, so get the hell out of here.’
O’Connor eyed him coolly, but Kate could sense the tension in his body as he tried to keep his feelings in check. ‘Listen, Innes, we can keep shooting the breeze out here on the doorstep or go inside. I don’t much care either way, but maybe your neighbours might get a little jittery if we continue the party out here and I have to send a couple of squad cars around.’
Innes looked at O’Connor sulkily, but Kate could see him weighing up what had been said. ‘You have a warrant?’
‘I’m not looking to search the place, just talk. But I’d have no problem getting one if you want. Mind you, it’d be easier to drag your fat arse in for questioning, so why don’t you just invite us in, like nice civilised folks.’