The Doll's House

‘That’s the theory. He used the ledge to assist the drowning.’


‘We can assume the ledge formed part of the original canal structure.’

‘I suppose.’

‘But I can only see one ledge, and I’m looking at a full view from one bridge to the next.’

‘So?’

‘The ledge is parallel to where the tyre markings were found. The killer knew the exact point he wanted to stop at. He picked the location beforehand, even before the stabbing. The canal was his final destination.’

‘Meaning?’

‘That from the outset he wanted Keith Jenkins to die by drowning.’

‘Kate, they’re all screaming for your preliminary report.’

‘You’ll have it after I get the autopsy results. Tell O’Connor he should know better than to think these things can be rushed.’

‘It’s not only O’Connor.’

‘Well, he’s my link.’

‘I’ll pass on the message.’

‘And the missing wedding ring. Did Morrison confirm his earlier views that the finger indentation meant it was routinely worn?’

‘He did.’

Hanging up, Kate heard the Rathmines town-hall clock chime. She wondered again about Declan not being in touch. Maybe he was waiting for her to make the first call. Checking the signal on her mobile phone, she pressed ‘contacts’ and rang his number. As she did, it struck her that she hadn’t thought about what to say to him. They would probably talk about Charlie, keeping it nice and civil. She would ask him about work, and he would do the same, both of them pretending that everything was fine. It was easier to bury your head in the sand from a distance. But what they weren’t saying to each other was far more important than what they were. Judging by their last conversation, neither of them was prepared to move past simple pleasantries, keeping everything on safe ground.

Kate allowed the phone ring six times before hanging up. It wasn’t like Declan not to be in touch, so instead of leaving a message, she texted two words, Ring me, her mind turning back to Keith Jenkins’s murder.

The risk of the killer being seen was high, although his use of the ledge to facilitate the murder also meant he’d wanted to get in and out of the area quickly. The images from the study wall were still in her head: Keith Jenkins’s floating body, his brown hair, the dark shade of a female blackbird, swaying like seaweed in the icy waters. As a child, she had picked up a near-dead female blackbird from the side of the road. Her mother had said it was cruel to let the bird suffer. The beady eyes had stared at Kate, one female to another. She never found out what had happened to it. Her father had probably dealt with it. Even now, passing that spot on the road, she thinks about the blackbird, the worn-out eyes, beating chest, and the feel of bloodied feathers in her hands as she carried it home to what had been certain death. Thinking about the murder location, she knew place was always important. People and places come together for a reason. If the canal was chosen, could that particular stretch be of significance to the killer? And what was the thinking behind Keith Jenkins dying in that way?

Murder was full of secrets. Why had it happened? Who knew about it? Were there crimes within the crime? Nothing operates in isolation. Everything had connections, small or large.

Kate went back into the study, staring again at the images on the wall. She thought about how often the answers were not in what you saw but in what you couldn’t see. The wedding band: it being missing was significant, but was anything else missing? According to O’Connor, everything else was intact. None of the victim’s clothing, other than his scarf, which could have been lost anywhere, had been removed. Even his shoes had remained on his feet. Kate nearly missed hearing her mobile phone ringing in the other room, but she got to it in time to catch O’Connor, knocking her leg off the side of the couch in her effort to get there fast. Ever since their meeting at the canal, with Mark Lynch appointed as the official go-between, she had figured her contact with O’Connor would be less direct. On answering the call, she registered the sharpness in her own voice, which was less about her throbbing leg and more about their new communication set-up.

‘You sound frazzled, Kate.’

‘Me? No, I’m fine.’

‘I hear the killer’s objective from the start was to drown Keith Jenkins.’

‘It’s looking like that.’ Kate sat down, rubbing the side of her shin to ease the pain.