The Doll's House

‘That’s correct.’


‘If Gahan was putting the squeeze on Jenkins, as you say, someone gave him the information. We need to find out who, and how the hell they’re connected to all this.’

‘There is one other thing, O’Connor.’

‘What’s that?’

‘There’s no guarantee our killer’s motivation is gender specific. I’d keep an eye on Deborah Gahan, if I was you. If she’s holding something back, she could be in danger, even if she isn’t our favourite person in the world.’

‘More bloody police resources. Butler will be thrilled.’

‘As I said before, don’t shoot the messenger. Now, I have to go. You’ll have my report tomorrow.’

‘Grand, but shooting the messenger happens to be one of Chief Superintendent Butler’s favourite personality traits.’

‘Tomorrow, O’Connor.’





Macquay’s Bridge, Grand Canal Street


It’s nearly midnight. I feel lost inside my own mind. Almost as if everything that’s happening is happening to someone else.

The canal has become a second home for me. It holds my secrets. I watch the moon shine on the water as it pours ferociously through the locks, a sharp wind wrapping my face – cold and fierce, the way I killed the two of them.

Did they ever imagine my face would be the last one they would see? I try to visualise Jenkins and Jimmy Gahan being dragged out of the water, like rubbish.

Time is a funny thing. It can jump years. But the past lingers all your life. No matter what kind of shine Keith Jenkins put on things when he gained celebrity status, or whatever new deal Jimmy Gahan ventured on, their past stayed with them. It’s my past too. Now I’m taking ownership of it, and with that, I’ve regained my sense of power and control.

The future is somewhat trickier. It requires a steady hand. Too much haste and I could fuck it up. I have no intention of letting that happen. Once Jimmy’s body was discovered, seeing the police at Deborah Gahan’s house hadn’t surprised me. I knew it wouldn’t take them long to call on her. She’s a shrewd nut. Always was. If anyone could send the police on a merry dance, she could.

I think about paying her a visit tonight, but think again – far too risky.

Clodagh’s different. It won’t take a lot for her to hit the sauce again. I need to keep her close. The hypnosis is opening doors for her. She’s gaining confidence, I can tell. But confidence can be shattered. The more Clodagh meddles, the worse it will be.

Soon she won’t have to worry any more. Soon there will be no need for answers, because very soon, there will be no more questions.





Ocean House, the Quays


Imogen Willis looked nervous during the Wednesday-morning family meeting. Kate had met the family once before, when Imogen was initially referred to her. Imogen’s mother had a kind face, with short bobbed black hair, the obvious donor of Imogen’s large eyes. Imogen’s sister, Jilly, took after their father, both with pale skin, stockier build and wispy blond hair. They all looked to Kate, waiting for her to start things off.

‘It’s great to see you today, and I’m sure you’re delighted with Imogen’s progress.’

Imogen’s mother, Mary Louise, was the first to answer. ‘We are, Kate. Imogen is a changed girl. Isn’t she, Harry?’

‘Happier, much happier.’ Harry looked at his daughter, but Imogen didn’t turn to him.

‘What about you, Jilly? Have you noticed any change in Imogen since coming here?’

‘Yeah, she’s making real progress.’

Imogen smiled at her sister.

‘Good, that’s great.’ Kate paused, giving Imogen a reassuring look. ‘I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you here today.’

‘There isn’t anything wrong, is there, Kate?’ Mary Louise, unable to hide her anxiety.

‘No, no. Actually, it’s quite the contrary.’ Kate looked at her audience of four, wondering which of them seemed the most nervous. ‘I think this is an opportune time to chat a little about what’s been happening with Imogen. That is still okay with you, Imogen, isn’t it?’

‘Sure.’

‘Great. You all know that Imogen has begun to remember some things. Not everything that she remembers is making complete sense. At least, it isn’t right now.’

‘You mean about Busker dying?’ Again, Mary Louise was doing the talking.

‘Yes, that’s right. Imogen and I have spoken at length about her large gaps in memory, and her recollections, which is partly why I wanted to explain how disassociation works.’