The Doll's House

O’Connor answered the phone briskly. ‘Kate, I don’t have long. Butler wants to meet me before the ten o’clock session.’


‘I won’t delay you. I was wondering if you’d talked to either of Adrian Hamilton’s surviving children.’

‘Not yet, but hopefully today.’

‘I’d like to be there, O’Connor.’

‘What’s tweaked your interest?’

‘What do you know about either of them?’

‘Dominic Hamilton has no priors. Clodagh McKay had her driving licence taken from her – she was drunk, well over the limit. I understand she’s on the wagon now, but other than that, not a whole lot. I should have more information later on.’

‘You have the DNA results from the deposits under Keith Jenkins’s nails. I assume you’ll be using them.’

‘Only if we have reason to demand a comparison or people are in an obliging mood. So far this case isn’t oozing with friendliness.’

‘How did you get on with Alister Becon?’

‘Slick bastard.’

‘Not good, then.’

‘He gave us nothing, and he didn’t seem particularly concerned about his own safety either.’

‘What was your impression of him?’

‘As you know, he comes from a privileged background. I’d say he enjoys power and control. He probably gets off on being a well-known public figure. Most likely doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself.’

Kate laughed. ‘Maybe you’re the one who should have studied psychology, O’Connor. You’ve just described typical psychopathic traits – power, control, needing sensation, and a blatant disregard for others.’

‘Anything you’d like to add to that list, Kate, seeing as how we’re enjoying this psychology lesson?’

‘Well, the most intelligent psychopaths, especially those coming from privileged backgrounds, tend to avoid violence. They know it will get them into trouble. They prefer to use safer means of exploitation at their disposal.’

‘You mean they don’t get their own hands dirty?’

‘Exactly – you said he didn’t seem concerned about his own safety.’

‘That’s the impression I got. But Becon would be well used to saying one thing and meaning another. The guy is either putting up a great front, unwilling to show weakness, or he knows something and doesn’t want to share it.’

‘Or both.’

‘His hands are dirty too. I’d lay money on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s been more than a few rumours about his finances. The guy is no saint, but right now, it’s all bloody rumour.’

‘I see.’

‘Kate, I’ve got to go. Myself and Butler are about to have our little chat, but he’ll be looking for your report.’

‘I’m sending an interim one over now. And good luck with Butler.’

‘Hopefully, I won’t need it.’

‘And, O’Connor …’

‘What?’

‘Let me know what more you find out about Dominic and Clodagh Hamilton.’

‘It’s Clodagh McKay. She’s married.’

‘What does her husband do?’

‘Financial adviser. He has an office in town. I’m looking at him too. Kate, I gotta go. Butler’s smiling at me, and I fucking hate when he does that.’





Clodagh


It was late when Martin arrived home last night. Thankfully he left me alone. This morning I thought about phoning Ruby after he’d left for work, then thought again. Every time we speak, we have another row. It’s as if the same bloody chasm that existed between me and Mum is destined to infest another generation.

In a few minutes I’ll see Gerard Hayden again. I walk down the now familiar street, with its small houses on either side of the road, and click down the handle of the gate. I remember that sound from a previous regression session. When I ring the bell, it’s as if Gerard Hayden has been expecting me for some time because he opens the door within seconds. He must sense my mood because straight away he tries to put me at my ease, speaking to me about all kinds of things that are of no importance. But they relax me, taking my mind off how strange this process feels.

As we walk through the door with ‘Office’ stuck on it in black letters, Gerard asks, ‘Are you okay, Clodagh?’

Without meaning to, I give him the automatic response: ‘Yes.’