‘I won’t lie to you – I don’t feel myself. You of all people know how I get, since the . . .’ He touched the centre of his chest with fingertips.
‘You don’t feel yourself?’
Valentine looked back to the window. ‘Do you remember what that bloke said?’
‘You mean Crosbie?’
‘Yeah, him. He told me, in time, I’d come to know what the signs were. That I’d get to know when they were coming.’
‘Is that where you think you are now?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I know something’s not right with me. I feel this impending dread inside me, but I’ve no idea what it is or what it means.’
‘You really should see Crosbie again. I’ll set something up as soon as I can.’
‘Now wait a minute.’
‘Sir, this could be related to the case. All those other times it happened . . . just think how much easier it would be if you could control this for your benefit.’
‘I don’t know, Sylvia.’
‘You have trouble buying into all of this, I get that, but didn’t Crosbie say you were over-intellectualising?’
‘I don’t think that’s a word he would use.’
‘You know what I mean. He said you were trying to comprehend something in your mind that couldn’t be understood at the level of the mind.’
‘Yes. Something like that.’
‘Your trouble isn’t a problem you can rationalise, Bob. You need to find acceptance. I can’t do that for you.’
‘OK then.’
DS McCormack turned for the door; her movements indicated the conversation was over. ‘Are you ready for Keirns now?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
Garry Keirns sat facing the two officers with his hands positioned flatly in front of him. They were not big hands, certainly not farmer’s hands, but small and almost podgy. The nails had been bitten to the quick and the knuckles were freckled. Thin wisps of red hair occupied the extremities and joined with more freckles where they attached to the wrists. As confidently as Keirns had laid out his hands, when he caught the officers assessing them, he whipped them away and put them beneath the tabletop.
‘Bit jumpy aren’t you, Garry?’ said Valentine.
‘I don’t think so. No more than anyone in my position would be.’
‘And what position’s that?’
He huffed. ‘Do I need to spell it out? Jesus, you raided my foster father’s funeral not an hour ago.’
DS McCormack replied, ‘I think that might be an overstatement of the facts, Garry.’
He shook his head. ‘Look, just get on with it. What the hell do you want from me?’
Valentine detailed the morning’s events, adding the second body at the end of his description of the first. When he was finished speaking Keirns sat impassively before them as if he was preparing himself for further shocks to come. It was difficult for the DI to judge his reaction because there was little or no reaction at all. He had often found that, in similar circumstances, people simply shut out the fantastic because they had no points of reference for it.
‘Have you nothing to say, Garry?’
A grey tongue touched his dry lips. ‘Well, no, not really.’ He paused, moving his head slightly to the side but keeping his gaze on the officers. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m a bit flabbergasted.’
‘It’s a lot to absorb,’ said McCormack. ‘Take your time.’
‘I don’t mean that,’ he snapped. ‘I mean I’m bloody stunned you got me in here thinking I’d have anything to do with putting young ones in a barrel, sealing it up and burying it in the ground. Do I look like an idiot?’
Valentine shifted in his seat; he was aware of McCormack regarding his reaction. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Mr Keirns, that’s a very callous response to the news I’ve just given you.’
Keirns leaned forward, jutting out of his chair. He showed his hands again; this time he was pointing fingers. ‘Don’t try and twist this.’
‘We’re not in the business of twisting things,’ said McCormack. ‘The point the detective inspector is trying to make is that the bodies of two children have been recovered from your former property today and your main point of attention seems to be on your own grievance.’
The fingers were retracted; he patted the tabletop whilst he spoke. ‘I’m not saying that, of course it’s very sad. I feel for the families, I really do, but it is nothing whatsoever to do with me. Now do you get that bit? Nothing to do with me.’
‘I think we understand what you’re saying,’ said the DI.
‘Grand.’ Keirns rose from the table and moved away from it. ‘Then can I go now?’
‘You’re not under arrest, Mr Keirns; you’re free to leave at your own choosing. But there are one or two aspects we’d like you to clarify for us.’
Keirns stepped back to the table and eased the chair out once more. As he sat down Valentine removed a sheaf of paper and presented it to him.
‘What’s this?’
‘I believe it’s what you call a deed of sale. Or should I say, a photocopy.’
‘Yes, well, what of it?’