‘We have. Nothing major. He retired from the army and set up his company.’
‘Sloppy work, Inspector.’ Phillips tut-tutted. ‘He was kicked out for bringing the good name of the Irish army into disrepute. Do your job properly and you might find my daughter. Before it’s too late.’
Lottie glanced around the room. Where to go from here? She didn’t want this to be a wasted journey, or Corrigan would be at the arrivals gate of Dublin airport with her P45.
She said, ‘Maeve had a new, expensive dress in her wardrobe. Do you know anything about that?’
‘A dress?’
‘Yes. McNally took it.’
Phillips seemed to deliberate over this, his eyes glaring. At last he said, ‘I’ve no idea why he would do that.’
‘I think you do.’ Lottie walked around in a circle and came to a stop, towering over the criminal. ‘Why was McNally in Ragmullin two days before Maeve went missing?’
‘Interesting you should ask that.’ He moved away from her. ‘Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.’
‘Let me spell it out for you,’ Lottie said. ‘McNally arrives in Ragmullin. Your daughter goes missing and three girls end up being murdered. I’d say that is very interesting, wouldn’t you?’
‘As I told you already, there’s someone much bigger than me involved here. McNally travelled over to sort out a job.’ He stood in front of one of his Jack Henry paintings, put out a hand and straightened the frame. ‘I needed to get out of a particular line of business. I was threatened. My family threatened. Shit, I don’t give a fuck about my alcoholic wife. But my daughter – she’s everything to me. I sent my man to sort it out.’
‘But McNally fucked it up.’
‘Maybe he did. Maybe he jolted someone into action earlier than might have been intended.’
‘Who is this mysterious someone?’
‘Your killer?’
Lottie began joining the dots in her head. ‘You provide girls for the sex trade. You traffic them. But some of them are used by this… doctor to harvest organs for sale on the black market.’
‘Now you’re getting somewhere.’
‘Who is he, this doctor?’
‘I don’t know. I only deal with the man with the crooked teeth, Fatjon.’
‘Where is Fatjon from?’
‘Kosovo, originally. There was illegal trade in human organs during and after the Balkans war. Look it up. I’m sure even you can find out about it. Try Wikipedia.’
Another Kosovo link.
‘Did you ever hear of Andri Petrovci?’
‘No.’
Lottie thought over everything Phillips had told them. Could this Fatjon be in league with Petrovci? It looked likely. ‘You said your family was threatened. How and when?’
Sighing loudly, Phillips said, ‘Suffice to say, I didn’t take it seriously enough. Otherwise Maeve would be safe. You’d better find her, Inspector.’
‘Tell me about this threat.’
‘I’m dealing with it. Enough said.’
‘Mr Phillips, I’m not here to make trouble for you. You agreed to speak with us. Can’t you be candid?’
‘Mrs Parker, I’ve told you more than I intended. You need to find my daughter. And quickly. If you don’t, you will be responsible for the war I will wage on your town.’
‘I’ll take that as a threat so.’
‘Take it any way you like, but I think it’s time the pair of you left. Manuel will show you out.’ Phillips turned to look out of the window. ‘And don’t forget to visit the docks. Interesting place.’
* * *
Stepping out on to the burning pavement, Boyd asked, ‘Did you discover anything interesting in Chez Phillips with your snooping?’
‘Manuel wasn’t too far away so I didn’t get a chance to look.’
‘I don’t believe that for a minute.’
‘Oh shit,’ Lottie said.
‘What now?’
‘Wait here. I left my phone in the bathroom.’
‘What? Lottie! Come back.’
She disappeared inside the glass doors, leaving Boyd behind.
The door to the apartment opened immediately. Manuel directed her inside when she asked. Frank Phillips was still standing, staring out at the sea.
‘My phone, I think I left it in the bathroom,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘I’ll only be a minute.’
With a wave of his hand, he acknowledged her without turning. ‘You know the way.’
There was no sign of Manuel as she hurried down the corridor, patting her bag where her phone was safely stashed. Five doors plus the bathroom. She quickly checked them out. The first one was a kitchen with dining area. Manuel sat at a marble-topped table reading a newspaper.
‘Oh, sorry. Bathroom?’
‘You passed it. First on the left.’
‘Thanks.’ Lottie pulled the door shut.
She opened another three doors. A bedroom, probably Manuel’s; two guest rooms. She surmised that the last door was the master bedroom.
With a glance around, she stepped inside. The contrast with the green reception room was startling. A long space spread out before her, decorated in baby-blue. Ignoring the corner housing a desk overflowing with books and files, her eyes were drawn to the super-king-sized bed on the furthest wall. On one side the pale linen was rumpled and tossed; on the other a small, dark figure lay curled like a baby in the womb.
Lottie crept towards the bed. A child, a girl of maybe ten or eleven, snored with soft, even breaths, skin like chocolate fondant shimmering through the sheer baby-doll negligee. Her hair was tightly woven to her scalp, and short lashes fluttered as her chest rose and fell. A film of perspiration glinted on her upper lip despite the coolness of the room.
Dear God, Lottie thought. A dank smell hung in the air. The smell Phillips had tried to mask with his cologne.
The girl turned in her sleep, but her breathing remained regular as the snores subsided.
What could she do? With no jurisdiction, she was powerless. She would have to wait until she got home and tell Superintendent Corrigan, who could inform his Spanish colleagues. Monsters, she thought, I’m dealing with monsters.
She eased back out of the room; tried to keep her footsteps normal as she made her way through to the living room.
‘I hope you found it.’ Frank Phillips turned, his eyes dark green balls of glass.
The air con muttered a constant tune in the silence. Lottie nodded, unable to trust her voice. The crispness of the air suddenly turned into a raw chill and her skin prickled.
He knows, she thought. He knows that I know and I can’t do a damn thing about it. We’ll see about that.
She reached the front door. Manuel appeared by her side. Keyed in a code. The door glided back soundlessly.
She put one foot out into the hallway.
‘No matter what you think of me, Inspector, I’m still a father with a daughter who has disappeared. Find her.’
She took a deep breath. Moved like a sleepwalker towards the elevator to the sound of the door closing on Frank Phillips’s warped world. And she knew exactly who the child in the bed reminded her of – the girl they’d found yesterday at the pump house.
Sixty-Eight