She led them into a living area with two floor-to-ceiling windows. The light in the room was dimmed by the shadow of a large tree outside. She switched on a lamp. ‘Sit, please.’
Lynch and Kirby took up positions on armchairs opposite the woman.
‘We’ve been trying to trace Matt but have had no luck so far,’ Lynch began. ‘Do you know where he might be or how we can get in touch with him?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Is he here?’ Closing her notebook, Lynch shoved her pen into the knot of her ponytail. ‘We thought he was working in Germany, but his bank informed us that he was let go before Christmas. He hasn’t returned our calls. I’d like to speak with him.’
‘I’m afraid that is out of the question.’
‘But it’s imperative to our investigation that we confirm a few details with him.’
‘What investigation might that be?’
Lynch noted the warning look in Kirby’s eyes. This had to be handled tactfully.
‘That’s something I need to discuss with Matt,’ she said. ‘Can you confirm whether he’s at home at the moment?’
‘He’s unwell. If you can’t discuss it with me, I’m afraid I have nothing further to say.’ Mrs Mullin stood up, buttoning her cardigan. Her jeans had a designer look about them.
Lynch remained seated, looking up at the tall woman. ‘If he is here, I’m sure he won’t mind giving us two minutes. Just to rule him out of our investigation.’
‘Since you won’t even tell me what the investigation relates to, I can’t help.’ The narrow face clamped shut.
‘It relates to a murder,’ Lynch blurted.
Mrs Mullin sat down again. ‘Whose murder might that be, and why do you think my son needs to be ruled out of it?’
Lynch sighed. This was seriously hard work. ‘The murder of Elizabeth Byrne.’
‘I heard about that. Poor girl. But it has absolutely nothing to do with Matt. They split up a year ago. She broke his heart.’
Raising an eyebrow at Kirby, Lynch said, ‘We were informed that it was Matt who broke it off with Elizabeth.’
‘You were misinformed.’
‘So it was Elizabeth who ended the relationship?’
‘Correct. On Valentine’s Day. How could she have been so cruel?’
‘And that’s when he went off to Munich?’ Lynch had her notebook out again.
‘She drove my boy away from me. I’ll never forgive her for that.’
‘Mrs Mullin, where is Matt?’ Lynch had had enough.
‘If you wish to speak with him, you may get a court order, a subpoena or whatever you call it.’
‘Can’t he make the decision himself?’
‘I’ll show you out.’ Mrs Mullin got up and walked to the door.
Kirby cocked his head sideways at Lynch. ‘What will we do?’ he mouthed.
‘Can I use your bathroom before we leave?’ Lynch moved to the door. ‘I’m really dying to go.’
‘That old ploy doesn’t wash with me. I’d prefer it if you just fucked off.’
The profanity emanating from such a prim-and-proper mouth caught Lynch off guard. ‘What?’
‘I’d like you both to leave my home.’
‘Tell Matt to call into the station,’ Lynch said. ‘We need to have that word with him.’
The door closed on her words.
Sitting into the car, Lynch kept her eyes firmly focused on the upstairs windows. Kirby started the engine and drove down the avenue.
‘You were a bit cranky back there,’ he said.
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Piss off! You can’t be.’
‘I am.’
‘Jesus, Lynch. Pregnant?’ Kirby checked his pocket for his cigar. ‘Well, it’s no excuse and you know it. The boss will fry you if Mrs Mullin makes a complaint.’
‘Complaint about what? She was the one making the fuss and not answering one bloody question. She isn’t going to make a complaint. She doesn’t want the attention.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because we need to speak with her son.’
‘He could be anywhere.’
‘He was there, I’m sure of it. Now why do you suppose he wouldn’t come down and tell us where he was on Monday night?’
‘You’re imagining things, Lynch.’ Kirby slammed his half-smoked cigar between his lips. ‘I don’t think there was anyone else in that house.’
They drove through the town in silence. As he turned up Main Street, Kirby muttered, ‘Pregnant? Jesus, Lynch how did that happen?’
‘How do you think?’ She got out of the car and left him shaking his head.
* * *
Bridie’s eye was swollen and almost closed up, but baby Tommy was fast asleep in his cot at last. She stood at the window of their tiny house and looked out at the concrete wall.
That poor murdered girl; it had to have been her screams she’d heard the other night. Maybe she should have called the guards at the time. But what could they have done? The poor thing was dead by then. So why was there someone out there who didn’t want Bridie saying anything? The body had already been found at that stage. Was her attacker the man who had killed the Byrne girl, or had he come to shut her up about something else entirely?
Paddy.
It must be to do with Paddy. And why wouldn’t he answer his phone?
She picked up her iPhone in its glitter case and called again. Still no answer. She left another message for him to contact her immediately.
That was all she could do for now.
Forty-One
After asking a nurse whether she could speak to Queenie McWard, Lottie found herself sitting by the old woman’s bed.
She looked frail, with a pair of thin-framed spectacles perched on her nose, a long gold chain holding them in place. Grey hair, nicely permed, framed her face like a painting. Her wraith-like hands, clutched at her chest, held rosary beads intertwined on her fingers. And her lips were moving rapidly and silently.
‘Mrs McWard?’ Lottie said. There was no response, though the lips increased their movement. ‘Can I have a chat?’
The old woman’s eyes flew open and the spectacles fell from her face to her chest, the rosary beads slipping from her fingers.
‘Now I’ve lost my place. I can’t remember if that was my fifth Hail Mary or my sixth.’ A pair of dark brown eyes cut into Lottie. ‘What do you want?’
Queenie’s mouth was devoid of teeth and Lottie noticed a set of dentures resting in a glass on the bedside cabinet.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was passing by and thought I’d say hello.’ She crossed her fingers.
‘That’s a lie. Tell me why you’re here, young one, and let me get back to my prayers.’
‘I was talking to your daughter.’
‘Which one?’
‘Bridie.’
‘What has that husband of hers done now? Hope he didn’t beat her. Wouldn’t surprise me, though, seeing as his father is a third cousin of my husband, God rest his thieving soul.’
‘Ah, I wondered at you and Bridie having the same surname.’
‘Wonder no longer, young one.’
‘Bridie thought she heard a banshee the other night. Turns out it was the screams of a girl we later found murdered.’
‘Then it was the banshee for sure. Heralding the death of the one you speak of. You lot don’t believe in the banshee, but my people do. Why are you pestering me?’
‘You heard a banshee once before.’
‘Says who?’
‘Bridie mentioned it.’
‘I heard many a banshee in my day. Every time I hear her, someone in the family dies. It’s a warning. To be on your guard. She can shriek and keen for nights on end. Never saw one, but my great-grandmother did. Now that wasn’t today or yesterday, was it?’
‘I don’t suppose it was,’ Lottie said. She was wasting her time here, like she’d been told once too often. She had to get home and help Katie pack. So much to do.
Queenie was still talking.
‘Then there was the time that young woman went missing. Last seen getting off the train. Long time ago. Must be ten years if it’s a day. I heard the banshee for seven nights in a row back then. And they never found her.’ She paused, placed her spectacles back on her nose and stared at Lottie. ‘Don’t be looking at me as if you don’t believe me. Like I said, they never found her. She was just … gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Mark my words, she’s as dead as those buried out there in that graveyard.’
‘The anniversary of her disappearance is this weekend.’
‘Is it?’