‘Not even a tissue.’
‘That’s what struck me. Her neatness. Everything in order, in its proper place. The only items left unwashed are the cereal bowl and spoon, presumably because she might have been rushing. And the red thong.’
‘Still doesn’t tell us anything,’ Lottie said, then added, ‘But Elizabeth was fastidiously neat too. Two similar personalities?’
‘What did you make of Bridie McWard?’ Boyd asked.
Lottie closed her eyes, recalled the shining table and white leather sofa. ‘She was a neat freak also.’
‘Not like your kids then.’
‘Not like my kids at all. Does it mean anything?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But I think something links these three women, and we’d better find out what, because it might give us an answer.’
‘Do you think Mollie is dead?’
Lottie shook her head. ‘My anxiety levels are at a status red warning level, but I sincerely hope she isn’t dead.’
Seventy-Three
Lottie placed the evidence bag on the desk.
‘What is that?’ Gilly O’Donoghue said, her eyes widening in shock.
‘You know what it is. Why did Mollie have it?’
Gilly turned up her nose. ‘How would I know what kind of underwear she likes? We’re not that close.’
‘It was the only one. No other similar types of underwear. And it was in that plastic freezer bag. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
Gilly shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
Lottie persisted. ‘Why did she give you the key?’
‘She lives alone. Her family are in London. I believe I’m her only friend.’
‘Did you have any sense that she was in danger? Feared anyone?’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Then why the need to give you a key? That puzzles me.’ Lottie tapped Mollie’s name into PULSE. It came up blank. ‘She hasn’t even got a parking ticket.’
‘She hasn’t got a car.’
‘When did she give you the key?’
Gilly thought for a moment, brushed her hair behind her ears. ‘We’d been friends a good few months, but I think it was sometime before Christmas. Let me think.’ She screwed her knuckles into her brow. ‘It was mid December. I was pissed at Kirby because he was working on that stakeout thing. Mollie and I went for drinks and on to a nightclub. She asked if I’d hold onto her spare key in case she ever got locked out or I wanted a bed. I didn’t think it odd. I just said, sure.’
‘And she gave it to you that night?’
‘Yes. We shared a taxi. Dropped her off first, then me. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few drinks, a dance and then home.’
‘She had no other friends? No boyfriend?’
Gilly shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Did she know Elizabeth Byrne or Bridie McWard?’
‘Sorry, boss, I have no idea.’
‘What did you talk about? When you were out?’
Gilly smiled. ‘Mainly it was just me giving out about Kirby.’
‘That’s an—’ Lottie clamped her mouth shut before her words hurt the young woman in front of her.
‘An odd match?’ Gilly laughed. ‘You were going to say that and you’d be right. He is a lot older than me, but you know what? We click. I like him. And he’s good fun to be with, so I don’t care what people say behind my back.’
Lottie returned Gilly’s smile and felt a motherly instinct take root. She really liked the young guard. Kirby was branded a lovable rogue, so she could understand how Gilly would be attracted to him.
‘I admire you,’ Lottie said. ‘You’re a great worker and I appreciate your help on this case. You’ll make a good detective some day soon.’
A smile split Gilly’s face. God love her, Lottie thought.
‘Thanks,’ Gilly said. ‘That means a lot to me.’
‘You’ve spoken to Mollie’s family?’
‘Her dad. He hasn’t seen her since Christmas. From what I can gather, they’re not in regular communication.’
‘Have another word with him. See if you can find out anything, anything that might point us in the right direction.’
‘Will do. Straight away.’
When Gilly left, the office felt darker. Lottie wondered what everyone was saying behind her back. About her and Boyd. She was not about to give them any reason to talk. Last night was a mistake. A nice one, but a mistake.
Kirby waved at her from the outside office.
She would have to get that glass replaced and a full wooden door installed.
Then she realised he was calling her.
‘McWard is here,’ he said.
* * *
After sending off the red thong for analysis, Lottie made her way to the interview room with Boyd.
‘I’m sincerely sorry for your loss,’ she said as she sat down in front of Paddy McWard. His jacket was flung across the table. He was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved black T-shirt.
‘What are you doing about it, eh? Persecuting me won’t help find the bastard who murdered my wife and son.’
‘Do you want a solicitor present?’ Lottie nodded at Boyd to switch on the recording equipment. ‘I’ve some questions for you and I want you to be clear that you can have a solicitor present if you—’
‘I don’t want no poxy solicitor.’ He folded his bare tattooed arms and leaned back in the chair. ‘Get on with it.’
‘Right then.’ Lottie flicked to the page in her notebook with times and dates given to her by Kirby. ‘Where were you last night?’
He unfolded his arms so quickly, she blinked at the sound of the smack he gave the table.
‘I’m telling you here and now, you’re wasting my time and yours if you think I could do something so … so horrible as to burn my family alive.’
‘Just answer the question,’ Boyd said.
With a sigh, McWard appeared to relent. ‘I was away.’
‘Come on now. I need more.’ Lottie was pissed off. So far this morning, they had achieved nothing except for a red thong that probably had absolutely feck all to do with anything.
Tugging at his hair, McWard bit his trembling lip. Jesus, don’t cry, she thought.
‘I don’t want to tell you if I don’t have to. Where I was or what I was doing has nothing to do with the fire. Take my word for it.’
‘I’m sorry, but that’s not enough. I need to know.’
He rubbed his hand over his nose and sniffed. Dear God, the big man was sobbing.
‘I loved her. Bridie. In my own way. But she never believed that. When Tommy was born, she locked me out. Not with a key turned in the door, but out of her heart. I’m a good bit older than her. And it was hard for me to be … you know … a loving husband. And the baby, little Tommy, he cried a lot. I couldn’t hack it. So I escaped. Every night. I’d drive around for hours and come back in the morning or sometimes in the afternoon, and then I’d disappear again.’
‘That’s a load of bollocks,’ Boyd said.
‘It’s the truth.’
Lottie didn’t know whether to believe him or not. ‘Give us an idea of where you drove to last night.’
‘Like I said, around.’
Lottie sighed. ‘You can make this a lot easier if you just tell us. Otherwise I’ll have to keep you here until I can verify that you were nowhere near your home last night when it was torched.’
‘You’re sure it was arson, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bastards. I knew it. Just knew it.’
‘What did you know?’ Lottie said.
‘They couldn’t leave me alone.’ He was twisting his hands into knots, his face screwed up. She couldn’t determine if it was rage or sorrow causing him to buckle.
‘Who are you talking about, Paddy?’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ He looked up at her, his dark eyes piercing through her. They were unreadable. He intrigued her; not in the same way as the usual criminals who sat across from her, but as a man. She had to physically stop herself reaching out to touch his hand, to tell him it was going to be okay.
‘Try us,’ Boyd snapped.
‘If you’re not arresting me, I’m going home.’ McWard paused, before crumbling with the realisation that he had no home to go to.
‘Did you know Elizabeth Byrne?’ Lottie asked.
‘Who?’ A line of confusion knitted his brow before his hair fell in a black crest over it.
‘The woman who was murdered next door to your home. In the cemetery.’
‘No, I did not know her.’