Simple enough question, thought Lottie. Not for Mrs Gavin, who greeted the request with a cry.
Lottie noticed Father Burke’s look of sympathy, which seemed to say – I pity you trying to get anything out of Mrs Gavin today. But as if to prove them both wrong the distraught woman began to speak, her voice low and quivering.
‘I came on duty at twelve to clean up after ten o’clock Mass. Normally I start at the side,’ she said, pointing to her right, ‘but I thought I saw a coat on the floor at the front of the middle aisle. So, I say to myself, I better get cracking over there first. That’s when I knew it wasn’t just a coat. Oh Holy Mother of God . . .’
She blessed herself three times and attempted to stem her tears with a crumpled tissue. The Holy Mother of God wasn’t going to help any of them now, thought Lottie.
‘Did you touch the body?’
‘God no. No!’ said Mrs Gavin. ‘Her eyes were open and that . . . that thing around her neck. I’ve seen corpses before but I never seen one like that. By Jesus, sorry Father, I knew it was a dead person.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I screamed. Dropped my mop and bucket and ran for the sacristy. Collided head first with Father Burke here.’
‘I heard the scream and rushed out to see what was going on,’ he said.
‘Did either of you see anyone else around?’
‘Not a soul,’ said Father Burke.
Fresh tears escaped down Mrs Gavin’s cheeks.
‘I can see you’re very upset,’ Lottie said. ‘Garda O’Donoghue will take your details and arrange for you to get home. We’ll be in touch with you later. Try to get some rest.’
‘I’ll look after her, Inspector,’ Father Burke said.
‘I need to talk to you now.’
‘I live in the priest’s house behind the cathedral. You can get me there any time.’
The cleaner leaned her head into his shoulder.
‘I ought to go with Mrs Gavin,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ Lottie relented, seeing the distraught woman ageing by the second. ‘I’ll be in touch later.’
Father Burke nodded and, supporting Mrs Gavin by the arm, he led her across the marbled floor toward a door behind the altar. O’Donoghue followed them out.
A gust of cold air breezed into the cathedral as the Scene of Crime Officers arrived. Superintendent Corrigan rushed to greet them. Jim McGlynn, head of the SOCO team, offered him a precursory handshake, ignored small talk and immediately began directing his people.
Lottie watched them working for a few minutes, then walked around the pew, as close to the body as McGlynn would allow.
‘Appears to be a middle-aged woman. Wrapped up well for the weather,’ Lottie said to Boyd, who was standing at her shoulder like a persistent mole. She moved back toward the altar rails, partly to view from a good vantage point, mainly to put distance between her and Boyd.
‘Hypothermia’s not an issue here so,’ he said, stating the obvious to no one in particular.
Lottie shivered as the serenity of the cathedral was decimated by the heightened activity. She continued observing the work of the technical team.
‘This cathedral is our worst nightmare,’ said Jim McGlynn. ‘God himself knows how many people frequent here every day, each leaving a piece of themselves behind.’
‘The killer picked his location well,’ Superintendent Corrigan said. No one answered him.
The sound of high heels clipping up the main aisle caused Lottie to look up. The small woman rushing toward them was dwarfed in a black Puffa jacket. She jangled car keys in her hand and then, as if remembering where she was, dropped them into the black leather handbag on her arm. She shook hands with the superintendent as he introduced himself.
‘State pathologist, Jane Dore.’ Her tone was sharp and professional.
‘You’re acquainted with Detective Inspector Lottie Parker?’ Corrigan said.
‘Yes. I’ll be as quick as I can.’ The pathologist directed her words to Lottie. ‘I’m anxious to get the autopsy underway. As soon as I can declare this one way or the other, the sooner you can officially spring into action.’
Lottie was impressed with the way the woman handled Corrigan, putting him in his place before he could start a sermon. Jane Dore was no more than five foot two, and looked tiny beside Lottie, who stood without heels at five eight. Today Lottie wore a pair of comfortable Uggs, jeans tucked untidily inside them.
After donning gloves, a white Teflon boiler suit and covering her shoes, the pathologist proceeded to carry out the preliminary examination of the body. She worked her fingers under the woman’s neck, examining the cable embedded in her throat, lifting her head and concentrating the examination on the eyes, mouth and head. The SOCOs turned the body on to its side and a stench rose in the air. Lottie realised the pool congealed on the floor was urine and excrement. The victim had soiled herself in the last seconds of her life.
‘Any idea on time of death?’ Lottie asked.
‘My initial observation would indicate she died within the last two hours. Once I complete the autopsy, I’ll confirm that.’ Jane Dore peeled the latex gloves from her petite hands. ‘Jim, when you finish up, the body can be removed to Tullamore mortuary.’
Not for the first time Lottie wished the Health Services Executive hadn’t relocated the mortuary services to Tullamore Hospital, half an hour’s drive away. Another nail in Ragmullin’s coffin.
‘As soon as you can declare the cause of death, please inform me immediately,’ Corrigan said.
Lottie tried not to roll her eyes. It was obvious to everyone that the victim had been strangled. The pathologist only had to officially class the death as murder. There was no way this woman had accidently or otherwise strangled herself.
Jane Dore dumped her Teflon garments into a paper bag and, as promptly as she had arrived, she left the scene, the echo of her high heels reverberating in her wake.
‘I’m heading back to the office,’ Corrigan said. ‘Inspector Parker, get your incident team set up immediately.’ He marched down the marble floor behind the departing pathologist.
The SOCO team spent another hour around the victim before expanding their area of operation outwards. The corpse was placed into a body bag, zipped up and lifted on to a waiting gurney, with as much dignity as could be attached to a large rubber bag. The wooden door creaked as they exited. The ambulance blasted out its sirens, unnecessarily, as its patient was dead and in no hurry to go anywhere.
Three