Checking the time, Lottie said, ‘You’ve less than fifteen minutes if you want to catch the train coming in from Dublin.’
It was almost dark, and in the cone of light cast by her torch, she noticed crystals of frost on the plastic heads of imitation flowers. White granite sparkled and a blackbird cawed from a branch above her head. She tried to keep up with Boyd’s long strides.
When they reached the gate, she looked over at the old office. ‘We need to search in there.’
‘Once SOCOs finish on site, they can move up here.’
‘Did you see that?’ She pulled Boyd’s sleeve.
‘Only thing I saw was a big fat rat crawling out of one of those bags over there.’
‘Oh Jesus, let’s get out of here.’
They hurried to the car. As Boyd reversed and turned it, Lottie said, ‘I hope to God the camera recorded something.’
Boyd said, ‘Apart from the front wall, the cemetery is wide open on three sides. The railway tracks at the end plus the traveller site; the old folk’s home to one side and a housing estate on the other. Easy access.’
‘Nursing home.’
‘What?’
‘Old folk’s home is not a PC term.’
She stared over at the nursing home. A newly built block with floor-to-roof windows facing out over the cemetery. Behind it she could make out the roof of the older building, with its copper roof turned green. Why hadn’t anyone heard or seen anything? Why was Elizabeth in the cemetery? Where did she go when she got off the train? If they could figure that out, they might get a direction to follow. But at the moment, they were getting nowhere.
Boyd pulled the car onto the road with a grunt. Lottie was relieved when they sped away from the place of death.
Nineteen
‘Do you have anything for me, Lynch?’ Lottie shouted out to the main office as she flicked through her emails.
Lynch came to stand in the doorway.
‘Elizabeth Byrne had very little online presence. She closed down her Twitter account a year ago, hasn’t posted on Instagram in that time either. She doesn’t appear to use Snapchat at all, and her postings on Facebook are sparse. She used WhatsApp.’
‘Check it out. Have you contacted her Facebook friends?’
‘Working my way through them.’
‘Any joy with Matt Mullin?’
‘The bank is to get back to me in the morning. The head of HR wasn’t in and no one else would give me details.’
‘Get on to that first thing.’
‘Boss? This surveillance job that Kirby and myself are working on, I don’t think it’s getting us anywhere. Do you think it’s time we abandoned it?’
They’d had problems recently with illegal bare-knuckle boxing among the traveller community. Vast amounts of money were being wagered, resulting in plenty of injuries. Lottie felt it was only a matter of time before someone died.
‘What have you discovered over the last three weeks?’
‘Nothing,’ Lynch said.
‘Just wondering if you found the McWards involved in anything underhand?’
‘Don’t recall seeing the name anywhere, but I can check.’
‘What type of detective are you?’
‘A good one,’ Lynch said, folding her arms.
‘Prove it to me then. I want to know where Matt Mullin is. A banker in Germany can’t be that hard to find now, can he?’
Lynch sighed. ‘Could I have a few days off, boss? I know it’s the start of an investigation, but I really need time to—’
‘No. All leave is suspended until this case is solved.’
‘But—’
‘No buts, Lynch. I need everyone. Is that all?’
Lynch grabbed her coat and was out the door before Lottie could call her back. It really was one of those days.
Lottie phoned the state pathologist.
‘Hi, Jane. Did you get to my graveyard victim yet?’
‘Sorry. A sudden backlog here. Hypothermia deaths in February are a new thing for me. I’ve your girl scheduled for the morning. I’ll call you with a time so you can attend.’
Hanging up, Lottie went out to the main office and pulled a chair over beside Kirby’s desk.
‘You were a bit harsh on Lynch,’ he said.
‘I don’t know why, but sparks fly every time we talk recently.’
‘Not just recently, boss, it’s been going on a long time. And not just with Lynch, if you get my meaning.’
She didn’t want to talk about Lynch or Boyd. She’d never really got along with Lynch but she didn’t want anyone else knowing.
‘Did you interview Bridie McWard?’ she said.
‘Same as she told you. Heard screams around 3.15 Tuesday morning. Refuses to come in to make a formal statement. I spoke to her at the site.’
‘And the footage from the camera at the cemetery. Was there anything useful on it?’
‘The tech guys sent me a clip.’ He pressed an icon and a grainy grey image appeared in the centre of his screen. Maximising the size, he sat back and let Lottie watch it. ‘This is 3.07,’ he said.
‘I don’t see anything.’
‘There’s nothing to see except for a change in the light. Hold on and I’ll rewind it.’ He clattered his thick fingers on a couple of keys and the image rolled once more. ‘Look carefully at the road. See that? It’s the lights of a car approaching, but then they disappear. I’d say he swung the car to park on the opposite side of the road, where there’s no camera coverage.’
‘Okay. But we can’t see any people?’
‘No.’
‘Might just be someone dumping rubbish over the wall.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because the footage confirms a vehicle was parked here for twenty-four minutes.’ He fast-forwarded to 3.31. ‘Look. There’s a swerve of light on the road as if a car is turning.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it.’
‘Nothing in between? No other cars?’
‘Not a thing. On a Monday night, the town is dead.’
‘So it looks like he drove in from town, stopped for nearly half an hour, then turned and went back towards town. Track our own traffic cams around those times and see if you can pick up the car.’
‘I’ll try.’
Lottie pushed the chair back and moved towards her own office. ‘I want all the residents in the nursing home interviewed. Especially those with windows facing the cemetery.’
‘Tonight?’
‘No. Tomorrow. Did uniforms get anything useful from the housing estate?’
‘Database is being compiled, but nothing worth reporting so far.’
‘And the residents at the traveller site?’
‘No one heard or saw anything.’
‘Same old Ragmullin. Squinting windows and silent houses.’
‘What?’ Kirby scratched his head with the tip of a pen.
‘I want an update at our incident team meeting in the morning.’
Twenty
He secured a seat once passengers disembarked at Maynooth. The two women got seats also. Now they were sitting opposite him, albeit a few rows down the aisle.
How he wished he was beside her, with her soft flesh trembling beside his own. Skin on skin. Nothing more beautiful, he thought. Unless you counted the rocking motion of the train. Oh, naked flesh on flesh in tune to the motion of the train. That was an image he couldn’t stop flitting behind his eyes. How beautiful would that be? The quiver of her lips as he looked down on her, the redness puckered, waiting.
For him.
For no one else.
With the answer he craved.
* * *
Ragmullin train station was crumbling under its age. Multiple renovations over the years had done little to enhance its appearance. The fact that it was a protected structure limited the railway company from doing anything major. Protecting it was a paradox, because it was disintegrating before twenty thousand pairs of Ragmullin eyes.
‘How’s it going, Jimmy? Any news?’ Boyd sauntered over to the porter and leaned on the gate to the platform.
‘Sure, the only news around here is the weather and late trains.’ Jimmy Maguire scratched at a point on his scalp under his cap.
‘I hope this one isn’t late.’
‘Should be in on time. Due at 18.20.’
Boyd smiled as Jimmy made a drama of checking his watch with his gloved fingers. Bright yellow, synthetic fabric. The top of his peaked-capped head only came to Boyd’s shoulder, and he looked as weather-beaten as the station.
‘In fifty-seven seconds, to be exact.’
‘Very precise.’