Full Irish Murder Page 13

  “Good woman, Fiona!”

  Kate arched an immaculately plucked eyebrow. “For stealing evidence from a Garda station?”

  “For working hard to keep Mam out of prison,” Marty said harshly. “And if you’ve got nothing constructive to say, maybe you should go elsewhere.”

  Kate looked to her parents for support, but Francis simply shook his head. “Your brother makes a good point, Catherine.”

  At this, Kate jumped up and flounced away.

  “Right,” Francis said without flinching. “I’ll speak to Donnie and show him the pin.”

  “Are you sure? What if he’s close to the suspect? They’re on the committee together.”

  “It might not necessarily be our suspect. In any case, Donnie is a good man; as straight-up as they come. I doubt he’ll be unduly influenced.”

  The door opened and Kate entered the room.

  “Ah, you’ve seen the error of your ways already.”

  “No,” she muttered. “I just thought you should know that Garda Conway is at the door. I heard knocking when I passed—ye mustn’t have noticed with all the commotion going on in here. He’s here to see you, Fiona.”

  Fiona jumped to her feet and hurried out to the hallway without another word. She found Garda Conway standing just inside the front door, shuffling awkwardly from foot-to-foot.

  This is it, she thought.

  It had to be. She had known there was something strange about his behaviour at the station earlier. She could think of no other reason for him to visit—they’d never been particularly friendly.

  “Garda Conway,” she said, trying to calm her racing mind and pay attention to everything about him.

  “Fiona,” he said with a nod.

  “Is everything alright? I’ve never known you to call before.”

  He cleared his throat and stared at the ceiling.

  For a while, she thought he wasn’t going to utter another word. She stood watching him, anticipation growing within her with every passing second.

  “Garda Conway?” she whispered.

  She told herself to stop; to hold off and not get overexcited. After all, he might just have been selling tickets to a raffle for the GAA club, of which his two boys were members.

  But there was definitely something off about his demeanour. He was a shy man, but she had never seen him like this. And then a thought struck her. It went beyond shyness. He seemed almost rattled by something.

  “Can I get you a cup of tea or anything?” she asked, goosebumps starting to prickle the skin on her arms.

  “No thanks, Fiona,” he said, still not looking her in the eyes. “I can’t stay long. Look, I’m sorry to bother you at home, but there’s something important you should know. And I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

  25

  “IS THERE SOMEWHERE WE CAN TALK?”

  Fiona nodded. “We can chat here.”

  Something about his expression made her reconsider. She glanced behind her at the closed door to the kitchen, knowing there were probably several ears pressed against it. “Come on in here,” she said, leading the way to her father’s study.

  “So,” she said when she’d closed the door behind them.

  “So,” he repeated.

  “Garda Conway, you look like there’s something weighing heavily on you. I got the same feeling earlier in the station. I’ve tried but I can’t think how this relates to me. What’s going on?”

  He sighed and sat down heavily in Francis McCabe’s high-backed chair. Fiona sat opposite him on another armchair, her heart hammering in her chest.

  She didn’t know Garda Conway well, but she’d certainly known him for a very long time. And in that time, she’d never seen him rattled by anything. He had always seemed like your stereotypical Garda: strong, honest, reliable. He didn’t seem like any of those things at that moment.

  “Garda Conway? What is it? You’re starting to worry me.”

  He looked up with haunted eyes. “You have to appreciate, Fiona, that I shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I’ve only a year or two until retirement. God knows I should be keeping my head down and doing whatever that little eejit tells me.”

  She blanched. “Sergeant Brennan? I’ve never heard you say a bad word about him before.”

  “Yeah, well,” he spat. “He’s my boss, isn’t he? I’m hardly going to go tearing strips out of him to anyone who’ll listen. I’m not that much of a fool.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face with huge, red hands. “Listen.”

  Fiona nodded. She’d been waiting for him to speak for a while now. She didn’t want to risk saying anything in case she distracted him from whatever was on his mind. She had so many questions she wanted to ask: what was going on and why had he come to tell her? They were screaming around in her head, getting louder and louder the more she ignored them.

  “Look, I thought I better come and tell you. It’s obvious you’ve been doing a bit of digging on this case.”

  She nodded. “It’s only natural: you lot suspect my mother.”

  “Oh of course.” He nodded curtly. “Indeed it is.”

  “So you’re here to tell me something about the case?”

  He sighed heavily. “I believe so. You see, I’d never worked a murder case in my life before the one a few months back. Poor young Hanlon, it was an awful fate to befall a young fella. I’d always been stationed in small country towns much like this. And I know you young guns might think that’s awful dull, but I liked it. They were simpler times. And I’d much rather deal with some missing kitten or a dispute over a card game than murders and assaults. Ah, we’ve had our fair share of assaults, especially after losing the county championship, but I’m not talking about the usual drunken messing.”

  She smiled and nodded that she understood, hoping it would encourage him to continue.

  “So that last case was a first for me in many ways. Brennan’s different of course. With his connections, of course he’s been at the coalface of probably a dozen interesting, career-making cases. I’ve heard from a lad that used to work with him in Dublin that he was often allowed in to interview a suspect they believed was on the brink of confessing so he’d get his name down as the arresting officer. Had it handed to him on a plate, see.”

  Fiona nodded. She’d heard similar and had formed more or less the same opinion herself.

  “Now, that’s what I have trouble with at the moment. I can’t tell whether it’s down to incompetence or to arrogance.”

  “What is?” Fiona couldn’t resist asking.

  A shadow flickered across his face. She knew it must be hard for him.

  “Garda Conway, I promise I won’t repeat a word of what you tell me,” she said gently. “I swear it.”

  He smiled. “And I believe you too. I don’t know why he has it in for you. You’re all good sorts, you McCabes.”

  “Thanks,” she said, hoping he hadn’t just lost his train of thought. “That’s why it’s so strange that he’s fixated on my mother like this. Sure, she had that argument with Mrs Stanley in the middle of the street—I’ll be the first to admit that that wasn’t like her. But she wasn’t at Mrs Stanley’s house that day and she certainly didn’t poison the woman. It’s weird that the sergeant won’t believe what we told him about the blackmail.”

  “What’s that now?”

  She remembered that Garda Conway hadn’t been present when she and her mother had presented the evidence to the sergeant. She told him, pausing and doubling back several times in order to make sure she didn’t leave any part of it out.

  “It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

  “That’s what I don’t get,” she whispered. “I mean, sure it sounds odd, but is it not worth checking out? Ye have technical people who could probably unravel the whole thing in a matter of hours.” A thought struck her. “How about if I give you all the details? You could send it off behind his back.”

  He laughed, a sad sound that
had no humour in it. “You’re certainly your father’s daughter alright. Francis McCabe always knew how to persuade those around him. It’s why he made such a good coach. But I’m afraid I can’t help you there. It’s like I said: I have to put the years in until I reach pension age. After that I’m gone. I’m done watching these young bucks with connections waltzing in and taking over.”

  “Maybe he’ll move on soon. He’s bound to get promoted again soon because of his father.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t we all love it! But we can’t guarantee such a thing. Anyway, in a roundabout way that’s kind of why I’m here. You see, I can’t tell whether it’s incompetence or something more sinister.”

  Fi gasped, her already overactive imagination going into overdrive. “Sinister?”

  “You heard me. I know it’s a very grave statement to make but that’s the conclusion I’m being forced to draw.” He shuffled around in the chair, working hard to make his bulky frame comfortable. Fiona thought for a moment that she should offer him some tea and biscuits again—or a glass of water at the very least—but she dismissed that thought. She was terrified to interrupt him lest he change his mind and disappear before he had a chance to tell her what had him so riled up.

  “You’re talking about the sergeant.”

  He jerked his head. “At first I barely noticed. It was little things. Like when we were examining the scene. We had to fight with him to fingerprint the place. Now, I’m no crime scene expert, but that seemed odd. He kept saying there was nothing to find. And now, don’t even get me started on the evidence. I wanted to take away her computer—it seemed a very fancy one for a woman of her age and means. Brennan wouldn’t hear of it. Told us there was no point what with it being smashed. Said she probably only used it for playing solitaire and looking up funeral times, and he didn’t have time for business like that and I shouldn’t either.”

  “Strange,” she whispered. And before she even realised what she was saying, she continued. “I thought it was strange that the TV was still in there when…”

  Fiona stopped and froze, her eyes widening as she realised the extent of her indiscretion.

  But Garda Conway looked anything but shocked. In fact, his lips had twisted into a wide smile.

  “You…”

  “Ah, come on now. I wasn’t born yesterday. Your father thought he was pulling a fast one by feeding me that information in the pub.”

  “You knew?” she gasped.

  He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I’m not an old fool.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have gotten in serious trouble if you’d reported us.”

  “Why would I do that? Sure isn’t it great when fellas want to do my job for me? The amount of information I’ve gotten that way down through the years… the bonus, of course, is getting to enjoy a few pints at the same time.

  “Anyway, that was when things got very odd. I went to the house first thing to check it out; before I even told the sergeant what I’d learned. No-one from the force had been back there since the initial search the day before. It was obvious to me that her computer was gone, and it didn’t seem like anything else had been touched. I was immediately suspicious. But I’m all for following protocol these days, so away I went into the station. I told the sergeant I’d heard two aul ones muttering about noises coming from Mrs Stanley’s place late at night and that someone saw Alan Power loitering around.

  “We set off to check. Brennan insisted on coming with me. We got in and the first thing I did was point out that the big fancy computer that had been there the day before wasn’t there anymore. He heard me say it. Seemed to take it in. So away we went to pick up Power. But Brennan didn’t even ask him about the computer. No, it was all about the murder. Now, I thought it might have been forgetfulness on his part so I scribbled a note on a piece of paper and passed it to him. And still he didn’t mention it!”

  “Why? Wasn’t it relevant?”

  “Well, Alan Power’s alibis for the time of the murder checked out, but I would have thought Brennan would be desperate to increase his arrest record. But he point blank ignored it. There was no search of Power’s house even though it could have turned up something. In fact, Brennan just dropped the matter as soon as the building manager in Dublin sent us the proof to back up Power’s alibi for the time of the murder.”

  “Did you mention it to him again?”

  “Why would I bother? Like I said, I’m not interested in rocking the boat. I’ve put in my time.”

  “So, what’s this about? You want me to rock the boat and find out what’s going on?”

  He stood to leave, walking as if his limbs were stiff. “I suppose I thought I owed it to you. Brennan seems keen to pin it on your mother and leave it at that, even in the face of evidence to suggest other parties are involved. Like I said, I can’t decide if that’s laziness or something else.”

  “You think…” she shook her head as she mulled over her words before she even dared to say them out loud. Brennan was obnoxious, sure, but was he capable of more than that? She had always thought he was a pain, but was he dangerous too? She took a deep breath and exhaled, knowing she was going to have to confront this head-on. “Do you think he’s deliberately suppressing evidence? That he’s in league with the murderer?”

  Conway smiled and for a moment Fiona thought he was messing with her. But there was only sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Fiona love. All I’ll say is this: mind yourself. And if it ever looks like there’s more to it than meets the eyes; or if you ever feel like you’re in danger, you call me. That should be the first thing you do. Here,” he said, taking out his phone. “I’ll give you my number. I can’t go throwing mud at the sergeant when I don’t know if it’s just my imagination. That doesn’t mean I’d cast you into danger. Do you hear?”

  She nodded. “If I find out anything, I’ll call and let you know.”

  “Do that. I mean it. My hands are tied in terms of getting involved, but if there’s something sinister going on then you let me know. I don’t want you running off and breaking into crime scenes without Garda protection.”

  “I won’t,” she said laughing. “At least, I’ll call you and let you know before I do. I promise.”

  “And you won’t repeat a word of what I told you?”

  She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  “Of course you can tell your family. Lord knows I know your grandmother has been involved in the case with you as well. But outside of family, keep it to yourself, eh?”

  “I will,” she whispered, wondering if she’d even dare to make such accusations in public. If what Garda Conway was saying was true—and hadn’t she seen the evidence of it herself—then it was possible they had a corrupt Garda sergeant on their hands.

  The case had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

  26

  THERE WASN’T a sound in the room as Fiona filled her family in on what Garda Conway had just told her. Even when she’d finished, none of them seemed capable of responding.

  “Well?” she muttered, after what seemed like five minutes of pure silence.

  Marty shook his head. “Unbelievable. Do you think Conway has gone mad?”

  “No,” she said, thinking back. “He was definitely acting strangely, but he was completely lucid. You know, he told me about Dad feeding him the story of Alan Power in the pub. Things like that. I don’t think he’s making it up, if that’s what you mean. After all, haven’t we seen these things ourselves with our own eyes? What do you think, Dad? You’ve known Garda Conway longer than any of us.”

  “I’m as surprised as the rest of you,” Francis said. “He’s always played the fool and played it well. I’m certainly not the first person to feed him information thinking he’d have a hazy memory of the source.”

  “So he’s got a better memory than he lets on,” Granny Coyle snapped. “So what? Is he expecting you to go and do his job for him?”

  “I don’t know,”
Fiona said with a sigh. “It seemed like he was telling me out of courtesy. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be involved, it’s that he’ll only get involved if he’s certain there’s foul play going on.”

  “Big of him.”

  “Ah Mammy,” Margaret said. “He’s a good man. Don’t be too hard on him. He was certainly decent to me when they had me in for questioning.”

  They all fell silent. Fiona looked around at them, hoping at least someone would have an idea. No-one said anything.

  “I think we should pay Alan Power a visit,” Granny Coyle announced after several minutes.

  Fiona blinked, wondering if she’d heard that correctly. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard. Alan Power. We’ll get him to tell us why he took that computer. That’ll give us more to go on. Maybe he’s even gotten onto her Facebook page.”

  “Just like that. You think he’s just going to talk to us about breaking into her house?”

  Granny Coyle shrugged. “I don’t see what other options we’ve got.”

  “But you didn’t listen to what I said earlier; what Conway told me. There’s a possibility that Brennan is in cahoots with the murderer.”

  “There is of course, but I doubt it.”

  “You doubt it enough to go over there and reveal our hand to him?”

  “Oh come on, Fiona. Don’t be so cautious. What’s the worst that can happen? Even if he is in cahoots with Brennan, we’re not going to reveal anything to him that you and your mother haven’t already told the guards. A few of us will go just to be on the safe side.”

  “And if he doesn’t want to talk to us?”

  Granny Coyle smiled but none of them were fooled. There was pure steel behind the pleasantry. “We’ll make him talk to us. Don’t worry.”

  Fiona looked around at the others as if beseeching them to talk some sense into her granny. It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in Rose, she just wondered if she was persuasive enough to force a man to talk when he was at risk of incriminating himself.