Page 120

‘I… I was inside, in his kitchen. Or as near inside as I got before he hit me.’

‘Did he invite you in? What did you say to him?’

‘You’re unreal, you know that? If you want to know, I asked the prick what he’d done with my wife, and he launched at me and punched me in the face.’

‘Were you invited into his house?’ Mooney asked again, but he was getting a clear picture of what had happened. He knew the likes of Wilson. Jumped up, full of their own importance. No regard for anyone other than themselves.

‘No, but you’d already arrested him. He is guilty.’

‘Guilty of what?’

‘Of murder. Of hitting me. Of abducting my wife.’

‘But your wife is here. She looks perfectly all right to me.’

‘That’s beside the point.’ Wilson stood and went to the dresser, pouring himself a generous finger of whiskey. He sat again without offering Mooney anything to drink.

‘You entered a man’s home.’ Mooney adopted the most officious tone he could muster through his exhaustion. ‘You threw accusations at him. He may have felt threatened by you and was protecting himself and his property.’ He had no idea if that was true or not, but he figured he was close enough.

‘Why haven’t you charged him with murder?’

‘It’s an ongoing investigation, which I have no intention of discussing with you.’ He stood. ‘Call to the station tomorrow morning if you want to make your complaint.’

‘I’ll make a complaint about your incompetence, Sergeant.’

‘That is your prerogative as a civilian. I’m glad your wife wasn’t actually missing.’ At the door, he paused and turned around. ‘Do you know where she was?’

Wilson’s face flushed a red-hot fire. ‘That is none of your business.’

So Wilson had no idea where Ann had been. But Mooney wanted to know. He had to find out if she’d met Imelda Conroy. And if so, why.

He closed the living room door and found the hallway empty. He spied a light coming from a room to his right, so he walked towards it and stuck his head around the door.

‘This is some kitchen,’ he said, which was true. ‘It’s like stepping into a …’ He struggled to find a word to describe the clean lines and meticulous spotlessness.

‘Thank you. I like it,’ Ann said. ‘Denis had this extension built. It’s a bit big for just the two of us.’

Mooney was about to ask if they had children, but then thought it might be a sensitive subject. ‘I’d like to know where you were today. Your husband reported you missing.’

She stared at the door, her green eyes wide and fearful.

‘Don’t worry, Ann. Denis is nursing a tumbler of whiskey and his bruised ego.’

‘All the same, I don’t think it’s any of your business, or his.’

‘We got a call from your phone.’

‘My phone? A call?’ She failed to mask her surprise. ‘It’s in the car. I must have dropped it in the footwell.’

‘Or someone took it. Did you give anyone a lift?’

‘No, I… I’d like you to leave,’ she said, her tone a desperate plea. He noted she had dropped her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

‘Ann, we are hunting a murderer and looking for a missing woman. Not you, I’m glad to see. But this missing woman made a call from your phone. Care to explain.’

‘I can’t… I must have lost it, or maybe it was stolen.’ She bit her lip, hands trembling.

‘Where might it have been stolen from you?’