Page 72

‘There’s two here, and he has one in Ragmullin. The circumstances seem similar. I’m wondering if they could be connected.’

‘How could they be connected?’

‘I don’t know. But Kirby told me about a guy who’s missing from Ragmullin. He knew the victim there and he originally met her years ago in Galway. He’s a chef by the name of Robert Hayes.’ She hesitated, wondering at the absurdity of what she was about to say. ‘I think maybe he should be looked at in connection to the murders here.’

Boyd shook his head. ‘You can’t fix everything. I know you try, but it’s not good for you. Nor for us. And I’m not saying that to be selfish. I worry about you.’

‘I know all that, but when someone presents me with a mystery, I have to at least attempt to solve it.’ She tried not to look defeated. She had to accept that Boyd was only concerned for her. Putting her best interests first. Or his own?

‘Run it by Mooney,’ he said, relenting.

With his change in direction, she began to doubt it was the right move. ‘I don’t know. Kirby already has a nationwide alert issued for this Robert Hayes. I might be making links where there are none.’

‘What does Kirby expect you to do? You’re on leave this week.’ He grinned at her. ‘Or as much on leave as you can be when you’re not poking your nose in where it’s not wanted.’

‘I take offence at that comment, Mark Boyd.’ She smiled, knowing he was joking while also being truthful. In a way, she was glad that even with everything going on, he seemed more relaxed than he had been in a long time. More relaxed than she was, which, come to think of it, wouldn’t be hard.

‘I know you well, Lottie. You’re loving every minute of it.’

‘Two people have been murdered here in Connemara and I take no joy in that. I just relish the challenge of walking in the footsteps of a killer and tripping them up. I miss that buzz when I’m not working.’

‘Do you seek out these weirdos, or do they follow you around?’

‘Shut up.’ She smacked his arm playfully, then took his hand. ‘We need to find out what Mooney has on Bryan.’

‘I can’t get involved. I’m too close to the situation, because of Grace. Talk to Mooney if you think you’ll get anything out of him. Then leave it up to him. I really don’t want you being involved at all. Keep your distance.’

‘I’ll try,’ she agreed. ‘How is Grace?’

‘Distraught. I sent her back to bed to rest. Which reminds me. She wants a cup of cocoa.’

‘Do people still drink that?’

‘Grace does.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me in the least. Will you make it for her? I’ll head into Galway and try to find out what Mooney is up to.’

‘You’ve no car, and I might need mine.’

Catching sight of Bryan’s keys on a hook by the door, she smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive a Range Rover.’

46

Bryan O’Shaughnessy wasn’t afraid of being arrested for murder. There was no way they could charge him because they had no evidence that he’d done anything wrong. Or had they? He’d been upfront with them and admitted his fingerprints were on the piece of timber found at the old homestead. He had a legitimate excuse because how was he to know that picking it up could land him back in the station to be grilled. He had nothing to worry about. Everything had an explanation.

‘Mr O’Shaughnessy,’ Mooney said, and sat down opposite him, slapping a thin file on the table.

‘I’m waiting for my solicitor.’

‘That’s your prerogative. I’ll just get things started while we wait.’ He studied the buttons on a recording machine.

Bryan wondered if this was allowed, but he wasn’t informed enough to object.

‘Who is your solicitor?’ Mooney asked.

‘A firm called Ward and Gavin. Not sure who they’ll send.’ They’d rejigged his will late last year when he’d decided to marry Grace. That was the only reason their name was to the forefront of his mind when he had to make the call.

‘You’ll probably get Norah Ward. She’s like a bulldog.’ Mooney must have caught Bryan’s amazed look, because he tugged at his beard and added, ‘Not in looks, I mean. She’s a fighter. She’ll fight your corner. That’s all I mean.’