Page 34 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

WEDNESDAY

After a restless sleep, Lottie left the house early, telling Boyd she might do a bit of shopping. She had no intention of travelling into the city. Instead, she headed back out to the convent.

She found Mickey Fox’s caravan on the outer edges of the convent grounds, in the midst of a copse of trees.

Smoke billowed from a barrel, which, like a beacon, led her to the clearing where he had his abode.

Apart from the burning embers, there was no sign of the old man.

The caravan door was open. Standing on the step, she looked inside.

Surprised to find it tidy but sparse, she debated going in. A shout from behind halted her.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

She quickly backtracked down the step. ‘Mr Fox.’

‘It’s yourself, is it? Snooping again, I see. There’s nothing in there to interest you, unless you can fix a bastard of a blocked toilet.’

He held a plunger in one hand and a sturdy container in the other with a toxic warning symbol emblazoned on its side. Nothing that could be used as a weapon, she thought, though the toxic liquid was probably as good as anything. Calm down, she warned herself. She was the trespasser here, not him.

‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘I was looking for you. Thought you might be inside when I saw the fire over there.’

‘Snooping, that’s what you’re at, and that’s no word of a lie, missy.’

The ‘missy’ reminded her of her mother, and a wave of guilt flowed through her.

She needed to ring her girls to see how Rose was doing.

She had toyed with the idea of bringing her mother to Connemara for the week, but then ruled it out.

Katie and Chloe had asked if they should bring her when they were coming to the wedding, but Lottie vetoed that, saying the event would be confusing for her.

She better ring later to see how they were getting on.

‘I was after some information, Mickey. About your time working for the nuns.’

‘A cop was here last evening. Mooney. String of misery, giving the impression of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He should try living out here in the heart of winter. That’d give him something to worry about, so it would.’

She grinned internally at his take on Mooney, but outwardly she maintained a stoical expression. ‘Did you ever hear of a time when someone got burned at the convent?’

‘They were always getting burned, little souls. Between irons and boiling water and steam, sure there was always accidents.’

‘Any time when it wasn’t an accident?’

He moved towards her. His white beard seemed darker, his froggy eyes bulged and his grip tightened on the plunger. ‘What is it you’re not saying?’ he growled.

‘I heard someone got burned, scalded on purpose. No accident.’

He seemed to draw in his eyes, or maybe his bushy eyebrows shaded them. ‘Never heard of that.’

‘Really? I’d have thought you’d know everything that went on here.’

‘You’re being smart with me now.’

‘I’m not being smart. I really think you were the eyes and ears of this place. I believe you can help me.’

‘You’re working with that Mooney detective, aren’t you?’

‘I’m helping him, when he lets me.’

He put down the plunger and the container, picked up a long stick and began shifting whatever was burning in the barrel.

‘You should talk to that woman who was a nun back then. She was young enough and did a bit of nursing in the convent too. Assumpta, her name was. Never knew her full name. I imagine the girls had a nastier one for her.’ He chuckled, but Lottie didn’t find anything funny in his words.

‘She wasn’t a nice person then?’

‘She was good as a nurse, far as I knew, but she didn’t do anything to help. If you get my meaning.’

Lottie wasn’t sure what he meant, but she banked the information and ploughed on.

‘I heard the girls were abused.’ She wanted to say more, but held back.

Hadn’t Fox called them sinners and said they deserved what they got?

She had to tread carefully, knowing Mooney would skin her alive for intruding on his investigation.

She waited.

Mickey was quiet, stirring the ashes. What was he burning? She moved closer to the old oil drum. He didn’t seem to notice.

‘There were a lot of rumours back then,’ he said. ‘No truth in most of them.’

‘But the ones that did have some truth, can you tell me about them?’

‘What is your role in all this?’ He wasn’t as dumb as he made out to be.

‘I’m a detective, but not from round here. And I’m curious as to why there’s been a murder. I suspect it could be related to what went on here years ago.’

‘Have you proof of any wrongdoing?’

‘Not yet.’

He continued to stir. A few sparks flew into the air, spluttered and died. He remained silent.

‘What are you burning?’ Lottie asked.

‘Branches and sticks.’

‘If you’re doing it to keep warm, it’s not that cold.’

‘Who said why I was doing it?’

She hesitated. ‘Are you burning evidence?’

‘And what evidence would that be?’

Time to fudge the truth. ‘Things went missing from the cottage where the woman was murdered. A lot of research on the convent.’

He stopped his stirring and the sparks died down. ‘I had nothing to do with that. I am a law-abiding citizen.’

‘That’s what they all say.’

‘Who?’

‘Those with something to hide. What have you to hide, Mickey?’

He said nothing, resumed stoking the dying fire.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to tell Detective Sergeant Mooney about this, and I’m sure he’ll be sending out his forensic guys to sift through those ashes.’

‘You will do no such thing. I’m living a quiet life here. Minding my own business. I did nothing to nobody. Never have. Never will. Leave me alone.’

She heard it then. In his tone, in the quiver in his voice. ‘Who are you afraid of, Mickey?’

He stopped his seemingly mindless task and kept his back to her as he said, ‘You’d be best served to not ask too many questions. Questions get you into trouble.’

Mickey Fox was scared, not dangerous.

She was almost certain of that.

Almost.