Page 74 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

At the Wilson house Mooney had to leave his car on the road outside the closed sliding gate. He hopped over it, caught his trousers on a splinter of timber and ripped a hole down the knee.

‘Bad luck follows bad luck,’ he said aloud. Had he got the quote right? Didn’t matter. He was having a shit few days, that was all he knew.

He looked up at the imposing house and thought that there must be money in the radio business, because he didn’t think councillors got paid much.

But what did he know? Not a lot, if his lack of progress on the murders was anything to go by.

And now he had to take a statement about an alleged assault and find the missing wife of an obnoxious prick.

He rang the bell and waited. He noted there was no shrubbery or flowers. Resin driveway and a cobbled step. Low-maintenance.

The door opened. Ann Wilson stood there.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Mrs Wilson?’

‘That’s me.’

For a moment Mooney was speechless. ‘I thought you were missing.’

‘Seems like I’ve been found.’ Her voice was strained, he noted.

After introducing himself, he said, ‘Your husband asked me to call round. Something about a complaint he wanted to make.’

‘Oh, and I thought you were looking for me.’

‘I was, I am, but now I’m not.’ Jesus, he was making a hash of this. Ann Wilson was a striking-looking woman, though she looked as tired as he felt. He could see a tough history written in her face, and he wondered what it was that had her on tenterhooks.

‘Come in. Please. Don’t mind the mess. I was looking for my phone, but I must have left it in the car.’

‘When did you have it last?’ Hadn’t Lottie Parker said she’d had a call from Ann’s phone? She’d thought it might have been Imelda Conroy. Was Ann lying?

‘I can’t recall. I’ve had such a busy day.’

He saw how flustered she was and decided not to mention Imelda Conroy just yet.

‘Denis is in the living room.’ She bent to retrieve her personal stuff from the floor, furiously shoving it all into a large open handbag.

Mooney figured it would be easy for someone to steal a wallet or a phone from it.

He was about to ask her where she’d been to make Denis think she was missing, but she looked up at him, an unspoken plea in her eyes, just as Wilson appeared in the doorway.

‘Detective Sergeant Mooney. At last. Come in here where we can talk in peace.’

Mooney noticed Ann exhale in relief behind her husband’s back. He was sure that was what it was. Relief. There seemed to be a strange dynamic going on, and he needed to be alert. He followed Wilson into his living room.

‘Nice house you have.’ He was useless at small talk.

‘See this?’ Wilson pointed to his eye. Mooney thought it would take more than a bag of frozen peas to reduce the swelling. ‘That gobshite O’Shaughnessy punched me. A totally unprovoked attack. I want him arrested and charged.’

‘Can I sit down?’

‘Of course. My apologies.’ Wilson smirked and sat on a straight-backed armchair. Mooney took the other. It felt like he was sitting on a board. It would help keep him awake.

‘Could you explain what happened?’

‘Are you not going to write this down?’

‘I just want to get the basics tonight. You’ll have to make a formal complaint at the station at your convenience.’

‘For fuck’s sake. It’s the likes of you that has the country the way it is.’

Mooney stared him out. No way was he rising to the bait for a row at this hour. He silently congratulated O’Shaughnessy on his precision punch.

‘So what happened?’

Wilson exhaled. ‘I thought he had taken Ann. He’s a murderer after all. But he just lashed out. Didn’t give me a chance to defend myself.’

‘Did you provoke him?’

‘Are you for real? See this?’ He jabbed a finger at his eye and winced. ‘This is assault. No extenuating circumstances. And that mongrel of his needs to be put down. I’m lucky it didn’t bite me.’

‘But surely the man didn’t do this to you in his own home for no reason?’

‘I’m telling you, he did.’

‘Did it happen outside the house?’

‘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?’

‘I don’t know.’ She lowered her voice. It was laced with desperation. ‘Please. Leave me alone.’

‘I can’t, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Where is Imelda Conroy?’

She slumped onto a chair and brought her hands to her face. ‘I dropped her off in the city.’ Her voice was just a whisper. ‘She must have taken my phone.’

‘Where in the city?’

‘Eyre Square. I don’t know where she is now. That’s the truth. Please leave me alone.’

‘You will have to explain it to me.’

‘I did nothing wrong.’

‘You aided a fugitive.’

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. ‘That’s not true. She accosted me at my shop. She got in my car and made me drive her all the way to Clifden and back.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ann, I’ve had a long, exhausting few days, and I’m afraid you may have committed a crime.’

‘Please leave me alone. Denis will kill me.’

‘Why would he?’

‘I don’t mean it that way, but if you think I committed a crime and arrest me, it will be a bad image for his public relations machine.’

Mooney smiled, and Ann did too. He pulled out a chair and sat with her.

‘His public relations?’

‘He reckons the general election will be called soon.’

‘I get the feeling you know something that can help my investigation, and it’s nothing to do with an election. Tell me everything.’

‘Not here. I’m serious. If he believes I’m mixed up in this, he’ll go berserk.’

‘Do you think that’s what happened at O’Shaughnessy’s? He went berserk?’

‘Probably. But I can’t talk now.’

‘Okay. When can you speak to me?’

‘Tomorrow. In the morning. Give me your number and I’ll phone you.’

‘You don’t have your phone.’

‘I’ll call to the station then. Where are you based?’

‘Garda HQ. Renmore.’

‘I’ll be there by nine.’

‘Are you sure you don’t know where I can find Imelda Conroy tonight?’

‘I left her in the city. She could be anywhere.’