Page 163 of The Altar Girls

Rose looked up at Lottie, her eyes pleading.

‘What’s wrong, Betty?’ Lottie sat at the table beside the older lady. ‘Can I do anything for you?’

‘I helped out at the choir. Father Maguire asked me and I was delighted to do it.’

‘That’s a good deed,’ Lottie said. ‘You knew Willow and Naomi, didn’t you?’

‘Naomi was so quiet. But Willow, now that child would swing out of the chandeliers if she was let.’ A sad smile warmed Betty’s face.

‘It was an awful shock to find little Naomi…’ Lottie wasn’t sure how to phrase her question without causing distress to Mrs Coyne.

‘A huge shock, my dear.’

‘You said someone else was there that night. Can you…?’

‘Let me think. Yes, the little boy. He was there.’

‘Before you saw him, I mean. Alfie said you came running from behind the cathedral.’

‘There was a woman. It was dark, wasn’t it? It’s awful how things come and go in my memory.’

‘Yes, it was dark. But there was some light from the cathedral windows.’

‘Rainbow light from the stained glass. Yes. I remember now.’

‘What do you remember?’

‘I turned on the lights in the sacristy. For the choir. But there was no one there. I went outside. I may have been going to call over to the house for Father Maguire. I think that’s when I heard something behind me.’

‘What did you hear?’

Mrs Coyne rubbed her forehead. ‘I don’t know. I’m a silly old woman.’

Rose stood up and put an arm around her friend. ‘That makes two of us, Betty.’ She handed her a tissue.

After blowing her nose, Betty said, ‘It was Willow’s mother! That’s who it was.’

Lottie took a deep breath and wondered if the courts would accept the eyewitness testimony of a woman who had suffered a stroke and struggled with her memory. What she needed was watertight evidence. And she still didn’t have a crime scene. ‘Are you sure?’

‘She must have heard me, because she scurried off around the other side. I must have screamed.’

If this was all true, then Zara had murdered her own daughter and Naomi Kiernan. But all Lottie had was lots of mismatched pieces, including hearsay, and no proof.

She patted Mrs Coyne’s shoulder. ‘I think we need a fresh pot of tea.’

After the tea and some delicious scones that Mrs Coyne had brought with her, Rose insisted her friend stay for the night. Lottie lit the fire in the living room, and both women settled into armchairs in front of the television, their knitting on their knees.

With her head full of the investigation, Lottie circled the kitchen table, revisiting everything she’d learned since Monday.

The hammer that had been lying beside Father Maguire in Zara’s kitchen had been taken into evidence. If forensics proved it was the implement that had killed Naomi, did that mean the children had been murdered in Zara’s house? Or had the priest brought it with him? She was dithering between Zara and Father Maguire as the murderer. It was difficult for her to imagine what might drive a mother to kill her child. Then again, Father Maguire was affable and mild-mannered. She’d seen killers come in all guises, and the only way to be sure, without airtight proof, was to get a confession. First, though, she needed to talk to the SOCOs who were still at Zara’s house.

She pulled on her coat and headed out into the cold night air.

Grainne Nixon, the lead SOCO, was on her knees beside an open cupboard in the kitchen. She didn’t look pleased with Lottie marching in on her work.

‘You need to put on protective clothing,’ she growled.

‘I’ve already been in here, so it won’t make any difference.’