Page 77 of The Altar Girls

‘He was moved to another parish.’

‘Did you ever meet him?’

‘No. And I never want to. He could be dead and good riddance. That may sound unchristian, but I’m sorry, that’s the way I feel about him.’

‘And your mother?’

‘I visit her as often as I can, but it breaks my heart to see what that man did to her. He ruined her life.’

‘But she kept you and raised you to be who you are today.’ A thorn lodged in her side as she thought of her own birth mother and the short, anguished life that woman had led.

‘You know nothing about me, Inspector,’ he snorted, his words laced with derision, and walked away from her before turning back. ‘Are we done here? I’m late for an appointment.’

Without waiting for an answer, he walked out the door. Lottie stared at the space he’d left behind, wondering why, after all this time, he was still filled with such anger.

She had glimpsed something in him, something broken. But did that mean he was a killer? One thing she knew for sure, he was a damaged man.

50

Alfie knocked on the door, and while he waited for it to be answered, he kicked up balls of snow from the grass. Today he had to do something so that he wouldn’t feel guilty. Today he wanted to be a Good Samaritan. Father Maguire was always telling them to look out for those who were less fortunate than them. He knew his family wasn’t well off, but he figured Naomi and Willow’s families were a step below him now that the girls were dead.

The door opened and a scary-looking man with deep, dark circles around his eyes stood there. He was holding Naomi’s little sister by the hand. For a moment Alfie was stunned. Who was this man? Naomi’s dad? Wasn’t he in prison? If it was him, he must have been released for her funeral, unless this was an uncle or a friend. It didn’t make any difference to him anyhow.

‘Hi,’ he said when the man made no move to speak. ‘I’m Alfie, Naomi’s friend. I wondered if I could do anything around the house. To help you, like. I could take her for a walk if you want?’ He pointed at the little girl as he babbled, something in the man’s eyes sending a scuttle of fear up and down his spine.

‘It’s okay,’ the man said. ‘No need to be afraid of me, son. I’m Isaac, Naomi’s dad. Come in. You must be perished with the cold out there.’

Warily Alfie looked behind him to see if there was anyone about. The area was bleak and empty. Snow was beginning to fall again, and he was cold.

‘Okay so.’

The man stepped back, holding the door open.

Without another glance, Alfie walked into the house.

* * *

The priest’s briefcase and its contents had been taken away for forensic examination. Lottie had instructed SOCOs to check everything in the sacristy. She didn’t hold out much hope. If Maguire was the killer, he wasn’t stupid enough to leave evidence lying around, and so far he had an answer for everything.

The cathedral had been searched on day one without any evidence being found to prove the girls had been held there. Similar result at St Patrick’s church. All the same, just to be thorough and to assuage a nagging knot twisting at the base of her neck, she ordered both buildings to be searched again.

They had secured a warrant for the list of children who attended choir and their parents’ or guardians’ contact details. They checked it off against the list Maguire had provided and spoke to everyone. Kirby returned from the interviews none the wiser. No one had a bad word to say about Father Maguire, only praise for what he was doing. Everyone who knew Naomi and Willow referred to them as nice girls, whatever nice meant, though a few said Willow was a bit of a wild thing. They were no further along. Lottie noticed that Alfie Nally was the only boy currently in the choir.

‘What had Jacinta Nally to say?’ Lottie asked.

‘Oh, she was working and all in a rush. Just the same chat as the others really. She appeared grateful that Alfie was turning his life around. All praise for Father Maguire.’

‘Okay.’ She’d have to talk to the woman again, whenever she caught a free minute. ‘Has anyone got any bright ideas?’

‘The priest, Maguire, is more than a bit iffy, isn’t he?’ McKeown said.

‘In what way?’ Lottie wanted to tease this out.

‘Well, he’s alone for an hour twice a week with a room full of kids. His DNA is on the music sheets, which I know can be explained, but still…’

‘Still what? He isn’t alone with the children; Mrs Coyne is there too.’

‘There’s something about a priest and kids. It makes my blood boil.’