Page 34 of The Guilty Girl

‘Yeah, that’s all.’

She didn’t believe him. To wrongfoot him, she said, ‘Why are you washing your clothes?’

He blushed. ‘Not a crime, is it?’

‘It is if you’re trying to wash away evidence.’

‘What do you mean? I did nothing wrong. I admit I gave Hannah the pill, but she took it and totally chilled.’

‘Our forensic team will want your clothes from last night, even if you’ve washed them.’ If Cormac or Hannah had committed the crime of murder, either together or alone, she hoped SOCOs would be able to find something to analyse on their clothing.

‘Don’t you need a warrant for that?’ He looked even more uneasy. ‘If you tell me what I’m supposed to have done, maybe I could help you.’ He ran his hands up and down his bare arms, and dry skin fluttered in the air.

‘How did you get home from the party?’

‘My car. Heap of shite.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Parked in the harbour car park. I’ll need to put a ticket on it or I’ll get a fine.’

‘What time did you leave?’

‘Late.’

Lottie despaired of anyone knowing the time of day any more. ‘Did you give anyone a lift? Hannah maybe?’

‘I don’t understand what this is about.’

That was when she realised he’d never asked her who was dead. Keeping her eyes firmly locked on his, she said, ‘Lucy McAllister was murdered last night.’

Cormac’s jaw slackened and he averted his eyes towards a spot on the wall behind her. ‘That can’t be true. It can’t be.’

‘Believe me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you if it was untrue.’

‘Shite. Jesus. Fuck.’ He paused his incantations and rubbed his forehead furiously. ‘Holy crap. Her father will be devastated.’

‘Do you know Lucy’s parents?’

‘No. I mean, I do gardening for them. The few times I was there, it was obvious Lucy and her mother didn’t get on. But her dad never stopped talking about her.’

‘When exactly did you last see Lucy?’

That was when Cormac clamped his mouth shut and refused to say another word.

* * *

The detectives left with the lad in the car, and the kid on the bike sent the text. Then he pushed the bike out from behind the steps that led towards the shopping centre car park and rode down the narrow street.

‘Hey, you there! You owe me for fixing your brakes last week. Come back here.’

The boy stood up on the pedals and with one hand gave the bike shop man the finger. No way was he paying for getting his poxy brakes fixed. The man could shout all he liked. No one was listening to him.

He pedalled fast, trying to catch sight of the unmarked car, relieved to see it turn up towards the garda station. Now maybe he’d have time to have a piss and something to eat.

* * *

I, the Magpie, am on edge and I don’t like that. I thought I could easily slip from my everyday reality into my avian persona, but it’s difficult.