Page 61 of The Guilty Girl

‘I’ll get dressed first.’

Boyd watched Starr stroll down the corridor and took his hand from Sergio’s shoulder. ‘I told you to stay outside.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, but we should leave.’ Boyd didn’t relish getting into a sparring match with a professional boxer. ‘By the way, how do you know who he is?’

‘Mama watches his fights. He’s good.’

‘Is he?’ Boyd said, not knowing the first thing about boxing.

‘Undefeated light-heavyweight European champion.’

‘Yes, I am.’ Starr returned kitted out in khaki Bermudas, his feet shod in brown leather loafers Boyd knew he himself could never afford. He tore off a price label from a white T-shirt with a Tommy Hilfiger motif and pulled it over his head before busying himself at a monster coffee machine. ‘Care for an espresso?’

‘No thanks,’ Boyd said, trying to figure out why the man was so easy with a stranger in his apartment. Not even his apartment.

He watched open-mouthed as Sergio flopped down on a massive white leather chair and began fiddling with a remote control. A flat-screen television, at least sixty-five inches, slid up from the floor.

‘Wow! This is cool.’ The boy’s eyes widened in wonderment.

Boyd supposed his son was safe sitting in front of the TV.

‘This is Albert McAllister’s apartment, isn’t it?’ He slid onto a high stool at the breakfast bar, his attention now firmly on the boxer.

‘Yeah. Whenever I visit the Costa del Sol I stay here. Plus I like the view.’

‘When you’re not in this region, where do you live?’

‘I take it you’re some sort of a cop with all the questions.’

‘I’m on leave at the moment, but I know Albert and Mary.’

The machine spurted tar-like coffee into a miniature white china cup.

Terry faced Boyd. ‘Doesn’t stop you asking questions, does it? Why are you here?’

Boyd carefully considered what he was about to say. There was no knowing how close Terry was to the McAllisters or the real reason for him being present in their apartment. He figured honesty was the best policy to avoid getting caught out in a lie later on.

‘When I’m on duty I’m Detective Sergeant Mark Boyd at Ragmullin garda station. A colleague suggested I make some enquiries. Albert and Mary arrived home to some terrible news. Have you heard anything about that?’

‘What news?’ When Boyd didn’t reply, Terry said, ‘I only got here about twenty minutes before you.’

‘Where did you come from?’

‘First you need to tell me about the disturbing news.’

‘I’m afraid their daughter was murdered within the last twelve hours or so.’

‘Lucy?’ The cup clattered onto the quartz counter. Terry’s skin took on an ashen hue. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Their only child. Sad.’

‘Oh God, Albert will be devastated. He adored Lucy. What happened to her? Do you know why, or who …?’

‘I’ve no further information at present,’ Boyd said, automatically slipping into professional mode. ‘I note you mentioned Albert being devastated but not Mary. Did Mary and Lucy not get on?’

‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ Terry said hurriedly. ‘I just know Albert better.’