Page 118 of Three Widows

‘Let’s have a word with Orla Keating first and see where that leads us. Okay? I don’t want you putting your size twelves in the wrong place, so let me do the talking. And print out that form.’

He hit the print button, and as the copier whirred in the corner, he shrugged on his jacket.

‘The boss can’t find Helena McCaul,’ Lynch said as they got ready to leave, ‘and according to her last known sighting, she was with Orla Keating.’

‘This should be an interesting conversation, then.’

‘Just remember, I’m doing the talking, Kirby.’

‘We shall see.’

He pretended that he didn’t see Lynch’s eye-roll. He had to find Amy, and he hoped the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach didn’t mean he was already too late.

* * *

It’s all getting a little cramped now. That Lottie Parker is no pushover. But I knew she would be a formidable opponent. The thing is, I don’t want to be caught. Not yet. I have more work to do. More eyes to collect to help me see the truth of the world. Oh, there was a lot of terror in those eyes just before I took their owners’ lives. Jennifer was weak with hunger and had almost given up, but there was a little fight left in her. Then Éilis was setting out to be a challenge until she keeled over and died on me. Shame. In my rush to dispose of her body, I hope I didn’t leave any evidence behind. The water from the hose should have helped douse anything incriminating. And then the last one. That was a huge rush and I was almost thwarted. I have to go back and finish the job.

I know every contact leaves a trace, no matter how careful I am. I just hope to be so far ahead of the guards that it won’t matter when they do find something.

I have to make ready a new site for the next lot of broken bones.

I move back to stand outside the padded living room. Peering through the hole in the door, I see my latest captive has stopped trying to escape the tight binds. Fruitless. Waste of energy. There’s no way they can bite their way through cable ties. And they can’t run with broken legs. I grip the piece of timber tighter in my fist. Time to break the arms, and then I’m on to the exquisite part.

75

Lottie was still sitting on the stairs, digesting what Jane had told her, when Kirby and Lynch came bustling out of the office. The information from the pathologist was interesting, but was it really some warped fetish couched in mythology that was driving their killer? Anything was possible.

‘Where are you off to?’ she asked.

Kirby showed her the printout. ‘I found a connection between Amy Corcoran and Tyler Keating.’

‘Slow down. In here, and explain.’ She took his arm and gently led him back towards the office.

Once seated, Kirby began to speak as Lottie glanced over Amy’s job application.

‘You mean to tell me that the woman you only met this week has a connection to the husband of our first victim, Jennifer O’Loughlin, and to a man missing for a year?’

‘It’s not much, but it’s something,’ Kirby said. ‘She worked for Bowen Solicitors, but listing Tyler Keating as a referee gives us a lot more to chew over.’

‘How did she know him well enough to ask him for a reference?’ Lottie’s head thrummed with all the new information coming at her.

‘That’s why we were on our way to speak with Tyler’s wife. Can we head off now?’ Kirby stood and turned towards the door.

‘Stay right here.’ She knew she’d have to be cruel to be kind. She couldn’t afford for Kirby to go off half-cocked. ‘You have to consider that Amy might be involved in these murders in some way.’

‘She can’t be. I was with her the night Jennifer’s body was dumped.’

‘The whole night?’

‘Yeah.’ He looked doubtful. ‘I think so.’

‘You think so, eh?’

He rubbed his hands together so hard, Lottie could see flecks of skin flying in the air. ‘The thing is, I’d had a fair drop and was a bit out of it, but that’s not to say—’

‘Enough! You and Lynch stay here. You still haven’t thoroughly analysed those files from the lock-up. They must be important. Boyd can come with me to talk to Orla.’

‘He was following up with the lab about the blood found in Helena McCaul’s house,’ Lynch said. ‘Then he went to talk to her mother, Kathleen Foley, again.’