Page 158 of Three Widows

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Boyd took the call from Garda Brennan just as McKeown walked in.

‘Come on, Sam, you’re with me.’

Boyd drove, so that he had something to concentrate on other than McKeown moaning about his wife.

‘I have no idea why the killer would have chosen the Loman area of Ragmullin to leave another body for us to find,’ McKeown said, once he’d finished his tirade on the state of his marriage. ‘There are a lot of businesses and residential areas around here.’

‘Martina said the body is located by an old mill close to the new bridge.’

‘It’s also a well-lit area at night,’ McKeown said. ‘I found out something interesting about Tyler Keating. CAB have started investigating him. He set up this company years ago, a shell company, and—’

‘Later.’ Boyd parked behind the squad car with its door open and lights on.

Martina had called in reinforcements, and the bridge was blocked on either side, with no traffic, foot or vehicular, allowed.

‘Who found the body?’ Boyd asked.

‘That guy over there.’ Martina pointed to a thin youth kitted out in jogging gear. ‘He was out for a run. Saw something yellow fluttering in the breeze. He’s a wreck.’

‘Not a suspect, then?’

‘I doubt it. The guy is a total mess.’

‘Lead the way.’

They walked down the side of the bridge onto the field. The ground underfoot was soft, despite there having been little rain in the last three days. Boyd glanced at the sky, with its ominous bulging clouds. He was glad he had his tough shoes on, because McKeown’s smart leather loafers were soon covered with mud.

Under the bridge trusses and buttresses, he saw for himself the yellow material fluttering in the breeze on the body dangling, barely off the ground.

‘We need SOCOs and the state pathologist,’ McKeown said.

‘I’ve made the calls,’ Martina said sharply.

Boyd moved forward, conscious that they hadn’t suited up to preserve potential evidence. But he had to see who it was. The yellow dress swirled around obviously broken limbs. Short blonde hair fluttered in the wind. The face was eyeless.

‘Ah, no! Fuck. What the hell does this mean?’

The three of them stared at the figure, mouths open and hands hanging loose by their sides. There was nothing any of them could do for the victim.

Lottie and Lynch joined them then, slipping and sliding down the embankment.

‘Christ Almighty,’ Lottie swore. ‘I was terrified it might be Orla or Helena.’

‘It’s neither of them,’ Martina said.

‘Not unless they sprouted a penis,’ McKeown said.

Boyd fought the urge to punch him.

Lottie turned and pressed a finger into McKeown’s chest. ‘Get out of my sight. Now!’

‘Don’t you dare touch me!’

That was when Boyd did attempt to punch him, his fist glancing off the detective’s chin. Lottie sighed loudly.

The murders had got to all of them. And they were still going round in bloody circles.