Page 30 of Three Widows

Feeling the prickle of anticipation on her skin, Lynch asked, ‘What group is this?’

‘It’s some sort of a social gathering for widows. Éilis set it up after Oisín died. A support group, maybe? They sometimes go to the cinema. They even went to the zoo once. Usually it’s drinks and chats at Fallon’s, though. Sounds boring to me, but I’m only sixteen and they’re ancient, so what do I know?’

Masking her grin at what the teenager considered ancient, Lynch said, ‘Do you know the names of any of these women?’

‘There’s a Jennifer, and Helena mentioned an Orla. That’s Helena McCaul. She has the herbal shop across from Dolan’s supermarket, where I work part-time. I phoned Jennifer too, but it sounded like her phone’s dead.’

Lynch flinched. ‘Do you have Jennifer’s full name?’

‘Éilis’s contact list just gives her first name. Helena would know.’

‘Could it be Jennifer O’Loughlin?’ She caught Bianca’s shrug and added, ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll contact Helena, and I’ll talk to the neighbours to see if anyone saw Éilis leave this morning. Can I have a look at her room?’

Bianca fidgeted. ‘She’s not up there.’

‘I need to see if anything is out of place.’

‘Okay. I hope I’m not being silly, it’s just the kids were so upset…’

Becky ran in dragging a gangly-looking boy with her. He bit his lip and eyed Lynch suspiciously when she asked for the PIN code, but then called it out.

Lynch wrote it down and smiled at him. ‘That’s a great help, Roman. Will you play with your little sister for a few more minutes? I want to have a look in your mam’s room.’ She caught Bianca’s eye, and the teenager took Roman’s hand.

‘Let’s make pancakes,’ she said.

Lynch scooted out the door, leaving Garda Lei looking lost.

In the living room, she couldn’t help admiring the vibrant colours. Éilis had a good eye and excellent taste. The room was soothing yet invigorating. She could do with something like that in her home. Cost a fortune, though. Money she didn’t have.

Upstairs in the kids’ bedrooms, she found the duvets bunched up on the beds. Everything else was tidy, despite there being more toys than either could ever play with.

She pushed open the door of the main bedroom. The double bed was made up and a beautiful patchwork quilt lay across the yellow duvet. It either hadn’t been slept in or Éilis was super-efficient and had made it when she got up. She noted a few creases on the quilt and a scattering of short hairs. The dog had lain there.

The wardrobe door was open. She glanced at the vast array of clothing, knowing she wouldn’t be seen dead in anything so bright. Looking around, she decided that nothing seemed out of place in the large room.

As she turned to leave, she noticed a damp patch on the carpet by the bed. She got down on her knees and stared. Had the dog peed? Wrinkling her nose, she shuffled backwards and stood.

Everything else in the room was pristine, but right there, near the stain, she noted scuff marks on the blue carpet. Was she reading more into it than she should? Had the kids been play-acting in their mother’s room? She’d ask them.

As she descended the stairs, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something sinister had happened in this house. The fact that it was probable that Éilis Lawlor knew Jennifer O’Loughlin made it even more suspicious.

19

Helena couldn’t stop the shakes, though she’d found no evidence of anyone having been in the storeroom. The back lane was empty too. She’d checked. At the front of the shop, she discovered she hadn’t locked the roller door. That was why it had fallen down. She pressed the mechanism. Once the door was securely in place, she took the key from her pocket and made sure she locked it this time.

Back inside, she found that the usual sanctuary her little shop provided had evaporated. Disturbing vibes rattled around in her chest. She made herself a nettle tea and sipped the hot liquid. Her hands were still shaking.

‘I’m never drinking again,’ she vowed.

The bell over the door tinkled. Maybe a customer would alleviate her uneasiness. She walked out holding her mug.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, relieved.

Orla Keating stood there holding a yoga mat and gym bag, dressed in leggings that Helena could only dream of fitting into.

‘How are things?’ Orla stared at her. ‘You look as rough as I feel.’

‘Very rough. You seem to have already got some exercise in.’