Page 73 of Three Widows

‘Jennifer was the first to die, but it was Éilis who established the group. Taking your point logically, she should have been killed first.’

Farrell walked into Lottie’s space and looked up at her. ‘Logic? There is nothing logical about anything you have told me.’ She took a step back. ‘But I’m also aware that to a sane person, there is very little logic to any murder. I believe I am sane, even though you push me to the limits more times than I can count.’

‘Is that a no?’ Lottie glanced at Boyd, and was glad to see he looked as confused as she felt.

‘Yes, but it’s not a definite no.’

‘What is it then?’ Lottie asked, totally bewildered.

‘Talk to the McCaul woman and get as much information as you can about the group, including its past and present members. Build up a profile. Then talk to me again.’

‘There’s another woman involved in the group that we know about. Orla Keating. Her husband went missing a year ago. Never found.’

‘Are you thinking that this missing man, who is more than likely dead, has risen from his unknown grave to kill all around him?’

‘No, that’s not what I said. I’m only—’

‘Just warn the women to be careful. Dismissed.’

Outside the door, Boyd shook his head. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

‘Neither have I, but we need to check up on Orla Keating and talk to Helena again.’

‘We talked to her earlier. It might spook her if we get back to her so soon.’

‘When the body is ready to be formally identified, it will be a genuine excuse to contact her.’

‘I’m with you on that.’

‘At least we can agree on one thing.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You need to get back to playing ball, Boyd. You’re distracted. And with two dead women and a killer on the loose, I need you totally focused.’

‘And you’re always focused, are you?’

‘I do my best.’

‘You’re accusing me of below-par work? That’s unfair, Lottie.’

She noticed that his ears appeared to stick out more when he was angry. ‘Just concentrate, okay?’

‘Fine!’ He pushed past her and rushed down the corridor, banging the office door behind him.

‘Have it your way,’ she muttered. Running her hand through her badly-in-need-of-a-wash hair, she wondered if she had burned her last remaining bridge with him.

Her phone chirped in her pocket. Chloe. Probably about Rose. She couldn’t answer it until she calmed down. She rejected the call and wondered if Jane would once more succeed in getting the dead to speak to her. At least the dead couldn’t talk back to you or bang doors in your face.

Before she could make the call, McKeown’s name lit up her screen.

47

She met McKeown at the top of the stairs and walked into the office with him.

‘Fill me in.’

‘With the discovery of artwork in the unit and the fact she isn’t on social media, I figured Jennifer must have had a website.’