A Savage Hunger (Paula Maguire 4) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

She was late in the next morning, having been distracted by early morning calls to the builders (cast-iron promises on their mothers’ graves that the work would be finished by the following week), the wedding hotel (what vegetarian options did they want and would they like to pay an extra £5 a head for chair covers; no, they would not), Saoirse (what did Paula want her to do with her hair), and Pat (what time did she want the wedding car to come at). Since this was the first time Paula had even heard they were having wedding cars, she arrived grouchy and out of breath, to find Corry and Guy already hard at work. He had his sleeves rolled up, tie swinging free, and she had her hair in a bun, as they examined something on the conference table. Paula was already sweating, hairs escaping from her ponytail. ‘Sorry,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Family emergency.’

‘Hope it’s all sorted out.’ Corry knew rightly it was wedding-related.

Paula ignored her gimlet stare. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Well, this is our lucky day. The search in the woods – we found a phone. Same type as Alice’s. One of the volunteer kids turned it up in the bushes.’

‘That’s good.’ She looked between them; there was something else. ‘What?’

Guy said, ‘They also found an abandoned car. It’s registered to Anderson Garrett. But he’s now claiming it was stolen on the day Alice went missing.’

Paula’s heart began to race. If Garrett had taken Alice there . . . ‘Does that mean you’ll drag the lake?’

Corry looked at her watch. ‘If I can get Willis to OK it; he’s up to high doh about all this. I’m waiting on his say-so.’

On cue, the man himself approached, barking out criticisms as he swept through the office. ‘If we could have fewer dirty dishes on the desks, Constable, thank you, it’s not a cafe . . . Oh, Dr Maguire, you’re actually here. I’m still waiting for some of these famous insights. Have you anything, anything at all I can tell Lord bloody Morgan about where his daughter is? They need to get back to London, he’s an important man.’

Paula shook her head in frustration; she had nothing. She hoped it wasn’t the wedding and Maggie, occupying too much of her mind, but this case had left her stumped. ‘I’m sorry, sir. The phone, the connection with Yvonne O’Neill . . . I don’t know what to recommend.’

‘In the meantime we’re dragging a lake at great expense. I can’t get the Gardaí to even share the costs, since Alice lived in the North.’ He eyed her. ‘And you have leave booked from next week, I gather.’

‘Well, um, yes. I’m getting married.’ She hadn’t invited Willis. It might have been politically expedient, but Paula wasn’t much good at currying favour.

He glared as if he would have liked to order her to cancel it all, then sighed. ‘I suppose it won’t make much of a difference. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere anyway.’

Guy said, ‘We have a number of leads now – the car for one—’

‘Well, we should be dealing with those, then, not hanging about here. I hope I can trust you to handle this, DI Brooking?’

‘I’d hope so, yes.’ Guy didn’t rise to it.

‘Well, at least
someone
seems to know what they’re doing.’ He went, causing another ripple of tidying-up and back-straightening and window-minimising throughout the office.

Corry rolled her eyes and stood up. ‘Let’s go and talk to Garrett.’

‘So we’re looking at him again?’ Paula said. ‘Despite his alibi?’

‘Is the Pope Catholic? Well, you would know. We’re going to see him. Just a little chat for now; Willis doesn’t want him arrested. Not yet, anyway.’

‘I hope it won’t take long. You’ll upset my mother. Could we not go to the station?’

That was odd – usually witnesses had a morbid fear of being hauled in, not seeing a distinction between arrest and interview, but Garrett seemed more concerned about the police arriving at his house. He lived in the large grey farmhouse visible from Alice’s cottage, but up close it was cold and unwelcoming. Paula and Corry were in the kitchen, which was dirty, two damp dogs lying on a very old sofa. ‘You live here with your mother?’ Corry wrinkled her nose in distaste.

‘She’s upstairs. She’s ill – I don’t want you to disturb her. Like I said, the station would be better.’

‘We like to see witnesses in their homes where possible,’ said Corry briskly. ‘It may take a while. It may not.’

‘Last time the interviews were in the station.’ Last time. He meant when Yvonne went missing.

Corry said, ‘That’s because you were a suspect last time. At the moment you’re a witness.’ For now, anyway.

He was back to the hand-wringing. Today he wore a large brown jumper, made out of some kind of coarse wool. ‘Look, I’ve already told you my car was stolen. Maybe Alice took it, even, she knew where I parked it.’

‘And why didn’t you report that at the time?’

‘I . . . I didn’t want to bother you. You had so much on your plate.’

‘You didn’t think we’d maybe be interested to know?’

He looked wretched. ‘I just didn’t want . . . you know, last time. The interviews. Poking round the church, the house, everywhere. All the questions. And it’s my fault, really, I usually leave the keys in . . . you know, living out here, you wouldn’t think anyone would—’ He looked up at them. ‘I just couldn’t face the questions. My mother couldn’t stand it.’

‘We need to speak to you all the same. Shall we go into the sitting room?’ Corry moved towards the door of the other room.

He remained where he was, rubbing at his hands in the same nervous gesture Paula had noticed at the church. Looking closer, they were red and sore – eczema, perhaps. ‘Would you come and sit down, Mr Garrett?’ she said, indicating the door.

‘I just—’ He looked around him. ‘I’d feel more comfortable if we spoke out here.’

‘Why?’ Corry sounded cross. ‘The kitchen is quite full.’ She meant untidy. Every surface was covered in clutter, plastic shopping bags, bits of scrunched paper, plates with rotting food, dog hair. The smell was sour. By contrast, a relatively tidy sitting room could be seen through the open door.

A voice sounded, which made Paula jump. It seemed to come out of the walls. ‘Take the guests into the good front room, Anderson. Where are your manners?’

‘I . . .’ He twitched at the sound. ‘I just—’

‘And offer them tea, for goodness’ sake.’

‘Hello?’ Corry peered up the staircase into the gloom. The voice seemed to have come from there. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Corry.’

‘Yes, hello. I’m Mrs Garrett. Anderson’s mother. I’m afraid I can’t get down, I’m wheelchair-bound.’ They heard the squeak of a wheel. A shape could almost be seen at the top of the stairs, hunched over.

Corry had her hand on the bannister. ‘We’re happy to come up, Mrs—’

‘No.’ Her voice was quiet but firm. ‘I’m sorry but I’m not presentable. Do speak to Anderson in the front room. Can I ask if this is about poor Miss Morgan? I didn’t know her myself, but of course we’re all very concerned.’

‘Yes, but we’re also here about Yvonne O’Neill.’

Silence. ‘Goodness, I haven’t heard that name in years.’

‘You knew Yvonne, I believe. Family friend?’

‘I wouldn’t go quite that far. We’re neighbours with the family, obviously; in fact our land encircles theirs. They owned part of the access road, which was rather inconvenient. I’d see her and her mother in the lane sometimes, but that was before I had my accident.’

‘Yvonne didn’t visit you? We heard she was quite good about visiting sick people.’

‘I didn’t want to be prayed over with popish mantras, I’m afraid. And I’m not sick, Detective. My back is broken. It’s not the same.’

‘No. Of course.’ Corry turned to Paula, widening her eyes as she spoke. She called up, ‘Well, we may need to speak to you again, Mrs Garrett, so perhaps you’d prepare yourself for that?’

‘What help might I be?’

‘You gave a statement in 1981. Providing information about movements near the church that day.’

‘Hardly. I knew my son’s activities, that’s all. I don’t get out much, as you can perhaps tell.’

Garrett’s hand-rubbing had gone into overdrive. ‘All right,’ he broke in. ‘If you insist, we’ll go in the sitting room. Come on.’ He called, ‘Mother, I’ll be up soon to check on you.’

They went in, breathing in the musty, unused air. Above them, Paula heard the trundle of the wheelchair. She looked around the room – velvet sofa, heavy brass poker set, framed pictures of grim relatives. Despite what his mother had said, Garrett didn’t offer tea. He stayed in the doorway, rubbing at his hands. ‘Can we make this quick?’

Corry said, ‘We have a lot to get through. Is there anything, anything at all you haven’t told us about Alice Morgan?’

‘Sometimes she stayed in there late. In the church. Forgot to lock it. I told her something like this might happen.’

‘Her disappearance?’

‘No, no.’ He flicked his hands, as if to dismiss that. ‘The relic. She was so precious – I knew someone would come for her.’

‘She? Alice?’

‘No!’ He threw his hands up in an almost violent movement. ‘The relic!’

‘To be clear, you think the relic has been stolen?’

‘Yes, yes! I said this. If you look in the right places, it’ll still be there. They’re stupid, these people. They’ll just want the gold. They don’t know she’s precious. So please, look harder for her? You’ve been looking round the church, disturbing things, but there’s no point in that. She’s not there.’

‘That’s for us to decide.’ Corry regarded him stonily. ‘Tell us about Yvonne.’

‘I – well, I told you this. She was – I knew her a bit, she lived next door. But we weren’t friends. I mean we were too . . .’

‘What?’ asked Paula.

‘Different. We were from very different backgrounds.’ When he said it, his accent, posh Ballyterrin, became more pronounced. It made him sound like his mother.

‘Mr Garrett, are your family Protestant?’ asked Corry. Paula had already assumed that they were, because of the name. It was a trap you could fall into in Northern Ireland. Assuming.

‘Well, of course. Church of Ireland. And Yvonne was . . . you know, she wanted to be a nun. We were . . . very different.’ He wrinkled his nose.

‘On the day of the disappearance, where were you?’

He jerked his head, irritated. ‘I – you know all this. I told you years ago, again and again. So many interviews. It was very difficult.’

‘Tell us again.’ Corry was implacable.

‘I’d gone to work in town. They checked. Back then.’

‘Did you have any clients booked in that day?’

‘No. I was working in my office.’

‘And no one else saw you there, or driving in or out of town, who could verify this.’

‘I don’t know. The police were satisfied with what I told them. And my mother said I was out. She’s always here, of course. She’s paralysed.’

‘And on the night of Alice’s disappearance? She was last seen at six o’clock, still in the church, when the volunteer left.’

He recited it, as he had before. ‘My mother had a fall so I took her into Ballyterrin Hospital. We were there till about eleven. Then I just put her straight to bed. And the next day the volunteer, Maureen, she called up to say the door was open, so I went down with her and – well.’

‘You saw the scene as we did, the blood, the picture?’

‘Yes – and she was gone.’

‘Alice?’

‘Well, yes, Alice. And the relic.’ He looked down at his hands.

‘Then what happened?’

‘I – well, I screamed. I saw the blood. It was very upsetting. The volunteer – Mrs Mackin – she was calmer. She said we should go to Alice’s cottage to look for her. So we went down – you know it doesn’t have a lock. Alice wasn’t there, so we came back and waited for the police at the church.’

‘You were together the whole time.’

‘Yes.’ He looked at the celling. ‘I should check on my mother.’

‘Could you tell us what happened to Mrs Garrett?’ Corry’s tone had softened slightly.

Garrett unfolded his fingers like a fan and stared at them. ‘She came off Millie.’

‘Millie?’

‘A thoroughbred. Very good stock.’

‘A horse? She had a riding accident?’

‘It wasn’t an accident.’ He chewed his lip. ‘Millie threw her. Right off, then trampled her. Mother – she really loved Millie. It was a terrible shock, you see. They said she’d never be able to walk again, and she’d need someone to help her always. That’s why I stay here with her. She needs me.’

‘That’s a lot to ask of you, Anderson. How old were you when it happened?’

‘Twenty-seven.’ He was looking past them; Paula couldn’t see what at.

‘Did Yvonne disappear the same year?’

‘Yes, a few months after.’

‘And Yvonne’s fiancé was killed too, I believe.’

‘Yes. In a car crash. It was a bad year. Very bad. But we got through, and at least she was safe.’

‘Your mother?’ Corry wasn’t following.

Garrett shook his head in annoyance. ‘The
relic
. And now she’s . . .’ His face twisted. Paula found herself hoping he wouldn’t cry. ‘She’s gone,’ he said. ‘Please find her. Please.’

The same words no one had used yet for the missing girl. ‘We’re doing our best,’ said Corry. ‘What else can you tell us? Did you ever see Yvonne with someone?’

His eyes flicked past them. Paula turned, wondering what he was looking at.

‘I didn’t see anything. I told you all this back then. I don’t know what happened. And I didn’t see . . . the other one. I wish you’d look harder. She’s missing, you see. We need to find her and bring her home.’

He was talking about Saint Blannad again, not about Alice. Again the odd blinking stare. Paula followed his gaze. The mantelpiece, with pictures of the family and a little glass jar on it. Nothing significant.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘It’s Alice’s phone. We’re sure. And her prints are in the car.’

Paula felt a surge of relief at Corry’s news. Finally, a trace of Alice. Proof she hadn’t just vanished. They’d still couldn’t arrest Garrett, but at least this was something. ‘What about the dive team, did they find anything?’

Guy, who was at his borrowed desk – and even Willis Campbell couldn’t have found a thing out of place on it – shook his head. ‘Nothing – it’s murky down there, so it takes a while, but they don’t think there’s anything. Except for someone’s massive cache of automatic weapons, that is, but that’s hardly surprising in this part of the world.’

‘Suppose chucking them in a lake is sort of the same as putting them beyond use,’ Corry said drily. Paula smiled.

Guy looked a little wrong-footed, as he usually did when they went all Northern Ireland on him. ‘So she’s not in the lake, at least. There’s DNA in the car, but it’s looking like only Garrett and Alice’s so far. His would be in it anyway. They’ll keep looking.’

Corry had a look on her face Paula hadn’t seen for a while – triumphant, excited. That meant they were getting somewhere. She said, ‘We got a print off the phone. A nice clear one, right on the top of it, where it’s all shiny. The print belongs to Dermot Healy. Get this, Maguire – he was already in the system.’

She couldn’t believe it. ‘How come?’

‘Our wee Dermot has a drugs caution. He was kicked out of Trinity for selling speed in lectures, turns out. He was lucky not to go down for it. Dermot’s dad is a high court judge, so it was all hushed up.’

‘And the phone, what’s on that?’

‘It’s sort of . . . well, I’ll let Trevor tell you. Come with me.’

The man himself was in his office, music leaking out of huge earphones.

‘Put that off, would you,’ said Corry, tapping the back of his chair. ‘I don’t want to hear Jay-Zed or whatever his name is in my workplace.’

‘Sorry, ma’am. Well, Dr Maguire, how you doing?’

‘I’m grand, Trevor, yourself?’

‘I’m sick. Just got the new CoD.’ She gathered this was good but hadn’t the inclination to ask; they’d be here all day. ‘Have you been able to get into Alice’s phone?’

‘Anyone could, it wasn’t even locked.’

‘So we could just look?’

‘Yep. Easy-peasy. You don’t even need me.’

‘Ah now, who would keep us up to date with all the latest game hacks?’ said Corry. ‘My Connor was almost civil to me for a whole hour after what you said about Grand Theft Auto. Tell Dr Maguire what you found?’

‘Somebody’s given her iPhone a good wee rinse, that’s what. Put it back to factory settings.’

‘Meaning? Remember you’re talking to ancient dinosaurs here.’

‘Hey,’ said Paula. ‘I’m only young, right, Trevor?’

‘Defo. You’d pass for, like, thirty,’ he said gallantly. At thirty-two, Paula did not find this flattering. She was sure Maggie, God love her, had aged her about ten years. Trevor said, ‘Well, what it
basically
means is, someone tried to delete everything she had on there. All her passwords and search history and apps, the lot. I say tried because we can most likely get it back, if I run it through some hard-ass – eh, sorry – some powerful recovery software.’

Corry patted the back of his chair. ‘You’re a wee star, Trevor, even if I don’t understand the half of what you say.’

‘Hashtag winning!’ said Trevor.

‘What?’

‘It’s a Twitter thing that you—’

‘No, no, don’t tell me, still don’t care enough. Come on, Dr Maguire.’

In the corridor, Corry was almost dancing with excitement. ‘That’s it. We’ve got him. I want to bring in Dermot Healy, right now.’

‘But she knew about it! She asked me to delete it!’ said Dermot. On his forehead gleamed a fine sheen of sweat.

Corry watched him steadily over the interview room table. Paula was on the video monitor. Dermot looked very young behind the table, in his too-loose, Mummy-bought-them jeans and big red hoody. He’d been read the rights sheet, offered a lawyer. They were doing it all right this time. ‘You’re saying Alice asked you to wipe her phone.’

‘Yes! She said she wanted to sell it or something, and she was worried about, like, identity fraud. So I helped her with it.’

‘When was this?’

‘I don’t know. A month or so back, six weeks maybe. After . . .’ Dermot stopped himself, looking nervously at his lawyer.

‘After?’ Corry leapt on the hesitation.

‘Um, I meant, before she moved out there for good. That’s all.’

‘Did you go to Alice’s cottage and take her phone, while you were at Mrs O’Neill’s that day?’

‘No! And I’ll bet you didn’t find any prints of mine there, did you? Just on the phone.’

It was true, the only prints in the cottage had been Alice’s, and one of Maureen Mackin’s from the door. ‘Dermot.’ Corry took on a more soothing tone, like she might have used with her own teenage son. ‘We know about your previous drugs caution, and we know that Alice was seen under the influence of . . . something about two months ago. We aren’t overly concerned about students dabbling in drugs. But I need to ask – did you give Alice anything that time?’

Dermot looked at his lawyer, then briefly nodded.

‘Right. We’re getting somewhere. What did you give her?’

‘MDMA. She wanted to try it, so I – I got it.’

‘It was her first time with drugs?’

He laughed, a short bark. ‘Course it wasn’t. Jesus, she went to boarding school. Those places are like Studio 54, of course it wasn’t her first time.’ Dermot put his hands on his head. ‘It’s the truth. I’m telling the truth. I got it for her because she asked me to.’

‘It was consensual?’

‘Of course it was! People know I can get things, sometimes, so I did. That’s all.’

‘You took it with her?’

‘We all did. The four of us.’

‘And? What happened?’

‘Well, it was . . . you know.’ His face twisted with something – loss, maybe. ‘The four of us . . . I can’t explain. We were friends. Really friends.’

‘Such good friends that Alice moved out of college not long after? Did something happen, Dermot? Was that it? When you were all high?’

He looked up at them. ‘Look. You don’t have a clue what Alice was really like. She was smart, like really smart. But she pretended not to be, so people sometimes wrote her off. Like Katy. Katy doesn’t have any idea how smart Alice is.’

‘But you do?’

‘No. I didn’t either. None of us did.’ He was picking at his hands, Paula saw. The cuticles were raw, almost bleeding. ‘Did you know Alice has an IQ of 170? Did you know she first ran away when she was still in primary school? Did you know it was
her
who told the press about her dad’s affairs back then?’

‘Seems like you know a lot about her,’ said Corry casually. ‘Do you also know where she is?’

He slumped. ‘No. I don’t. She – I don’t know how she managed it. She hates the outdoors and she’s always on her phone. At first I thought she’d just gone off, and she’d come back once she’d made her point, but I didn’t think she’d – and now you found her phone I think maybe she’s done something and . . .’ He tailed off. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Dermot? What do you mean, make her point?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I mean.’

‘Is there something you need to tell us?’

He straightened up. ‘No. Look, this print, it’s not enough for you to charge me, is it?’ He looked from his lawyer to Corry, who reluctantly shook her head. ‘Right then. I can’t prove this, not yet, but all I can say is you didn’t know Alice. Neither did I, really. But you’ll see, soon enough. You’ll see that I didn’t hurt her. Not the way you think, anyway.’

‘And when will that be?’

He almost smiled. ‘When she wants us to, of course. When we’re all through the looking glass.’

‘So what you’re telling me is, we have no end of suspects, all wrapped up for us nice and neat, and we can’t pin it on a one of them?’ Willis Campbell folded the arms of his Armani suit.

Corry glanced at Paula, who shrugged slightly. She said, ‘Sir, everything we have so far is circumstantial. We don’t have enough to charge.’

‘That’s just great. And I’m due on the evening news in—’ he looked at his expensive watch ‘—half an hour, and I’ll have to tell them we still have nothing.’

‘We don’t have nothing,’ said Paula, earning herself a black look. ‘The students are behaving strangely. They don’t seem concerned about Alice, and they’re jumpy in a way that rings alarm bells.’

‘And what leads does this give us? Are any of your insights actually useful, Dr Maguire?’

Come on, Maguire, think.
‘I . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I need to work on it more.’

Willis turned to the door, swinging round for one last shot. ‘I hope you realise that Alice’s father talks to our bosses. And if he’s not impressed, they’re not impressed. Just think about that.’ And he was gone, in a cloud of Aqua di Gio.

Corry threw her arms out. ‘I don’t know what he wants from us. Everything we’ve looked at is a dead end. Unless Alice turns up, one way or the other . . .’ Paula winced at that. ‘I don’t see what else we can do.’

‘I think they must know something,’ said Paula. ‘Katy – she didn’t seem exactly worried about her supposed best friend, did she? She didn’t help with the search, and there were loads of Oakdale kids there who don’t even know Alice. And Peter—’

‘Peter is about as thick as his own eyelashes,’ said Corry. ‘I doubt he’d be able to cover up a crime. No, if anyone’s planned all this, it’ll be this one. But we’re going to have to let him go.’

‘Is there another way we can get to them?’ said Paula. ‘Make them talk?’

‘I have an idea,’ said Corry, looking at her watch. ‘Give me an hour, will you?’

WhatsApp conversation

Katy:
He’s actin really weird do u not think

Peter:
Dunno weird how?

Katy:
Like he said we should join the search for her. Hello why would we do that?

Peter:
Dunno maybe so people could see us there

Katy:
No way was I going to do that.

Peter:
Yeah I had rowing
L

Katy:
So I think maybe we should talk to someone about him what do u think? Before they get onto us more?

Peter:
I don’t know I think we should stick to what he said. Keep our heads down. Stick together.

Katy:
Umm OK but just remember what happened. Remember who gave her the stuff in the first place. who do you think they’ll come for 1st?