Last Kiss (34 page)

Lynch stood up from the table.

Billy ignored him, focusing his attention on Kate. ‘I am, yes, for sure. You wouldn’t believe the half of it. There was a family
here once, a mother and her son, a queer pair they were. They lived on the outskirts, so it was damn awkward delivering their mail. They had a bloody awful dog too, never shut up barking.’ He patted Rocky again. ‘The son, he must have been in his thirties, he took to playing with himself at the upstairs window. I never paid it any mind. I mean, you see all kinds of stuff. But then some of the schoolgirls took to taking a shortcut that way so I had to have words.’

‘What did you say?’ Kate asked, unsure where this was going.

‘I told him to pull the bloody curtains. The mother was no better. She used to go around half naked. At least, she did when I was delivering the post. I had a set routine, you see,’ he said, biting into a custard cream. ‘The auld one was eventually put in a home. The son wasn’t long following her. There was something odd going on there for sure, mark my words.’

‘And the Thompsons and the Connollys – would you say there was something queer going on there too?’ Kate drank her tea, like this was the most normal conversation in the world.

‘Hard to say, but old Mrs Connolly was probably the worst of the bunch.’ He seemed to be enjoying himself, dragging out the information, being the centre of attention.

‘The daughter, Sandra’s natural mother, what became of her?’

‘I can’t say I know,’ his face darkened, ‘not for sure.’

‘Why? I heard she left after the baby was born.’

‘That’s the spin they put on it. I was always suspicious. She wasn’t a bad sort, that youngster. All I know is, the girl was the size of a house with that child of hers. No one asked any awkward questions. The next thing, old Mrs Connolly had the baby, and the mother had gone off to England.’ He helped
himself to another custard cream. ‘As I said, I had my doubts. I mean, the girl never came back, not once – it’s hard to credit.’

Lynch sat down again. ‘Did you suspect foul play?’

‘I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is, it was odd, nothing more.’ Billy Meagher was on the defensive now.

‘Don’t worry, Billy,’ Kate said gently. ‘We can check out what happened to the mother from our end.’

He nodded, seeming somewhat relieved.

‘I hear Sandra and Alice were close,’ she continued.

‘Ah, yeah, they were for sure.’

‘And Sandra was the quieter of the two?’

‘Aye, she was quiet, in her own way.’

‘In her own way?’

‘She could be a bit of a flirt, that one. The two of them could be. They’d roll them school skirts up until there wasn’t much left to the imagination, if you get what I’m saying.’

‘Did you think all was right at home, with the parents and the grandparents?’ Kate gave him a reassuring look.

‘I only know what I’ve told you, about that old cow Connolly. Maryann Thompson, she was a drinker, but …’ He swirled the dregs of his tea in the cup.

Sensing he was holding something back, Kate said, ‘Billy, everything you tell us is confidential. We’re not even sure if there is any direct connection to our investigation, but if you know something, or think you do, it’s probably best that you tell us now.’

‘Aye, maybe you’re right.’ He looked from Kate to Lynch, then back to Kate. ‘It’s a long time back, but I saw him up to no good.’

‘Who?’ Kate maintained eye contact.

‘It was when both girls were in their teens that I saw the two of them together.’

‘Who are we talking about?’ Lynch pulled his chair in closer.

‘Young Sandra Connolly and Alice’s father, Sam Thompson,’ he blurted, as if surprised they weren’t keeping up with the conversation.

‘What did you see?’ Kate kept her tone level.

‘I couldn’t be sure, at least not at first. The light can be tricky in the forest, especially late evening.’ Once more, he looked from Kate to Mark and back to Kate. ‘It was the school uniform I recognised, that red tartan skirt. I thought, for feck sake, it’s not right, school kids carrying on like that.’ Indignation was written on his face. ‘I was going to pull the two of them off each other, but then I realised it was Sam who was doing the loving.’

‘So,’ Lynch said, ‘you did nothing?’

‘A man has to think about these things, but in the end, I decided to let it be.’

‘Do you know if it happened again?’ Kate asked softly.

‘I don’t know, but it wasn’t long afterwards that Sam and Maryann moved to Dublin, and Alice stayed here to finish her schooling. A right pair of hippies, they were. They rolled their own cigarettes, you know. I saw both of them out of their heads more than once. They did their fair share of tripping, that’s for sure.’

‘Did you ever hear what happened to them?’

‘Aye. Maryann passed away not long after she left here. The drink killed her liver before any of the other stuff.’ He sat back
in the chair, pointing to the window. ‘She’s buried up there with her parents in the cemetery.’

‘And Sam?’ she asked.

‘For all I know he’s still in Dublin. He was here for the funeral. The whole village turned out. It’s the way we do it down here.’

‘It seems Sandra’s grandparents made a quick exit too – do you know anything about them?’ Lynch looked distinctly suspicious of Billy Meagher.

‘There weren’t too many questions asked after that pair left, but I daresay you’ll be talking to our ex-postmistress, Lily Bright. She’ll fill you in on what’s what.’

‘You sound like you already know what she’s going to say,’ Lynch remarked.

‘Maybe it’s nothing, but I remember … there was something very peculiar about their mail. Lily jabbered on about it for months, and you’ll find that normally she’s a woman of few words.’

‘THAT WAS TESTING,’ Lynch said to Kate, once they were outside Billy Meagher’s house.

‘You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.’ Kate hesitated, then added, ‘You’re going to have to talk to O’Connor. He’s the one digging for information on the parents. We’ll have to let him know that Billy Meagher considered Sandra’s mother’s disappearance suspicious. If he thought something wasn’t right, he wouldn’t be the only one.’

He looked up the street. ‘All right, Kate, but I’m in need of something proper to eat. Let’s see if we can grab some food in that pub.’ He pointed to Meagher’s. ‘Do you think there’s a connection to our ex-postman, village inbreeding?’

‘I don’t know, but what Billy Meagher said about Sandra and Alice Thompson’s father is certainly painting an interesting picture.’

‘What’s your take on it?’

‘Sandra engaging in sexual activity at a young age and, apparently, doing so willingly with an older man tells us a lot about her mental and emotional state back then.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘She isn’t the same girl described to us by Barry Lyons. On the one hand we have an image of someone who isn’t as talkative as her peers, shy, intelligent, probably letting Alice be the forceful one. Yet on the other, as a teenager, she openly had sex with her friend’s father. It doesn’t add up. If she was promiscuous from an early age, assuming Alice never found out about it, Sandra had the ability to deceive the one person she was close to.’

‘Could she be our killer, Kate?’

‘I know people can put up a façade to fool others. If Sandra Regan is the person we’re looking for, and we find proof of severe abuse in her early years, she would have become socially dysfunctional, her moral compass different from that of others, and primed to set out on a devastating path.’

Lynch held the pub door open for her. ‘Keep talking, Kate, but quietly. We don’t want to frighten the locals.’

Once they were seated, Kate took up where she had left off. ‘Early promiscuity, especially in close-knit communities, and in someone of Sandra’s intelligence, tells us there were other factors influencing her behaviour, outside the obvious lack of
parental care. If she was abused, we can draw inferences based on what we now believe.’

‘Go on.’

‘I’ve been reviewing the profile again, and a certain pattern is occurring.’

‘Hold on. Let me order something to eat, so it’s out of the way. What do you want?’

‘I don’t mind – tea and a toasted sandwich.’

‘More bloody tea. Right, I’ll be back in a second.’

Kate looked around at the half-dozen people scattered throughout the room, all engrossed in conversation. She checked her phone. Charlie would be home with Sophie, their childminder, by now. With Lynch at the bar, she rang the apartment.

‘Hi. Sophie, it’s Kate. Is everything okay? … That’s great … Can I have a quick word with him?’ She heard the clatter of the phone going down, Sophie telling Charlie to hurry up in the bathroom as his mum was on the phone.

‘Hi, Charlie, how are you doing, my clever clogs? I hear you got an A for your Dolphin project!’

‘And a book token, Mum, for five euro!’

‘Wow, that’s brilliant! We can go shopping on Saturday, if you like.’

‘Cool. Can I bring Simon? He got an A as well.’

‘If it’s okay with his parents, absolutely.’

‘Mum, I gotta go. Sophie’s making pancakes, and they smell yummy.’

‘Keep me some. I won’t be late.’

‘Bye, Mum, love you.’

‘Love you too.’ She hung up, placed the phone on the table, and waited for Lynch to return from the bar.

Sitting down, he said, ‘You were telling me, Kate, about a pattern.’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts there for a minute.’ She pulled out the case file from her bag. ‘I’ve been thinking about our killer’s behaviour, specifically how she’s forging her relationships with men. She has a need to move from one person to the next, each relationship offering her whatever she believes she’s looking for, then essentially failing her. I think her view of men isn’t far removed from the parameters of her potential dissociative disorder.’

‘You mean this multiple personality idea.’

‘That’s right. Initially, she’s looking for emotional feedback, her sexuality and attractiveness drawing her targets in, and at first this works well. It’s important for her to be in a relationship, to believe somebody loves her, but because her view of men is warped, it’s also inevitable that she’ll look for a reason ultimately to hate them, to seek revenge for whatever trapped her in this emotional cauldron, creating two extremes within the one person, love and hate.’

‘I’ll leave the psychoanalysis bit to you, Kate, but we still need a concrete link.’

‘We’ll find it. Something tells me Sandra Regan has learned the art of keeping secrets. At face value, she appears normal, but we know too much about her to believe that now. Assuming the abuse in her case went beyond neglect, it’s not unusual for abuse sufferers to seek affection in any number of ways, including the pattern I’ve described. As I said, young girls don’t have sex
with their friend’s father unless something isn’t right. It would certainly have tested the friendship, especially if Alice ever found out about it.’

‘I found Alice nearly as evasive as Edgar Regan.’

‘That’s the thing about secrets. They have a complicated path, and you’re not always sure who is keeping what from whom.’

When her mobile rang, Kate saw straight away it was Adam, and so too did Lynch. ‘You’ll want to take that,’ he said coldly.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m in Leach with Mark.’

‘Great,’ Adam replied. ‘I intended phoning him after you.’

‘You want to speak to him? Hold on a second.’

He took the phone from her. ‘Are the usual communication channels causing you a difficulty, O’Connor?’

‘Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘The last record of Thomas and Cynthia Connolly, Sandra’s grandparents, that I can find is from 1999. An application for a medical card of all things – Thomas Connolly was a general handyman, but his income was low. He put Cynthia and Sandra down as dependants. His card wasn’t approved, but I’ve checked everything else, including driver licence renewals, utilities, bank details and the electoral register. It’s like the trail went cold some time around the autumn of that year. Sandra Connolly changed the billing name on the family home in early 2000 and, as far as I can tell, she is now the legal owner of their house. She probably took care of everything else as well.’

‘And there’s no record of them arriving across the water, or anywhere else?’

‘Not that I can find.’

‘I assume you’re thinking what I’m thinking, O’Connor?’

‘Essentially Thomas and Cynthia Connolly are missing persons, but with the absence of a missing persons report, it looks like their disappearance went unnoticed.’

‘I have another potential missing person for you.’

‘Who?’

‘Sandra Connolly’s natural mother.’ Lynch turned to Kate. ‘Did Barry Lyons or Billy Meagher mention Sandra’s mother’s name?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ she replied.

‘O’Connor, did you find anything on the natural mother during your searches?’

‘Not a lot, but I do have a name from the births, marriages and deaths register.’

‘What is it?’

‘Ellen Connolly – her name is also on Sandra Connolly’s birth certificate, as the birth mother. The father is down as unknown.’

‘Dig some more on Ellen Connolly. Rumour has it she went to the UK. Ring me back as soon as you have anything. If she joins the missing persons list, we have a bigger shitbag on our hands. Also, I might need you to talk to Alice Thompson. We’ve got information that could test the friendship between her and Sandra Regan, and if we have to use it, we will.’

‘I thought I was to take a back seat.’

‘It’s your lucky day, O’Connor. I’ve decided to promote you temporarily, but don’t go off on any tangents. You have my number if you need any more instructions.’

‘I haven’t told you the most interesting thing about Sandra Connolly.’

‘And what’s that?’ Lynch wasn’t enjoying the power play.

‘Sandra isn’t her full name – at least, it wasn’t the name on the birth certificate.’

‘Spit it out, O’Connor. I don’t have time for this.’

‘Her full name is Cassandra.’