Page 25 of Her Last Walk Home

Outside in the fresh air, she waited for Boyd.

‘You took your time,’ she said. ‘Did you have a good conversation with Grainne?’

‘Yes, great. She is a font of information.’

‘Does she know who John Doe is and how long he’s been dead?’

‘No, but she knows a lot about buying a new house. She said?—’

‘Feck’s sake, Boyd, I don’t care what she said about buying houses. There’s a murdered man in there.’

‘Okay. Right. No need to get your knickers in a twist.’

She was about to reply when an agitated man tried to bundle his way through the cordon. Garda Lei was fighting a losing battle attempting to restrain him.

‘What’s going on?’ Lottie asked.

Lei fixed his hat and the man slumped against him in defeat. ‘He says he’s the site manager and entitled to know what’s going on.’

‘Patrick Curran?’ Lottie enquired. She could smell what she thought was cement from his donkey jacket, which was dusty beneath a yellow hi-vis vest. He had a hard hat on his head over a beanie. He pulled both off and tucked them under his arm.

‘That’s me. What happened? I heard someone died. Is it true? Who is it, do you know?’

His words ran into one another, while his fingers raked through his hair, causing dust to billow about him like fireflies.Worry lines were etched around the eyes hollowed in his grey face. She felt a moment of pity for him.

‘Patrick, I’d like a chat with you.’ She gently took his elbow and led him to a waiting garda car.

‘Who is it? Can you tell me that at least?’ He walked alongside her.

When she had him seated in the car, she leaned on the open door. ‘Is there anyone missing from the site?’

‘Oh shite, it’s not one of my lads, is it?’

‘We don’t know who it is yet.’

‘Good Lord, but this is shocking, so it is. You know that a lot of the lads are going to be let go? We’ve been instructed to halt work on phase two from the end of next week. Shutting up shop for the foreseeable. Boss man said it’s until he decides what’s best. He can’t be losing any more money. That’s what he said.’

‘And the boss is Gordon Collins?’

‘That’s right. Big shot, in his own mind.’

‘Would you be able to look at a photo of the dead man for me? It’s not particularly pleasant.’

He wiped a grubby hand with nails caked in dirt across his mouth. ‘Show me.’

She swiped up the photo she’d hastily taken with her phone. Grainne had been holding the man’s head between her hands and he appeared to be asleep. If only. She turned the screen towards Patrick Curran.

‘Ah no. Don’t tell me it’s him. For fuck’s sake.’

‘You know him?’

‘Aye. God rest his soul, poor bugger.’ He blessed himself and Lottie noticed his eyes water.

‘Who is he, Patrick?’

‘John Morgan. Young lad. With us less than a year. Great bricklayer. Promoted to foreman recently. Did he fall or something?’

Or something, Lottie thought. ‘When did you last see him?’

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