Page 77 of Her Last Walk Home

‘Did they date?’

‘I don’t think so. It was more a friendship. Kindred spirits, she called it.’

‘And you say you don’t know if they met after she left?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Thanks for that information.’

‘Is it important?’

‘It could be. We need to find out who she was meeting last night and if he was from the Right One agency.’

‘She never told me the names of anyone she met that way. I gathered they were all a bit older and had money. That’s all I know.’ Jess thought maybe she should have been more inquisitive about what Shannon had been up to. But surely it was no more dangerous than meeting someone through a dating app. It might even be safer, because the men were vetted. Shannon had told her that.

The detective stood awkwardly. ‘Thank you for all your help.’

‘I’m really worried for her.’

‘Do you think she’s in trouble?’

‘Shannon’s unpredictable, but she’d contact me no matter what state she was in. Her phone appears to be off or it’s out of battery.’

‘Okay. We have her number. I’ll get someone to determine where the phone was last used and take things from there. Thank you, Jess.’

57

Kirby sat at his desk reading over his notes, scratching his head. Who was this Shannon Kenny, with her connections to two murder victims? Laura Nolan was registered with the agency, and John Morgan had been in rehab with Shannon. Were those connections important, or were they just coincidences? The fact that Shannon knew John Morgan from her stint in rehab was interesting. Had she met him since then? Whatever about that, the Right One agency needed another look. He decided to pay Greg Plunkett a visit.

He went to Barrack Lane and rang the bell. There was no answer. Of course, it was Sunday. Damn. One more try.

Keeping his finger pressed on the bell, he waited. No one responded. Back in his car, he searched for a cigar in the glove box. Amy was constantly hiding them, telling him they were bad for him. Usually he just smiled, knowing he had a secret stash, and when the coast was clear he’d go out to the garden for an illicit puff.

He was giving up on his search when a shadow from across the road caught his eye. A man had come out of the Right One office. Kirby recognised him from his photo and watched as hetightened a tartan scarf around his neck and made his way on foot down the street.

Plunkett stopped beside a car illegally parked on double yellows. He took a parking ticket from under the wiper and stuffed it in his pocket without looking at it, as if this was a regular occurrence. The lights flashed as he hit a key fob. He slid into the Toyota something-or-other. McKeown would know the make, bastard. Nothing too flashy. Business mustn’t be that great in the photography/modelling/escort business, Kirby thought. Or maybe he wasn’t looking to attract attention.

He waited to see which direction Plunkett would head, but the man remained seated in his car, staring at the steering wheel. Nothing for it but to have that chat now.

Plunkett literally jumped in his seat at the knock on the window. Kirby indicated with his hand that the man should lower it, then leaned down, resting both elbows on the opening.

‘Mr Plunkett, can I have a word?’

‘Who are you?’

‘Detective Larry Kirby.’ He held up his ID. ‘Just need to clear up a few things. Can I sit in? Or shall we head up to the station?’

Plunkett nodded towards the passenger seat. ‘Be my guest.’

Once he was settled on the cold seat, Kirby twisted his body to study the man. Plunkett was shaking. ‘Is there something wrong? You look scared.’

‘You’d be scared too if a fa… a detective accosted you, wanting “a word”.’

He even did the air quotes. Gobshite.

‘I didn’t accost you. You’ve nothing to be afraid of if you haven’t done anything wrong. Have you?’

‘Of course I’ve done nothing wrong. This is harassment. Two of your colleagues already talked to me. Isn’t that enough? What more can I tell you? It’s tragic about poor Laura, but I had nothing to do with it.’

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