Page 106 of Hidden Daughters

Wilson looked momentarily confused. So perhaps he hadn’t checked, Mooney thought.

‘It’s not at home,’ he said. ‘It’s not at her shop either. But if she went anywhere, she’d have told me. She’d have phoned or texted me. She never, I repeat never, goes anywhere without telling me.’

‘Did you know she met and spoke with Detective Inspector Lottie Parker today?’

Wilson squinted at him, head to one side. ‘Who the fuck is she?’

‘She’s from Ragmullin and is here to attend the wedding of Grace Boyd and Bryan O’Shaughnessy.’

Wilson shifted on his chair, hands fidgeting. ‘And I’m supposed to know her?’

‘Do you?’

He shook his head. ‘Her name doesn’t ring any bells, but I’ll be sure to check her out.’ He paused, as if trying to get some normality back into his cadence. ‘What was my Ann talking to a detective about anyway?’

‘That I don’t know, but it seems Mrs Wilson had something upsetting to relate. Perhaps she needed some time to herself afterwards.’ Mooney made a mental note to contact Lottie as soon as he got rid of Wilson. ‘Does your wife’s shop have CCTV?’

‘Are you joking? Have you seen it. A glorified cabin at the tail end of Spiddal. But it keeps her happy.’

‘Okay. Give it a few more hours, and if she’s not home then, I’ll put someone on it.’

‘There’s a bloody maniac going around murdering people, and now my Ann is missing and you don’t seem to give a damn. I want your best team out looking for her! Do you hear me?’

‘I have three investigations on the go and I can’t spare any more personnel unless it’s absolutely necessary.’ Mooney crossed his fingers. He would most likely be sidelined tomorrowby the arrival of new detectives. Maybe then he could go look for Ann Wilson, if she was still missing. Perhaps she’d seen sense and left her bully of a husband. At least he hoped that was all it was. He ran a finger along the inside of his shirt collar, suddenly sweating.

‘I’m going straight to your superintendent to report you for insubordination and neglect of your duties.’ Wilson shoved back the chair as noisily as he could and left the room, banging the door behind him.

Mooney breathed out a sigh of relief, which was closely followed by a surge of panic. What if Ann Wilson was another victim? He needed to talk to Lottie Parker.

Lottie was sitting on a wall outside the hotel, gazing out at the sea, which in the late afternoon was placid and mirror-like.

‘Can I join you?’ Mooney asked.

She kept staring at the mesmerising water without looking at him. ‘You’re here and it was a free country last time I checked. How did you locate me?’

‘Larry Kirby told me you got kicked out of O’Shaughnessy’s house and gave me the name of your hotel.’ He sat on the wall beside her. ‘Listen, we have a bit of a situation. Well, it’s not a situation yet, but it could be.’

‘And everyone says I’m the one who talks in riddles.’

‘Not the time, Lottie. I know you met Ann Wilson earlier today. I need to know what you two spoke about.’

‘And why would you need to know that?’

‘Her husband seems to think she has disappeared. That’s what he claims, anyhow.’

Lottie turned to look at him for the first time since he’d joined her. ‘Really?’

‘He’s full of blather, but I don’t go seeking out a detective inspector who is on her holidays for the good of my health.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, shit,’ he echoed. ‘Thing is, I’m not sure she is actually missing. Denis Wilson is a pumped-up eejit who likes making a drama out of a molehill. He claims she never came home from work and isn’t at her shop.’

‘Did you check?’

‘Where would I get the time for that with three mur?—’

‘You had the time to find me.’

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