Page 113 of Hidden Daughters

‘Good God. May she rest in peace.’

‘Tell me about your relationship with her.’ Kirby returned to sit on the couch.

Bryan rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his cheek. ‘What is going on?’

‘I don’t know, but I want to know about you and Edie.’

‘I can hardly remember it. It was a long time ago. There’s not much to know. A fling. We met a few times. For drinks and food and… She was a lovely woman. But what I remember about her is that she was never comfortable in her own skin, if you get my meaning. Always on edge. Then one day she said she had to leave. She wanted to spread her wings. That’s what she said as far as I recall.’

‘She seems to have only got as far as the midlands.’

‘Was she happy, do you know?’

‘I don’t know that. She worked in a hair salon. She had two sons. Her husband died.’

‘How did you discover I used to know her?’

‘It came up in one of our interviews. A colleague of hers at the salon mentioned your name. Seems that Edie had really liked you. Apparently yours was the only name she mentioned from her past.’

‘How? It was so long ago. I wasn’t in love with her or anything. I had the farm to take care of. I was busy. And truthfully, I was happy on my own.’

‘Until you met Grace?’

‘Aye, she made me realise that there’s more to life than raising and selling sheep.’

‘Grace is a lot younger than you.’ Kirby worried he might just have overstepped the mark. But Bryan smiled back at him.

‘Stating the obvious, detective.’

‘Sorry. None of my business.’

‘But murder is, and I’m sorry I can’t help you. Edie was a troubled woman when I knew her, but I haven’t seen her in decades. I did not kill her.’

‘That’s grand, so.’ Kirby knew Bryan’s DNA was already on file in Galway, and he would make sure it was checked against what they had in Ragmullin.

‘How did she die?’ Bryan asked.

‘She was found in a river. The final post-mortem report isn’t in yet, but she was scalded so badly that she had a heart attack from the shock. It seems the murderer kept pouring boiling water over her until she died. Boiled to death.’

The sound of smashing crockery filled the room as Grace let the tray she was holding fall out of her hands.

Neither man had heard her enter.

67

Sitting in her beautiful hotel room, almost going insane staring at the four brightly painted walls, Lottie phoned Kirby and asked him to join her. When he arrived, he had a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

‘I know you’re off the sauce,’ he said with an apologetic smile, ‘but I need a drink, so I booked a room for the night. It was either the wine or brandy from the bar, and no way was I paying for a bottle of brandy.’ He busied himself with the cork.

She fetched two glasses from the bathroom. ‘I’ll have a small one.’

‘Stop right there. I won’t be responsible for you falling off the wagon.’

‘I have no intention of getting drunk. I just need a drop to drown my sorrows.’

‘If you insist.’ He poured the wine into the tumblers, filling his to the top and tipping little more than a dribble into hers.

‘You’re a bastard, Kirby.’

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