Page 20 of Hidden Daughters

13

Happywasn’t a word Martina would use to describe her mood after her visit to the Happy Hair salon. She mulled over how Marge Woods had reported Edie as being sullen and grumpy. Maybe unhappy or sad would have been a nicer description. Why was Edie like that, though? What had been bothering her? Okay, so she had battled addiction, but she’d been fine recently if her son was to be believed. But then again, Martina felt there was something about Noel. Had he put on an act, or was it really shock? And then there was Robert and his omission about having seen Edie on Friday afternoon.

She dragged a chair over to Kirby’s desk and told him about her visit. ‘And she said the man who came to talk to Edie on Friday at the salon was probably Robert. He neglected to tell us that.’

‘Maybe he forgot about it. Being distraught at news of her murder.’

‘Yeah, pull the other one. That man was positively stoical.’

‘What?’

Martina shook her head. ‘You need to switch off the television now and again and read a book. Anyhow, Edie left the salon around three thirty on Friday, not long after Robert’s visit.’

‘How did this Simpson woman know who he was if Edie didn’t share anything personal with them?’

‘Simpson? Stop, Kirby.’

He grinned. ‘Sorry.’

‘Her name is Margaret Woods and she recognised him from Danny’s.’

‘Okay, so we need to go back and talk with Hayes to see why he omitted this piece of information. First, though, I’ll have to update the team, including McKeown.’

‘Good luck with that.’

Garda Lei had teamed up with a small group of guards scouring the shallow waters of the Brosna and the surrounding riverbank. They worked in a grid format, moving left and right from where Edie Butler’s body had been found.

As he trawled through the reeds, his wellingtons sticking in the mud, he looked up at the accumulation of bottles, jars, cans and even some scraps of clothing that had been discarded. They now lined the top of the bank. So far they’d discovered nothing suspicious. Nothing they could link to Edie or her murderer.

‘This is a waste of time,’ McKeown said, folding his muscled arms, doing nothing other than spouting orders down at them from the bridge. He’d yet to get his hands dirty, taking on the unofficial role of supervisor.

Lei climbed up with his latest find. A black plastic bag. He began laying out cans and dripping pieces of cloth on the tarpaulin that had been spread on the ground. God knows what diseases he might pick up in the river. He was glad that he’d been given a white forensics boiler suit, though it made him sweat like a pig.

‘Why do you say it’s a waste of time?’ he asked.

McKeown snorted. ‘Surely her killer wouldn’t have been stupid enough to throw any of her belongings into the water.’

‘Maybe if he burned them first.’ Lei held up a strip of wet canvas material with scorch marks down one side. ‘Why would someone burn this?’

‘Tell me, Einstein.’ McKeown had a nasty streak, but Lei didn’t let it bother him.

‘To destroy their DNA, perhaps?’

‘Why throw it in with the body, where it could be found? Come on, man.’

‘Well, if it’s burned it’s useless anyhow.’ Lei returned to concentrate on his work and found more remnants. These he laid to one side, then he called over a SOCO.

Detective McKeown’s eyes bulged and his mouth circled into an O when Lei held up the handles attached to what might have been a tote bag. It was badly singed, but some of the words on it were identifiable.

‘Looks like it says Happy Hair,’ Lei said. ‘That’s where she worked. It has to be hers.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ McKeown muttered under his breath as SOCOs began putting the charred scraps into evidence bags to log them. ‘Good work, Lei,’ he said grudgingly. Then he stomped off.

Lei grinned, but then became sombre. It was a hollow victory over the detective, he realised. Because those burned fragments surely belonged to Edie Butler. Dumped in the river as unceremoniously as her poor damaged body.

14

Kirby gathered the team for a briefing, which McKeown attended under protest. Kirby knew a turf war with his colleague was developing. He didn’t care. He’d been stationed in Ragmullin longer than the blow-in. Anyhow, Superintendent Farrell had appointed him SIO, senior investigating officer, until Lottie’s return. Perhaps Farrell had seen the light after all.

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