‘Sorry, you can’t go any further, madam,’ he said, his tone all official. ‘You’ll have to leave.’
Lottie wished she had her badge. Not that it would do her much good in Galway. She had a business card containing her details, though. No harm chancing her arm. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Lottie Parker. I was wondering if you could do with a hand here.’
‘Did they send you over?’ He examined her card, apparently interested now.
Lie or truth? Maybe just dodge the question. Whoevertheywere. ‘I want to see if I’m needed.’
‘Only person needed here is the state pathologist, and she’s been notified.’
Jane Dore, the state pathologist, was located in Tullamore, well over two hours away, without allowing for the gridlocked traffic that needed to be navigated to get out to Connemara.
‘I’m good friends with Jane,’ Lottie said. ‘Can I speak to the senior investigating officer?’
‘Who? Oh, you mean Matt? Detective Sergeant Mooney is inside.’
She made to skirt around the guard. ‘I’ll have a word with him so.’
The man sighed long and hard before thrusting the clipboard and a pen towards her. ‘Sign in first. I hope you don’t get me fired.’
She signed a scrawl and rushed down the path before he changed his mind. At the door, she was handed a mask, booties and gloves, which she pulled on before entering. She noted how rural the setting was. No chance of CCTV out here like you’d find in a town. Then again, she knew how unreliable it was no matter where you lived. The cottage also had no visible cameras or security system.
A man with a shock of red hair and a struggling beard showing beneath a mask commanded the centre of the small living space. An aura of cigarette smoke clung to his skin, otherwise the atmosphere appeared neutral. He was the only one in there.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ He pulled off his mask to reveal a seen-it-all-before face. ‘Did Delaney let you in?’
She wondered who had rocked his boat. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Parker.’ Time for the truth. ‘I’m based in Ragmullin but visiting Connemara for the week.’ He didn’t seem too impressed, just tugged at his beard with a gloved hand. Bad practice, she thought, but said, ‘I have a vast amount of experience and might be able to help you.’ She had no idea what he was dealing with, but it had to be suspicious if the state pathologist had been called in.
‘Are you insinuating I have no experience?’
‘Not at all. Just saying I can offer assistance if it’s needed.’
‘I think I’ve heard of you.’ He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. A nicotine breath hit her. She could almost see the anger leaving his body as he deflated into a shroud of defeat. ‘It’s not lawful to have you here, Inspector, but I could do with another pair of eyes on this. Matt Mooney’s the name. Detective Sergeant.’
Inexplicably, she felt sorry for him. He appeared to be out of his depth, weariness lodged in the curved lines around his eyes.
‘Where’s the body?’ She wanted to see it for herself.
‘Paramedics declared her dead and we haven’t touched anything since. The forensic team should be here soon.’
‘I can take a look, give you my observations.’
‘It’s not pretty.’
‘Murder rarely is.’
‘It could yet be ruled a suicide.’
She caught the doubt in his tone. ‘You don’t think so?’
‘No, I don’t. See for yourself.’
He led her to a door to one side of the fireplace. A bathroom. Her skin itched with apprehension as she stepped forward. She looked in without entering the room. ‘This is…’ She was lost for words. ‘It’s…’
The woman in the bath was dead, very dead. Her skin burned, perhaps scalded.
‘I know,’ Mooney said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it in my twenty years on the force.’
She raised an eyebrow. He didn’t look old enough to have served that long, but she sensed a career weariness about him.