Page 58 of Hidden Daughters

‘Not me, if that’s what you’re insinuating.’

‘What about this imaginary friend you found here?’

She sighed loudly. ‘She was not imaginary. And I didn’t see her here. I heard her running and followed her to the convent. That’s where I found her. Youknowall this.’

‘I know that’s what you told me. I’m just not sure whether to believe you.’

‘What reason would I have to lie?’

‘Bryan O’Shaughnessy, for one.’

‘Bryan? Come on, Mooney. The man only wanted me to find someone he knew long ago. Don’t forget he was a victim in Knockraw. He’d have no reason to hurt anyone.’

But he would, she thought, wouldn’t he? Her mind was a jumble of inconsistencies. Imelda Conroy had spoken to him. He said he’d told her about the burned man. Was that even true? Had there been a man who’d abused young girls? Girls who’d taken their revenge by throwing boiling water over him. How had they overpowered him? Where had the nuns been? Were they involved too? Shit, why hadn’t she asked Bryan all those questions? But then he’d only heard rumours. That was what he’d said. But was it the truth?

‘I checked O’Shaughnessy out,’ Mooney said. ‘He may not be all that innocent.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Ask him yourself. When you find him.’

He marched over to the oil drum. A SOCO stood there carefully rescuing damp fragments of paper and placing them in an evidence bag.

‘Anything?’ Mooney enquired.

‘It’ll take some time to dry out, and most of it is destroyed. But we’ll try.’

‘Good. Let me know as soon as you can.’ He walked over to the caravan.

Lottie followed, averting her eyes from the activity around where Mickey’s body lay. The woman had said she’d tried to warn him. Warn him about who or what? She needed to find that woman.

The caravan was too small for both Lottie and Mooney to move freely inside. She found herself pressed up behind his back. She smelled cigarettes and his strong aftershave, or maybe he used cologne. Red hairs sprouted along the back of his neck, and she felt like telling him to take a razor to them.

‘Not much of a life, was it?’ he said.

‘He seemed content.’

‘But why did he remain here? That’s what I’d like to know. The convent was gutted by thieves. Fox didn’t do anything to stop that.’

‘He must have been eighty years old.’

‘He didn’t even report it.’ The resonance in Mooney’s voice showed he wasn’t for swaying. ‘No, either he was involved in the thefts or he was here for some other reason. If you ask me, it was no good reason.’

‘I didn’t ask you,’ Lottie muttered under her breath. Mooney was irritating her, but she was grateful to him for bringing her along. Even though she sensed he had an ulterior motive.

‘Were you in here with him?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Someone was. Two mugs in the basin.’

‘Maybe he didn’t wash his dishes after every use.’ She was apt to doing that herself at times. Most of the time.

‘You sure you didn’t have a cuppa here?’

‘I’m certain.’ She suspected it might have been the woman in the blue fleece but didn’t utter this aloud. Or maybe the killer. That would mean Mickey knew the person who had murdered him.

‘Your friend, then?’

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