‘Where were you before that?’
‘I was in Lourdes. Flew into Knock early this morning.’ Father Lyons explained in detail about the road accident and going astray with the diversions. Very good detail. Was it all necessary? Mooney wondered. Was he overcompensating?
‘Is that your suitcase in the hall?’
‘Aye, I dropped it there, changed into my slippers and called out for Brigid. She wasn’t down here where she usually is, so I went up the stairs and looked into her room and she wasn’t there either. Then… I noticed the bathroom door slightly open and I pushed it in and…’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘May the good Lord have mercy on her soul, the poor woman.’
Mooney thought the priest’s distress sounded genuine. ‘You might want to take something for the shock, Father. A dram of whiskey could do the trick. We will need to take your fingerprints and a DNA sample. Routine procedure.’
‘That’s no problem.’
‘My colleague will look after you.’
‘Thank you. I hope you find who did this to Brigid. She had been through so much in her life. This is so not fair.’
‘What do you mean? I’d have thought she’d have had a nice comfortable life here.’
‘Before that. She went through hell in the convent.’
Tiny hairs on his neck stood up. ‘Which convent was that?’
‘The Sisters of Forgiveness. The laundry place. Shut down a long time now, but poor Brigid was born there.’
Now the hairs on Mooney’s arms stood alert too. A definite link between Assumpta, Mickey Fox and Brigid. The convent. Christ Almighty, what was going on?
As he turned to leave, he noticed a card on the table. A small business card. He turned it over with his gloved finger. For fuck’s sake. What had she been doing here?
Mooney knocked on O’Shaughnessy’s back door and walked straight into the kitchen, surprising Lottie. It seemed the back door was the main mode of entry in houses in the locale. It reminded her of her mother’s house. Her phone call with Katie last night had comforted her that all was well with Rose. But she needed to talk to Chloe, because her younger daughter never sugar-coated anything. Chloe told it like it was.
The remnants of cigarette smoke misted around Mooney. She appraised his dishevelled appearance, strained eyes and fidgeting hands. She feared he was once again about to take Bryan away, and she felt helpless to prevent that happening. She had nothing to offer in his defence.
‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ she said, her voice laced with irony.
Grace stepped forward. ‘You have no right entering this house like you belong here. Bryan has done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. He is a good man, and you…’ she paused to point an accusing finger at him, ‘you are trying to blacken his name by arresting him willy-nilly. I won’t have it.’ She stamped her foot. ‘I won’t have it at all.’
‘I apologise for my intrusion, Ms Boyd, but it’s Inspector Parker I want a word with, not Mr O’Shaughnessy.’
A bit worried by his formality, but at the same time relieved, Lottie stood and grabbed her cardigan from the back of the chair. ‘We can talk outside so we won’t disturb you, Grace.’
‘If it’s to do with my fiancé,’ Grace said, ‘I want to hear it.’
‘It’s nothing to do with him,’ Mooney said. Then in a lower tone, for Lottie’s ears only, ‘As far as I know.’
He stood to one side to allow her to move out ahead of him.
‘Do you want a cup of tea, Detective Sergeant? Coffee?’ Grace asked, mollified.
‘Maybe later, before I leave. Thank you all the same.’
Lottie walked across the back yard to the far wall. Grace was clever behind it all, she thought, offering Mooney tea or coffee so she could eavesdrop on the conversation.
‘Are we safe out here from curious eyes and listening ears?’ Mooney asked.
‘She can see us but not hear us.’ Sure enough, Grace was peering through the window over the sink. ‘What’s this about?’
‘We have another body. Discovered this morning.’
‘Oh no. Who?’