Brian McGilloway - Gallows Lane

‘You repeated this again with Rebecca Purdy. Again, you were unable to complete your planned assault, so you beat her as well, though luckily she survived. She later identified you in Club Manhattan, on the same night I chased you out into the alleyway and you almost knocked me down in the silver BMW which you were driving the night of your arrest.’

‘Has the girl positively identified my client?’ Brown asked, having listened to all that was said, not giving McLaughlin a chance to speak.

‘She will as soon as he is well enough to join an ID parade.’ Brown nodded. ‘I’d like to speak to my client.’

We turned off the tapes at that point and went outside, obliged to give Brown the time he needed. Gorman, Dempsey and I went down to the hospital canteen for a coffee, then outside for a smoke.

Gorman seemed fired up by the imminent cracking of her first solo case; the kind of break that would serve her well when she applied for Detective. She talked continuously, dragging nervously on her cigarette. She was halfway through her second by the time I stubbed mine out.

Dempsey’s mobile phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, then stepped away from us, putting his hand against his left ear to help him hear. While Dempsey muttered away in the background, Gorman discussed station politics and asked about the Superintendent interview. Suddenly, we heard Dempsey swear excitedly.

When he came back over to us, he was more agitated than Gorman had been. ‘Well, don’t keep us in suspense,’ I joked.

‘You’re not going to believe this. We got a match on McLaughlin’s DNA swab. Not a sex case, though. His fucking DNA matches that found under the fingernails of James Kerr.’

The mood in McLaughlin’s room had changed by the time we returned. It changed again once Dempsey took over the interview and revealed the DNA information. McLaughlin’s relaxed demeanour vanished and I suspected that he had expected to be questioned about this all along. He had visibly relaxed when I asked him about Karen Doherty. Now he was tensing up again, and even in his injured state, I wondered at the damage he could inflict in this room if he lost his temper again.

‘So,’ Dempsey said, ‘I think this changes things a bit. Don’t you, Mr McLaughlin?’

‘It proves nothing,’ his lawyer argued, clearly perturbed that the interview had taken another turn.

‘It proves plenty. How else might you account for a dead man having your DNA under his fingernails? Were you friends?’

McLaughlin glared at Dempsey from under his eyebrows. His biceps seemed to pulse involuntarily.

‘Take it easy, son,’ Dempsey said. ‘Remember what happened the last time you got carried away,’ he added, winking as he tapped his right shoulder.

‘I think-’ Brown began, but Dempsey interrupted him.

‘You think nothing,’ he said, then turned to McLaughlin. ‘We have you placed at the scene of a crucifixion, son. In fucking Donegal. As well as beating little girls and ripping off chemists. You are going to be hung out to dry. Now, added to that, we’ve got your sister’s ex-husband and Declan O’Kane, your ex-boss. Something tells me that when we dig deep enough, we’ll connect you with every one of those.’

‘Not forgetting the armed robbery in Castlederg that Jamie Kerr did his time for,’ I added.

McLaughlin looked at me.

‘Why not charge him for sinking the Titanic while we’re at it?’ Brown said.

‘He’s certainly big enough,’ Dempsey retorted. ‘So, Mr McLaughlin. Let’s start at the start, shall we? Which crime do you want to discuss first?’

Brown appeared increasingly harried. ‘After consultation with my client, I feel we need a psychiatric evaluation of his ability to answer questions on these accusations. I’d like him to speak to someone before he says anything further.’

‘Fine,’ Dempsey said, snapping off the tape recorder.

‘The fucker’s going to claim he’s insane,’ Dempsey said, once we were outside.

‘Diminished responsibility because of the drugs, possibly,’ I said. ‘Will he get it?’

‘That’ll be up to the Director of Public Prosecutions,’ he said. ‘He might be able to get it on the girl’s murder — manslaughter anyway. The Kerr killing was different, though. You generally don’t place crucifixion under crimes of passion.’

‘We should run McLaughlin’s print against the partial taken from Decko’s gate,’ I said. ‘Might help load the dice against him a bit further if we can place him there as well,’ I suggested, taking out my cigarettes and offering Dempsey one. Helen Gorman had gone back to the station, disappointed that her promised big break hadn’t quite materialized.

‘I’ll get it done when I head back to the station,’ he agreed.

‘Of course, it finally ties up one thing,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Castlederg Post Office. Kerr said there were three others in the gang: that’s Webb, O’Kane, and now McLaughlin.’

Before leaving the hospital, I collected Caroline and her things and drove her back to our house, where her son was waiting for her. Debbie had made dinner for everyone. Caroline did not ask about the progress on the case, nor did she express any interest in station gossip. Even then I knew she was disconnecting from An Garda, and it was no surprise when, during dessert, she told us that she had decided to leave for a while. She had discussed it with Costello, she said, when he had visited her earlier. He was giving her paid leave for three months.

‘Maybe you’ll change your mind,’ I said. ‘Once you get bored about the house.’

She smiled a little sadly. ‘No, I don’t think so, sir — Ben. I’ve pretty much decided. The three months’ll give me time to find something else. This kiddo’s way too important to risk something like that again,’ she said, tousling Peter’s hair softly with her hand. He beamed up at her, his single source of stability, and I understood her decision.

‘I’ll be sorry to lose you,’ I said. ‘You’ll still be around, though, won’t you?’

She nodded, but said nothing. I looked over at Debbie, who shook her head very slightly, as if to tell me not to delve any further. I didn’t get a chance anyway, for my phone rang. It was Reverend Charles Bardwell.

‘I heard your colleague on the radio saying you’ve had a significant development in Jamie’s case, Inspector,’ he said. It appeared that Dempsey had got to know the local media very well.

‘Yes, we’ve a DNA match with a suspect we lifted for something else.’

‘Is it anyone we know?’ he asked.

I knew I shouldn’t say, but at this stage, I suspected it could cause little harm. ‘Peter Webb’s brother-in-law, we believe,’ I said. ‘He was lifted for killing a Strabane girl. Turns out his DNA matched that taken from under Jamie’s nails.’

‘That’s fantastic news, Inspector. Well done.’

‘Well, it’s not quite in the bag yet,’ I said, ‘So keep it to yourself for now; he’s still in hospital up in Letterkenny. We’re waiting for a psychiatric evaluation,’ I explained.

Bardwell assured me he would tell no one and thanked me again. ‘God bless you, Inspector,’ he said before he hung up, in a manner that reminded me of Jamie Kerr, hunched over his lunch, raising his soup spoon in salute. At least now I felt I had done him justice.

I left Caroline and Peter home just after ten o’clock that evening. When I arrived back, a blue Ford Mondeo was parked in our driveway. I was a little surprised when I got into the house to see Dempsey sitting at our kitchen table chatting with Debbie. He stood up when I came in.

‘Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,’ he said. ‘I have some good news and some bad news about McLaughlin.’ He tapped his fingers on a folder lying on the table, which I assumed to be a copy of McLaughlin’s arrest file.