Brian McGilloway - Gallows Lane

‘I think that’s a safe assumption, Caroline, considering the extent of her injuries.’

‘The condom we found coupled with the state of undress of the girl’s body, would suggest a sexual element to this. Seems a bit out of character for someone who’s kept her virginity to suddenly up and off with someone she’s met for the first time. So either she knew her killer very well. .’

‘Or else this was a rape that went wrong, which the toxicology reports support.’

‘So why didn’t he go ahead with the rape, if that was the case?’

‘Maybe he killed her by accident, panicked and ran,’ Williams said. ‘Locking up the house seems like a futile enough attempt to hide his crime.’

‘Or it could just suggest how callous this guy is. Business taken care of and on his way,’ I said. ‘Maybe she started to wake while he was getting ready to rape her. He hits her, kills her, runs.’

‘What about fingerprints?’

‘McLoone’s prints fairly much cover any others that might be on the key. No good to us. There are prints on the condom, though, and not Karen’s.’

‘All we need now is a suspect to match them with,’ Costello muttered. ‘Who’s in the frame?’

This time Williams looked to me. I nodded.

‘We reckon one of the builders, sir,’ she said. ‘Someone muscled, with access to the house, knows where the key is. We’re going to start there. Get a list of his workers’ names off Paddy Hannon. Contracted and subcontracted.’

‘Sounds good. Keep me informed,’ Costello said. Assuming he was finished, we rose to leave. ‘Caroline, give myself and Inspector Devlin a minute or two alone, would you?’ Costello said. Williams looked at me, shrugged slightly and left.

‘How’s James Kerr?’ he asked, the change in direction catching me completely off guard.

‘I … I lost him, sir. I dropped him at a B amp;B, but he’s done a runner.’

‘Well, find him,’ Costello said softly. ‘Find him, Benedict, and convince him to go back across the border. Let them deal with him. This business is enough to keep us on our toes.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said, still standing.

‘It looks well out there, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said again.

‘It’s good for the station, Benedict. That’s important for all of us.’ He waved towards the seat I had just vacated. ‘Sit down, Benedict.’

I smiled a little uncertainly, but sat again anyway.

‘Try to get involved out there, Benedict. Successes like this are important. We’re up to our eyes in it with this Doherty thing, and God knows Kerr is just a bomb waiting to go off, but this find of Patterson’s is something we can be proud of; something we can show the papers. D’ye see?’

‘I understand, sir,’ I said.

‘Have you thought about what I told you the other night?’ he asked.

‘Sir, I’m not sure I have an interest in your job,’ I protested, not wholly sincerely. ‘Besides, even if I did make the promotion list, there’s no guarantee I’d be posted here. I could end up in Cork. I’m not sure I’m ready to uproot Debbie and the kids.’ Each year, An Garda compiles a list of officers selected for promotion. Successful officers are expected to take the first available post, regardless of their current location.

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Benedict. A word in the right ear would see you here. If you’re selected for the list, of course,’ Costello said, smiling. ‘Even if you aren’t selected, the person who ends up here will be based in Letterkenny again. I only moved here for Emily.’ He gestured towards the photograph on his desk.

Costello had requested a temporary move from Letterkenny to Lifford several years previous, in order to be closer to home for his wife who had a cancer scare. She survived that only to meet death violently in her own home on a frozen New Year’s Eve. Certainly I had as much chance for promotion as someone like Patterson — until his serendipitous finds.

‘Of course, this all depends on Harry,’ Costello added.

‘Why?’ I attempted, vainly, to feign indifference to the turn the conversation had taken.

‘Things are looking good for Inspector Patterson, Benedict. These finds have given him a bit of an edge, I don’t mind telling you. And they’re doing the station as much good.’

I nodded in agreement.

‘I know it’s not your style, but try to be a team player, Benedict, eh? And get your bloody application in. This chance’ll not come up for another while, you know.’

I nodded my head a little uncertainly. Much as I liked the idea of promotion, I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to run a whole division. But I couldn’t tell Costello that.

‘Now, let’s put on a good show for the press boys, shall we, Inspector?’ Costello said, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked up at him, framed by the window. Over his shoulder the sky had whitened, the sun no more than an indistinct haze.

Tuesday, 1 June

That evening, having watched the news report on RTE at nine, I took Shane, my infant son, up to his bed. He clung to my neck as Debbie walked up the stairs behind us with Penny, our daughter, who was tickling Shane’s feet.

The four of us went into Shane’s room first and said his prayers for him, then Penny and Debbie kissed him goodnight and went to brush Penny’s teeth. I had been trying to get Shane to say ‘Daddy’ for a while, but he was having trouble pronouncing the D sound, so that the word came out ‘Gagga’. It seemed to frustrate him as much as me and he sat, repeating it over and over, trying to perfect the sound. He tried several times as I laid him down, then gave up on it and rolled over, twisting his leg around the bars of his cot. I sat singing to him until he drifted to sleep. Then I went in and said goodnight to Penny who was reading a book her granny had bought her about a hamster going to the beach.

‘Can I have a hamster, Daddy?’ Penny asked.

‘We have a dog already, sweetie,’ I said. ‘Frank’d get sad if you got a new pet.’

‘They’d be friends,’ she explained, as if she were the parent and I the seven-year-old.

‘I don’t know, sweetie. Frank’s kind of jealous. Is he not enough for us?’

‘But Frank can’t talk the way hamsters do,’ she said, shaking her head with exasperation as she closed the book and placed it beside her bed.

Debbie was tidying away clothes in our room. I sat on the bed and relayed my earlier conversation with Costello.

‘So, Costello reckons he could swing it that I could be posted here, if I get on the list. So we wouldn’t have to move.’

Debbie didn’t look up from her work. ‘Do you want it?’ she asked.

‘Honestly? I’m not sure,’ I replied.

She folded one of Shane’s Babygros over her arm, then looked at me. ‘Apply,’ she said. ‘Let them decide. If they select you, we’ll worry about it then.’

Two hours later, Williams, myself and several uniforms pushed our way through the heaving throng of people crammed on the dance floor of Club Manhattan. The place had been decorated in keeping with the name. American paraphernalia dominated the walls, massive ‘Stars and Stripes’ and Confederate flags hung from the ceiling in a style strangely reminiscent of a Nazi rally. Near the door stood a scale model of the Statue of Liberty. Some wag had broken the torch free from her outstretched hand and replaced it with a can of lager.

As I pushed through the crowd, I felt my mobile vibrating in my pocket. I did not recognize the number; nor, on answering, could I hear anything the caller said. Eventually I gave up the call as a bad job and resolved to call the person back later, saving the number to my phone.