‘Father Keith Maguire. Sinead told me he was one of the first on the scene when the first little girl’s body was found.’
Boyd tugged his brain back to Ragmullin. ‘What did you make of him?’
‘He was charismatic and had a way with young people. My partner wanted our lad to join the choir, but I was having none of it. I wanted him to get into rugby, not singing.’
‘Why did Maguire leave the north-west?’
‘I’m not privy to the ways of the Church.’
‘Thought you said you’re an investigative reporter.’
Enda swallowed the last of his egg-smeared toast and gulped his coffee.
‘Rumour was that he’d fathered a child.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time a priest had done that.’
‘And won’t be the last. Did you know he’s the son of a priest too?’
‘He told Lottie… Inspector Parker that nugget the first time she met him.’
‘Bet he didn’t say he was following in his old man’s footsteps in more ways than one.’
‘What do you know?’
‘I haven’t any details, but rumour was that he had an affair with a married woman. She already had one child and her husband had left her. She had relatives in the Sligo area and was staying with them. Then months later she was pregnant. Next thing she was gone, and later the priest was moved. Dirtied his bib, so they said.’
Was Enda referring to Ruth? Boyd knew that the Kiernans had been living in the Sligo area when Isaac had gone to prison. Considering the ages of the children he couldn’t see how Father Maguire could be involved. But was it just a coincidence that the priest was now in Ragmullin, as was Ruth Kiernan? He’d have to tell Lottie.
‘I can hear the cogs in your detective brain whirring.’
‘Do you know the woman’s name?’ But before Enda could reply, Boyd’s phone rang in his pocket. ‘It’s Duncan.’ He answered the call.
‘Uniforms are at the caravan park,’ he told Enda. ‘Come on.’
‘Let me finish my coffee.’
‘Enda, I’m gone.’ And Boyd rushed out of the hotel.
Making his way down the hill, he parked the conversation in the back of his mind, to allow him to concentrate on what was ahead of him this morning. As he walked, he knew his steps had more conviction than his heart. He was bloody terrified. Would he find Sergio? If he did, would his son be alive? Despite the frosty path, he broke into a run.
77
After driving into town the previous night and rousing Betty Coyne from her bed, Lottie hadn’t learned much. It had taken an age for the elderly woman to decipher her own handwriting. Something about someone else being behind the cathedral the night Naomi’s body was found. Betty still had no idea why she’d been there herself, but conceded it was probably to do with her role as chaperone for the choir. Lottie had thanked her and returned to her mother’s house, where she fell into bed.
An unsettled sleep meant she awoke with a throbbing headache. Following desperate rummaging, she found two paracetamol amongst a mound of receipts and wrappers in the bottom of her bag. One of the pills was half crushed, but still she swallowed them dry.
Rose was asleep as she crept out the door. Sean still had no school because of the weather, so she’d call him to pop over later to check up on his gran. As soon as this investigation was completed, she’d have to make concrete arrangements for her mother. She thought of the Dream Care nursing home and shivered. Not that there was anything wrong with it – in fact the residents had seemed happy and contented – but she couldn’t abandon Rose. Lottie would always be there for her. In some way.
Superintendent Farrell met her at the top of the stairs waving a sheet of paper.
‘Got the warrant for Connolly’s Funeral Home. Say thank you.’
‘Wow! Thank you,’ Lottie gushed, genuinely grateful.
‘Nab a few uniforms and get to it. Don’t make an ass out of me over this. You’ve had warrants over the last couple of days that came to nothing, so I had to grovel for this.’
‘Sure. Thanks again.’ Lottie took the warrant and edged past her boss and into the general office. ‘Where is everyone?’