Page 143 of The Altar Girls

Silence accompanied them on the drive back to Ragmullin. Lottie had asked a few more questions, but Phyllis couldn’t remember anything else. The receptionist wouldn’t release the name of the patient Phyllis had referred to because of privacy rules. Didn’t matter, because Lottie was sure she knew who the old lady had given the rosary to.

She’d tried asking Maguire about it, but he’d kept his mouth shut tight so she gave up. He had to be a link, but was he the killer? If so, how had he got hold of the rosary?

She had no valid evidence on which to arrest him and he didn’t seem in the mood to share anything. He got out at St Patrick’s. She watched him sit into his car before she headed to the station with an unusually quiet Garda Lei. She would have welcomed his chatter to relieve the troubling thoughts careening around her brain. She needed to be sure about the rosary before she rushed in and made a mess of everything. She could not act on hearsay.

Garda Brennan almost knocked her down as she entered the incident room.

‘Inspector Parker, there you are. I’ve something to tell you.’

‘Unless it’s the name of the girls’ murderer, I don’t want to know. Where were you this morning? We’re thin on the ground as it is without you doing a disappearing act.’ Lottie was about to add Boyd’s name into the mix but thought better of it.

She kept going, lifted the phone and called the lab, requesting the rosary beads to be forensically examined again. She wanted DNA or fingerprints to match someone. Anyone. After relaying her request, she turned to see Martina still standing in the doorway. It was evident from her pallor that the young woman had a massive hangover. Lottie glanced over her shoulder at McKeown, who was studiously ignoring the mood in the room.

‘I think this is important,’ Martina said. ‘It’s about Father Maguire.’

‘If you’re about to say he had an affair with Ruth Kiernan and fathered a child with her, I already know all that. He denies it.’

‘Oh. Right. I was talking to Julian Bradley and he said…’

Lottie’s darting green eyes must have sent a shock wave across the room. Martina clamped her mouth shut.

‘Bradley’s name keeps popping up. I want him brought in. Seeing as you seem to know him, Garda Brennan, I’ll leave that to you. McKeown, you go with her.’

‘I’ve this CCTV footage to—’ he began before she cut him off.

‘There was a bloody blizzard on Monday and you’ve been staring at the screen for three days with nothing new to report. Go with Garda Brennan. Now.’

Her phone pinged with an email; she tapped it open. ‘I’ve the results on the water found in Willow’s lungs. It says the water was treated.’

‘It came from a tap?’ McKeown said.

‘Are you still here?’ Her nerves were as frayed as much as her temper was raised.

She continued to read, but the terminology was too technical. She shrugged off her jacket and phoned Jane. Easier to get answers from the pathologist.

‘Jane, thank God you’re there. This report on the water from Willow’s lungs. What can you tell me about it without the technical jargon?’

‘The water was treated so it most likely came from the mains supply. The thing you need to know is that there was a cosmetic element to it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means the water had a soap product added to it.’

Lottie stared at the wall, her mind racing. Before she even spoke the words, she knew she was fitting the evidence to the suspect, which was wrong. ‘Could it be something used for embalming or the like?’

‘I’ll have to check the chemical compounds.’

‘Thanks, Jane.’

She’d just hung up when her mobile phone rang. Boyd. Her heart skipped a beat. Had he found Sergio? The boy meant so much to him that she couldn’t contemplate any other scenario. But she wished she had Boyd here. Now. For this investigation. She was this close.

‘Hi there,’ she said in as gentle a tone as she could muster.

‘Lottie, I’m sorry.’

She heard tears in his voice and gulped down a surge of disbelief. ‘Oh God, no, Boyd. Sergio…?’ She put her head in one hand and clamped the phone tighter to her ear.

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘He’ll be fine.’

---