‘Where do you live, Maurice?’
‘My home is down in Barrack Row, but I converted one of the rooms here into a bedroom for myself. Small ring cooker and a few odds and ends. Handy when it’s busy. This time of year right up to spring. Bad weather is hard on the elderly. Big business for me.’
She knew he was being light-hearted, but calling death big business jarred. Then again, the man had to make a living. ‘Did you stay here last night?’
‘I did, and it nearly froze the bollox off me. Oh, sorry, pardon my language.’
She waved it off. Bad language didn’t bother her. She was the world’s worst herself.
‘You’re sure you didn’t see the little girls at any time yesterday?’ She pushed the photos forward on the desk once more. ‘Have a good look, Maurice.’
His face reddened and he barely glanced at the pictures. ‘I’d tell you if I had, Inspector. I’m so sorry for their families.’
‘One of the girls’ mothers, Zara Devine, said she’d contact you. Do you know her?’
He baulked a little at that. ‘Devine?’ Scrunched his eyes up. ‘Can’t say the name rings a bell. I’ll give you a couple of my cards. I’m here for all grieving families. My rates are very competitive.’
He rooted in the desk drawer and extracted a bundle of black business cards with gold lettering. Lottie shoved her hands in her pockets. Boyd took a card and they stood to leave.
‘Could I have a look at your embalming room?’ She caught sight of Boyd’s jaw dropping. She didn’t really want to see it, but she wanted to see the undertaker’s reaction. Though it was instant, it was not what she’d expected.
‘My embalming room? Really?’ He sounded uncertain, but then seemed to gather his wits about him. ‘No one has ever asked to see where I do my work. It would be an honour to show you around.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. No way was she going down to a basement embalming room. ‘Actually, Maurice, I just realised I have a meeting shortly. Is it okay to call back another day? I’d like to have a guided tour of the building.’
‘Of course, but it would have to be when there are no bodies here. You see, Inspector, I value the privacy of the dead who come here to be tended by me before they go to their final resting place.’
‘I’ll let you know if it’s necessary. Thanks for your time, Maurice.’
She followed Boyd out, leaving the large, confused man behind.
34
Outside the station, Lottie tapped Boyd’s arm.
‘See if McKeown has learned anything else. I’m going to have a word with Father Maguire. Oh, and follow up with Jane and the lab. I hope she found some trace evidence to give us a direction, one where we aren’t going round in the proverbial. Jesus, Boyd, we have two little girls with grieving families and we’re getting nowhere.’ She paused trying to remember what else was on the agenda. ‘While you’re at it, see if that high court order has come through for Isaac Kiernan’s bond release.’
‘Who’s putting up the bond?’
‘Depends on how much money the court look for.’
‘That family has nothing.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I want to talk to the priest. Ruth Kiernan presents as a devout Catholic. The Church should put their hand into the coffers.’
‘I wish you luck with that.’
She watched him slowly ascend the station steps, then, tucking her head between her shoulders against the tumultuous snow, made her way to the priests’ house.
‘Father Maguire,’ Lottie said, as she entered what he called the parlour. ‘Thanks for seeing me and I appreciate you cooperating with providing a DNA sample.’
‘I have nothing to hide, Inspector.’ He folded his hands on the table and gave her his undivided attention. She liked that in a person. She’d learned from experience that those who couldn’t look you directly in the eye were usually lying to you. ‘Now, how can I help you?’
‘We have you on CCTV driving on Monday morning. Where were you going?’
‘I had sick calls. Already told you that.’
‘And did you drive to the community centre?’