Page 46 of The Altar Girls

‘They can’t hear you.’

At the end of the corridor a large colourful stained-glass door stood open. It led into a wide vestibule lined with fake lilies. She was glad they were fake, because whenever she got a whiff of the real deal, it brought her right back to Adam’s funeral.

A visitors’ book lay on a table outside a door marked Chapel of Rest. She flicked the pages and noted it was blank. Glancing in through the door, she was relieved there was no coffin on display.

Boyd knocked on the door to his right. A bell tinkled.

‘Come in, come in,’ came a high-pitched shout from within.

Lottie whipped out her ID and presented it to the man who stood to greet them. He was so tall, his grey-haired head almost scraped the low ceiling. He looked lean but his oversized green knitted sweater hid his true girth. A giant of a man, maybe six five. His grip was firm but sweaty. She wiped her hand on her jeans.

‘Maurice Connolly?’ she enquired.

‘The one and only. What can I do you for?’

A quick glance around the sparsely furnished office and she saw it led to a narrow corridor lined with sample caskets.

‘We’re here about the young girls who’ve been found murdered.’

‘Girls, you say? Plural? I only heard of one lassie, found last night. Poor little soul. May she rest in peace. Oh, my manners, please take the weight off your feet.’ He indicated two chairs and sat behind his neat desk.

When they were seated, Lottie said, ‘We’re in the process of tracing the girls’ movements from eight forty-five yesterday morning. We believe they may have walked by your premises.’ She passed over photos of Willow and Naomi.

He studied them. ‘Such sweetness. Shocking what the world is coming to.’ He handed them back. ‘You think I might have seen them?’

‘I was hoping you would have. We think they ventured this way from their school. I didn’t notice any security cameras outside, or maybe you have them hidden? If you have any footage, it would be a great help to us.’

‘Sorry to disappoint. No cameras at all. I don’t need the added expense. Who’s going to steal a dead body?’ He chuckled.

Good point, she admitted, but then again, stranger things had happened.

‘Were you here yesterday morning or throughout the day?’

‘I was working from eight a.m. in the basement. Embalming job, and I had make-up to do.’

‘Make-up?’

‘Final touches on Mrs McGinley. Lost her battle with cancer. Not yet forty-five, with three young boys. Poor husband. Shocking sad. Funeral is tomorrow. Removal from her home this evening. That’s why I was under pressure to get the work completed.’

Thinking of the first crime scene, Lottie asked, ‘Is her funeral in the cathedral?’

‘No, Gaddstown. I think Father Maguire is officiating. Friend of the family. Did you know Mrs McGinley? You look her age, though you’re a lot more alive than she is right now.’ He chuckled again, then, seeing Lottie’s serious face, added, ‘Her father was a Nolan from—’

‘Would you have heard anyone if they’d come into the funeral home?’ She had to get him back on track. She had a feeling Connolly was excited at having an audience. Probably came from working with people who could no longer chat with him.

‘Once you cross the threshold to the chapel of rest, a bell sounds in this office. I heard nothing yesterday morning.’

‘Is there another way in, besides the front door?’

‘Yes, at the rear. We bring the bodies in that way.’

‘We? Who works with you?’

‘I’m working alone today. Yesterday too. My assistant is snowed in, in Ballymore. That council needs to do more gritting. Do you have a say there, Inspector?’

‘No. What’s your assistant’s name?’

‘Jasper Crowe.’

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