Page 89 of The Altar Girls

Lottie figured that if Jacinta was working, she had her phone on silent. ‘How long has she worked for Dream Care?’

‘Seven years, it says here.’

‘And before that?’

He pursed his lips, tapped the keyboard and shook his head. ‘Nothing entered on our database.’

‘Were you here on Monday?’

‘I’m here every weekday no matter the weather.’ His smile showed off a piece of lettuce stuck between his two front teeth. She hadn’t the energy to tell him about it.

‘Where was Jacinta working on Monday?’

More tapping. ‘In the office for a time in the morning. Then she was scheduled to work at Gaddstown nursing home for the rest of the day.’

‘Great, thanks. Have her call me if she returns. I’ll try to make contact with her.’

Lottie grabbed her car from behind the station and pondered whether to bring Boyd. Dammit, there was no time to waste. She pulled out of the yard and headed out of town.

Driving along the dual carriageway, she had time to wonder why Jacinta would make a complaint against the funeral director only to withdraw it the same day. The big question: was this anything at all to do with the murders of two little girls? It was a long shot, but all the same, she had to follow it up.

The nursing home was less than twenty kilometres away, situated on the outskirts of the small town of Gaddstown. It was an elongated building that might have started out as a bungalow and had been gradually extended over time in stages and various styles.

She stepped into the heated reception area and immediately felt uncomfortable. A sort of sadness, maybe loneliness, seemed to seep from the walls and an air of melancholy dropped onto her shoulders like a weighted blanket.

Her initial thought was of her mother. Would it come to the stage where she’d have to bring Rose to live in such a place as this?

Shrugging off the despondency, she asked where she could find Jacinta Nally and was directed down a wide corridor. Open double doors led into the day room, the floor covered with flowery beige carpet, a multitude of occupied armchairs and tables positioned throughout. Her feet were rooted to the spot, unable to carry her over the threshold.

‘Can I help you?’ asked a grey-haired lady wearing a navy tabard over jeans and jumper.

‘Erm, sorry. Yes. I was looking for Jacinta Nally.’

‘Is she a patient?’

‘She’s staff. A carer.’

‘Oh yes. I’m sorry. So many names to remember here.’ The lady pointed to the farthest corner. Jacinta’s red hair bobbed up and down as she tended to someone seated in a wheelchair.

‘Thank you.’ Lottie willed her feet across the floor, her mind filled with thoughts of Rose. ‘Jacinta? Can I have a word?’

Jacinta shut the book in her hand and paused with a look of shock on her face.

‘Oh God, has something happened?’ She dropped the book onto the floor and stood. ‘Alfie? Is he okay?’

‘He’s fine, as far as I know. I’m not here about him. I need a word in confidence.’

‘It’s about the murdered girls, then.’ She picked up the book and smiled at the old gentleman in the wheelchair. ‘I’ll be back in a little while, George. Don’t go anywhere.’

After placing the book on a library trolley, she led Lottie out. ‘There’s a room down here where we won’t be disturbed. Mrs White died last night and her things have already been cleared out.’

She pushed in the door. The grey laminate floor was sparkling clean and the room held only a wooden bedside cabinet and a bed with a scrubbed blue rubber mattress. Once again a profound sense of loneliness gripped Lottie.

‘Will Maurice Connolly be dealing with Mrs White’s funeral?’ she asked straight away.

Leaning against the window ledge, Jacinta folded her arms. ‘As you’ve asked about him, you must be here about the complaint I made against him.’

‘Correct.’ Lottie didn’t elaborate. She wanted the woman to tell her without any prompts.

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