Page 33 of Final Betrayal

And then she remembered they had yet to tell the parents.

EIGHTEEN

Tony was ignoring Conor, giving him a wide berth. Conor didn’t want to care, but he did.

‘What’s the sour face for?’ he said.

Tony stopped and turned. ‘You. That’s why. It’s because I put in a good word for you that you got this job, and you repay me by almost choking the life out of me.’ He rubbed his dirty gloved hand around his neck, leaving muddy streaks behind.

‘I was just having a laugh, that’s all. Don’t be such a dickhead. I’ve enough of that shite at home without having no one to talk to here. Come on. Pint after work? What do you say?’ Conor wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder, but was shrugged away.

He watched the changing expressions on Tony’s face as he struggled within himself to stand his ground, to say no. But Conor knew Tony well; he would give in. Hopefully he could squeeze him to pay for the pints too.

‘Okay. First round’s on you,’ Tony said.

He’d have to come up with a plan. At least Tony was talking. That was something.

‘Where are we scheduled to work next? Not the tunnel, I hope. That place reminds me of prison.’

Tony laughed and Conor followed him as they made their way to the foreman to get their orders for the day. Phase one of his plan had worked.

The incident room smelled of body odour and fried takeout food. Lottie sniffed the air; despite the smell, it was much fresher than the abandoned house at Petit Lane where two young women had met their deaths. She walked to the first board and pinned up prints of the photographs that had been emailed to her.

‘Shouldn’t we notify next of kin?’ Boyd said. ‘We need positive IDs.’

‘Let’s just go through all this quickly first.’ She knew she was putting off the inevitable, but she didn’t want to face either parent just yet. Perhaps McMahon would do the job, seeing that he was so well in with the councillor.

‘I believe the victims to be Amy Whyte and Penny Brogan. Only Amy was officially reported missing, but nobody’s seen Penny for a few days. I’ve seen photos of both young women and I’m confident they are the two deceased. So far, we know they were last seen on Saturday night at Jomo’s nightclub. Going by the attire their bodies are still dressed in, it’s likely they were abducted shortly after they left the club. We need the security footage from Jomo’s, Kirby, and try to get a list of those who attended.’

‘I’ve been there on the odd occasion,’ Kirby said. Lottie noticed him blush. ‘With Gilly.’ He swallowed down a gulp.

‘Go on,’ Lottie said, encouraging him. ‘Do you remember anything that might help us?’

‘It was over six months ago. If memory serves me correctly, most of the clientele were years younger than me. Anything from sixteen upwards. Loud music and plenty of booze, and I’m sure a plethora of drugs. But nothing stood out as particularly sinister.’

Garda Tom Thornton put up his hand. ‘Friday and Saturday nights are our busiest here in town. The usual rows at two or three in the morning as the clubs begin to empty and the crowds spill out. Drunk and disorderly, mainly. With so many people around, I can’t see how the girls could have been abducted without being seen.’

‘I spoke to one of their friends, Ducky Reilly,’ Lottie said. ‘He says that Amy left first and Penny about a half-hour after her. Before the club finished up.’ With a shudder she remembered that her daughters had been there Saturday night also. ‘But both victims ended up murdered in the same place. Kirby, canvass the streets around the club and see what security tapes you can pick up.’

Boyd said, ‘We have no evidence they were taken Saturday night, though.’

‘True. But we have to start somewhere.’

‘If you’re making your assumption based on their clothing, it’s possible they may have gone on to a party somewhere.’

‘They may have done a lot of things, but my gut tells me that Saturday night/Sunday morning is our best bet, and I?—’

A sharp grunt at the back of the room caused her words to stall in her mouth. Shit, she hadn’t seen McMahon enter.

‘Your gut isn’t always right, is it?’ The acting superintendent strode towards her, buttoning up his jacket over his neatly ironed white shirt. He swiped his fringe away from his eyes and turned to face the room.

Lottie felt her skin bristle, and clenched her fists so tightly, her nails cut into the palms of her hands.

‘Sir?’ she said. ‘I’m the senior investigating officer on this case and I can fill you in once this briefing is over.’

He didn’t turn around to face her, but she sensed his dismissal of her as his shoulders broadened and his back straightened.

‘Councillor Richard Whyte is a very important member of this community,’ he began, his strong Dublin accent cutting through the room. ‘I want every hour you can possibly give to finding out who killed his daughter. The poor man is devastated and?—’

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