Page 120 of Her Last Walk Home

‘Too many pies for my liking, or maybe I’m jealous because I can’t afford to buy a decent house.’ As she raised her hand to knock on the door, she spied a small camera bell, so she pressed that instead.

Muffled sounds came from within before the door opened. The man who stood there had dishevelled hair and a taut jaw. Angry?

‘What?’ he growled. Definitely angry.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Parker, and this is my colleague, Garda Lei. We’d like a minute of your time, if you don’t mind.’

‘What’s this about? I’ve only just got in from work.’ He patted down his unruly black hair and straightened his tie before tucking his creased white shirt into navy suit trousers. She spied the corresponding jacket hanging on the stairs.

‘Mr McGovern, is it?’

‘Yeah. Benny. What’s this about?’ He kept his hand firmly on the door, blocking entry.

‘We’re investigating a murder and talking to everyone on this estate. It won’t take long at all.’

‘And that requires an Inspector? Waste of resources.’ Relenting, he opened the door wider, with an audible sigh. ‘You better come in.’

Lei shut the door behind them as Lottie followed McGovern into the sitting room that Kirby had perfectly described. It seemed the family might have been able to afford their house, but furniture was another matter. Not that she was in any position to criticise, with the state of Farranstown House. She tugged off her jacket and pulled down the sleeves of her white shirt, which had travelled up her arms.

Benny sat at the dining table before Lottie and Lei joined him.

‘This is a lovely estate,’ she said. ‘New, is it?’

‘We’re here five years. More like a lifetime with all the problems we’ve had.’

‘Oh, why is that?’

‘Where do I start? Everything from day one was wrong with it. Cracks in the walls. Condensation in the bathroom. No ventsin any room. Bad workmanship all round, and that bastard Gordon Collins gets away with murder. I’ve sent more solicitor’s letters than I can count. Anyhow. That’s not why you’re here. How can I help you?’

Lottie banked the information about Collins. ‘We’re investigating the murder of Laura Nolan. Her body was discovered in the grounds of the cinema complex on Friday morning. Close to this estate.’

‘I read about it. Terrible tragedy for the young woman’s family. This town isn’t safe to walk around in daylight, let alone at night.’

She noted the inherent criticism in his tone but chose to ignore it. ‘Did you hear or see anything suspicious, Thursday night into Friday morning?’

‘No. We’re usually in bed early. Both my wife and I work out of town, and our son goes to the school down the road. I’m sorry, I heard nothing.’

‘Okay. Can I speak with your wife and son?’

‘Brigette is picking up a takeaway and groceries. Rex is only seven, so he can’t help you.’

Lottie eyed Lei, who gave a subtle nod to let her know it was true the woman had left the house. ‘Even so, I’d like a quick word with Rex.’

‘Why?’ McGovern pointed at Garda Lei as if just realising he was there. ‘You were here earlier, with a fat guy. Got a doorbell alert on my phone and I’m sure it was you I saw. What right had you to barge into my home?’ His faux-compliance had evaporated.

Lottie figured he had been cooperative thus far because he knew he was in the wrong regarding his son; now she caught his anger. ‘You’re aware that leaving a seven-year-old home alone is a matter for social services, Mr McGovern, aren’t you?’

He looked like he’d been punctured. ‘What do you want?’

‘I believe your son might have crucial information to assist us in our inquiries.’

‘I warned him time and time again not to open the door. You should know better than to interview a child without parental consent. I might make a formal complaint to your superintendent.’

‘You’re within your rights to do that, and I will inform social services,’ Lottie said. Was McGovern a habitual complainant? ‘I need to speak with your son.’

‘My wife isn’t here and… I don’t know…’ He faltered.

‘Just a few minutes. That’s all I ask.’ She leaned forward with her most sincere expression.

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