Page 43 of The Guilty Girl

‘You’ve just planted a horrible image in my brain.’

She laughed. ‘Sorry. I’ve to go help Garda Furey on the checkpoint near the McAllister house. I’ll give Lei a hand later.’ She turned to leave.

‘Martina?’

‘Yes?’ She glanced over her shoulder.

‘Fancy a drink after work?’

‘Can’t, sorry. Another time, maybe?’

He could have sworn she blushed as she left.

Damn you, McKeown.

21

Richie Harrison stopped half a mile from the McAllister property. A tape ran the width of the narrow road and a uniformed garda held up her hand and halted him. He squirmed in the seat while doing his best to remain calm. Brontë was spooked enough without adding fuel to that particular fire.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to turn around,’ the guard said. ‘The road’s closed up ahead.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Richie nervously threaded his fingers around the beads hanging from his neck.

‘An incident further up. You’ll have to go back.’

‘I’ve to collect equipment from the McAllisters’ house. I left it there last night. I’ll be ten minutes.’

‘Hold on.’ She turned and spoke into her radio. He couldn’t hear what was being said.

‘Why won’t they let us through?’ Brontë said.

‘Fucked if I know.’

‘You never know anything.’

Before he could reply, the garda was back. ‘What’s your name, sir?’

‘Richie Harrison.’

‘What do you work at?’

‘I’m a DJ.’

‘And you played at Lucy McAllister’s party?’

‘Erm … yeah. I’ve another gig tonight. I need my gear.’

‘Would you mind stepping out of the vehicle, please, sir?’

‘I’m in a bit of a rush.’ This was not good.

‘Sir, please step out of the vehicle. You too, miss.’

‘It’s Mrs Harrison,’ Brontë said spikily.

Feeling he had little choice, Richie jumped out. ‘What is this about?’

Another garda arrived. Both stared at him, tight-lipped.

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