Page 79 of The Guilty Girl

‘Of course.’ She barely heard him. She was thinking of her only son and his near escape.

McKeown stood, snapping his iPad closed. ‘And I informed Superintendent Farrell.’

‘You what? Are you trying to get me thrown off the case? There was no need to do that, no need at all. Christ on a bike.’

Before she could fully register the smug smile widening on McKeown’s face, the door flew inwards. Superintendent Farrell stood there, with a bulging, inflamed face.

‘I’m not Christ on a bike, but you might be wishing that I was, Inspector Parker. My office.’

‘I’ve to finish up with Detective McKeown.’

‘Are you deaf as well as incompetent? Now!’

Lottie pushed out past McKeown. He had a triumphant smirk plastered to his face and she had no time to focus on how best to handle the super.

After knocking politely on Farrell’s door, she entered the office when instructed to do so. Inside, she blinked. Every piece of furniture had been moved around. She had to twist on the balls of her feet to locate Farrell seated at her desk to the right.

‘You moved the …’ Lottie waved a hand but quickly shut up. None of her business.

‘Therapy. Relieves my anxiety.’ Arms folded. Face verging on purple.

Lottie reckoned that if she adopted the super’s version of therapy in her house, the furniture would be in perpetual motion. She tried to concentrate while figuring out her strategy.

The super was still speaking. ‘And I can tell you this for nothing, Inspector Parker, my anxiety has gone through the roof since I came to Ragmullin. My blood pressure is so high my doctor has me wearing a monitor for the next twenty-four hours. Can you guess the cause of my high blood pressure?’

‘No, boss.’

A loud snort from Farrell and Lottie shuffled her weight from one foot to the other. Wrong thing to say.

‘You!’ A wagging finger pointed at her and Lottie silently groaned. ‘I can see how poor Superintendent Corrigan met an early grave.’

‘That’s not fair. He had cancer. May I sit?’ For some unfathomable reason she felt vulnerable while standing with her boss seated.

‘You may not, because you won’t be here long enough.’ Farrell twiddled her clip-on tie until it broke free so that she could open the top button of her creased white shirt. ‘Explain to me in less than thirty seconds about this mess you’ve got yourself into.’

‘Lucy McAllister’s body was only discovered this morning, so I don’t understand what you mean.’ Fingers crossed behind her back.

‘Your son. His jacket. Knife in the pocket. Not reporting that he was at the scene of the crime in the middle of the night. Finding the body. Do you want me to draw you a diagram?’

Shit, how did Farrell know about the knife? ‘Oh, that’s what you mean. It’s nothing to worry about. Just a misunderstanding.’

‘A mis-under-standing?’ Farrell drew out the word. ‘Enlighten me.’

Quickly Lottie explained what Gráinne had found and repeated what McKeown had told her. ‘I’ve yet to speak with my son, so it’s just hearsay at the moment.’

‘Listen carefully, Inspector. That is not hearsay. It’s straight from the horse’s mouth. You are off the case.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘I just did.’

‘Please! You think I’m compromised because of this, but I’m not. Sean is not involved in the case. The facts as I know them are that I picked him up shortly after midnight. True, he went back around four in the morning to look for his jacket. He left straight away without it. Lucy was already dead by the time he went back there.’

‘And you can prove this?’

‘At the very least I need a chance to talk to my son before you take me off the case.’

Farrell shook her head and Lottie thought she heard the blood pressure monitor bleep. The super tapped a finger on her desk. Probably counting to calm herself down and avoid throwing a punch.

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