‘You’re in no state to bring anyone in.’
‘Frankie Bardon was in a relationship with Amy. He beat her. She said he used to hit her with a piece of timber. Chair legs and that.’ Kirby was close to tears.
‘Christ Almighty. That’s awful. How is she doing?’ Boyd asked as his phone beeped in his pocket.
Lottie wondered if it was Jackie, and hoped he wasn’t going to disappear again. ‘Does she know who abducted her?’
‘Nope,’ Kirby said, ‘but I’d bet my pension it was that prick Frankie Bardon.’
‘He says Amy was violent towards him. His husband, Owen Dalton, is dead and Frankie is distraught. We’re waiting for his solicitor before a formal interview.’
‘He’s here?’ Kirby jumped up and rushed to the door.
Boyd grabbed his sleeve and led him back to the chair.
‘This is insane,’ Kirby yelled. ‘Amy nearly died, and you’re pissing about without charging the chief suspect.’
‘You either stay in here or head home.’ Lottie gritted her teeth. ‘But you do not go anywhere near Frankie Bardon. You got that?’
She understood his anger, but she had to figure out whether it was Frankie or Amy who was lying and if so, why. And had it even got anything to do with the murders?
There was still no sign of Madelene Bowen, and Frankie was refusing to talk further until she arrived, so Lottie began an impromptu brainstorming with the team.
‘I say we lean hard on Bardon,’ Kirby said.
‘I thought I told you to stay out of it.’ Lottie glared at him, then realised she sounded childish. She relaxed her shoulders and slid onto a chair. ‘Sorry. I know we’ve had a hectic few days, but we need to keep going. We have three murder victims, an attempted murder, and we still can’t locate Orla and Helena.’
‘One of them could be the killer and is keeping the other one captive,’ Boyd said.
‘Agreed, but we have to treat them as victims until we know more,’ Lottie said wearily. ‘They might not even be alive at this stage, but let’s remain positive.’
Lynch said, ‘Earlier today, I was certain Owen Dalton was the murderer. He owed so much money and his investors must have been screaming for their share to be returned.’
‘That’s unlikely now that he’s dead.’ McKeown kept his eyes down and tapped his iPad.
‘You always have to state the obvious,’ Lynch retorted.
‘Sometimes it has to be said aloud.’ He raised one eyebrow without looking up.
‘God, but you’re a dose,’ Lynch muttered.
‘Enough,’ Lottie said. ‘We’re tired, but we need to concentrate our energies on finding the two women.’
‘We need to pin down the killer’s motive,’ Boyd said.
‘It’s someone who loves causing pain.’ Kirby kept tapping his pocket as if he could light a cigar. ‘It has to be Frankie. What if we let him go then follow him. He could lead us to the women.’
‘He’s going nowhere until I talk to him again,’ Lottie said. ‘What is keeping his solicitor?’
‘She was in her office earlier today,’ Lynch said. ‘Very cagey, and shut up fairly quickly when we mentioned that Amy had once been fostered by Kathleen Foley.’
Kirby said, ‘She was definitely spooked by that.’
‘I wonder why?’ Lottie mused. ‘See if there’s anything worth looking at about Amy and Kathleen Foley, and their links to Madelene Bowen.’
‘Damien O’Loughlin drew up Kathleen Foley’s will,’ Lynch said, ‘and the transfer of title on her home at Ballinisky to Helena. Kathleen claims that she didn’t tell Helena about it.’
‘But what does it all mean?’ Lottie threw her arms upwards before letting them fall, twisting her hands into fists.