Page 159 of Three Widows

Just like Frankie Bardon’s body, hanging from a rope, his feet trailing the ground, beneath the newest and longest bridge in Ragmullin.

97

With Lei by his side, Kirby studied the map on his phone. He was glad Boyd had said he wasn’t required at the latest crime scene, because now his bones tingled with anticipation. He felt they were close to the conclusion of this murderous episode.

Following the map, they made their way on foot across a field until they came to a two-storey house, a dilapidated garage to one side. It was situated just over a kilometre from Kathleen Foley’s present abode. The GPS had placed Tyler Keating’s car close by. Unseen from the main road, the house would have been hard to find without the map. An old railway goods carriage stood some distance away. Was that where the car had been located all along?

‘House looks derelict,’ Lei said.

‘Master of the understatement.’ Kirby kept walking. ‘Stay quiet and keep your head down. Someone could be in there, watching our approach.’

‘We should have put on the Kevlar. Do you have your weapon?’

‘I’m not stupid.’ But he was. He hadn’t given a thought to personal protection.

Lei must have seen the worry cross his face. ‘It looks deserted, anyway.’

‘Clever lad. Who would even think to investigate this place?’

‘Us?’

Kirby sighed. From the outside, it was obvious that the house was in serious need of repair. Trails of ivy tracked up the drainpipes and along the gutter. A shrub sprouted out of the chimney. He made his way forward carefully, telling Lei to stay well back. He peered through a ground-floor window, but it was as if years of grime had congealed into black.

He took a step backwards, surprised to find Lei standing right behind him. ‘The windows are covered with something on the inside.’

‘To keep nosy people from looking in?’

‘Maybe. Or if someone was being held inside against their will, it could be there to disorientate them.’ He looked at the young garda, still bruised from the encounter at Herbal Heaven. ‘Radio for backup and wait up on the road.’

‘You aren’t going in there alone, are you? It’s suicide. It’s… stupid.’

‘Whatever it is, there could be someone injured or dead in there. Maybe Helena or Orla. I need to look.’

‘Can’t I call it in from here?’

‘Go back to the road, Lei.’

There was no way he could put the rookie in danger. He watched as Lei cut a lonely figure trekking through the long grass, and then made his way to the rear of the dwelling, to see if there was any way in besides the front door.

98

Frankie Bardon had not been dead long, according to Jane Dore. Six hours maximum. Early hours of the morning, then, Lottie estimated. He had to have been killed and hung up just before dawn, when no one would have been about. The ground was marshy and now trampled; footprints would be useless. However, Grainne did point out the tracks of two wheels. Some sort of small trolley, she thought.

They tried to trace Frankie’s movements from the time he’d left the station yesterday evening, but it was proving difficult. No one in the Canal View area where he lived could remember seeing him.

‘You do know you shouldn’t have hit McKeown,’ Lottie said.

‘He had it coming and it made me feel good. After Jackie and Sergio… I don’t know… I have this anger simmering and—’

‘And it was good to let fly? I get that, but despite you barely making contact, he’ll report you to the super.’

‘I don’t care, to be honest.’

‘Don’t say that. It could damage your career. You’ll need this job to support your son when you get him back.’

Boyd shrugged and walked on ahead in silence. Her heart crumbled for him.

In the incident room, she concentrated on the carpet fibres. It was the only lead she had. She knew she’d seen the carpet somewhere other than in Madelene’s office this morning. Think! Pressing her fingers into her temple, she visualised every house she’d been in over the last few days. Then she twigged. Éilis Lawlor’s office. The samples pinned to her wall.

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