Page 67 of Three Widows

‘Orla Keating?’

‘Yes, she is.’

She stood. ‘Can I have the names of your freelance instructors?’

‘Why do you need to talk to them?’

‘I just do,’ she said irritably. He was really pissing her off. She eyeballed him; he shrank under her stare, then started tapping at keys. She heard a printer hum behind him and he waited for the paper to emerge.

‘There you go. But I must be breaking the law by giving you these names.’

‘And I’m known to break balls, so don’t try my patience again.’ She made to leave, then turned back. ‘Can you tell me where you were Thursday night until this morning?’

‘Do I need a solicitor?’

‘For God’s sake…’

‘I was here until late on Thursday doing meditation, and here all day yesterday and late last night. Then I went home. I had my dinner and went to bed.’

‘Anyone verify that?’

‘If needs be, I can get verification.’

‘That would be desirable.’ She gave him her card and left.

Standing at her car, she ran through the conversation she’d just had. Then she sat in and started the engine. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what made her uneasy. Either she’d missed something, or there was something relevant that he’d not said. Shaking her head, she drove back to the station. It struck her then what she hadn’t been able to figure out earlier. SunUp was marketed as an exclusive deluxe facility, but it seemed to be a failing enterprise.

43

McKeown felt his head swell with the heat pulsing through the office. He’d been interrogating websites and calling the Companies Registration Office, and now he was on the phone to the revenue office in Athlone. Twenty-five minutes on hold and his patience was as thin as his angry lips. He almost killed the call just as someone came back to him.

‘Detective? I might have something for you under Jennifer O’Loughlin’s maiden name, Jennifer Whelan. But I believe I need a warrant to give you the information.’

Who was he talking to? Anne, Annette? ‘As the person I am enquiring about is now deceased – murdered, I may add – I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s just a line of inquiry, Anne.’

‘It’s Annette. Okay, if you say so. I’m emailing it to you now. Please don’t get me in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry at all. I really appreciate all your help.’

‘Thank you, Detective McKeown. You know, I know a McKeown woman and—’

Shit. ‘Have to rush, sorry, but thanks again, Annette.’

He hung up and stared at his computer screen, hitting refresh every five seconds. At last the email appeared.

‘Got it!’ He turned around and found he was alone in the office. No one to share his success with. He made sure the details were on his iPad and went off to find Garda Martina Brennan.

‘You should have got someone else to come with you.’ Martina was like a coiled spring on the seat. Though he loved women, not counting Lottie Parker, he didn’t understand them.

‘You and I are a team, gorgeous.’

‘I’m not a detective and I know I’m far from gorgeous, so I’m not falling for your bullshit. If you wanted a lowly guard to stoke your ego, you could have asked Garda Lei.’

‘His mouth isn’t as cute as yours, princess.’

‘You’re full of shit.’

He shifted uneasily as he turned the car out of the station and drove past the cathedral. ‘What’s eating you?’

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