The Doll's House (37 page)

‘Will he tell you? Will he talk to you?’

‘I don’t know.’ And I’m thinking about the image of the iceberg, the one Gerard described at the beginning of all this. How my conscious mind is at the tip of it, above the waterline, while below there is a giant dark mass, one that is now filled with more doubts and fears than I’d thought possible.

O’Connor could almost taste this point in an investigation, when things were moving so fast that absolutely nothing outside it mattered. But with that came the knowledge that one slip-up now might mean the whole bloody thing could come crashing down around him.

He was uneasy about Dominic Hamilton being missing. They had the fibre results from the lab, and the analysis of the deposits under Jenkins’s fingernails. Once he had Hamilton and McKay in for questioning, it should only be a matter of time before all the building blocks slotted into place. If they were lucky, they’d get the domino effect, each piece of information connecting, giving the required momentum towards the truth.

But one thing was still niggling at him, apart from having to wait for the bloody search warrant, and his inability to pull either McKay or Hamilton in. It was the reference Kate had made to there being another potential victim or victims, and the acceleration in the killer’s mind.

The perpetrator was a risk-taker seemingly with little to lose. His task more important to him than anything else. According to Kate, he could be psychotic and unable to contemplate any protracted waiting period. It meant that whoever had killed Jenkins and Gahan was capable of thinking outside a logical framework. Desperate men do desperate things. The last thing O’Connor wanted was another dead body or an injured party on his hands.

When his desk phone rang with an in-house call, O’Connor assumed it would be a detective from his team. When he heard
Hennessy’s voice, he adjusted his tone, unsure as to what the detective sergeant was about to say to him.

‘O’Connor, I know you’re the SIO on the canal murders.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I may have something for you.’

O’Connor wasn’t sure if it was the relief that Hennessy’s phone call had nothing to do with the rape charge or his keenness to get another angle on the case. Either way, a part of him relaxed. ‘Let me hear what you have.’

‘We pulled in a pal this morning in connection with an alleged rape.’ O’Connor felt himself tensing again. ‘The guy’s name is Steve McDaid. He’s denying the whole thing, of course, saying it was consensual, but when we started talking to him, he had no idea why we’d dragged him in. He began spouting on about how he knew nothing about nothing, that he wasn’t anywhere near the canal.’

‘He thought you were pulling him in over the murders?’

‘It would seem so. It turns out he knew both victims, but he got his bearings fairly fast. Anyhow, one way or another, the rape allegation will be a long haul, but he’s here in the station now. I thought you might like to have a few words with him.’

‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Which interview room is he in?’

‘22A.’

‘I’m on my way.’

When I leave Gerard’s and see Dominic’s car parked outside, in a strange way I’m not one bit surprised. Despite all the upset, it’s anger I feel towards him. He knows so much more than me and, like Mum, he keeps shutting me out.

As I get closer to the car, I realise he’s slumped over in the driver’s seat, as if he’s sleeping. My legs feel shaky after the session with Gerard. I take my time walking towards him, unsure of the best way to handle things. There are gaps in my memory that I might never be able to fill, but Dominic knows more than he’s saying. The hard part will be getting the information out of him.

Knocking on the driver’s window, I feel somewhat energised again. The truth is within my grasp, if I can reach out in the right direction.

Dominic smiles at me, his hair tossed, his eyes sleepy. I sit in beside him. ‘When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?’

‘I don’t need sleep.’ He yawns.

‘Dominic, did you follow me here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I was worried about you.’

‘You haven’t been telling me the truth, Dominic.’

‘Haven’t I?’ A chill enters his voice.

‘You need to stop treating me like a child. Martin does it all the time. It drives me mad.’

‘Don’t compare me to him.’

‘Then stop acting like him. I need you to tell me everything.’

‘What do you want to know?’

I blurt, ‘The lot – what you know about Emmaline, how she died, how Dad died, why Mum stopped loving me.’

‘She never stopped loving you.’

‘She had a funny way of showing it.’

‘You want to know about Dad?’ Dominic almost spitting out the words. I can’t believe how quickly his mood has turned.

‘Yes.’ Even as I say it, I worry about what is coming next.

‘The boating accident.’ He looks straight ahead of him.

‘What about it?’

‘It wasn’t an accident.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ My head wants to explode.

‘Dad was under pressure, the business, everything.’

‘Jesus, how long have you known?’

‘I think, in a way, I’ve always known. But sometimes, Clodagh, you don’t want to face the truth. I learned some things while Mum was sick.’

A part of me feels angry all over again. ‘She confided in you?’ I don’t attempt to hide the hurt.

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘And Emmaline, Dominic? Did she tell you what happened to the baby?’

‘What about the baby?’

‘How she died.’

‘You know how she died. It was a cot death.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ I keep my eyes fixed on him.

‘Believe what you want.’ He turns his head away from me, looking out of the driver’s window.

‘I went back, Dominic. During my regression, I saw things.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘There were arguments, fights between Mum and Dad. She blamed him, or me, or someone for the baby dying. She …’

‘What?’

‘She said the baby was killed.’ The words sound unbelievable.

‘Christ, Clodagh!’ His voice is shaky, his eyes fixed on me.

‘Stop playing games, Dominic.’

‘I’m not playing games. Games are for children.’

‘You went to see Gerard Hayden. He told me.’

‘It wasn’t me who went to see him, Clodagh.’

‘What do you mean? You’re not talking sense. I want the truth, Dominic. I want the truth!’

‘It was Martin, if you must know.’

My mind is racing again. ‘Why would he do that? How do you know?’

‘Because I followed him too.’

‘You what?’

He turns the key in the ignition, then pulls the car out from the kerb.

‘Where are we going? I don’t want to go home, Dominic. I want to talk this out.’

‘We will, but first we need to go somewhere.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere you’ll be safe.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You will, Clodagh. You just need to trust me.’

The first thing O’Connor did on entering Interview Room 22A was give Steve McDaid a great big smile. The second thing he did was press the record button for their session. Then he sat down, facing McDaid across a narrow but adequate chrome table.

Hennessy remained standing by the door, more an observer than a participant.

‘Steve, I understand from Detective Sergeant Hennessy that you knew the two men who were killed – Keith Jenkins and Jimmy Gahan.’

‘There’s no law broken in knowing them.’

‘Of course not.’ O’Connor leaned back on the hard wooden chair, stretching out and folding his legs to the side of the table. ‘I’d be keen to hear what you have to say about them.’

‘It’s been years since I spoke to either of them.’

‘So you all go back a long way?’

‘Long enough.’

‘To when exactly?’

‘My teens, I guess.’

‘That’s a long time ago.’ O’Connor smiled again, but McDaid didn’t look impressed. ‘How did you get to know them, Steve?’

‘They hung out at the Hamiltons’. I used to be friendly with Dominic Hamilton.’

O’Connor was giving nothing away, although there were plenty of questions running around in his head. He was finding it harder to keep his anger under wraps too. McDaid had been pulled in for the Susie Graham rape, and somehow the thing that had fucked with his head over the last few months seemed to be represented by the lowlife in front of him. ‘Have you seen him recently? Dominic Hamilton, that is.’

‘Look, I don’t know anything about any of this.’

‘Nobody is saying you do, but I’d like you to answer my question. When was the last time you saw Dominic Hamilton?’

‘Recently.’

‘How recently?’

‘The last few days.’ McDaid also leaned back in his chair, as if wanting to put further distance between him and O’Connor.

O’Connor sat forward. ‘Listen, you fucking lump of shit, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.’ Standing up, O’Connor grabbed him by the shirt collar. Pulling McDaid up, he pushed him back against the wall, saying, ‘You don’t want to be here all fucking day, and neither do I. So why don’t you save us all a whole lot of time and tell us what you fucking do know?’

Hennessy took a couple of steps forward from the door. ‘Take it easy, O’Connor.’

O’Connor let go, but not before he gave McDaid a look that didn’t need any words.

It didn’t take him long to compose himself. ‘Okay, Detective, I don’t mind talking.’

‘And I’m listening. Now don’t fuck me about.’

‘I used to hang around with Dominic Hamilton. It wasn’t a match made in Heaven, me and him. Let’s just say we came from different backgrounds. That’s how I got to know Keith Jenkins and Jimmy Gahan.’

‘Did you know them well?’

‘Not particularly. They were just men in suits who visited the Hamilton house.’

‘Keep going, Steve, you’re doing great.’ Anger was still seeping into O’Connor’s words.

‘I saw the sister too, about a week ago. She didn’t see me, but I recognised her straight away. She’s a bit of a looker even now.’

‘Clodagh McKay?’

‘That’s right.’

‘You have a soft spot for her, do you, Steve?’

‘She was only a kid when I met her. We got reacquainted a few years later. I doubt she remembers it, though. Out of her head, she was. Her daughter’s the same. Must be a family weakness.’ He smiled.

‘Let’s get back to you and Dominic Hamilton. How come you two had this recent reunion?’

‘I got a bit of a job.’

‘What kind of a job?’

‘Someone wanted me to keep an eye on him.’

‘Who?’

‘I’d rather not say.’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Steve.’

‘Just a guy. I think he might have been put out by Jenkins and Gahan taking a swim.’

‘I’m going to ask you again, and this time I want an answer. Who wanted you to keep an eye on Dominic Hamilton?’

‘He said he had some trust issues with him. I wasn’t keen on doing it, but sometimes a guy doesn’t have a lot of choice.’

‘A bit like now, Steve. A name, please.’

‘Alister Becon, if you must know, but that’s all I can tell you. Mr Becon isn’t one for sharing a lot of information. He wants you to do something, you do it.’

O’Connor knew he was getting only part of the story. He needed to keep pushing. He stood up again. McDaid braced himself for another attack, but O’Connor kept his anger in check. ‘And when you were keeping an eye on Dominic Hamilton, what did you discover?’

‘Not a lot.’

‘No?’ O’Connor was sceptical.

‘He liked going for long drives.’

‘Long drives?’

‘Yeah, out to Malahide, down by the estuary. He would sit in the car for hours on end. That’s where his father croaked it, wasn’t it?’