The Weight of Him(39)

Billy shook with the need to let out all the breath and pain and noises stuck inside him. He should be allowed to interrogate Deveney. To ask the only questions that mattered at this point. Why hadn’t Deveney sent for him that morning? Why hadn’t he let Billy be the one who caught Michael when he fell from that tree?

Feeney excused Deveney. As Deveney rose from the red-velvet chair, the words burst from Billy. “Why didn’t you send for me?” Deveney dropped back onto the chair.

Tricia pulled on Billy’s arm. “Don’t, Billy.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brennan, it isn’t procedure for family to ask questions,” Feeney said.

Deveney blurred in front of Billy’s wet eyes. “I could have been there with him. You could have easily made it happen, so why didn’t you?”

Deveney seemed pinned to the chair, speechless.

“Answer me!” Billy shouted. Tricia pulled on his arm, shushing him.

Deveney’s face, his entire body, slackened. “Trust me,” he rasped. “You didn’t want to see him.”

Tricia’s hand jumped from Billy’s arm and covered her mouth. John, looking crushed, placed his arm around her shoulders. Billy’s stomach lurched.

Feeney cleared his throat. “That will be all, Sergeant Deveney, thank you.”

Once Deveney returned to his seat, Feeney called Ronin to the stand. Billy couldn’t stop shaking. He rubbed his hand over his face, struggling to keep himself together.

Ronin placed his helmet and gloves on the white tablecloth, again bringing to mind bodiless parts. Billy’s stomach heaved. He was going to be sick. He touched his free hand to his middle and pleaded with his insides not to betray him. Not now. He had to see this through.

Ronin confirmed he had seen Michael on that last night. He, Michael, and some of the other football players had gathered behind the village hall to chat and mess around, drink a few cans of cider. “Michael only had the one, two at the very most, and he never touched anything else, no drugs or anything, he wasn’t like that.”

Pain shot through Billy’s chest, thinking of all the things Michael was.

“Would you say, Mr. Nevin, there was anything unusual or out of character about Michael Brennan that night, or at any time leading up to his death? Did you have any cause for concern?” Feeney asked.

“No, none. I’m as in the dark as everybody else.”

Feeney excused Ronin, and called Kitty to the stand. Ronin returned to his seat, his head down and his Adam’s apple working hard. As Kitty approached the table, Tricia’s crying intensified. Billy tightened his hold on her.

Kitty started and stopped several times, her voice shaking. She confirmed she had found Michael’s body on the date and time given, and had immediately phoned 999 from her mobile.

“And you stayed with the—” Feeney looked down at the file next to his clasped hands. “With Michael Brennan until the police and paramedics arrived?”

Sergeant Deveney stood up amid the empty rows of chairs. “That’s incorrect, Mr. Feeney—”

Feeney raised his hand. “Mrs. Moore has the stand now, thank you.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Feeney.” Sergeant Deveney sat down, his face beetroot.

“No, sir, I didn’t stay,” Kitty said with a small sob, her eyes fixed on the coroner. “To tell you the truth, sir, I got such a fright when I saw him that everything afterwards is a bit of a blank. When I first came across him, I couldn’t take it in for a few seconds, and then … then I realized.” She wiped at her nose with a tissue. “I returned home. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d only seen him for a moment and didn’t know it was Michael. I only knew it was a young man and he was … gone, and the most awful feeling came over me, and I … I had to get away.” Her throat made a deep sucking sound. “I knew there was nothing I could do for him and that the police and ambulance would have no trouble finding him, so I went home and left him to God. First thing, I lit a candle in my kitchen, got down on my knees, and prayed for him and all those he’d left behind.”

Tricia cried into her hands. John made a strangled sound. Billy wrapped his arm around them both.

Feeney excused Kitty. Once she’d returned to her seat, he scanned the small group with sympathetic eyes. “That concludes today’s proceedings, thank you.” He removed several sheets of paper from a folder. “My findings, including autopsy and toxicology reports, are consistent with the testimonies offered and I declare the cause of the demise of Michael Liam Brennan to be suicide by hanging.”

He walked to the front row and handed Billy a large brown envelope. Billy reluctantly removed his arm from around Tricia and John. Feeney pumped each of their arms, repeating his condolences. The brown envelope shook in Billy’s hand. He didn’t care if he ever opened it. The certificate might document the cause of death, but it didn’t explain what had broken inside Michael. Didn’t help them with how to go on.





Thirteen

Billy had spent the last couple of hours trying to write a catchy song for the march, a tune along the same lines as those drill songs soldiers used. So far, he’d only managed to pull one decent line of lyrics out of himself, No more, no more, taking your life, and was just circling a second, worthy line when Anna and Ivor clattered through the back doorway.