The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(30)

‘Meant to ask, why didn’t you relieve Gilly from her duty at the Kelly house this morning?’

‘Come on, Kirby. It’s a bum job. And she’s young enough to cope with doodling on her phone all day.’ Lynch looked over at him. ‘Did you have to cancel a date with her last night, or what?

‘Or what.’

She laughed. ‘You never learn.’

Kirby tried to keep up with Lynch’s short, quick steps. They stopped beside a fire truck and surveyed the scene.

‘You smell that?’ he asked, sniffing the air.

‘I smell burning. Wood, smoke, plastic and…’

They looked at each other.

‘Cannabis,’ they said together.

Kirby scratched his bushy damp hair. ‘A grow house?’

Lynch agreed. ‘Could be.’

They approached a small, thin man with a peaked cap. Kirby eyed the brass name badge and introduced himself.

‘So, Chief Cox, what do we have?’

‘Single-storey nineteen fifties cottage. Roof’s about to cave in.’

‘Any casualties?’

‘One deceased and another who should be dead but is somehow still alive.’

‘Male or female?’

‘Both male. The dead man is just inside the back door of the house. Charred bone, that’s all that’s left of him.’

‘Where’s the man who survived?’ Kirby asked.

Chief Cox pointed to the ambulance firing up its engine with a whoop-whoop of its siren. Lights flashing, it began to move.

Kirby ran. ‘Hey, you… wait.’

The ambulance halted. Kirby leaned against the door, breathing in bursts. ‘I need to speak to the patient.’

The paramedic lowered the window and leaned out.

‘Who are you?’

‘Detective Larry Kirby.’

‘Look, I’m sorry, but if I don’t go now, you’ll be speaking to a corpse.’

Kirby debated his options and nodded. ‘Which hospital are you headed for?’

‘Ragmullin is the nearest, though he might have to be airlifted to Dublin. Bad burns and no fingers.’ He shifted the ambulance into gear.

‘No fingers? Burned off?’

‘More like hacked off with a saw.’

As the ambulance drove away in a blaze of lights and wailing sirens, Kirby turned to Lynch. She shrugged her shoulders. Chief Cox joined them.

‘When can we look around?’ Lynch asked.

‘It’ll be a few hours before we deem it safe. As I said, the roof is about to collapse. Structure is unsound. But the fire’s out.’

‘Any idea how it started?’ Kirby was pulling on his e-cigarette again as he eyed the tendrils of smoke creeping up from the house.

‘Damage is substantial. Either they had an unprotected gas heater jammed up against the door, or someone poured petrol through the letter box. That’s a guess at this stage.’

‘Like a petrol bomb? Jaysus. Who lived here, do you know?’

‘No idea.’

‘Who called it in?’

‘Neighbour. Lives a mile or so up the lane. Saw the flames blasting into the sky early this morning. You’d best have a word with him. As I said, it’ll be hours yet before anyone can go on site.’

‘Thanks, Chief,’ Kirby said. ‘I’ll get my people to stand guard.’

‘That’s him, over there.’

A man wearing a green waxed jacket, and jeans tucked into mud-covered wellington boots stood leaning against an old Land Rover. He was chewing on the end of a fat cigar.

‘A fellow after my own heart,’ Kirby said. ‘Lynch, contact the SOCOs to tell them we’ll need them out here.’ He pointed to the car parked haphazardly in the drive. ‘And see if we can find out who that car belongs to.’

He marched over to the man and whipped out his ID.

‘Detective Kirby,’ he said.

‘Mick O’Dowd.’ The man tipped his flat cap with one work-roughened hand, offering the other in a shake.

Kirby looked into a face twisted in a knot of anger and guessed that the man was around the seventy mark. Bushy eyebrows with grey strands poking out and a nose that told the tale of a whiskey drinker. His cheeks were mottled with blood spots.

‘You noticed the fire early this morning, then?’

‘I did. On my way out to my cows sometime around five fifteen. It was like a firework display. Put my whole morning’s work back hours. Cows still haven’t been milked.’

Was this the reason for his anger?

Kirby said, ‘Did you hear anything before that?’

‘Like an explosion?’

‘Exactly.’ Kirby found his e-cigarette and began pulling hard.

‘No. Never heard a thing.’

Kirby sighed, a cloud of smoke exhaling with his breath.

‘You know who lived there?’ he asked, nodding towards the smouldering building.

‘Always been rented out. The original owner moved to the States, must be forty years ago now.’

‘That’s a long time to be renting out a property.’

‘It’s not my business. I’ve enough of my own troubles without concerning myself with others’.’

‘Don’t suppose you know who the estate agent is?’