The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(31)

O’Dowd pulled at his chin, thinking. ‘No. Don’t know.’

Kirby sighed again, deflated. ‘Here’s my card. We’ll need to take a formal statement. And if you remember anything else, please contact me.’

‘Told you all I know. I’ve work to be doing now.’ O’Dowd turned to his Land Rover.

‘You sure you’ve no idea who those men were?’ Kirby persisted.

‘Wouldn’t I tell you if I did?’ O’Dowd delved into the pocket of his jacket. ‘I think you might like this.’

Kirby smiled, nodding his head. He rolled the cigar around in his hand before slamming it into his mouth. O’Dowd handed him a plastic lighter, then climbed into the Land Rover and set off down the lane.

Kirby walked back to Lynch, cigar between his teeth, smoke rippling from the side of his mouth.

‘Grand man, but he’s like someone with anger management issues.’

‘What makes you think that?’ asked Lynch.

‘It was like he was itching to box the face off the first one who crossed him.’

‘He’s probably a very busy farmer who doesn’t like having his morning’s work interrupted.’

‘Know a lot about farming, do you?’ Kirby pinched out the cigar between two thick fingers and carefully placed it in his inside coat pocket.

‘I thought you’d given them up?’ Lynch eyed him suspiciously.

‘I did. A few puffs do no harm.’ Kirby marched back to the car. ‘We’d better get to the hospital before that fella dies on us.’

‘I had a look at the body,’ Lynch said.

‘Dead, was he?’

‘Jesus, Kirby.’ She stomped around to the other side of the car. ‘The man was burned to death. Have you no compassion?’

‘Oh, I’ve plenty of that. Did you find any sign of the cannabis we smelled?’

‘There’s a concrete shed down the garden. But the whole place is a swamp after the rain and the fire crew. Uniforms will have to remain here, and then we’ve to wait for the SOCOs to get clearance before they can work the site.’

‘We? Ha, you’ll be acting FLO for the rest of the day.’

‘Not if I can help it.’ Lynch shut the door with a smug bang.





Twenty-Eight





Glancing into her old office, which one day would be her new abode, Lottie noted that it had been painted. At last. A ladder stood against the wall with a decorator’s paint-splattered table in the middle of the floor beside her old desk. All it needed now was new furniture and plenty of storage cabinets. She was sick of falling over box files. All on order, so she’d been told. Then she would have her own space back. Somewhere to think without an audience. Still no door, though. The plans dictated it would be full-length glass. Too late to order a solid one? For now she was stuck with her three stoogies, as Katie had once called her colleagues.

Hanging up her jacket, she noticed that hers was the only one on the rack. Odd, she thought, that no one else was here yet. She carefully picked her way around the files stacked on the floor. Switched on the photocopier and copied the fragile newspaper cuttings from her father’s box. Two copies of each, so she could give one lot to Boyd. Well, he’d offered, hadn’t he? When she’d finished, she put a set on his desk and the other into her deep, cluttered handbag. She’d look at them when she got time. If she ever got time. She put the originals into her desk drawer. Opening the pharmacy bag she’d picked up on the way back from Annabelle’s, she sighed with relief at the sight of the blister packs of pills.

Boyd arrived, hung up his jacket and sat down at his desk without a word. No chance of taking her pill, then. Maybe later.

Writing her report on yesterday’s activities, Lottie couldn’t concentrate. Peering over the top of her computer screen, she saw Boyd lining up pages neatly into a folder on his desk. When he seemed content that they were straight, he took a packet of disinfectant wipes from his drawer and began wiping his keyboard.

‘What the hell, Boyd? What’s up with you?’

He glanced up, a look of surprise creasing his eyes, as if he had only just become aware of her.

‘Up? Nothing. Why?’

‘You’re in your OCD mode. Something is up.’

‘Where are Lynch and Kirby?’

He was diverting her, but she let it go. ‘I’d love to know.’

She rang Lynch and listened to the call go to voicemail. Maybe she’d already left to relieve Garda O’Donoghue. She tried Kirby. No answer.

Out of the office and into the incident room. Quiet as a churchyard at midnight. She stuck her head into a few of the other offices. ‘Any of you seen Lynch or Kirby this morning?’

‘They might be at that house fire,’ one garda offered.

‘House fire? I heard nothing about a house fire. What are they doing there? For feck’s sake! I’m trying to run a murder investigation.’ Lottie made her way back to her office.

Boyd called up the incident report log on his computer.

‘House fire. Dolanstown. They’re there. First responders called for detectives to attend. One male deceased at the house, another badly injured. Suspicion of arson.’

‘This is all we need.’ Lottie slammed a bundle of reports she hadn’t had time to read onto the already crowded floor and planted her foot on top of them. She didn’t have the resources to lend to an arson attack, body or no body. And she needed the hospital CCTV checked. Someone had to have dropped Marian Russell off there.