No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(11)

‘That’s my grandfather you’re talking about,’ said a stout man who had wrapped his arm about the shoulders of the stricken woman.

‘We’ll take a break,’ Father Joe said with a nod to Lottie, and shepherded the mourners out onto the path, where they huddled at the side of the hearse.

She sensed Boyd at her shoulder.

‘Might be the banshee’s resting place,’ he said.

‘Can we have a look?’ she asked Fahy.

‘There’s nothing down there,’ he said.

Lottie turned to the sobbing woman. ‘What exactly did you see?’

‘I’m not entirely sure. Maybe I imagined it, but when we pulled on the rope and the coffin was raised up a bit, I thought I saw what looked like skin poking out of the clay at the bottom of the grave. Human flesh. Good God! Could it be my grandad?’ She shook her head wildly. ‘But he’s been dead fifteen years.’

‘Stay right here. All of you.’ Lottie marched over to Fahy, who was now standing beside the grave. ‘Can you move the coffin so that I can take a look?’

‘What? You’re not going down there, are you?’ Fahy shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

‘I want the coffin moved. Now.’ The caretaker was needling her nerves like an irritating itch.

‘This is outrageous,’ he said.

Boyd edged in between them. ‘I think you’re overreacting, boss. We should let this family bury their loved one.’

She glared at him before turning back to Fahy. ‘You and your colleague push this coffin out of the way. I want a quick look and then you can get on with the ceremony.’

With a theatrical sigh, Fahy called to his workmate. Between them they placed an extra piece of timber underneath the wooden casket and slid it away from the grave.

The air seemed to chill and the sky appeared to darken as Lottie leaned over the edge and peered into the opening.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Boyd, get SOCOs here. And call Lynch and Kirby. Quickly.’





Nine





‘What about my funeral?’ Fahy asked, as Boyd corralled the mourners and Father Joe with the undertakers on the far side of the hearse.

Lottie squared up to him. ‘Mr Fahy, it’s not your funeral, it’s Mrs Green’s, and I want you and your colleague to join the family over there until I can get a cordon in place.’

‘We have to bury her,’ he said.

‘And you will. But not right now. I have a strong suspicion that there’s a body in that grave that shouldn’t be there, so I’m asking you to move away.’

‘Right so.’ He grabbed his colleague by the sleeve and took out his phone. ‘I’m calling my supervisor about this.’

‘You can call whoever you like, just stay out of my crime scene.’

Once she was alone, Lottie stared down into the darkness. Protruding from a thin layer of soil were pink-varnished toenails.



* * *



An hour later, the serenity of Ragmullin cemetery was lacerated by a hive of action and noise. Mrs Lorraine Green’s coffin had been returned to the hearse and her family members had been whisked away by the undertakers. Much as Lottie would have liked to, she didn’t speak to Father Joe, but she registered his sad smile with an inclination of her head.

Eventually the crime-scene tape was in place and the main gate was closed and guarded. A line of spectators perched on the high wall as the scene of crime officers erected a tent over the gaping grave.

‘Jim McGlynn is on his way,’ Boyd said.

‘He’ll be delighted to see the pair of us.’

Boyd pulled at his chin, his eyes concerned. ‘You think it’s her? Our missing woman?’

‘There’s someone down there and it’s not a corpse that’s been interred for fifteen years. So, it’s possible.’ She looked over at the gawkers sitting on the wall. ‘We need to speak with Bridie McWard again, plus Fahy and his colleague.’

‘Where did they go?’

She pointed to the row of pine trees to her left, where Fahy stood smoking a cigarette. He was flanked by Detectives Larry Kirby and Maria Lynch. As Lottie neared them, Fahy sucked in hard and blew out a stream of smoke.

‘I need you down at the station to make a statement,’ she said.

‘I saw nothing. And I did nothing either, before you go accusing me. Dug the grave on Monday and put the laths on it this morning. I saw only clay down there.’

‘We need a formal statement. You’re sure you didn’t notice anything suspicious over the last few days?’

‘I told you already. I didn’t see anything.’ He lit another cigarette. The smell made Lottie’s empty stomach queasy.

‘What’s your name?’ She directed her question to the plump young man with a bad case of acne standing in Fahy’s shadow.

‘I only started here today. I’m on a scheme.’

‘What is your name? Are you deaf?’ Lottie said. His teeth were yellow and his skin wan.

‘I wear a hearing aid. Deaf in one ear.’ He pointed to his right ear. ‘But I forgot to put it in today.’

‘Sorry.’ Lottie positioned herself to talk into his good ear.

‘His name is John Gilbey,’ Kirby said, his bushy hair standing up on his head and the zip on his jacket straining across his large girth. Lynch lounged against the wall, pale-faced. Her fair hair, usually tied up in a ponytail, streamed about her shoulders.