No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(66)

‘So, Mr McWard, where’ve you been all week? We’ve been looking for you.’ She folded her arms and rested back in her chair. The effect made him lean forward.

‘What are you on about? I came here to talk to you, Missus Detective. You don’t be going on about shite, asking me the questions.’

‘Your wife was assaulted and you were nowhere to be found. Obviously we want to speak to you about it.’

‘And I want to talk to you about it.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘What are you doing to find the bastard who did it? Tell me that.’

‘We’ve carried out forensic analysis of the scene and interviewed everyone on the site, and—’

‘This wasn’t my own people. This was an outsider.’

‘How did they gain access?’

‘Through the front gate.’

‘I noticed that all the homes, and even the caravans, have cameras. No one was willing to part with their tapes. That’s not very helpful.’ Lottie had garnered this information from Kirby’s investigation.

‘There was nothing to see. I checked them out. I want justice for my Bridie. She’s a nervous wreck since the attack.’

‘Why do you think she was so viciously assaulted?’

‘What do you mean by that?’ He leaned away from her, eyes wary.

‘Are you involved in anything that could have made your wife a target?’

He shoved back the chair and stood up, towering over her.

‘This has nothing to do with me.’

Lottie remained seated, unmoving. ‘Where were you Monday night and Tuesday morning, Mr McWard?’

‘None of your business.’ He sat down again.

‘You’re aware that we found a young woman’s body in the cemetery. Your wife heard her screaming. But you weren’t at home. So where were you?’

‘It’s none of your business where I was. You’ve no right to be asking me these questions.’

‘Will you consent to a DNA test?’

‘A what? Are you out of your mind?’ He slapped the table.

‘Can you account for your whereabouts every day and night for the last week?’ Lottie kept her voice soft and even.

‘This is harassment.’ He grimaced, then his lips curled in a smirk. ‘Ah, I know. Because I’m a traveller, you think you can harass me.’

‘Everyone is being asked the same questions. But you interest me because you don’t seem to be very forthcoming with information. Are you going to tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing?’

‘No, I am not. And if you’re not bothered to get off your bony arse and do something about the bollocks who beat my wife, I’ll do it myself.’

He hurled the chair back against the wall and strode to the door.

‘Mr McWard?’ Lottie mustered up her calmest voice. As he turned with his hand on the handle, she said, ‘I’ll be watching you.’

He flung the door open and stormed out.

Boyd poked his head in.

‘Cynthia Rhodes wants a comment from you.’

‘Tell her to piss off.’





Fifty-Six





Lottie walked out to the reception area, opened the door to the left of the desk and switched on the light. It was a mirror image of the interview room she’d just left, only smaller. Used mainly for applicants filling up forms. It just about held two people, uncomfortably.

‘I’m very busy, as you can imagine,’ she said, sitting down and folding her arms.

‘I won’t take up much of your time. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’ Cynthia Rhodes pulled out a chair.

‘I haven’t agreed to anything. Just ticking a box.’ Once she’d said the words, Lottie knew she’d succeeded in ruffling Cynthia’s journalistic feathers. Paddy McWard’s fault. She had yet to digest the interview and identify the source of his anger.

‘Will I sit?’ Cynthia asked, placing her phone on the tiny desk and opening the recording app. She pushed her black-rimmed spectacles up her nose.

‘Two minutes. That’s all I can spare.’

‘I want to do a feature for the weekend news.’

‘Feature on what?’

‘The tenth anniversary of the disappearance of Lynn O’Donnell.’

Lottie whistled out a sigh.

‘I wasn’t based in Ragmullin at that time.’ She was determined to say as little as possible.

‘Could I speak with Superintendent Corrigan, then? I believe he was the SIO back then.’

‘He’s on sick leave at the moment.’ Come on, Lottie wanted to say, you know that already. Wasting precious time. She had two bodies and a potential missing person to deal with. ‘However, we do need media help in seeking information from the public about the last movements of Elizabeth Byrne. That’s the young woman we found murdered in—’

‘I got the press release and I’m well aware of your current workload,’ Cynthia said.

Lottie raised her eyebrows. ‘My workload? What’s that got to do with you?’

‘I had a chat with David.’

David who? Shit. McMahon! Lottie crushed her nails into her hands. ‘Maybe David can help you with the ten-year-old case then.’