No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(78)

‘We have to locate the bodies first.’

‘We’re not even sure anyone was at home,’ Boyd said with a shrug.

‘The husband says they were here and no one else has seen them since yesterday around five.’ McGlynn consulted soot-smeared notes. ‘I’m fairly certain we will find the remains.’

Lottie moved away, unable to witness the sight of Paddy kneeling on the wet ground outside the inner cordon, keening. She thought of the young woman who had come to the station and had then suffered an assault in her own home. Bridie, so beautiful, articulate and intelligent. Was Paddy correct in his assessment? Had his wife made herself a target by speaking to the guards? She hoped not, otherwise they’d have a whole new scenario to consider.

She turned to Boyd. ‘It must be something Paddy’s involved in. And if that’s the case, much as I hate to say it, we need to hand it over to another team.’

‘Don’t go making any assumptions yet. McMahon will have his say on it.’

‘Oh no. I’d forgotten we have to pick him up before we head to Rochfort Gardens.’

She instructed Lynch to keep Paddy McWard in her sight at all times and to notify her if McGlynn had anything to report. ‘And then find Matt Mullin. I’m sick of waiting for him to crawl out from under a stone when all the time he could be behind this … this … catastrophe.’

She shoved her hands into her pockets in exasperation. Or for fear that she might hit someone?

As they made their way out, the hoses were being rolled up and the fire crews were packing away their equipment. A train rumbled and slowed down on the tracks behind the site, making its way into town.

‘Still no sign of Mollie Hunter?’ Lottie asked.

Boyd shook his head and walked ahead. ‘And I’ve yet to get Wednesday evening’s CCTV footage from the train station. Shit.’

It was going to be another one of those days.





Sixty-Eight





Boyd parked the car, and they made their way down the narrow incline to the visitor centre.

McMahon stopped them before they entered through the sliding glass doors. ‘So that’s the Jealous Wall.’

‘It is.’ Lottie hoped she wasn’t going to have to give him a lesson in local history.

‘I read up about it last night,’ he said.

‘Thank God for small mercies,’ Lottie said.

‘What?’

‘You found it interesting?’ She tried to cover for herself.

‘A folly, built like a ruined abbey by an earl in the seventeen hundreds. He was insanely jealous and wanted to keep his brother from spying on his wife. Then he imprisoned her in the manor house.’ McMahon looked around. ‘Where is that located?’

‘Up the hill. It’s not too far if you want to take a look.’ Maybe he would bugger off and leave them on their own.

‘Another time.’ McMahon pushed on ahead.

Lottie sighed and followed him inside. A deafening cacophony emanated from the main concourse area.

‘How many do you reckon are here?’ Lottie whispered to Boyd as she tried to calculate a quick head count.

‘About fifty,’ Boyd said.

‘Are they mad? It must be minus two and they’re about to go running,’ McMahon said.

‘One way to keep warm, I suppose,’ Lottie said.

‘I can think of better ways,’ Boyd murmured.

She caught his grin and blushed uneasily as she consulted the typed list of names Gilly had provided. ‘Anyone ever say you have a one-track mind?’

McMahon was standing at the reception desk hitting the bell. Carol O’Grady appeared from the back office. McMahon slapped his ID on the counter.

‘I’d like to have a word with the joggers before they go outside. Through here?’ He turned on his heel and made for the inner doorway.

‘Hey, come back. I don’t think that’s allowed.’ Carol lifted the phone on the desk. ‘I need to contact my manager.’

‘Already agreed.’ McMahon snatched the list out of Lottie’s hand. She did her best to keep her mouth shut, and just about succeeded.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air as they made their way through the assembled heaving masses of luminous Lycra.

Boyd headed for the door on the opposite side of the large open-plan area. It led to the vast expanse of grounds. He blocked the exit as McMahon attempted to make himself heard.

‘Ladies and gentlemen! Just a minute, please. Can I have your attention?’

Gradually the noise descended to a hum of mutterings before silence reigned.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Lottie seethed. This was her gig, but she had a feeling McMahon was going to fuck it all up.

‘My name is Superintendent McMahon and I have a list of people here with whom my detectives would like to have a few words. Detective Inspector Parker will call out your names, and we’d ask you to wait behind to speak to us.’

There was a murmur of dissenting voices.

‘Quiet, please.’

Did he think he was a schoolteacher? Lottie moved up beside him.

‘Most of you have already spoken on the phone with my team,’ she said, ‘but I have a list of fourteen people with whom we haven’t made contact. The rest of you are free to head on out for your run. I really appreciate your help in finding anyone who can give us information about the murder of Elizabeth Byrne and the disappearance of Mollie Hunter.’