No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(91)

‘He didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not this time, anyway.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t get stroppy with me, young lady. I’m just telling it as I see it. Like I said, I’m not blind yet.’

‘I’m under a lot of pressure. What with the fire, the murder in the cemetery, a young woman missing after getting the train home, and the body at the lake, it’s all—’

‘Missing after getting the train? That’s what happened to the young lass years ago.’

‘I’m talking about Mollie Hunter. She’s been missing since Wednesday.’

Queenie slipped down in the bed, appearing to shrink in size as the sheet covered her bony frame.

‘What is it?’ Lottie asked, alarmed.

‘History repeating itself. That’s what it is,’ the old woman croaked.

‘I don’t follow you.’ Lottie wanted to escape out of the ward. Away from the smell of old people. Away from the creaking bones of Queenie McWard.

The old woman grabbed Lottie’s hand. She almost shrieked at the swiftness of the movement.

‘That girl was no good. No good for any relation of mine. But that wasn’t the real story. They thought he was no good for her.’ Queenie folded up in a fit of coughing. Foam gathered at the corner of her mouth and a bony ring-clad hand pulled at her lips.

Lottie pressed the call button for a nurse.

Medical staff filled the room, pushing Lottie to one side, and she watched as they worked vigorously on the little old woman.

‘Please don’t die, Queenie,’ she whispered.

She had so many more questions, but it looked like she wouldn’t be able to ask them. Not today.

She was moving towards the door when it dawned on her. She glanced back towards the scrum of medical staff. The silver Claddagh ring amid the gold bands on the skeletal hand.

She left the room. Left the hum of machines and the shouts of nurses and doctors. Left Queenie McWard to her fate.



* * *



Sitting in her car outside the nursing home, Lottie felt the rusting wheels of her brain begin to turn. Picking up speed. It was there. Within her grasp. She just had to think. Her phone rang.

‘This better be good, Boyd, because you’ve interrupted my thoughts. I was getting somewhere, and now it’s gone.’

‘You need to get to Carol O’Grady’s house now. I’ll see you there.’





Seventy-Eight





They’d received no response from ringing the bell which appeared broken, and now Lottie was banging on Carol O’Grady’s door.

Boyd’s eye was beginning to yellow and bruise as a result of the whack he’d taken.

The door opened.

‘Terry?’ The young man’s eyes were sunk in his head. Was he drunk, or high? At this hour of the day?

‘Who wants to know?’

‘I met you the other day. DI Lottie Parker and DS Boyd. Do you remember?’

‘Nah.’

‘We want to speak with Carol.’

‘She’s at work. Ma and Da are in town.’

‘I think she’s here.’ Lottie ducked under the teenager’s arm.

‘You can’t do that,’ Terry and Boyd said together.

‘I just did.’ Lottie stood at the foot of the stairs and shouted up. ‘Carol. I want to have a word.’

Footsteps sounded on the landing and Carol appeared. ‘What’s with all the hammering? I’m trying to sleep.’

Lottie beckoned the young woman down the stairs. ‘Would you put the kettle on, Terry?’

‘I’m going out.’ He bundled past Boyd and down the path.

‘You might need a coat,’ Lottie shouted after him.

‘Fuck the coat.’

Lottie and Boyd followed Carol into the sitting room.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Sick as a dog. Had to leave work early.’

‘Pregnancy can do that, you know.’

‘Shh. Keep your voice down.’ Carol swung her head in the direction of the door leading to the kitchen.

‘Don’t worry. Terry said your parents are in town.’

‘What does he know? He’s been drinking down the tracks since last night.’

‘We want to ask you about Mollie Hunter.’ Lottie had had enough of time-wasting for one day.

Carol crossed her arms and tugged at the elbows of her sweater. She pursed her lips tightly shut.

‘You know her, don’t you?’

‘I suppose.’

‘No suppose about it. Care to tell us?’

‘Not really.’

‘I haven’t got all day, Carol. I know you’re sick, but I’ll drag your arse down to the station and put you in a puke-smelling cell and you can vomit your guts up all night. It doesn’t really bother me. So tell me.’

‘She … she was nice to me.’

‘For God’s sake. Why did we find an item of your underwear in a plastic bag in Mollie Hunter’s flat?’

‘What?’

‘We fast-tracked a sample of DNA. Your DNA is a match.’

‘Match for what? How did you have my DNA?’