Blood Sisters (58 page)

‘Stephen Mulliken died in 1998 and Riona inherited the stud farm. I haven’t had the time yet to talk to any of the racing lot, but it’s common knowledge that things have been a struggle in the past few years for the smaller thoroughbred breeders. It’s all profit for the big boys, like Darley and Coolmore, of course – but Darley and Coolmore own ten per cent of all the world’s breeding stallions between them and they cover over forty per cent of the mares.

‘I talked to a bookie friend of mine last week but he was very tight-lipped. Now that Riona’s gone, though, he might be more inclined to talk about what she was up to.’

‘Okay, Francis, thanks,’ said Katie. ‘I’ll take this home tonight and read through it. What about the search at the convent? How’s that going?’

‘Just about wrapped up now. We’ve removed all of the remains and Bill Phinner and his team will be sorting through them over the next few weeks. It’s going to take a devil of a long time, though. At least we now have the records of who the poor kids were, even if we can’t match their names to any specific skeletons. I have to say that was a class inspiration of yours, looking for the records behind that picture, even if that wasn’t where Ni Nuallán actually found them.’

‘No – all the credit for that goes to Kyna. She’s still here, isn’t she? She hasn’t gone home yet?’

‘She’s still here, yes,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘She’s been sorting through some of the other stuff she found under that statue. There’s a heap of correspondence and adoption certificates and all kinds of stuff.’

‘I’m still doubtful that we’re going to be able to prosecute anybody,’ Katie told him. ‘Even those children who were starved or wilfully neglected... it’s almost impossible to prove who did it. It was the same at Tuam. How can you arrest a whole conventful of nuns, especially when so many of the deaths are historic?’

‘If the church just admitted it, and apologized, that would be something,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘The government said sorry for the Maggies.’

‘Well, don’t hold your breath,’ said Katie. ‘Now, what about Michael Gerrety, and Karosas?’

‘Karosas has been formally charged and we’re putting together the Book of Evidence, so that’s all going ahead. I interviewed him again with a lawyer present and he’s sticking to his story that Gerrety paid him to put the fear of God into Roisin Begley so that she wouldn’t testify against him. He’s still maintaining, too, that it was an accident and he didn’t drown her on purpose.’

‘And Gerrety?’

‘It turns out that Gerrety’s been taking a long weekend in Gran Canaria, but he’ll be back Tuesday morning. I don’t know how well you’ll be recovered by then, but I thought you might like the pleasure of arresting him yourself, in person, like.’

‘For that, Francis, I’d get up from my deathbed.’

Detective Inspector O’Rourke said, ‘We still haven’t located Fergal ó Floinn yet. For a fat, slow fellow he’s proving very elusive. Mind you, he’s probably hiding from the Travellers as much as he’s hiding from us. Paddy Fearon might not have been Mister Popular among the Pavees but they don’t take kindly to people setting off bombs on their halting sites.’

‘I’m convinced that Riona Mulliken paid Ó Floinn to plant that device,’ said Katie. ‘I’d just like to know how a woman like her managed to get in touch with a scummer like him.’

‘Maybe that Dermot fellow knew him,’ suggested Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘Pity he’s too dead to get any sensible answers out of him.’

Katie’s phone rang. It was Detective Dooley, to tell her that the armed response officers had arrived, and Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin had returned to the station, and that everybody was gathering in the conference room for a first debriefing.

‘Right,’ she said, standing up. ‘They’re all ready for us.’

Before she could put on her jacket, however, Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán came in. The sleeves of her pale-blue shirt were rolled up and her hair looked as if it needed a wash.

‘Is it important?’ Katie asked her. ‘We’re just about to go downstairs.’

‘Oh, I think you’ll want to see this first,’ said Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán. She handed Katie a transparent plastic folder.

Inside the folder were two sheets of paper, both of which had turned sepia with age. The first was a letter that had been written with a typewriter on headed paper. The heading was that of the
Very Reverend Canon Martin O’Flynn
, with his address in Montenotte.

Katie started to skim through it, but then she realized what the letter was about and read it more slowly, line by line.

‘Holy Mary, Mother of God,’ she said when she had finished.

‘What is it?’ asked Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘We really should be getting down there.’

Katie held up the letter and said, ‘It’s an admission by Canon O’Flynn that he had an intimate relationship with Sister Hannah O’Dwyer at the Bon Sauveur Convent. He’s telling the bishop that, regrettably, Sister Hannah is now with child. He’s suggesting “in all humility” that Sister O’Dwyer’s condition should be kept confidential and that when she gives birth her child should be immediately given up for adoption.’

‘You’re codding,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke.

‘The other letter,’ said Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán. ‘Read it.’

The second letter was handwritten in mauve ink on lined notepaper. It was dated, but there was no address.

Dear Sister Bridget,

I wish to express our deepest gratitude for the gift of our new daughter. She is a little angel sent from Heaven.

She was baptised on Sunday and we have named her Riona Hannah, since my mother’s name was Riona and you told us that Hannah is her mother’s name, whoever she is.

With all of our thanks again and may God be with you,

Shauna Nolan.

Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán said, ‘Riona Mulliken’s maiden name was Nolan. Shauna Nolan was her adoptive mother. Her real mother was Sister Hannah O’Dwyer.’

‘Do you think she
knew
that?’ asked Katie. She couldn’t stop herself picturing Riona and Mother O’Dwyer lying on the rocks at Nohaval Cove, arm in arm.

Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán could only shrug.

Katie slept badly that night. She kept having flashbacks of Sparkle the Second leaping off the edge of the cliff and Mother O’Dwyer sliding off his back like an oil slick, while Riona for a fraction of a second hung in the air, her arms spread wide like Saint Margaret of Cortona.

In the morning she took Barney for a walk, although she didn’t go as far as the tennis club, as she usually did, because her stomach began to ache and the air was filled with drizzle.

‘Nice soft day,’ said one of the protection officers sitting in his car outside her house, reading his newspaper.

She went into the house and stood in the silent living room. So was this it? Was this how her life was always going to be? Alone, in utter silence?

She went through to the kitchen, but as she did so the doorbell chimed. When she went to open it there were two men standing in the porch. One of them was one of her protection officers, the other was a thin, scrawny-looking man with wet hair and a straggly beard and circular spectacles.

‘This gentleman says you know him,’ said the protection officer.

Katie stared at the scrawny-looking man in bewilderment. Suddenly, however, she realized who he was.

‘Liam!’ she said. ‘For the love of God, where have you been? Look at the state of you!’

‘So you
do
know him?’ said the protection officer. Katie had noticed that all the time he had been standing there his hand had been resting on the butt of his SIG Sauer automatic.

‘Of course, yes. It’s Detective Inspector Liam Fennessy. Well –
Ex
-Detective Inspector Liam Fennessy. Liam – come on in! You’re drenched!’

‘Okay, then,’ said the protection officer, and lifted his hand in salute.

Liam stepped into the hallway. He had always been thin but now he looked emaciated. His brown wool overcoat was sodden and his glasses were speckled with raindrops. He smelled of damp and body odour.

‘I thought you were dead,’ said Katie. ‘I mean, after that letter you wrote me, what else was I supposed to think?’

Liam coughed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I was in a bad place, do you know what I mean? A really bad place.’

‘Here, take this wet coat off and come into the living room and sit by the fire. You’re shaking like a leaf, for goodness’ sake!’

Katie helped him to struggle out of his overcoat. Underneath he was wearing a worn-out tweed jacket with holes in the elbows and droopy brown corduroy trousers. He went into the living room and slowly circled around as if he had just woken up from a dream.

‘There, sit by the fire,’ said Katie. ‘How about a cup of tea? Or would you like coffee?’

‘No, no, I’m fine, thanks,’ said Liam. He sat down in the leather armchair next to the gas log fire. Barney had been lying in front of the hearth but he lifted his head and sniffed twice and then got up and trotted off into the kitchen.

Katie sat on the arm of the couch. ‘I was sure that you were going to do away with yourself,’ she told him. ‘I’m just delighted to see you’re still alive.’

Liam took off his glasses and rubbed them against the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Like I say, ma’am, I was in a bad place. Totally broke, like. Totally lost my bearings. Breaking up with Caitlin, that knocked me sideways. I know I didn’t treat her like I should have, but after she was gone it was like I went mad.’

‘You should have come to me for help, Liam. And you don’t have to call me “ma’am”, not now. In your letter you called me Kathleen.’

Liam put his glasses back on and gave her a rueful grin. ‘I was too proud, to be honest with you. Liam Fennessy, the great detective. And I felt so much better after snorting the coke. To begin with, any road.’

‘So where have you been?’ Katie asked him. ‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’

‘Oh yes. I have this room in Gurra. It’s not much, and the whole place stinks of cabbage, but it’s somewhere to sleep.’

‘You do understand that we have a whole rake of charges against you, don’t you?’

‘Of course. Conspiracy in the murder of Garda Brenda McCracken. Conspiracy in the murder of Detective Garda Nessa Goold. Not to mention grievous bodily harm and kidnap and extortion.’

Katie said nothing for a long time. Liam stared at the fire and the flames danced in his glasses. His hands were dirty but she could still see the paler circle where his wedding ring had been. Pawned, more than likely, to pay off his drug-dealers.

‘It might go easier on you if you give us some information on Bryan Molloy,’ she told him. ‘And after all, it wasn’t you personally who planted the bomb that killed Garda McCracken, and you weren’t even there when Detective Garda Goold was shot.’

‘That doesn’t make me any less guilty,’ said Liam. ‘And you can imagine what would happen to me if I ratted out Molloy. They’d find me hanging in my cell on day one, with a broomstick halfway up my rear end. Besides, I can’t prove that he paid me. It was all cash money, passed under the table in pubs.’

‘So what are you going to do? Now I know you’re alive, we’re going to be looking for you, and you can’t stay on the run for ever.’

‘I know that. But once you’ve taken the shilling, that’s your destiny decided for ever, even if you can afford to pay it back, which I can’t.’

Katie said, ‘When was the last time you had anything to eat? Aren’t you hungry?’

Liam shook his head. ‘It’s no good, ma’am. Kathleen, I mean. There’s no way out of this.’

With that, he stood up. He unbuttoned his jacket and reached behind him, lifting up the grubby maroon sweater that he was wearing underneath it. He tugged a Kimber pocket automatic out of his belt and pointed it at her.

Katie stayed where she was, sitting on the arm of the couch.

‘If you only knew how sorry I am,’ said Liam, and she could tell by the way he was speaking that his mouth had gone completely dry. ‘I never thought it was going to be like this, face to face, like.’

‘It was you who shot Detective Horgan,’ said Katie. ‘It was you who tried to shoot me through the window. Right here, in this very room.’

‘Not much of a shot, am I?’ said Liam. ‘I liked Horgan, too. I really did. He always made me laugh, even when I was feeling like shite warmed up.’

‘So that’s what you’re going to do, kill me?’ Katie asked him. ‘You’re going to stand there and shoot me while I’m still looking at you and talking to you and trying to think of a way to help you out?’

‘You can’t help me out. Nobody can help me out. Molloy wants you dead and that’s the end of it. He’s going to pay me five thousand euros for doing this. Where else am I going to get five thousand euros?’

‘I can give you five thousand euros.’

Liam was panting now and his gun-hand was trembling. The Kimber automatic was only small, with a four-inch barrel, but it fired a .45 ACP round and it would kill Katie instantly.

‘Oh, sure, you can give me five thousand euros, but what are you going to do then? You’re still going to come after me, and I’m still going to end up in Rathmore Road dangling by my neck from the ceiling!’

‘You wouldn’t kill somebody who was sitting down, would you?’ asked Katie. She could hear how calm her voice was, but in reality she felt as if her insides had dissolved into ice-water.
I’m going to die now
, she thought.
This is actually where my life is going to end
.

Liam lifted the gun a little higher so that it was pointing directly at Katie’s heart. As he did so, however, the front doorbell chimed again.

‘Who’s that?’ he demanded.

‘I have no idea. But whoever it is, the protection officer is going to be right outside, isn’t he? And if
he
hears your gun going off—’

Liam bit his lip. Then he lowered his gun and said, ‘Answer it.’

‘What?’

‘Answer it! Go on, for Christ’s sake, answer it! But if you say one word—’

Katie went to the front door and opened it. There was no protection officer in the porch, only Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán. She was wearing a navy-blue hooded raincoat, with her blonde fringe peeking out, and smiling.