The White Gallows (31 page)

_{* * *}

Marion D’Arcy had the front door open before he had pulled to a stop. She was wearing a dark brown trouser suit over a cream blouse, a large amber pendent lying high on her chest. Her make-up was professionally applied, her fingernails copper brown. Her blonde hair had been re-dyed, covering up her grey roots.

‘This is harassment, Superintendent,’ she said as he rounded his car. ‘I’m being harassed by you and I’m being harassed by the press. My father’s died and I’m being hounded by imbeciles and blood-sucking leeches.’

‘I’m sorry if it comes across that way, Mrs D’Arcy,’ McEvoy said with little sympathy, ‘but I’m afraid I need to ask you some more questions.’

‘Down at the police station!’ she snapped, referring to Stringer’s original request. ‘Am I now a prime suspect?’

‘Not as such,’ McEvoy conceded. ‘Can we go inside?’

Marion D’Arcy opened the door wider and ushered McEvoy into the hall. He followed her into the living room and sat on the arm of a sofa.

‘Now, what’s this about?’ Marion D’Arcy asked curtly, glancing at her watch, letting him know she was being little more than courteous.

‘I need to check your alibi for Saturday night.’

‘I’ve already told you, I was here all night,’ she replied testily.

‘Alone?’

‘Yes, alone. My husband was away in France.’

‘So you weren’t with James Kinneally?’

‘No. I mean, yes. I was with him until around ten o’clock, and then he left.’

‘And where did he go?’

‘Home, I presume. You’d need to ask him, Superintendent. I’m not his keeper.’

‘But you are his lover?’

‘What the… I… I think you should leave,’ D’Arcy said haughtily, momentarily rattled. ‘I’ve told you where I was that evening. I was here by myself. And no, I don’t have any proof!’

‘Given you haven’t denied it, I’ll take that as a yes then,’ McEvoy said, staying put.

‘You can take it any fucking way you want, Superintendent,’ she said, losing her cool. ‘You are meant to be investigating my father’s death, not prying into my life.’

‘Can you think of any reason why James Kinneally would state that he spent Saturday night here with you?’ McEvoy asked, ignoring her ire.

‘What?’ she snapped, her brow furrowing, trying to fathom Kinneally’s lie. ‘He said that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then he was lying! As I’ve told you, he left around
ten o’clock
.’

‘Why would he say he was with you when he wasn’t?’

‘Again, you’d need to ask him. All I can tell you is that he’s lying.’

‘But why would he do that?’ McEvoy pressed. ‘Unless he either needed an alibi himself or he wanted to help protect someone who didn’t have an alibi.’

‘What are you suggesting? That James killed my father?’
Marion
said without emotion.

‘It’s a possibility. If he wasn’t with you, where was he?’

‘I’ve no idea, but I don’t believe for a minute that he killed
my father. He respected him greatly. He worked for him for years.’

‘Well, the alternative is that he was supplying you with a false alibi. The question is why? Especially given you are denying his alibi and your alibi can’t be verified.’

‘Well, he… well, he obviously wanted to try and protect me,’ she suggested uncertainly. ‘Perhaps he wanted to try and stop you harassing me? And let’s face it, that’s what this is. Are you satisfied now?’

‘Not really,’ McEvoy said shaking his head and shifting position. ‘I have one false alibi, one that can’t be verified, and two supposed lovers that don’t really seem that in love. You haven’t once asked how he is or what’s happening to him.’

‘Our relationship is none of your business, Superintendent. And it’s none of anybody else’s either,’ she said, warning him to keep the information to himself. ‘I’d like you to leave now.’

‘He’s being held at Athboy garda station on charges of seeking to mislead an investigation and wasting police time,’ McEvoy said without moving.

‘He’s what? You can’t do that!’

‘It’s called the law, Mrs D’Arcy, as you well know. What was he, your insurance policy? One way or another you’d get your hands on Ostara?’

‘That’s it. Out!’ Marion D’Arcy demanded. ‘Go on, get out! I’m not answering any more of your questions. If you want to speak to me again, you’ll have to speak to my lawyer.’

Reluctantly, McEvoy slid off the arm of the sofa and headed for the door. Once again he’d handled Marion D’Arcy poorly, reacting to her prickly personality and inciting her further. One thing was clear though – she didn’t have an alibi for the night her father died.

He turned at the threshold. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I’ve spoken to the pathologist. She’s now happy to release your father’s body for burial. If you tell me the name of your undertaker, we’ll arrange for him to be picked up and transferred to their premises.’

_{* * *}

He’d been thirty-five minutes late picking up Gemma from his sister’s house. The meeting in Trim had been quick but unproductive, with no progress reported. However, the low cloud cover, infrequent street lighting, and wet, twisting and potholed roads had slowed his progress. An accident on the M50 had further delayed their progress back towards Blanchardstown and James Connolly Hospital. It had at least given them time to catch up on things and swap small talk about school and friends.

His mobile phone rang and he reluctantly answered it using the hands-free system.

‘McEvoy.’

‘Colm, what the fuck is going on!’ Bishop snapped.

‘I’m driving to see Hannah with Gemma.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing now, what the fuck’s happening with the Koch case!’

‘Can you tone down your language please, sir, I have you on hands-free,’ McEvoy reasoned.

‘We use fuck all the time at school,’ Gemma said. ‘I’m not a child.’

‘I don’t care,’ McEvoy said. ‘Anyone else swears and I’m ending this call.’

‘I’ve just had another call from Paul Cassidy, TD for
North Meath
,’ Bishop continued without apologising. ‘He wants to know why you’re treating Marion D’Arcy as a prime suspect in the death of her father when you don’t have a shred of evidence.’

‘I’m not treating her as a prime suspect. But she doesn’t have an alibi for the night her father died and James Kinneally, the CEO of Ostara, provided her with a false one. They’re having an affair, though you’d never guess it from talking to her. I had no choice but to interview her, only she’s allergic to being questioned.’

‘From what I’ve heard it’s the style of questioning that’s the problem, Colm. She has a lot of powerful friends – friends who could be a real pain in the backside if they wanted to be. Do you understand what I’m saying here?’

‘Yeah, you’re saying that I should treat people differently depending on their wealth,’ McEvoy said facetiously.

‘I’m telling you to treat people differently based on their political clout, you gombeen! Will you be smart for once; there’s no point creating more grief than you have to. She’s on the warpath now. And she’s getting people like Cassidy to do her bloody dirty work for her. Just handle her with kid gloves,’ he said, calming. ‘Don’t do anything to antagonise her, okay. And for God’s sake, don’t arrest her unless you are one hundred per cent sure she’s guilty and you have cast-iron evidence.’

‘I have to be able to ask her questions.’

‘Look, if you need to talk to her again, talk to me first, okay? She requires diplomacy. Lots of it.’ Bishop ended the call.

‘What a scuzzball,’ Gemma said. ‘He sounds like a real langer.’

‘Gemma!’ McEvoy warned, thinking that Bishop didn’t know diplomacy; he only knew its lesser cousin, shenanigans – political manoeuvring and shady deals. It was clear though he’d have to watch how he proceeded. That was now the second time Marion D’Arcy had used Cassidy to try and rein him in. While Cassidy was relatively small time, he could still make his life difficult. And Koch’s daughter probably had more senior figures to pull in if the going got tough, along with Ostara’s considerable clout.

_{* * *}

Official visiting hours were long over by the time they’d made their way through the hospital and up to Hannah Fallon’s private room. A different guard was sitting outside her door. He looked up with a bored expression as they approached, a copy of
Cosmopolitan
open on his knees.

‘Catching up on a bit of reading?’ McEvoy said by way of a greeting.

‘Learning how the other side thinks,’ the guard replied. ‘Quite frankly it’s scary stuff. I preferred ignorance. I’m afraid visiting hours are over.’

McEvoy pulled his badge from his pocket. ‘Detective Superintendent Colm McEvoy. This is my daughter, Gemma.’

‘Fair enough,’ the guard said and dropped his gaze back to the magazine story on how to spot when men were cheating. ‘Just remember that what these magazines say about men is rubbish,’ he said, glancing back up to Gemma.

‘It’s alright, I know,’ Gemma replied. ‘They’re twice as bad as the magazines say.’

The guard snorted derision and once again dropped his eyes.

McEvoy knocked gently on the door and edged it open.

The room was covered in flowers and cards, a pile of presents in one corner. Hannah was propped up by a couple of pillows. Her legs were still raised and covered by a blanket. Her hair was combed, but her face was pasty, dark crescents under her eyes. Her sister, Catherine, was sitting in the chair next to the bed, also looking exhausted. They both turned their gazes away from a small portable television to the door.

‘Colm!’ Hannah exclaimed tiredly. ‘Come in. Jesus, I didn’t expect to see you. And Gemma.’

Colm moved into the room and stood at the end of the bed, his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Look, we won’t stay long. We just wanted to drop by and see how you were.’

‘God, it’s no bother. It’s great you could come. Catherine said you’d come in the night it happened. I was totally out of it after the operation, so I’m afraid I don’t remember – sorry. The last couple of days have been a bit of a blur to be honest. I feel like I’m an animal in a zoo, everyone dropping in to take a look and prod and poke and ask questions. I didn’t realise how many people cared about me. I could open a florists,’ she said gesturing at the flowers. ‘And that’s after I’ve sent half of them to other wards. Take a seat. There’ll be another chair in the hall somewhere.’

‘It’s okay,’ McEvoy said, still standing. ‘We won’t be long. I’m sure you need your rest. How’re you feeling today?’

‘Vengeful. Charlie Clarke better not show his face round here or I’ll club him to death with a crutch. At least I’m going to keep one leg, though it won’t win any lovely leg competitions. The doctors seem to be happy enough with it. They’re going to fit me up with a prosthetic for the other one. I keep thinking it’s still there. A phantom leg they call it. My head’s telling me I’m wiggling my toes, my eyes are telling me there’s no toes there. Once I get the new leg I should be able to walk okay after some rehabilitation.’

‘At least that’s something,’ McEvoy muttered, unsure what to say.

‘Better than I hoped for,’ Hannah said. ‘I thought I might end up in a wheelchair, in which case my career would be totally up the chute. I’d be able to do lab work, but the field stuff would be hopeless. I’m hoping to be back out and about in six months.’