Darkhouse

‘Alright, alright. What?’ said Donnie.

‘I think that was too easy. Our plan. Today. You know? She was like a willin’ accomplice, a girl like that.’

‘She didn’t look too willin’ to me,’ said Donnie.

‘You don’t think she was willin’ back at her apartment when she knew there was fifty dollars waitin’ for her at the other end?’ spat Duke. ‘You don’t think a girl like that is willing? Let me tell you, she’d do worse things than what we done to her to get some money in her pocket, Donnie boy. Nothing comes between a whore and her money. And her drugs. Nothing. You flushed her out, didn’t you? And was that hard? Or did she just walk out that door with a total stranger who had just left fifty dollars on her nightstand?’

‘Yeah, well—,’ said Donnie.

‘Quit your whinin’.’

TWENTY-ONE

Joe sat at the kitchen window staring out to sea, following a white trail from a small fishing boat that furrowed the water halfway to the horizon. Anna’s footsteps were light on the tiled floors.

Without saying a word, she handed Joe the email.

‘What? Who’s this from?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Anna. ‘It came to Shaun’s school address. The “from” box is empty and when you click on it, it’s just symbols and numbers. It’s of the lighthouse, the night of Katie’s funeral, when the shoot was happening. But it wasn’t taken by Brendan. It’s like it was taken by someone from across the road.’

She caught the tiniest flicker on Joe’s face.

‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ said Joe.

‘If there is something you’re not telling me—’

‘There’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Calmez vous.’ His accent was bad. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And Anna exploded.

‘You are a liar! You are lying! You think I’m stupid? Do you?’ She grabbed his face in her hands and shook him. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

‘I can’t do this right now,’ said Joe.

‘I don’t give a damn!’ she said. ‘I’m sick of it. You’re hiding stuff from me, sneaking around in the den, on the phone…’

‘Oh, and you can talk about hiding things.’

‘No, no, no,’ she said, holding up her hand. ‘We’re not doing this all the time. You forgive me or you don’t. Simple. You don’t use things again to punish me.’

He shrugged. She hit him on the shoulder. ‘Connard!’

‘Whoa, Betty.’ She was Betty Blue when her temper flared and she slipped back into French to call him a bastard.

She smiled, but let it fade.

‘There are lots of things I know about you, Joe. But they’re mostly the things that everyone else knows about you. You’re smart, funny, in control—’ She stopped. ‘You know, I’m not in the mood for complimenting you.’

Joe laughed. She ignored him and continued, ‘Then there are a few extra things that I know about because I am your wife: your honesty, your love. You know, you’re actually a sensitive guy. And then there’s all the horrible stuff you hide, things I never get to see. But, you know? I still feel the effect of what’s hiding there. I have no idea what’s going on in your head right now.’

‘Jesus, why do you want to know everything?’

‘I don’t want to know everything, but I don’t want to be lied to. Everyone’s lying to me.’

‘No, they’re not.’

‘Oh, come on. My two boys are lying to me. I’m like a fool.’

‘Well, you’re a sexy fool,’ he said, pulling her towards him. ‘Very sexy when you’re angry.’

‘It’s not funny.’

‘Yes it is,’ he said. But his expression told a different story as he held her to his chest and stroked her hair.

What Shaun and Anna hadn’t seen was the doctored confidentiality note at the end of the email:

This email is intended for the person responsible for Katie’s murder and may contain the truth that you strangled her to death.

The contents of this message represent the expressed view of the sender and everyone else. Storage, disclosure or copying of this information is not prohibited.

The phone made Anna jump, but she beat Joe to answer it. She listened, then narrowed her eyes at him.

‘There’s an officer Henson on the line for you.’ She covered the mouthpiece. ‘What’s this about?’

‘Work,’ whispered Joe.

‘T’as raison,’ said Anna, handing him the receiver. Joe thought she had simply said, ‘Right’, but what she was saying was, ‘Yeah, right.’

‘I’m taking Shaun into the village,’ she whispered, then left.

‘Officer, hi,’ said Joe.

‘I got the file here you’re looking for,’ said Henson, ‘but I think you’ll find that someone’s yanking your chain, buddy. Duke Rawlins is dead.’

Nora smoothed open the newspaper on the counter in the station. The headline ran across two pages. Gone, But Not Forgotten. On the right-hand side was a montage of photographs of smiling young girls and women who had disappeared or been murdered in Ireland over the previous ten years. The main shot was a beautiful, smiling, brown-haired girl. The caption underneath read Katie Lawson (16), Mountcannon, Co. Waterford, murdered. Frank got up from his desk and walked over.

‘My God, there’s another recent one,’ she said, pointing to a pretty blonde. Frank leaned across as she read, ‘Mary Casey (19) from Doon in Limerick, brutally raped and murdered outside her home.’

‘Apparently,’ said Nora, ‘she had left one of the gates in the field open and the father made her go out to close it. They’re in bits over it. The parents had gone to bed. They didn’t find her ’til the next morning.’

‘God love them,’ said Frank.

‘That town is tiny. And they haven’t got anyone for it. Awful. And there’s the Tipperary girl from your poster.’ She pointed to the bulletin board.

Frank shook his head. ‘I can’t read upside down. What are they saying about the investigation into Katie?’

‘No leads, basically. And that “a young man has been brought in a second time to help with enquiries”, as if no-one’s going to know who that is. And, they’re implying that you could be doing more.’

‘Implying or saying straight out?’ said Frank.

‘Well, saying straight out.’

‘It’s always the same,’ said Frank.

‘I’ll take this home,’ she said, folding the paper. ‘I don’t want you having a stroke on me.’ Frank smiled and went into his office. Nora walked into the hallway and was almost knocked over by Myles O’Connor. He barged into Frank’s office, closing the door behind him, slamming a newspaper on the desk.

‘What is this?’

Frank looked down. ‘What?’ he said, putting on his glasses.

‘This interview.’ He hammered his finger on the same spread Nora had started to read. ‘You shouldn’t have been talking to this guy. He should have been referred to Waterford. Especially if you’re not used to speaking to