“I understand that, Mrs Parker… We fully respect you’re angry about the whole situation…. But we have, just today, found out this information by an undercover officer. If he’s found out to be our mole by the organisation, who knows what they could do to him or his family. Boyle will be expecting us to go knocking on his door regardless of us finding this out, as the leader of Ardóimid… Which is what I’ll be doing straight after this.”
They don’t look happy, he thinks, as he looks to Dermott for support. He avoids his eye and bites his lip. Maybe he’s too close to the case? Was this a bad idea after all?
“We aren’t just going to sweep this under the carpet, believe me.”
“Like Quigley did,” Danielle mutters.
“Sorry?”
Michelle digs Danielle in the ribs and she exclaims, rubbing them in pain.
“Sorry, Danielle, isn’t it? Did you say something?” McNally tries again.
She looks in the corner, fumbling with the zip on her hoody. She only repeats herself after Nuala leans in and says, ‘it’s okay, sweetheart.’
“Can I ask why you said that?”
“Because he was a useless bastard,” she ignores the negative tone her mother takes with her after the cuss, “he just wanted to be the face of the investigation, but I don’t think he could investigate his way out of a paper bag.”
McNally nods and turns to Dermott.
“Can I speak to you outside, please?”
Raising his eyebrows at the family in a sign of affection, Dermott follows McNally out the front.
“Were you aware the family felt like this?” McNally turns to him when the door snaps shut.
“Well… They occasionally seemed to question his motives.”
“Meaning?”
“They always said how he would just show up to give good news, which was rare. He got Ferguson to deliver them bad news, like another failed search or when they came away from a tip off unsuccessful. They just felt like his head wasn’t really in the game…”
“And you?”
“Me, sir?”
“Everyone in the station seems to think the sun shines out of Quigley’s arse.”
Dermott stifles a smirk.
“How did you feel he handled the investigation?”
“No different to others to be honest… But I do see where the family are coming from. He’d be the first to throw himself in front of a TV camera for good news, despite putting little or no work into an investigation. But if something bad was up… He’d quickly pawn it off to someone below him.”
“I spoke with him this morning and he seemed off when I brought up this case… I understand he moved to Belfast shortly after?”
“That’s what I was told, sir.”
“And during the case… When did he lose interest, or… Heart, should I say? Better turn of phrase.”
“Er… Probably a few weeks in. He was very motivated at the start and convinced that he was going to find him alive. Calling all airports and banks to keep an eye on any activity if he tried to use cards or leave the country… Then, when nothing came up, and the insights into the political sides of things came up fruitless, he just kind of… Deflated, should I say?”
“And do you think there was a turning point of some sorts?”
Maybe this is the person he needs to speak to. To find out what really happened with this case.
“No.”
He feels deflated himself now, almost cursing out loud.
“He just sort of showed up one day and said there were more important cases to be doing, stockpiled on his desk, he said they were. A few weeks later, a Wednesday I believe it was, he said his goodbyes. Word got round that he was offered DCI in Belfast, but he would hear nothing about a leaving party or that. We thought the case had knocked his confidence, but we were mistaken when we found out he’d been taken on for DCI… I mean, that’s a whole different ball game, isn’t it?”
McNally nods as Dermott turns to go back into the house.
“Wait.”
Dermott halts at the doorstep and gives him an inquisitive look.
“If it was a few weeks in… How come no one talks about who took the job between me and him? I mean, that’s a good few years.”
Dermott smiles.
“That’s because Ferguson was promised the job… He agreed to step into his shoes, as an acting role, but he had to take a step back a few months ago.”
Why wasn’t McNally made aware of this? He’s been in Derry, and Strand Road Police Station, for nearly three weeks now.
“Why?”
Dermott’s smile turns concerned.
“I’m not one to gossip, maybe it’s best you ask him that yourself.”
Nodding, McNally tells Dermott to inform the Parkers that he’s going to speak to Boyle. When he hears the door close behind him, he crosses the lawn and reaches the gate. He sees a boy in a blue hoody resting against their fence, who averts his gaze when McNally rounds the gate. Frowning at the boy, who fidgets his hands inside his hoody pocket, at least that’s what he hopes he’s doing, he trods off to the car and calls Ferguson, who should be on his way back from the station now.
“Just the man I’m looking for.”
“Ferguson, what do you have for me?”
“Well, nothing yet, but I’m on my way to Boyle’s house to speak with him. Would you like to come with and lead?”
“I’ll come with, but I’ve never met the little rat… So maybe best you lead on this one, Ferguson. I’m sure you have the expertise.”
McNally winces. Was that too obvious? Ferguson goes quiet for a few seconds before laughing and confirming he’ll swing by and pick him up now. Pocketing his phone, McNally thinks over this new information about Quigley as he gazes over at the boy outside the Parker’s, who is still staring at the house and shuffling from foot to foot. Deciding to investigate, he rolls down his window.
“You alright, kid?”
The boy jumps and turns towards his car, smiling
