The mother came in behind us snarling. Then she stood silent, watching the others sniffing and licking my legs.
‘They get excited at times like this. In anticipation.’
They made my skin crawl. But it was the look in the mother’s eyes that terrified me the most – she was staring at me, drooling. If it’s possible to see in a dog’s eyes that she is biding her time, then that was what I saw in hers. I was never as glad to get out of a place in all my life.
He led me through an internal door and down some wooden steps into a lower cellar.
‘In here.’ We went into a room. ‘This is where I work.’ He took me straight back out again and into another room. ‘And this is my gallery.’
Then he questioned me. I realised what he was doing. The rats and the dogs had been enough to make me tell him anything he wanted to know. But he had quickly shown me his studio and gallery to instil as much extra fear as possible. He wanted quick answers.
‘Did you alert the Top Towers’ receptionist last evening?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘I saw you. On camera.’
‘On camera?’
‘Yes.’
I told him all that had happened. He flew into a rage then just as quickly came back out of it. The composure of the man was unbelievable.
‘And where is this laptop?’
‘In my car.’
‘Thank you, Lucille. You are very kind. I’m afraid I have to apologise. I cannot now continue this guided tour. Please make yourself at home down here. I shall see you anon.’
He was gone.
So was I. I’d been telling myself: ‘Now don’t act the meek and mild female, Lucille. Think about how to get yourself out of here. Crying won’t get you anywhere. You need your wits.’
But after all that I’d been through, having found my mother, all that I’d hoped for us, I’d never see her again. And what he’d done to Gemma … I couldn’t stop myself. I just crumpled on the floor and wept.
RED DOCK
The question was: where was Lucille when I’d rung her? And where was she now? The lights in her flat were out, and she wasn’t answering her home phone.
The obvious answer was she’d gone straight to the law with that laptop – that she and her old man, good old Chilly Winters, were seeing each other for the first time in twenty-odd years without knowing who the other was – that he was studying Picasso’s latest release, in which Picasso was starring as the bad guy – that by morning, he’d release Greg and everything would be OK. Only Charlie Swags had men watching the cop shops for her. Grab the laptop off her on her way in, pull the scam and then hand it in. But no one had seen her. She hadn’t gone near the law as far as any of us could make out. So where the hell was she?
I picked the cylinder lock to her flat and went inside.
An Irish Holiday Cottages brochure was under her bed. Four had been ticked off, all near Clonkeelin. It was nearly midnight. About an hour and a half had passed since Gemma’d been killed. I rang them, saying I was a relative desperate to contact Lucille. The third one told me what I wanted to know. So I took a drive out.
Lucille had rented a white stone cottage called Roselawn, near the Donavans, in the townland of Coolylacky. Her car was outside. And that’s where I found my surveillance laptop.
To be honest with you, I was surprised to find it. If she knew what I was sure she knew, why, as I’ve said, hadn’t she taken it straight to the law? The only thing I could think of was that it had scared her. She couldn’t face questioning so soon after seeing Gemma killed on it. Why else would an ordinary working girl hang onto it? Different for someone like me, who could put it to good use.
Odd, really, that she’d left it in the car though. Then again, the chances of anyone else stealing it that particular night were a bit unlikely. Maybe that was how she was seeing it. You have to look at things the way other people do. She might not have wanted it inside with her. All the same, she was surprising me. The lights were out. Seemed a bit unlikely that she’d gone to bed. Out in the country, pitch-black outside, the slightest rustling noise easily heard, it was spooky, especially with images of your best friend being killed still fresh in your mind.
Anyway, she’d no reason to suspect my motives, since she didn’t know me. So I couldn’t know about Clonkeelin as far as she was concerned. To her, no one knew about it, no one who’d come after her. She’d feel safer there than in town. She’d probably been in such a state that she’d just driven out, closed the bedroom curtains and gone to bed without thinking it through. No reason in the world to suspect I knew all about her.
That’s all I could come up with. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but very little about this made sense.
It told me of course that she’d already taken steps into her past. There’d been no need for me to arrange for Gemma to be killed. OK, Picasso saw to her, as it turned out. But if I’d known Lucille had gone to Clonkeelin, I wouldn’t have set Gemma up in that scam. Picasso wouldn’t have found her in the hotel. Don’t think this is conscience talking. That’s not what I’m about. Fuck it, it happened, that’s all.
I took the laptop back to my place for a spot of late-night viewing. Pleasant dreams, Lucille.
Now let’s get things in perspective here. Just because you have a laptop that shows Picasso in a hotel room doesn’t mean
