it went bust, so they had the house but no money, even though they looked like they did and their parents seemed to encourage them not to say or act otherwise. So I think from very early on in Alan’s life, he was trained to lie. And I think it went from there. He had, like, six brothers and sisters, but was only close to this one sister. But she died. He wasn’t responsible, but he felt he was, because he covered for her the night she was going out. She and a group of friends were going to hang out by this quarry which, if her father had known, he would have forbidden her to go to, because it was unsafe, there had been major rain that week. Anyway, Alan covered for her and she fell while she was at the quarry, the ground gave way, whatever. And she died shortly afterwards.’
‘How do you know that was true?’ said Joe.
‘Well, that was the final straw for his parents. They cut him off completely. I knew it had to have been something big for them to do that. Dean Valtry confirmed the story, he knew people involved. Also, I spoke with Alan’s mother, so I had it all squared away. I felt terrible for him because of it all. But wouldn’t you think that would stop him lying? That’s how obsessed he was.’
‘Do you think he could be any different now? Any more likely to tell some of the truth?’ said Danny.
She smiled. ‘I’d say it’s even more difficult now to work out if he’s lying. I’m not a stupid person. And he fooled me. That was years ago. He’s a seasoned pro now.’ She shrugged. ‘Also, there’s more than one way to lie: sometimes, he’ll tell you the whole truth, sometimes a doctored truth and then there’s the all-out fantasy stuff.’ She looked at the two detectives. ‘For Alan, there is no distinction between telling the truth and telling a lie, so when he’s sitting right there in front of you, you will not see a flicker of a change across his face, nothing that you would be familiar with in a regular person. You won’t see a tic, he won’t touch his face a certain way, he won’t blush, he won’t sweat, he will calmly sit in front of you and lie through his teeth.’
Back at the office, Joe’s phone rang.
He picked up. ‘Yeah?’
‘Detective Lucchesi? It’s Taye Harris, fire marshal.’
‘Hi, good to hear from you.’
‘Just to fill you in, we found three propane cylinders in the rubble and some scraps of tape. So I’d say your guy left the cylinders in a taped-up room, releasing gas. So you wouldn’t have got any odor even if you’d have been up there. That rear room was the source point. It was used as a gym. You were lucky you weren’t hit with any of that equipment falling down. ‘
‘How did it all happen?’ said Joe.
‘The switch your partner flicked. It’s real easy to create an explosion. Looks like your guy used a light bulb. You soak a bit of twine in gasoline, wrap it around a light bulb base, just above the screw. You light it, let it burn a little, then dip it in water. That creates a crack. The bulb is intact, but basically, once you switch it on, you’ve got a naked flame in the room. He just set up the switch in the basement, made it look like it was going to light down there…’
‘Jesus,’ said Joe.
‘Guys do it in prison,’ said Harris. ‘Nice way to take someone out. They crack the bulb and fill it with glue they’ve robbed from the shoe department or the woodwork room, wherever. When the cell doors are unlocked at meal times or exercise times, a guy will hang back, slip into the other guy’s cell and swap the regular bulb for the one with the glue. The guy comes back to his cell, turns the light on, there’s an explosion, he’s covered with flaming glue he can’t get off and basically, he’s burned alive. Sometimes they won’t bother with the light bulb, they’ll just throw some glue over the guy, then throw a match after it. I don’t care how many tattoos you have, everyone’s terrified of being burned alive.’
Joe glanced over at Danny.
Heavy rain pounded the green awning of the Bay Ridge Manor. Denis Cullen stood underneath, smiling as he saw Joe and Danny running in, holding their jackets over their heads.
‘Thanks for coming, fellas,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here after yesterday-’
‘Don’t worry about us,’ said Joe, putting on his jacket. ‘It’s a pleasure.’
‘This is my daughter, Maddy,’ said Cullen. She stood with her arm around him, leaning lightly against him, pale and thin, with bright blue eyes.
‘You look beautiful, sweetheart,’ said Danny. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’
She gave him a huge smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You too. What happened yesterday?’
‘Someone gave Detective Lucchesi here a pretty big fright,’ said Danny. ‘He was crying, you should have seen him. Like a baby.’
She laughed.
‘Your daddy’s done some pretty cool things in this investigation we’re working on,’ said Joe.
Maddy smiled again and hugged Cullen’s arm.
‘My wife gave me this for you,’ said Joe, reaching into the pocket of his tuxedo. He handed her a bracelet of pink beads.
‘That’s so sweet, thank you,’ said Maddy. ‘How did she guess I was wearing pink?’
‘The wives are the real detectives,’ said Cullen. ‘We know that from Mom, don’t we, sweetie?’ He squeezed her shoulder gently. She laughed.
‘Go ahead in,’ said Denis. ‘Get a few drinks into you.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Magda Oleszak looked out from under the hood of a black waterproof jacket as she pulled the zip closed under her chin.
‘Are we crazy going out in this?’ She turned to the support staff standing next to her in the lobby of the Colt-Embry Homes.
‘No,’ shouted the residents.
Magda smiled. ‘OK then. Let’s get soaked.’
Mary made a move for the door. Magda grabbed her arm gently. ‘Are you sure you won’t join us for dinner?’
‘Yes,’ said Mary.
‘Or I can come with you?’ said Magda. ‘And we can meet the others before the movie?’
‘I’ll be OK.’ Mary held up her phone and switched between a screen with written directions to the church and one with a map from there to the movie theater. ‘I just want to be alone. But thanks, Magda. I’ll see you all at eight.’ She gave a small wave, pulled up her hood and dashed out into the rain.
St Martin’s Church was empty but for the last of the congregation from evening mass. They were spread out across the pews that bordered the centre aisle or standing by the altar, putting money in slots to light candles. The smell of incense and wet umbrellas hung in the air. Mary kneeled in one of the pews near the back, setting her bag on the seat behind her. She prayed to each of the statues mounted high on plinths along the walls. She lost herself in the words, shutting out the sounds around her. She felt close to David, close to her parents, far away from all the bad things that had happened. She knew the intensity of her faith was a side-effect of her injury, but at least it was a positive one. She was at ease reciting childhood prayers that had been locked away safely in her long-term memory. She loved discovering new prayers, reading them from little cards, comforted by how right it was to find positivity in the darkest times.
After half an hour she picked up her bag and walked to the door, reaching into the front pocket to take out her phone. It wasn’t there. She patted the other pocket. Nothing. Her heart immediately started to speed. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her but then, she didn’t care. She shook the contents of her bag all over the damp tiles: makeup, notebooks, loose pages, a hairbrush, Band-Aid, headache pills… things rolled away from her, paper blew into the air, but all Mary could see was that her phone wasn’t there. Her phone was her memory. And now it was gone.
‘No,’ she said out loud. ‘This is not happening to me.’
She pulled the lining of her bag out, checking it for holes. She started to cry. Her panic rose, pounding through her body. Her fingers trembled as she tried to drag everything back into the bag. She managed to stagger down the steps of the church, out the gate and make her way onto the street, where she grabbed the first person
