Aftermath (13 page)

“A crazy woman has information about my missing husband! You've
got to get over here quick!” cried
the hysterical voice on the other end of the line.

Isabel blinked and paused for a second, thinking that one of her colleagues was playing a prank on her.

“Pardon?” was all she could think of in response.

“Please! I need to speak to someone now. Time is of the essence.”

“Okay, I'm on my way,” Isabel took the woman's name and address, just as her colleague
,
Garda Jerry Reilly
,
arrived to relieve her.

She explained the situation to Jerry and insisted that she'd investigate the matter. Something in Hope's voice told Isabel that she needed to be handled with sensitivity and Jerry Reilly wasn't exactly renowned for his tact.

Hope stared at the tall, serious-looking woman who followed her mother in from the hall. She was dressed neatly in a beige suit, her curly brown hair scraped back from her rosy face. “I'm Detective Garda Isabel Murray,” she politely introduced herself, holding out her hand to Hope. She smiled at her but Hope could see that it was a professional smile. Isabel took i
n the other woman's ashen face.
Her huge dark eyes were ringed with red from crying and her cheeks were roughened from rubbing with a tissue.

Hope limply shook her hand, suddenly at a complete loss for words. The whole situation was surreal. How could she possibly find the words to explain that she thought another woman was claiming to be married to her husband? She'd probably find herself shipped off to the loony bin!

Chantale stepped in and showed Isabel the video that they'd discovered on Youtube. She explained how Niall had been missing since the end of March and they feared that he'd been a victim of the Japanese tsunami. Hope saw a flash of sympathy in the other woman's eyes as she glanced up at her from her note-taking.

“Let's not jump to any hasty conclusions,” Isabel said when Chantale reached the end of her story. “I'll get in contact with Mrs. Darcy. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation.” She tried to keep her tone even but her mind was whirling with the possibilities and implications of what she'd just been told.

It
took Isabel nearly an hour to
reach Ballycotton house. She'd gotten her colleague to trace the telephone a
nd address of the Darcys and
decided it was best not to telephone. How could she relay such information over the phone? So she drove along the coast road to Kinsale wondering what on earth was going on! She sat in her car at the bottom of the long, winding drive for a few moments, gathering her thoughts and trying to compose herself. It had to be a case of mistaken identity. Everyone had a look-alike, an exact double who was the spitting image of them yet who they usually never met.

Isabel couldn't even begin to imagine what Hope must have been going through these past months, desperately hoping and waiting for any information on her missing husband. She was obviously so desperate
to believe
that he was still alive somewhere that she was willing to stake all her hopes on this other woman's husband being Niall. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation, it was as simple as that, and it was her job to get to the bottom of it. She straightened her shoulders, took a few deep breaths and drove up the long driv
e to the front door. Then s
he got out of her car, smoothed out the creases in her trousers and rang the front door bell.

Kerry swore softly under her breath when she heard the door bell ring. She hauled herself up from her comfortable position on the couch and struggled to find her walking stick. Her health had improved steadily and the doctors were astounded that she was able to walk already. They told her that most people take three years to recover from her injuries but she'd done it in less than six months. She truly believed that it was her steadfast focus on positive energy and daily meditation that helped her to recover emotionally and physically in such a short time.

Still, in spite of her healing, she suffered from aches and pains in her legs, especially at the end of the day when she was feeling tired or had over-extended herself. She hated being dependent on anyone and had insisted the previous week that it was time that all their lives returned to normal. Her aunt and uncle returned to their home and Maura still checked in on her every day as she'd always done, but she had taken control of her household again and it felt good. It was tiring trying to do everything that she'd always done. Even something as simple as loading and unloading the dishwasher could wipe her out for a few hours, but she was det
ermined to persevere. I
t was the only way that she would become stronger.

A
sudden sharp pain shot through her left leg
and she swore again
. She had developed a bad habit of leaning her weight more on her left side than the other, which the doctors had warned her against, but she couldn't help. She hobbled slowly to open the door, knowing it was probably one of Saoirse's fri
ends
. Kerry dreaded the inevitable battle which would ensue about how late she could stay out and where she could go and who she was going out with. Kerry just didn't have the energy to argue. She knew she was quite a lenient parent; she allowed her daughter to stay out until midnight at the weekend and on school holidays, but she still insisted on knowing who she was with and exactly where she was going. However, Saoirse hated having to tell her mother her whereabouts and would argue that surely it didn't make any difference where she was as long as she was home by midnight. In fairness to her daughter she was always home on time, even on school nights when her curfew was nine o' clock, a time which none of her friends had to stick to. Sometimes, Kerry could feel herself wavering over the curfew but she never actually gave in.
It's so difficult to get the balance right
, she thought wearily.
How the hell did Aunt Aisling cope with two teenagers?

The doorbell rang again and she tried to quicken her pace to the door. It was at times like this that she wished
they lived in a smaller house; s
ometimes the long expansive hall of Ballycotton House seemed interminable to her as she hobbled along. She listened as Saoirse thumped down the stairs and waited for her usual call of “I'm going out, mom. See you later,” which would immediately signal the beginning of their debate.

Kerry made it to the door just before her daughter and was taken aback to see a police
woman standing there.

“Mrs. Darcy?” Isabel asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and wishing that she didn't always feel so inadequate when faced with a truly beautiful woman. She took in the attractive woman standing in front of her, with her dark
auburn
wavy hair cascading aro
und her slender shoulders
and big, soulful eyes.

“Yes,” Kerry replied slowly.

“I'm Garda Isabel Murray. May I come in?”

Immediately, Kerry's thoughts flew to Conor.
Had they found him? Was he alive? Was all the agonising waiting and wondering finally over?
Her heart began to pound in her chest and she felt the blood drain from her face. A sudden weakness came over her and she gri
pped her daughter for support.
Isabel and Saoirse helped Kerry to the couch.

“Darling, will you go and get me a drink of water please?” Kerry asked her daughter, not wanting her to hear the bad news from a stranger. She'd rather
break it to her in her own way.
Surprisingly, Saoirse jumped up immediately and went to the kitchen.

“Why are you here?” Kerry asked as soon as Saoirse was out of ear-shot. Her anxiety levels were soaring.
“Is it about my husband? Have you found Conor?”

Isabel looked quizzically at her. “I've had a call from a woman who claims to know your husband,” she replied slowly, measuring her words carefully.

“Oh my God! I knew it,” Kerry went even paler and started to shake. “Is he alive?”

“That's the problem, Mrs. Darcy,” Isabel continued. “We don't know. The other woman showed me the Youtube video of you asking for any information on your husband's whereabouts. She is absolutely convinced that your husband is in fact married to her.”

“My husband, married to somebody else?” Kerry stared incredulously at Isabel. “What planet is she on?” She started to laugh hysterically. She laughed and laughed. Saoirse returned with the water and handed the glass to her mother. Sipping it helped to calm her down a little.

“I'm sorr
y. I don't know what came over me
,” she apologised, wiping tears from her eyes. “It's just so farcical. Conor is a loving, devoted husband and father and there's no way he's marri
ed to anyone else. He hardly has
enough time for us let alone a whole other double life.”

“I see,” Isabel watched Kerry intently. “Why do you think the other woman would have invented such a story? It's quite a serious allegation and
she seems very sure that she’s
married to your husband too.”

“Well, some people seem to get a sick kick out of other people's pain and suffering,” Kerry retorted, her eyes flashing in anger. “I wish I'd never done that bloody video. All it's done is cause me even more misery; rather than being a help, it's been a hindrance. I have had hundreds of prank calls and letters from some very disturbed people who claim to know what happened to m
y husband. Every single lead has
been followed up by the private detective I have searching for my husband, and every single so-called lead, without exception has been a lie. Maybe, just maybe, that woman is a prankster.”

“She didn't seem like a prankster to me,” Isabel interrupted.

“Maybe she has mental problems,” Kerry continued. “I can tell you categorically that my husband only has one wife; and that wife is me. We've been married for twenty years for Christ's sake! I think I'd have some inkling at this stage if he was married to someone else.” She ran out of steam and sat back, deflated
, against the cushions. A
ll the energy seemed to have drained from her body after her outburst.

“Do you need your painkiller
s
, mom?” Saoirse asked. She could see that her mother was in pain. This was the first time she'd spoken since Isabel's arrival and Kerry had almost forgotten she was there.

“Yes, please, love,” Kerry smiled weakly at her daughter, before turning to face the police woman. “Don't you think you should have done a little more research before turning up unannounced at my door?” she hissed.

“Admittedly, I don't have the full details yet but tell me, Mrs. Darcy, with the greatest respect, how d
o you explain both your husband and the other woman’s husband
being in Japan at the same time that the tsunami hit?”

“Coincidence,” Kerry snapped, but Isabel saw a momentary flash
of doubt pass across her ashen
face. “Who is this mysterious woman anyway? If you
give me her telephone number I'll
be
more than
happy to set her straight.”

“I don't think that's a very good idea.
Actually,
I think I should go,” Isabel got to her feet. “I'm sorry to have disturbed you both. Mrs. Darcy, if you think of anything, an
ything at all, please don’t hesitate to
call
me.” She passed
her card to Kerry who snapped it out of her hand. “I'll see myself out.” Isabel walked to the front door and closed it softly behind her.

“What's going on, mom?” Saoirse asked in a small voice.

“I don't know darling, I honestly don't know,” Kerry replied. “But whatever it is I promise you that I'll get to the bottom of it.” Kerry could hear herself speaking, but it sounded like her words were coming from someone else. Her thoughts were whirling around in her head but she couldn't seem to get them into any order.

Ch
a
pt
er 8

Isabel Murray sat at her desk sipping hot sweet tea. She was deep in concentration, studying the file notes she'd typed up about the Darcy-Gilligan case. Finally, she'd gotten the exciting case she'd longed for but secretly she wished for the sleepy days before Hope Gilligan had called her in hysterics about her missing husband.

She studied her notes for the hundredth time, trying to find a common link between the two women and the mystery man who seemed to connect them. There were endless hours of interviews lying ahead of her. She'd have to speak with their families, friends, acquaintances, work colleagues; anyone who even vaguely knew either of the women and their husbands. The task ahead seemed insurmountable and she truly didn't know where to begin.

“So, let me get
this clear in my head,” James
Kavanagh, Isabel's supervising officer said, when he'd finished reading thr
ough her case file. “T
wo women
are
claiming to be married to the same man, yet neither woman has ever laid eyes on the other, nor are they in any
way connected. Don't you think that's just plain crazy?”