Eye for an Eye (2 page)

‘Any other evidence?’ asked Katie. ‘Any footprints?’

‘There’s a couple of partials over there – you see, where the fence is broke? We’ll be taking casts, but they’re not too distinct. All the same, they could be an indication that the offender gained entry to the garden through that gap.’

‘So if she was inside the house at the time, it’s possible that Mrs Woman might not have seen him?’ said Detective O’Donovan.

‘She might and she mightn’t. I gather she’s refusing to speak about it. Sergeant O’Malley said she had the fear of God in her.’

‘More like the fear of the Devil,’ said Katie. ‘That’s if the crucifix and the holy water are anything to go by.’

‘Up until now we haven’t found any hoof prints,’ said Bill. ‘I think it’s more likely we’re looking for a mortal, unless Satan’s taken to wearing gullies.’

Katie went across to the gap in the fence, which was right at the back of the garden, on the left-hand side, and partially concealed by a sprawling laurel bush. On the other side of the fence, she could see the back of a single-storey concrete building, one of the workshops of the Toolmate factory next door. The factory covered about two thirds of an acre, with an office block and several more workshops and a car park.

Katie had met their managing director once, about nine months ago, at a fund-raising dinner for the AADI, which trained guide dogs for autistic children. Very handsome and personable, she remembered, although she couldn’t immediately think of his name.

‘What do you think?’ said Detective O’Donovan. ‘Did the offender know that Father Fiachra was going to be holding an exorcism in the garden? And if he
did
know, like,
how
did he know? And why was Father Fiachra holding an exorcism anyway?’

‘Well, we’re still not one hundred per cent sure that he was,’ said Katie. ‘For all we know, he was simply blessing the garden. Maybe Mary O’Donnell’s late husband is buried here somewhere and he was saying a prayer over his grave. There’s only one person who can answer that for us.’

*

Katie and Detective O’Donovan went back inside the house. Katie took off her hat and her raincoat and hung them up in the hallway, and then she went into the living room.

‘Give us a few minutes, please,’ said Katie to the young female garda. The garda touched Mary O’Donnell’s hand sympathetically and then stood up and left the room. As she walked out of the door, Detective O’Donovan couldn’t help turning his head to admire the impressive size of her hips, and Katie gave him a sharp look as if to say,
Concentrate... and don’t be sexist.

She sat down on the sofa next to Mary O’Donnell while Detective O’Donovan remained standing by the window. The living-room walls were crowded with prints of Jesus and Mary and the Last Supper and various saints, as well as a font of holy water decorated with a figurine of Our Lady of Grace and pink plaster roses. The ginger tom narrowed his green eyes and stared at Katie with hostility.

‘Mary?’ said Katie. ‘My name’s Detective Superintendent Kathleen Maguire. I understand that you’ve been through a very distressing experience, but I have to ask you a few questions to find out what happened to Father Fiachra.’

Mary furrowed her lips so tightly so that she looked almost like a headhunter’s trophy from the Amazon.

‘Just tell me why you don’t want to talk about it,’ Katie persisted. ‘Sergeant O’Malley said you told him that you were frightened of the enemy. What enemy did you mean, Mary? I can’t believe that you have any enemies.’

Mary turned her head and stared at her through her huge magnifying spectacles. ‘Would
you
want to be dragged down to Hell?’ she retorted, in a low, hoarse whisper.

‘Of course not. But who’s going to drag
you
down to Hell? You’re a good woman, aren’t you? You go to Mass, don’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t go to confession, and say your prayers.’

‘I could pray all day. I could stay awake and pray all night. That will never take the stain away. He knows what I’ve done, somehow, and he’s going to make me suffer for it.’

Katie glanced over at Detective O’Donovan, but all he could do was shrug. She could sense, though, that Mary desperately wanted to tell her how Father Fiachra had been murdered, and why. The problem was that she was terrified, and that to her this ‘enemy’ was real – as real as the pimps who threatened the working girls she questioned, or the Provos who warned off Cork’s amateur drug-dealers.

‘What is it you’ve done, Mary? What sin could you have possibly committed that Jesus wouldn’t have forgiven you for it?’

Mary said, ‘I’ve never spoken about it. I’ve never confessed it. That’s why I’ll never be forgiven. And how could I confess it now, like, after all these years? It would seem that I wasn’t contrite at all and I was just making sure that I wasn’t dragged down to Hell when I die.’

‘Mary, there is no sin that Jesus won’t forgive, no matter how long ago you committed it,’ said Katie. ‘He won’t condemn you, no matter what you did. He’ll just be happy that you decided to come to Him at long last and ask for His mercy.’

‘You’re not a priest, though,’ said Mary.

‘No, I’m not, but I hear more confessions than any priest ever will,’ Katie told her. ‘I may not have the authority to forgive, but I can understand, and for somebody to understand what you’ve done wrong, and why you did it – that’s much more cleansing to the soul than forgiveness.’

Mary was silent for a few moments, sucking at her teeth and thinking. Then she said, ‘Do you mind if your man leaves us, while I tell you?’

Katie turned around to Detective O’Donovan. ‘Patrick, would you go and see if Bill Phinner’s finished yet?’

Detective O’Donovan gave her the thumbs up and left the living room. Once she was sure he was gone, Mary leaned forward and took hold of Katie’s arm, gripping it so tight that Katie could feel her fingernails digging into her through her sweater. She smelled of stale lavender and dried urine.

‘My late husband Tadhg had a drink problem. He was on the meat counter at Dunnes Stores and he lost his job because he was always langered and they couldn’t trust him with the knives or the bacon-slicer no more, not unless they wanted fingers in with the rashers.’

‘Go on,’ said Katie. Behind those magnifying spectacles she could see that Mary’s eyes were looking inwards now, focused on the past.

‘We were so skint that I could barely put food on the table and of course we had three children in them days. They were used to eating bacon and tripe, but after Tadhg lost his job they had to make do with bread and dripping.’

She paused, and then she said, ‘It was little Kieran’s fourth birthday and I didn’t even have enough grade in my purse to bake him a cake, let alone buy him a present. I went to a friend to see if I could borrow some money off her. She was out, but her husband was in. Barry, his name was. He had fair curly hair, but wiry, you know, like a goat’s hair? I told him why I was there and he said that he’d give me twenty punts and that I’d never have to pay him back, so long as he could take me upstairs to bed.

‘I was a pretty young thing in them days. You wouldn’t believe it to look at me now, but all the men used to give me the eye.’

‘So you went to bed with Barry?’ said Katie, gently but firmly lifting Mary’s arm off her sleeve.

Mary nodded. It was plain from the expression on her face that after all these years she was still mortified by what she had done.

‘I bought Kieran a plastic train set and I baked him a cake, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat even a morsel of that cake, and every time I saw him playing with that train set I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Barry and his wiry fair hair.’

‘Didn’t your husband ever ask you where you got the money from?’

‘I told Tadhg I’d borrowed it from my friend Fiona, and to be honest with you, I think he was too drunk to care.’

‘So that’s why you imagine that you’re going to be dragged to Hell?’ Katie asked her.

‘It’s nothing to do with my imagination, Detective Superintendent. It’s real and it’s true. I betrayed my husband’s trust and broke my marriage vows and committed adultery, all for the sake of twenty punts. The Devil knows where I live now and he’s going to be taking my soul down to burn in the fire.’

Katie looked at her narrowly. ‘What do you mean, Mary – the Devil knows where you live? I’m not sure that I understand you.’

‘He’s been appearing in my garden. Satan himself. He’s been appearing for weeks now, so I daren’t even go out to hang up my washing. Why do you think I called Father Fiachra? I was desperate.’

‘Serious? You’ve been seeing Satan in your garden?’

Mary nodded again, and crossed herself, and then crossed herself a second time.

‘Okay...’ said Katie. ‘So what does he look like? Does he have horns, and a tail?’

‘No, no, no. None of that. He’s dressed head to toe in black, with a hood, and even his face is black, with eyes that shine red, like two hot coals.’

‘How do you know it’s Satan?’

‘Because he told me. He has a voice like gravel, do you know what I mean? – gravel going around and around in a concrete mixer. “
I am Satan, Mary
!” That’s what he told me. “
I am Satan, the Lord of
Darkness ,and I’m coming for you
!”’

‘He doesn’t say why he’s coming for you? He doesn’t mention what you did with Barry?’

‘He doesn’t have to,’ said Mary. ‘I know that’s why. That’s the only sin I’ve never confessed, and I’ve never done penance for, so what else could it be?’

‘Is that all he says to you?’ Katie asked her. ‘“
I’m coming for you
”? Nothing else?’

‘He says I’d be wise to sell up and move away, where he won’t be able to find me.’

‘But he’s the Devil. Surely he could still find you, no matter where you went?’

‘Well, I’m not at all sure about that. I know that we’re never out of the sight of God, but I don’t know if Satan’s the same – omnivorous, or whatever you call it.’

‘Omniscient,’ Katie corrected her.

‘That’s right. That, too.’

Katie said, ‘Did you see Satan today?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘What time did Father Fiachra get here?’

‘About nine. That’s usually the time that Satan pays his visits. He hadn’t appeared so we had a cup of tea and then Father Fiachra went out into the garden to sprinkle the holy water on the grass so that Satan wouldn’t be able to step on it.’

‘Do you think Father Fiachra believed you?’ asked Katie.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think Father Fiachra believed that Satan had actually appeared in your back garden and threatened you?’

Mary looked nonplussed. ‘And why wouldn’t he?’

‘Because he might have been wondering the same thing that I’m wondering... if it wasn’t Satan at all, but someone dressed up as Satan. Someone who’s been deliberately trying to scare you for one reason or another.’

‘Well, now, I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Mary. ‘But why would they?’

‘You tell me. Is there anyone in White’s Cross who doesn’t like you? Have you argued with anybody?’

‘Who would I argue with? I spend most of my time on my own and the only neighbour I have is the factory next door. All the fellows from there seem cheerful enough.’

‘But this morning, when Father Fiachra was killed, you weren’t looking out of the window?’

‘No, I was in here, stoking the fire.’

‘And you hadn’t seen Satan earlier on, before Father Fiachra arrived?’

‘No.’

‘Did you hear anything? Banging? Shouting? Did Father Fiachra cry out at all?’

‘I’m a little on the deaf side these days. He might have done, but I wouldn’t have heard him. I only realized what had happened when I went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, and there he was, lying in the flower bed, with all his head –
ugh
! I don’t even want to think about it!’

She crossed herself again. Katie stood up and said, ‘Thank you, Mary, for being so honest with me and telling me so much. It could prove very useful.’

‘You won’t be telling anybody else? Not about me and Barry, I mean. Barry’s passed away now, and so has Fiona with the breast cancer, but all of their kids are still alive, except for Martin who had the epilepsy. And there’s a whole lot of people who know me.’

‘No, Mary,’ said Katie. ‘I won’t breathe a word to anybody. But if I were you, next time you go to church, go to confession and tell the priest all about you and Barry. Tell him you took so long to confess what you’d done because you were so ashamed, but now you’re asking for God’s forgiveness. Then at least Satan won’t have any excuse to come calling again.’

Mary held out her hand and Katie took it and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

‘You’re an angel, you know?’ said Mary. ‘If ever there was one of God’s messengers walking this earth, it’s you.’

*

‘Is that what she called you?’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘Well, quite right, too, ma’am. You deserve it. You
are
an angel, whatever Jimmy O’Reilly says about you.’

Detective Inspector O’Rourke was a stocky, round-faced man of forty-five, with chestnut hair that was shaved up the sides of his head like an Irish cousin of Kim Jong-Un, and protruding ears. Katie liked him a lot, though, because he was always straightforward and blunt, and he had never shown her any of the sexual prejudice that she had encountered from other Garda officers. It was probably because his wife Maeve always kept him in order.

Assistant Commissioner Jimmy O’Reilly had never made any secret of his dislike of high-ranking female officers, which hadn’t been ameliorated by the appointment of Noirin O’Sullivan as the first-ever woman commissioner.

Katie said, ‘There’s no question at all that this “Satan” who’s been scaring Mary O’Donnell is some fellow dressed up. But what’s the point of it? She’s an old woman with no money and nothing worth stealing, unless you count the biggest collection of plaster saints outside of the Holy Shop.’

‘Maybe somebody has a grudge against her, though that would be a fierce quare way of getting their own back, wouldn’t it? Dooley’s located one of her younger brothers in Carrigaline and he’ll be going down there later this afternoon to talk to him, for whatever good that will do.’