The White Gallows (24 page)

‘But you’re unwilling to change the procedure?’

‘What if it turns out that in three years time it was revealed that either Marion or Charles was the killer? In those three years they could have plundered the estate and headed overseas to avoid arrest. Not that I think either of them did it, you understand.’

McEvoy nodded. It was clear that Collier was going to stick to his guns. ‘Well, can you at least tell me the last time he altered his will?’ he asked.

‘About three months ago,’ Collier conceded.

‘And were you happy with the changes?’

‘It was his will, Superintendent, not mine. I just acted on his behalf.’

_{* * *}

Kelly Stringer seemed to be in her element. There were now six notice boards around the room, each covered in pieces of paper, stick-it notes and photos. Several other garda were busy at different tables. She was flitting between them giving them instructions and listening to what they’d discovered.

From where McEvoy was standing she looked positively radiant; like a different woman to that who habitually dressed years beyond her age. She was wearing a knee-length, dark green business suit, over a pale, almost translucent blouse, and low black heels. Her hair was let down, covering her shoulders.

As she moved off from the person she’d been talking to, she noticed him watching her. Her face broke into a smile and she crossed the room to join him.

‘You enjoying yourself?’ he asked, grinning tiredly, feeling like a teenager; nerves and lust entwining.

‘You know what,’ she said nodding her head, ‘I am. I’m getting a real buzz out of the whole thing. For the first time, I really feel like I’m at the heart of an investigation, that I’m actually making a difference. I’m not just some routine cog, I’m… I’m the engine oil!’ she laughed.

‘Wait until we run out of fuel and the whole thing grinds to a halt,’ McEvoy said, immediately regretting his negativity.

‘We’ll see. I have a good feeling about this one. There seems to be plenty to go on. Not like the Lithuanian in Trim. That seems to have already hit the wall.’

‘Yeah, that seems to be going nowhere fast,’ McEvoy agreed.

‘I’ve just got this in,’ she said, holding out a sheaf of paper. ‘I got one of the locals to scout around on the web, see if he could find out who the Curragh internees were. He found this real geeky site that lists all of the aircraft that crash-landed on Irish soil or waters, plus their crew members. The important bit is here.’ She tapped a manicured nail on the top sheet. ‘A Heinkel He111H-5 crash-landed in Carlingford Lough, March 23rd 1941 after being hit by anti-aircraft fire from a British navy vessel. The crew were Oberleutnant Heinrich Brauer, Feldwebel Hans Fassbinder, Gefreiter Alois Lehrer – who died from his wounds – and Gefreiter Franz Kucken. The three survivors were interned in the Curragh camp for the rest of the war. There is no Frank Koch on any other German plane.’

‘So Frank Koch really is Franz Kucken?’ McEvoy said looking up.

‘And Ewa Chojnacki and Tomas Prochazka’s copies of the archive files seem to confirm it,’ Stringer said, smiling. ‘I’m trying to find out if any of the other crew members are still alive. According to the records, Franz Kucken is originally from Freiburg, as was Adolf Kucken. It looks like Albert Koch was not who he claimed he was.’

‘Jesus. And the rest of the files?’

‘I’ve been onto the German department at the National University in Maynooth. Professor Moench is going to drive up here tomorrow morning. I’ll get him to sign all the relevant confidentiality clauses and see what he makes of them.’

‘Sounds good. Anything else to report?’

‘No, I don’t think so. We’re just following up on whatever information we’ve got. Superintendent Galligan’s been in a couple of times on fishing expeditions – making a nuisance of himself – but otherwise nothing.’

‘Okay, Jesus, I’ll check-in with him later. How’s Tom McManus been getting on?’

‘Not very well. He’s had teams out all around the surrounding land and there’s no sign of the missing gun or the vase fragments.’

‘And Hannah Fallon?’

‘Pretty much the same as last night – she’s stable and on the mend. The news through the grapevine is Bishop is playing keystone cops. Half of Dublin’s guards are running round chasing ghosts.’

‘Well, it’s about time we made a show of force. Things have gotten out of hand; the gangs think they can do what the hell they like. Look, I’m going to try and catch up on the files,’ McEvoy said, bringing the conversation to a close, pleased that he hadn’t overtly flirted. ‘I don’t think there’s any need for a team meeting just now. I’ll also talk to Dr John, Tom McManus and your friend Galligan.’

His phone rang. He held up a hand of apology. ‘Yes?’

‘Superintendent, it’s James Kinneally. I think we should probably meet.’

_{* * *}

McEvoy closed his notebook, pushed himself to his feet and crossed the hall to where Kelly Stringer was sorting through a thin pile of paper.

‘Kelly, I’m going to head off, okay? Can you get hold of Barney Plunkett, Johnny Cronin and Jenny Flanagan. Tell them to meet me at nine o’clock tomorrow morning at the Costa Coffee near Argos in Blanchardstown for an hour or so to catch up on everything and sort things out. It’s on the way out here and Jenny and Johnny should be able to cut across the M50 easy enough. Perhaps four heads together might make a bit of progress.’

‘I’ll ring them now.’ Stringer turned away, heading to another desk, then swung back around, brushing her tousled hair from her face. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, sir, you’re looking pretty frayed round the edges. Have you eaten yet? The locals say the Chinese restaurant in Athboy’s pretty good. Perhaps…’ she trailed off.

McEvoy nodded unsure what to say.

‘Not that…’ Stringer continued. ‘I mean… you just look like…’ she trailed off again, blushing.

‘Look, Kelly…’ McEvoy pulled a tight smile. ‘I’m sorry. I’m on my way to a meeting with James Kinneally. Then I’ve got to check on how things are going in Trim, and then pick Gemma up from my sister’s. Maybe some other time?’ he suggested, inwardly cursing himself for not ending whatever it was that was going on, if there was anything.

Stringer nodded her head, embarrassed. ‘Yes, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Maybe some other time. I’ll ring the others.’ She started to drift away.

McEvoy turned to one side, catching the curve of her legs below her knee-length skirt from the corner of his eyes, before heading for the door, feeling like he needed a cold shower. There was no denying that he was attracted to her. He could sense the edgy nerves whenever she was near, the butterflies in his stomach. He also knew that it would go nowhere; that it could go nowhere. He wasn’t yet ready; not for the kind of relationship it might become. Not for any kind of relationship. He stepped out into the cold night air, the first spots of rain starting to fall, and headed for his car trying to push carnal thoughts of Kelly Stringer to one side and failing.

_{* * *}

James Kinneally was sitting in the passenger seat of McEvoy’s Mondeo. He appeared to be nervous, glancing around, making sure they were alone.

They were parked in the far corner of a supermarket car park on the outskirts of Trim, hidden in the shadows, away from the other cars.

‘So?’ McEvoy asked, staring across Kinneally at an upturned shopping cart visible through the window.

‘I… we… it’s… it’s about Saturday night,’ Kinneally trailed off.

‘What about Saturday night?’

‘You have to understand that I’d like to keep this confidential.’

‘This is a murder investigation, Mr Kinneally, if it’s important to the case we’ll do whatever’s needed,’ McEvoy lied. ‘What is it?’

Kinneally stared out of the windscreen, his unfocussed gaze, deciding how to proceed. ‘I knew this wasn’t a good idea,’ he said eventually.

‘What wasn’t?’ McEvoy prompted, growing tired of Kinneally’s charade.

‘Meeting you like this. I’m doing this for her, though I doubt she’ll thank me for it.’ He turned towards McEvoy. ‘Marion D’Arcy was with me on Saturday night. We’ve been having an affair for the past eight months.’

‘Well, that explains why you’re always at her place,’ McEvoy said neutrally, unable to see the dominant Marion falling for Kinneally. ‘So where were you on Saturday night?’

‘At her house; I stayed the night.’

‘So you’re withdrawing your story about staying the night in Dublin? That right?’

‘Yes,’ Kinneally snapped irritably. ‘I’ve just told you, I was with Marion.’

‘And I’m to believe that, since you’ve already lied to me once?’

‘Look, I… I’m sorry about that. I was just trying to protect her.’

‘By taking away her alibi?’

‘By keeping our relationship secret. I didn’t know that you would treat her like a suspect! It’s beyond belief. The idea that she’d kill her own father is crazy!’

‘From my experience, nothing is beyond belief. And she will confirm this story?’

‘No, no. There’s no need to ask her,’ Kinneally said nervously. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’

‘And we need to verify it. You didn’t tell her you were coming to meet me?’

Kinneally shook his head and looked down at his lap.

‘So why did you come? To salve your conscience?’

Kinneally stayed silent.

‘Let me guess, you came at Mark D’Arcy’s request?’ McEvoy suggested.

There was a slight nod of the head.

‘Mark D’Arcy knew you were having an affair,’ McEvoy continued, ‘and he knew you were with his mother on Saturday. If he got you to confess as much then we would stop hassling her as a potential suspect. Only she wants the affair to remain secret until she either gains control of Ostara through her inheritance or through her relationship with its CEO.’

‘That’s… that’s…’ Kinneally stuttered, his anger rising again, ‘slander. She doesn’t want her good name dragged through the tabloid papers. I’m only recently separated. She doesn’t want to be cast as a home wrecker. And she isn’t. My marriage had been dead a long time; so had hers. She feels she doesn’t need an alibi as she’s innocent.’

‘Her son feels differently?’

‘Mark thinks that she’s already under enough pressure. There’s no point adding to that when she could be spared any additional stress.’

‘He might have a point,’ McEvoy conceded.

Kinneally nodded. ‘So what happens now?’

‘You and I both head home.’

‘And the affair will remain secret?’ Kinneally asked.

‘I can’t see any reason to tell the whole world just yet, but I can’t promise it won’t leak out eventually.’

‘Thanks.’ James Kinneally eased himself out of McEvoy’s car and slipped behind the wheel of his silver Mercedes, his face pale, scanning the gloom for witnesses to the meeting.

McEvoy watched him leave the car park, turning towards Athboy, before starting his own car and heading to the exit. Kinneally might be the CEO of a large company, but he was a weak and nervous man. He wondered what Marion D’Arcy saw in him other than someone who was easy to manipulate and control; a way of hedging her bets with respect to the future of Ostara.

_{* * *}

It was late in the evening and there had been no significant update from the team investigating the death of the supposed Lithuanian. Officers were out surveying pubs and bars in a broad sweep well beyond Trim’s usual catchment area.