No Easy Answer Page 12

  Soft music drifting from the spare bedroom told him Edel was still working. He was surprised, she didn’t normally work so late. He tapped on the door and opened it slowly. Sometimes she was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t notice what was going on around her.

  He stood looking at her as she sat in the glow of a lamp. She was crouched over the keyboard, fingers flying over the keys, a rapt expression on her face. Totally engrossed. And still, he noticed with a smile, wearing her writing clothes. He took a step backwards and shut the door gently.

  There was still no sign of Edel stirring when he came out of their bedroom ten minutes later, his suit replaced by well-worn jeans and an old flannel shirt. Downstairs, he took a beer from the fridge, opened it, and drank from the bottle as he rang the restaurant to cancel the table, apologising profusely for the late notice. He searched for the Indian takeaway menu, dialled their number and ordered a variety of food to be delivered. Then he went into the sitting room to finish the beer.

  He sat in silence for a while before reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. As usual it was switched to a news channel where that evening the topic under discussion was a salacious political scandal. With that to keep them occupied they’d have little airtime to spare for the octogenarian, nonagenarian and the collection of dismembered corpses. It was a small mercy.

  West nursed his beer and thought about the cases. That they’d found a connection between two of them was unexpected… and downright bizarre. A tentative connection, true, but it was there. Edwards had learned a valuable lesson too. The boring jobs sometimes paid off.

  But they’d a long way to go yet. West’s idea that Doris Whitaker had changed her will on the condition that Checkley would dispose of the bodies was bordering on far-fetched. Andrews had scoffed at the idea and probably only agreed that it warranted looking into to shut him up. Morrison would think he’d lost the plot. Maybe he had.

  He lifted the bottle to his mouth, discovered it was empty and was about to get to his feet when he heard movement overhead and seconds later a clamber on the stairs as Edel took the steps in twos.

  ‘Mike,’ she said, bursting through the door. ‘I’m sorry. I hit a sweet spot and the words were falling from my fingertips so I forgot completely about everything.’ She looked at her watch in horror. ‘I can’t believe it’s so late. Give me five… no, maybe you better make that ten minutes and I’ll be ready.’

  West stood and slid an arm around her waist to pull her close. ‘Relax. I’ve cancelled the restaurant and ordered a takeaway. Sit, I’ll get a bottle of wine and we can have a glass while we’re waiting for it.’ He checked his watch. ‘It should be arriving any minute. We’ll have it in here, shall we?’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Edel said, flopping onto the sofa and dragging her feet under her.

  Ten minutes later, containers with aromatic food were spread out on the coffee table. West had brought cutlery and glasses and opened a bottle of wine. For a few minutes they ate and drank in silence.

  ‘I hadn’t realised how hungry I was,’ Edel said, spooning more chicken korma onto her plate. ‘This was a good idea, Mike, thank you.’

  He topped up her glass. ‘I’m glad your writing is going well.’

  Her mouth full, she murmured ‘Mm-hm’ enthusiastically. ‘How about your day,’ she asked when able.

  ‘You know the three cases we’re working on. The octogenarian–’

  ‘The nonagenarian and the dismembered bodies,’ she said with a gurgling laugh. ‘Honestly, I would love to use it as a title for a book. I could see it on the bookshelves in Eason’s.’

  ‘I’m starting to think of all our cases as book titles. That’s your influence.’

  She raised her glass to him. ‘I’ll take the credit for that. Go on, what were you going to tell me about the cases? Don’t tell me you’ve solved them.’

  ‘I wish. And Morrison very much wishes. No.’ He sipped his wine and went over the idea in his head again. ‘Andrews said it was a crazy idea.’

  ‘Peter often thinks your ideas are crazy, then he has to back-pedal when he finds out they weren’t.’

  Dishing up the last of the lamb rogan josh, West sat back with the plate in his hand. In between mouthfuls, he told her of Edwards’ discovery and his theory about the link with the Checkleys.

  Edel’s eyes widened.

  ‘You think it’s ridiculous?’ West hoped she’d see his theory as having some validation. He respected her brain… if she thought it was possible it would make it easier to face down disbelief from the rest of the team.

  ‘No,’ Edel said. Then she tilted her head and looked at him strangely. ‘I’m not sure you’ve thought it through far enough though.’

  West frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The nonagenarian… Doris Whitaker, isn’t it?’ When West nodded, she picked up her glass and took a mouthful of wine. ‘Fifty years ago, she’d have been forty. Did she have a husband? Children? If so, where are they? Or any other relatives? Maybe those bodies are her family.’

  It was West’s turn to widen his eyes. She was right: he’d not thought it through far enough. Because, of course, she was right: that could be who their dismembered, mummified bodies were.

  22

  The weekend, as it often did, passed in a blink with West spending most of the time working in the back garden.

  Edel was still, as she phrased it, in a sweet spot with her writing and wanted to continue. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ he’d assured her. ‘How many times have I had to abandon you for work. Only fair that it works both ways. Anyway, it’ll give me the perfect opportunity to tackle the garden.’

  The borders, where roses and fuchsia were supposed to be growing, were choked with weeds. It was hard but satisfying work to pull them up. He dug over the borders, whistling between his teeth as he did, getting mud caked into his nails and his boots.

  On Sunday, he dragged Edel away from her keyboard to a garden centre and bought several plants and spent the afternoon digging and planting while she wrote. It was all very civilised and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t think about the job.

  Monday, as if a switch clicked, he was back in work mode. He sat at his desk in the station, relieved to see there was nothing new to add to their workload from the weekend. A few robberies which his robbery division counterpart Sergeant Clark might be able to handle – or at least delegate to Garda Foley to sort out. Nothing to make Morrison worried.

  The clock never ticked fast enough for West when he wanted to get on with things. The Office of the State Pathologist didn’t open until 9am. He’d be on the phone on the dot to ask Niall Kennedy to compare DNA from Doris Whitaker to that of the dismembered bodies. If there was a match… if they could formally link the two then they might be able to put pressure on the Checkleys to admit their part in the disposal of the bodies. He still couldn’t prove they had a hand in Doris’s death but he’d take what he could for the moment.

  When he saw Andrews walk into the main office at five to the hour, he went out to join him. ‘Did you give what I said on Friday any thought?’

  Andrews took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. ‘And a good morning to you too.’ Without another word, he headed to the coffee machine and poured two mugs of coffee. He picked up the carton of milk, opened the spout and held it to his nose for a second before adding some to both mugs, then stirred three packets of sugar into his. ‘Here,’ he said, handing the second mug to West before sitting. ‘Something tells me I’m going to need caffeine before I hear whatever it is you’re going to tell me. Because there’s something… I can tell by your face.’

  West grinned, hooked a foot around the leg of a nearby chair and pulled it closer. He sat, took a mouthful of coffee and told Andrews about Edel’s brainwave. In his head, the whole idea sounded feasible but when he put it into words it sounded, even to his ears, like a crazed script for a bad movie. ‘Wha
t do you think?’

  Andrews drained his mug and put it down. ‘You so often get wild ideas that turn out not to be so daft that I did give your idea some thought over the weekend.’ He reached out and thumped West on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. ‘It seems Edel and I think alike because that was exactly what I’d come up with.’

  ‘Morrison will never believe it.’

  ‘He’ll be so pleased to have two cases solved that he won’t care. Although,’ Andrews admitted, ‘he will say, again, that we get involved in the weirdest cases.’

  ‘First, we have to prove our theory. Get the team to do a search on Doris Whitaker as a priority. There must be a record somewhere of a family. Meanwhile, I’m going to ring Niall Kennedy and get him to do a DNA comparison.’

  West was in luck. Kennedy was in reception when he rang. ‘Another second and you’d have missed me,’ the pathologist said, sounding as if he were sorry that second hadn’t happened. ‘What do you want this early on a Monday morning?’

  ‘It’ll take too long to go into details if you’re heading out. But I’d like a DNA comparison between Doris Whitaker and the dismembered bodies.’

  Kennedy’s soft groan drifted down the line. ‘Something tells me you’ve come up with some weird and wonderful theory that will have us all scratching our heads in wonder.’

  ‘If we’re right, that comparison will prove it.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get one of the technicians to do it as soon as, but it will be tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest, before we’ll have results, okay?’

  Better than West had expected. ‘Great, thanks, Niall.’

  ‘I’ll have the usual payment next time you’re around this way.’

  West hung up and sat back, tapping the handset against his chin. It would have been nice to have dragged the Checkleys in and grilled them till they popped. He smiled at the thought, one he’d picked up from a dated US crime movie he’d watched recently. He couldn’t grill the Checkleys; he couldn’t even bring them in with what they had. They needed that DNA comparison and more information on Doris Whitaker.

  The handset rang, startling him. ‘West.’

  ‘Would you come up to my office, at your convenience?’

  Morrison. First thing on a Monday morning. ‘I’ll come straight away, Inspector.’ In fact, it was a few minutes before he moved. He sat with his forehead creased in puzzlement as he tried to figure out why Morrison wanted to see him.

  ‘You in a daze?’ Andrews said from the doorway.

  ‘Mother wants to see me.’

  ‘First thing on a Monday morning?’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’ West got to his feet. ‘I suppose I’d better go and find out.’

  ‘Are you going to tell him your theory?’

  West held his hand out horizontally and tilted it side to side. ‘Depends on why he wants to see me.’

  23

  Morrison’s office on the next floor was dominated by a large untidy desk. It wasn’t a place that encouraged anyone to linger, especially since the only chair in the office was the one he was sitting in. West resented having to stand like a naughty schoolboy and usually rested his shoulder against the wall when he had the need to be there.

  Today, however, puzzled by the summons, he stood in front of the desk.

  To his surprise, Morrison got to his feet and reached for the coffee pot that was gurgling on a trolley behind him. He poured two mugs, added milk to both and handed one to West.

  ‘Thank you.’ West took it and sipped, keeping his eyes on the inspector, tempted to bark out what’s going on. Because something was. This was not normal.

  Morrison stayed standing. He picked up his mug, then put it down without drinking. ‘My wife plays golf, did you know that?’

  West shook his head. The only thing he knew about Jennifer Morrison was that she was considerably younger than the inspector.

  ‘She does. Very good at it too, has a handicap of eleven. She plays for The Grange Golf Club. Has done for years. Made some good friends there.’ He picked up his mug and this time took a sip of coffee. ‘She’s friends with Yvonne Cunningham whose husband owns Cunningham’s Jewellers in the Meridian Shopping Centre.’

  West knew this had to be going somewhere, he simply couldn’t figure out where.

  ‘She was out with her on Saturday – a girls’ night out, you know the kind of thing.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was the only thing West could think to say.

  ‘They got talking about this and that.’ Morrison put the mug down and sat in his chair, steepling his hands together on the desk in front of him. ‘Yvonne was in the shop last Monday waiting for her husband when a customer came in to sell some jewellery. The customer happened to comment that the diamond ring she was bringing in – an old engagement ring – seemed to sparkle better than her new one. Out of curiosity, the assistant had a look at the new one and broke the bad news.’

  ‘It was a fake?’

  ‘Yes, some man-made stone I’d never heard of. The customer was shocked. It seems the ring was bought in a reputable jewellers and cost around eight grand.’

  West, who was beginning to wonder if this was going anywhere, stared at the inspector with narrowed eyes. ‘Edel.’

  ‘Yvonne was in the office when the assistant brought the paperwork in and the name caught her eye.’ Morrison held up his hand as West opened his mouth to interrupt. ‘No, she doesn’t know you, but there was all that hoo-ha last year when you and Edel were trapped down in that cave and I told Jennifer about the two of you. She doesn’t normally gossip but she thought the whole rescue thing was so exciting and romantic.’ Morrison raised his thick eyebrows and shook his head. ‘So romantic, that she mentioned it to Yvonne. If you remember, photographs of both you and Edel were in the papers following the rescue. So, when Yvonne saw Edel in the jewellery shop she recognised her from somewhere, then saw her name and…’ He lifted his hands. ‘You know the rest.’

  West did. Only too well. He’d been conned. ‘I can’t imagine Debeerds are involved in anything dodgy.’

  ‘I took the liberty of ringing Jim Cunningham. He agrees with you. It seems Edel told them that the assistant in Debeerds took the ring away for cleaning after you’d made the decision to buy it and he was gone for a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Yes, he was. Time enough to pull a switch.’ West pushed a hand through his hair. He’d been distracted by Checkley sitting on the other side of the shop instead of paying attention to what was going on.

  Morrison leaned forward. ‘The assistant said Edel didn’t want her fiancé to know that the ring was worthless.’

  ‘No, she wouldn’t.’ West remembered how excited she was about the ring. ‘The rings she was bringing in must have been her engagement and wedding ring from her first disastrous marriage. A real diamond for a bigamous marriage. She would have been horrified to find that her new engagement ring was fake.’ More than horrified. He knew the way her brain worked. No wonder she’d been leaving it off.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Get the real ring back.’ He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that but he’d do it.

  ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. Let me know the outcome.’

  It was a dismissal but West waited. ‘Since I’m here I may as well give you an update on the three cases… or on two of them at least.’ He summarised where they were, watching as Morrison’s expression drifted from sympathetic to flabbergasted.

  ‘You think the Checkleys dumped the body parts in return for being left everything in Doris Whitaker’s will.’

  ‘And that the bodies are related to Doris in some way. Yes, that what we’re working on.’

  Morrison shook his head slowly. ‘Just the kind of ridiculous case that you and Andrews embroil yourselves in.’

  There didn’t seem any point in saying they didn’t do it deliberately. ‘But it does mean we’ll get two out of the three cases solved, Inspector.’ With that as a parting shot, he turned to leave but sto
pped with his hand on the door and looked back. ‘I appreciate you telling me about the ring, Inspector. And please, pass on my thanks to Mrs Morrison.’

  24

  West was sitting in his office staring into space twenty minutes later when Andrews appeared in the doorway.

  ‘That bad?’

  West looked at him blankly before giving a quick shake of his head. ‘It wasn’t about our cases although he does think we’ve managed to embroil ourselves in yet more crazy ones. I swear he thinks we do it deliberately.’

  Andrews laughed and sat on the spare chair. ‘We’re magnets for the odd ones.’ His forehead creased as he realised what West had said. ‘It wasn’t about our cases though?’

  ‘No.’ The ring dilemma had been rolling around in West’s head. He had no doubt Debeerds would take the allegation seriously and not dismiss it out of hand as an attempt at extortion. He was a garda, after all. But it would be a mess and it would cast a long shadow over his and Edel’s engagement. It was probably the reason she’d not mentioned it. He guessed, too, that she was worrying it was a bad omen. No wonder she’d taken to leaving the ring off.

  That blasted thieving assistant had a lot to answer for. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d pulled a switch either; it had been too slickly done. West couldn’t allow him to get away with it. ‘I have a problem, Peter.’

  Andrews reached over and pushed the office door shut. ‘Go on.’ He listened without interrupting as West filled him in, lines across his forehead deepening. ‘Clever. And you were unlucky. He’d probably been waiting a while for the right person – someone who would choose that particular ring, who it would fit without needing alteration. Easy then to do a quick switch.’

  ‘Unlucky!’ West rubbed a hand roughly over his head making his hair stand on end. ‘Edel is probably seeing it as a bad omen. The irony that she was there to get rid of her first engagement ring – which is real by the way – hasn’t escaped me. A real ring for a fake relationship, and now a fake ring–’