Murder on Clare Island Read online

  But he knew, for the moment, he couldn’t change anything.

  He saw little of her over the next few weeks; he was serious about going out with the detectives, seeing for himself what was going on. It was good to see his patch closer up, and no harm for his team to see him getting his hands dirty with real work instead of being chained to his desk by the never-ending reams of paperwork.

  He enjoyed it more than he’d expected. He knew most of the pubs in the area, had been for a drink in them all at one time or another, and was greeted with a friendly nod in one or two, although eyes were raised at the uniformed garda at his back. Most of the landlords, he knew, had no problem with their presence, listening intently as they were informed about the potential threat of a new drug.

  ‘Another one,’ the landlord at the Fox’s Tail, said with a shake of his head. ‘I’ll keep my eyes open, but you know how it is Sergeant, these pushers have it down to a fine art.’

  West nodded. ‘I appreciate that; if you do see anything out of the way, let us know. We’re going to be more conspicuous over the next few months. See if we can keep it from getting out of hand.’ There was no point in saying they’d prevent it, neither West nor the landlord had any illusions.

  Garda Baxter, standing behind West made frantic movements with his hands when they were offered a drink on the house. West chose to ignore him and thanked the landlord. ‘We’re not allowed, on duty, but thank you. Perhaps, we’ll come back when we’re off duty and have a pint.’ With a smile to denote the silliness of the rule, but in a tone of voice that said he took it seriously, he added, ‘but not on the house, thanks. Rules, you know.’

  The landlord, who frequently offered the detectives from Foxrock station a free pint raised an eyebrow, darted a look at a foot-shuffling Baxter, and smiled to show he hadn’t taken offense. ‘You’ll be welcome,’ he said, and with that headed off to serve a customer who was drumming impatiently on the bar.

  West knew that accepting the odd free pint didn’t do any harm. But he also knew it was the start for some, for the ones who thought that if taking a pint was ok, then why not a free meal. Then it was a small bribe leading to a bigger one until one day, you woke up, and realised you’d sold your soul to the devil.

  It was a very easy, slippery slope to fall down. And if for a microsecond, he thought of Denise Blundell, he quickly brushed it aside. That was a different situation altogether.

  No harm, then, that he was out and about with the men, checking what was happening. He was happy to see, at the end of a month that, bar the odd free pint, he saw no more serious infractions. Nor was there any sign of Zombie Zee; he breathed a sigh of relief, maybe they’d be lucky.

  ‘Keep up a garda presence,’ he told Andrews, ‘have the uniforms call in to each on a rolling rota. It might help. Meanwhile I want our lot to start on the schools. Arrange a meeting with the head-teacher in each, get the information out there. Have the uniforms patrol outside when schools are out.’

  The men groaned when told; pubs, clubs and down-market venues were one thing, schools were something else altogether. Suddenly, they were all tied up with on-going cases, except Sam Jarvis, last in, and sacrificed by all for the greater good. ‘He’ll be better with them anyway,’ Seamus Baxter said, but couldn’t support this statement when questioned except by a, ‘he just would’ that had Andrews shaking his head.

  As it happened, Sam Jarvis was quite happy to spend his next few days traipsing around the local schools. It made a change from the seedier element of their patch that he’d been unlucky enough to have been lumbered with.

  West, content that as much as they could do, was being done, to the team’s relief, took himself off the rota.

  ‘Are you sure,’ Andrews said, from over the rim of his mug before taking a noisy slurp and saying, ‘you know if you want to spend more time away from your house, you could come and babysit Petey, let me and Joyce have a few nights off.

  West eyed him balefully, and refused to rise to the bait. ‘I’m sure,’ he said, ‘now get out, and let me get on with this damn paperwork Mother keeps sending me.’

  Andrews left and once the door was shut behind him, West threw his pen on the desk and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t fooling Andrews, he certainly wasn’t fooling himself. It was time he stopped pussy-footing around and made a stand for what he wanted.

  9

  West volunteered to help Kelly move when the time came, moving the few items she’d decided to keep from Wilton Road and the belongings that had accumulated since she’d moved in with him.

  They’d finished packing and were standing outside her house when she turned to him, and said, ‘I’ve accepted an offer.’

  West, in the process of manoeuvring a small bookcase into the back of his car stopped and looked at her. She hadn’t told him one had been made.

  ‘It’s a bit lower than I expected, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and decided I just want it over with.’ She met his gaze. ‘You do understand, don’t you?’

  He wasn’t sure he did, and ignored the question, returning to the piece of furniture that seemed to be much bigger than it looked in the house. He pushed and grunted and finally managed to get it in. Piling the rest of the items on top, he closed the boot and turned to her. ‘Is that it?’

  Kelly looked back at the house. She’d hoped to live here for years, had thought maybe she’d raise a family there. Dreams, illusions. ‘Yes,’ she said simply, putting the key in the lock and turning it, locking everything else into the past. ‘I’ve arranged for a house clearance company to call tomorrow. They’ll take everything else.’

  It wasn’t a long drive but the traffic was heavy so it was nearly thirty minutes before they pulled up outside the apartment block in Blackrock. It was the first time West had seen it. He got out of the car and looked around. Nice, he thought, noticing the well-kept borders, the allocated parking and security lights. It would do nicely.

  He met Kelly’s gaze. ‘It’s very nice,’ he said, with a smile.

  Unloading the car, they shoved everything inside the front door and took it up, piece by piece, to her first floor apartment.

  Kelly opened the front door and stood back; allowing West to enter first and see what had captivated her. She smiled as he did just what she had done, walked to the window and stared out at the view.

  ‘Wow,’ he said, turning to her as she joined him, ‘this is stunning.’

  ‘It’s what sold it to me,’ Kelly admitted, and then looked up at him. ‘I’m still not great with enclosed spaces, and no,’ she said putting a hand on his arm, ‘that wasn’t a plea for sympathy. It’s just the way it is. For the moment. But it’s getting better.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘First,’ she said, moving away from him and waving at the boxes and bags, ‘I’m going to move all this into the spare bedroom. All the furniture I ordered is coming today, including, I hope, my bed. When it arrives, I’ll unpack everything, and turn it into a home.’ She looked around, imagining it the way she hoped it would be. ‘And then, I’m getting back to work. I have that novel almost finished, it just needs some tweaking. The publisher who handled my children’s books is interested in looking at it.’ Running her hands through her hair, she lifted it up and held it in a knot on the top of her head, using her other hand to rub the back of her neck. ‘I’ve had an idea for another novel. I’m going to start on that as soon as I can.’

  ‘Not biographical, I hope,’ West said, half-jokingly.

  ‘God no,’ Kelly said, closing her eyes and dropping her hair. ‘I escape into my writing, Mike. No reality allowed.’

  They moved all the bits and pieces from the hallway into the apartment, piling it into the spare room.

  ‘I’ll stay and give you a hand with the bed,’ West offered.

  Kelly shook her head, ‘No need, thanks, they’re going to assemble it for me. It cost a little extra, but it’ll be worth it.’

  Just then the doorbell rang announcing
the arrival of the first of the furniture. West, knowing he would be in the way, decided to beat a hasty retreat. ‘I’ll come back and take you to dinner,’ he said, ‘you’ll be exhausted after this.’

  Kelly threw him a grateful glance, before giving her attention to the delivery men, directing a bed there, a desk there and various other items to the four corners of the apartment. The second delivery company arrived before the first had left and for a few minutes it was chaos. Luckily, they took the vast amount of packaging with them, leaving Kelly with an apartment that bore a marked resemblance to a furniture show-room.

  It didn’t look a lot better when she’d moved things around. It looked cold, show-house-like. Everything that made a home was missing, the knick-knacks, the worn but much loved pieces, the curios picked up here and there. Disappointed, Kelly wondered if she should go back and pick up some more bits and pieces from Wilton Road. Would that work?

  Closing her eyes on tears that threatened, she stood a moment and then opened them and tried again. It didn’t make any difference. It was awful.

  By the time West arrived, two hours later, she had moved everything several times, getting more and more depressed with each arrangement.

  ‘Come in,’ she said, answering the door, and waving him in, her voice despondent.

  ‘Didn’t it all come?’ Mike asked, assuming that was the cause for her down-turned mouth, her red eyes, and the frown.

  She waved around the room, as if to say, can’t you see it has?

  ‘So what’s the matter, then?’ he asked, wondering if he was wandering into a minefield. It all looked ok to him, a bit cold and lacking in character. But it was an apartment; it was what he’d expected.

  ‘It’s awful,’ Kelly wailed, the tears coming now. ‘Look at it, everything is awful.’

  West did look around, more carefully this time. It needed... ‘Give me an hour,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back. Just wait.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he left, leaving Kelly who’d expected a hug at least, feeling quite aggrieved.

  It was slightly less than an hour when the door bell rang again. When she opened the door, West shoved a couple of overfilled black bags at her and left again, returning moments later with two more. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you go and wash your face and change and leave this to me.’

  Unable to think of one word in reply, Kelly did as she was told. Thirty minutes later, feeling refreshed by a hot shower and change of clothes, she opened the door into the large sitting room and gasped.

  ‘My mother always said I should have been an interior designer,’ West said softly. ‘I just added a few things, sorted out the lighting.’

  A colourful throw covered the back of the cream sofa, lamps were positioned on a small table at each end, throwing soft light over it and making the colours sing. Another lamp, on the floor in the corner, threw light upward through the leaves of a plant, making strange shapes on the ceiling.

  The shelving unit, built into each side of the fireplace, empty thirty minutes before, now held an assortment of strange objects. Picking one up, Kelly admired the rich carving.

  ‘That’s Ganesha,’ Mike said moving to stand behind her, ‘in India he is revered as the remover of obstacles. Amongst other things. It’s a house-warming present.’

  ‘The remover of obstacles.’ Kelly said, putting it back. She looked at the other things he had brought; three polished wooden balls, sitting side by side, a piece of driftwood, and two empty photograph frames. He’d taken books from the bookshelf, had obviously chosen them for the colour of their covers and sat them one on top of the other. Altogether, it looked perfect.

  Remembering his beautiful home in Greystones, Kelly shouldn’t have been surprised, but she’d assumed others were responsible. Charmed, both by his kindness and his talent, she walked around the room again. It was just as she had wanted it to be. Warm, homely, stylish.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck, ‘this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.’ She kissed him, softly and then pulled back to look around the room again. ‘I was beginning to think I’d made a terrible mistake. But now...’

  ‘It’s a start,’ West said, ‘a couple of photographs in those two frames will look better.’

  ‘What do you suggest,’ Kelly said, laughing, ‘one of you, and one of me?’

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was thinking more of both of us together in each, on a holiday somewhere.’

  ‘A holiday?’ Kelly said taken aback and then seeing his smile, considered it, her head tilting slightly. ‘Yes,’ she said, surprising them both.

  There were a number of different restaurants in Blackrock, but they opted for the nearest, an Italian restaurant, the decor traditional, the food, as it turned out, superb.

  ‘So where do you suggest we go?’ Kelly asked, picking up a slice of pizza with her hand and taking a generous bite. ‘This is divine,’ she said, removing a string of mozzarella from her chin.

  ‘I have somewhere in mind,’ West said, ‘will you trust me? I think it’s somewhere you might like, but I’ll have to check availability.’

  Her mouth full of pizza, Kelly just nodded. A magical mystery tour. Why not? And anyway, she did trust him. Plus, having seen what he’d managed to do with the apartment, he had far better taste and style than she had. Which was galling, in a way, she thought.

  Back at the apartment, she invited him in for a coffee. ‘Before you go,’ she hastily added, in case he thought she was offering him more. She wasn’t ready, not yet.

  He smiled. ‘No,’ he said, ‘before I go I’d just like this.’ He lowered his mouth to hers, gently at first and then slowly increasing pressure, moving his lips on hers.

  Kelly felt a heat she hadn’t known in such a long time. Since Simon. She pulled away. ‘I’d better go in; I don’t want the neighbours to think I’m a hussy.’

  ‘Good night, Kelly,’ he said, and kissed her again, lightly this time, smiling as he did so. ‘Sweet dreams in your new home.’

  He waited until she’d opened the door and gone in before walking to his car, his step lighter than it had been in days.

  Now all he had to do was find that place he wanted to take her. He’d heard of it years before. A hotel in a lighthouse, how magical would that be. He just had no idea where it was.

  10

  It didn’t take long thanks to the internet. A simple search for lighthouse and hotels brought it up immediately. It was more than perfect, he thought, peering at the stunning photographs. It would be a magical place to spend their first night together. Checking the time, seeing it was nearly midnight, he didn’t think they’d appreciate a call to check availability. He’d do it first thing in the morning.

  He was up at his usual time. He’d ring from the station, he thought, picking up the details he’d scribbled down the night before and heading out.

  In the station, with a mug of coffee in one hand, he switched on his computer and looked at the website again. It was perfect. He looked at the rooms; it was a small place, only seven rooms. And each totally different. He weighed up the advantages of each, was tempted by the Tower room, the winding staircase to the bedroom sounded romantic. He considered the sauna room, but wasn’t sure what her thoughts were on getting hot and steamy in that particular way.

  Then he saw the Achill room, and knew it was the one. At the top of a curved oak stairs, with huge picture windows looking out over Achill Island and the sea. A superking-sized bed, under-floor heating, and a fire. What a perfect place to stay.

  He knew Kelly would love it. Checking his diary, he figured he could take a week off anytime soon. He knew Andrews wasn’t taking time until later in the year and Inspector Morrison would be happy as long as one of them was there.

  At nine he rang to ask about availability, crossing his fingers as he did, knowing how much depended on getting this right.

  Five minutes later, he hung up, a grin on his face. The Achill View room was the
irs, the week after next. A whole week in a fabulous, isolated place. Just the two of them. Picking up the phone again, he rang his mother. ‘Can you have Tyler,’ he asked, ‘I have to go away for a week.’ He gave the impression it was work related, and she quickly agreed, asking no prying questions. He hung up and sat back with a smile on his face.

  Hearing Andrews’ voice in the squad room, he went to his door and called him in. ‘I’m taking a week’s leave,’ he said, sitting down again, waving Andrews into the chair opposite. ‘I’m taking Kelly away for a holiday.’

  Andrews looked pleased. ‘Somewhere sunny, I hope?’

  West shook his head. ‘Actually, probably not. I’ve booked a guesthouse in Clare. Well, on Clare Island, to be precise. A room in an old lighthouse, overlooking the sea.’

  ‘It’ll rain, but I suppose that won’t bother you too much,’ Andrews said, with a raised eyebrow and a knowing chuckle.

  West ignored both the eyebrow and the laugh. ‘I’ve a few cases to tidy up before then,’ he said, opening a folder in front of him, dismissing Andrews who went back to the squad room.

  Putting thoughts of Clare Island and Kelly in the back of his mind, West concentrated on police-work for the remainder of the day.

  He rang Kelly when he eventually got home, after a day that went quickly downhill despite the good start. Two teenagers had been knocked down by a car speeding down Westminster road, one escaped with minor injuries; the other was in intensive care.

  ‘It doesn’t look good,’ Garda Edwards said, on return from the hospital where he and Baxter had interviewed the luckier of the two young men. ‘I spoke to the doctor. The lad’s on a ventilator, but I think it’s just to allow time for the family to get in.’

  West frowned. ‘And the other lad?’

  ‘Broken arm. That’s all. He was on the inside; the other lad took the brunt of it. He said the car was definitely a blue escort but couldn’t tell us anything more. Jarvis and Allen are canvassing the area, see if anyone saw anything. Baxter’s gone to the local garages, we reckon there must have been some damage to the car, these were big lads, Mike.’