Darkhouse

NINE

The coffee shop was filled with the smell of bacon and eggs. D.I. O’Connor sat opposite Frank Deegan, his PDA open on the table in front of him. A young waitress came over to take their order, smiling nervously at them, hovering before she walked away.

‘You’d want to be careful,’ said Frank, ‘or you’ll have the whole parish listening in.’

‘It’s always the way,’ said O’Connor. He looked up. ‘How do you think Richie’s getting on? I mean, it’s plunging him in at the deep end really. One minute, parking tickets, pickpockets and checkpoints. Next minute, this.’

‘Not much different to any of us, really,’ said Frank. ‘I don’t know. Richie’s grand. He’s a serious lad for his age, a bit uptight, that’s all. He’s working hard though. I think he’ll surprise us.’

‘Fair enough,’ said O’Connor. ‘He’s very…intense.’

‘I think I know why,’ said Frank. ‘I don’t know the whole story, but a young friend of his, Justin Dwyer, drowned when he was about eight or nine. Richie was there at the time. Apparently, he had an awful time trying to save him, but…’ He shook his head. ‘Richie’s a lad that will do something about Katie. I think the guilt over that little guy has stayed with him for years. He won’t want to feel that again.’

O’Connor nodded. ‘I’ve been having a think about Katie’s interests and whether or not they’ve got anything do with this.’ He read from a list on the small screen of the PDA: hanging out with her friends, reading, movies, singing, music, computer games.

‘Friends? Well, we have their statements. Reading? I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing untoward there. Movies? She could have gone in to Waterford to see something, but it would have been too late that time of the night. OK. Singing or music. Could there have been an audition on somewhere she would have gone to that her mother wouldn’t have allowed? One of those pop star things? Maybe someone promised her something, a career…’

‘She wouldn’t have fallen for anything like that.’

‘What if it was someone she knew?’

‘I still don’t think so. Who?’

‘Anyone. Someone’s brother, cousin, friend…’

‘She sang in a folk group in mass,’ said Frank patiently. ‘And in school concerts. She wasn’t Tina Turner.’ He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms behind his head.

The waitress reappeared, setting mugs and teapots carefully down in front of them.

‘Thanks,’ said O’Connor. He pressed at the corners of his eyes, blinking slowly.

‘What about the Internet?’ he said, pouring each of them a cup of tea. ‘Could she have come in contact with someone online? Maybe gone to meet them?’

Frank shook his head.

O’Connor shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’s sixteen, it’s easy for a girl like that to be flattered.’

‘Maybe. If she wasn’t a pretty, intelligent, happy girl with a handsome young boyfriend.’

‘But some girls might like the mystery—’

‘Not Katie.’

‘I’m thinking out loud here. I’m not really expecting you to answer all my questions. I know you’re familiar with these kids, but I doubt they’re going to be keeping you up to speed.’

‘They don’t have to. It’s obvious what they’re like. I’ve known them for years.’

‘I’m running some things by you, that’s all.’

‘Look, you can talk to some of her friends yourself – Ali Danaher and Robert Harrington would be the main two – but they’ll probably tell you the same thing. What you see is what you get with Katie.’

‘Well, what I’m left with is drugs, pregnancy…’

Frank was shaking his head again. ‘Unfortunately, what I’m left with is something a lot worse than that. It’s been two weeks…’

O’Connor sat quietly, then picked up his PDA again and ran his stylus down the screen.

‘So you still think suicide—’

‘Is not and never should have been a possibility,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve been surprised by suicides in my day, but I’d stake my own life on it that she would never do a thing like that. Katie Lawson did not do something to herself. I’m afraid something was done to her.’

Shaun was staring into space. Robert was in front of the television playing Spiderman. Anna stuck her head in the door and shouted. ‘I’m going to Martha’s.’

‘Damn that web slinging,’ said Robert. Without even looking, Shaun knew his friend was whipping the controller from side to side.

‘You know that doesn’t help,’ said Shaun. ‘The flailing.’

‘Shut it,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve been on this level eight times. Eight.’

‘Give it to me,’ said Shaun, taking the controller. ‘You have to do this.’

Web fluid shot from Spiderman’s wrists, carrying him from building to building. Then he twisted mid-air until he picked up the extra energy that floated between two skyscrapers.

‘Doesn’t help me,’ said Robert. ‘I have no idea what you just did.’ Shaun threw the instruction manual at him and kept playing.

Ali Danaher was surprised by her brief flicker of panic as she led D.I. O’Connor into the living room. She sat on the sofa. He was swallowed into a battered armchair beside her and left sitting lower down. She held back a smile.

‘I know you’ve been asked a lot of questions already,’ said O’Connor, pulling himself forward to the edge of the seat, ‘but I just want to get a few things clearer in my head. I’m trying to get a sense of Katie. What kind of person is she?’

‘She’s a sweetheart.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. One of those rare babes-who-don’t-know-it. And she has a huge brain…which makes me wonder.’

‘What?’

‘Well, why she’s gone.’

‘Any theories?’

‘No. But I can’t wait to find out.’ She gave a wry smile.

‘Was she impulsive?’

‘Sometimes, but never rash, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

‘Would you call her an extrovert?’

‘Ish. I mean, she wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t in-your-face either.’

‘Would she be likely to talk to people she didn’t know?’

‘I’m the one who talks to randomers. And she’ll talk to whoever I end up talking to.’

‘Is this in Mountcannon?’

‘There are no strangers in Mountcannon. I’m talking about when we go into town.’

‘Is Katie gullible?’

‘Are intelligent people usually gullible?’

‘Does she go online?’

‘Yes. Not a lot, though.’

‘What kind of sites?’

‘Bomb-making, usually.’

O’Connor waited patiently.

‘Music downloads, horoscopes, school stuff, entertainment, cinema listings,’ said Ali.

‘Does she go into chatrooms?’

‘Ew. Freaksville. No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I’m not with her every minute of the day, but I seriously doubt it. She’s too busy hanging out with her alive and well friends.’ She pointed to herself. ‘Ohhh, I get it,’ she said, ‘you think she’s run off with one of those creepy old guys.’ She laughed. ‘Ew. No way.’

‘Was Katie flirtatious?’

‘Eh, have you seen her boyfriend?’

‘I presume you mean she was faithful to him.’

‘He’s not my type, but yeah, I think it’s safe to say most normal girls would be perfectly happy to stick with Lucky.’

‘Was she easily flattered?’

‘No. She can’t stand compliments.’

‘Was she depressed?’

‘No. Where are you going with all this?’

‘I’m just asking you a few questions.’

He looked down at his notebook.

‘Right. As a publican’s daughter, you would have access to…?’

Ali looked at him. ‘Dirty glasses?’

O’Connor stared at her. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of alcohol.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Duh.’

‘Come on. This isn’t going to take long.’

‘Look, that’s what I do in the bar – wash glasses. I take them off the tables, I pour out the slops, I inhale the manky stench of stale beer, I load the glasses into the dishwasher, I turn it on, I wipe the counters, I wait for the glasses to be finished, I open the dishwasher, steam my zits, unload the glasses and stack them on the shelves. Yup, I can see the link between that and Katie going missing. I handle beer glasses. Isn’t it the Looking Glass you’re thinking of? Maybe she went through there.’

‘You’re not very helpful for someone whose best friend has disappeared.’

‘That’s because she’ll be back.’

‘What do you know that makes you so sure of that?’

‘It’s not what I know, it’s who I know. I know Katie and she just isn’t the type to go off and not come back.’

‘Hmm. You smoke dope, isn’t that right?’

Ali’s eyes shot wide. ‘Uh, what?’

‘You heard me. Isn’t that right?’

‘I presume that means you know that’s right.’

‘Yes, we do. Did Katie?’

‘No.’ She laughed. ‘No way.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Eh, yeah. She’s my best friend. I think I’d know.’

‘Has she ever asked you for drugs?’

‘Lots of times. I’m a known dealer. In Feminax.’

‘Please can you take this seriously?’

‘Fine, OK. Katie would never do drugs.’

‘Did she approve of you doing drugs?’

‘What kind of a question is that? We are sixteen. We are friends. We don’t approve or disapprove of what each other does.’

‘No,’ said O’Connor patiently. ‘I just wanted to know how she felt about drugs.’

‘Look. I’ve told Frank all this stuff already. This has nothing to do with drugs,’ said Ali. ‘Nothing. She’s neutral on the subject, OK? She doesn’t feel anything about drugs. Drugs play no part in her life, no part in her disappearance. I smoke dope the odd time. I’m not a junkie, Katie isn’t messed up in the wrong crowd, she isn’t in a warehouse somewhere unloading a shipment of coke. We’re just two girls from a tiny village, one of whom smokes a spliff every now and then, neither of whom has ever dealt with anyone dodgier than, than…See? I can’t even think of anyone dodgy we’ve ever come into contact with. Jesus. What does that say about our sheltered little lives?’

‘It’s a nice way to be.’

‘Don’t tell me – the world is a horrible place and we’re lucky—’

‘Yes, actually. You are lucky. It can be pretty grim out there.’

‘Well, it can be pretty uneventful “in here”. Thank God for Katie causing a bit of a stir.’

‘So you think she’s done all this for the attention?’

‘Oh, for the love of Mike.’ She rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘You must have scored ten out of ten in literal interpretation class.’

He looked at her.

She held up her hand. ‘And before you say it, I know there was no literal interpretation class.’

Anna put her cup gently back on its saucer and turned to Martha. ‘I remember running away once,’ she said. ‘I packed a little bag, left a note for my parents and took the bus into Paris. I sat crying to my friend in McDonalds. Then she told me her mother hit her and her brothers. And I realised I was crazy. My parents loved me, I had a wonderful home, I just wanted to test it all, spread my wings. I wanted to grab a piece of independence, but really when I found it, I wanted to go right back home.’

Martha smiled and squeezed Anna’s hand.

‘I’m sure that’s all this is, Martha. A young girl trying to have independence. She knows you love her, she knows she has a good home. But she’s sixteen, she thinks she’s ready for it all. But she’ll know soon enough that she’s not.’

‘Thanks,’ said Martha. ‘I hope so.’ She folded and unfolded a tissue. ‘I know I was strict with Katie. I’ve been going over all the things I stopped her from doing like sleeping over in friends’ houses, staying out late or going out with boys. I gave in, of course, when she met Shaun. Katie didn’t know, but I had seen them together once on their way home from school and I knew straightaway I’d have no hope of tearing them apart.’

Anna smiled.

‘I’d understand if she ran away because of something like that, if I’d stopped her from seeing Shaun. But, this? I don’t know what’s going on.’ Martha paused. ‘Are you sure he doesn’t know anything?’

‘Of course,’ said Anna. ‘He would tell us. He’s devastated. He would say something.’

‘I know,’ said Martha. ‘I’m sorry. I had to…’

‘It’s OK.’

Martha smiled again, then went into the kitchen to make more tea.

Anna sat back on the sofa and breathed in deeply. There was nothing about Katie to make her believe she’d ever run away. She wasn’t the type of girl who looked for her next hit of adventure, she was content enough not to want to escape.

The phone rang. Martha dropped the tray with the teapot, splashing hot tea up her legs. She ignored it and ran for the phone. Anna could hear her speaking slowly.

‘No. Definitely jeans, Frank. Those wide ones. Yes, the rest is right, yes.’

She hung up and came back into the living room, deflated.

‘Someone saw a girl in a pink hoodie, hitching the Sunday after, but she had track pants on and they wanted to check if I could have got it wrong, what she was wearing.’ She sat down. ‘I suppose I don’t mind them calling for things like that, but it’s just, you know, every time the phone rings, I nearly have a heart attack.’

Anna looked down at the splashes on Martha’s legs.

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said Martha. ‘You know, my mother used to be able to put her hands into boiling water to take the eggs out. And she’d stick her hand under the grill to get the sausages. Strong women in my family.’

Suddenly she started to cry. Anna brought her a tissue and sat on the edge of the armchair. She laid her hand gently on Martha’s shoulder.

‘It’s funny how you don’t know people,’ said Martha, wiping her nose. ‘Have you met John Miller yet? He used to be in my class. He was a lovely lad, sweet, charming. Would do anything for you. Anyway, I went away to London after school, came back several years later and I heard he had moved to Australia. Now I hear his wife kicked him out…because he beat her. And it was his mother who told me, whispered it like a confession in the supermarket. I had known Mae Miller all my life as a very private woman. She never spoke about her business. Then she starts telling me, a casual acquaintance, about something that personal?’ She shook her head. ‘So you never know with people. Anyone can surprise you.’

Shame pulsed through Anna. That she could have been so intimate with a man who went on to beat women repulsed her. A long-buried image of him pinning her hands above her head flashed into her mind. It repulsed her, because in it, she could see the smile across her face.

‘Ohmygod,’ said Ali, running down the stairs into Shaun’s bedroom. ‘Katie owes me big time.’

‘Why?’ said Shaun.

‘For a totally puckering experience. That guy in charge, the D.I.? Came to my house for a chat. Which was fine. Then he goes, “I know you smoke dope.” I nearly puked.’

‘Wow. What did you say?’

‘I’m, like, fair enough. But it’s not like I’ve run out of veins or something, I’m shooting into my groin in a phone booth. Jesus.’

Shaun shook his head. ‘Man, that’s unreal.’

‘I think they thought Katie was involved in some sort of shady gangland stuff. Bizarre. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so shitting it. He was asking about online freaks as well.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, it’s an arboretum.’

‘What?’ said Robert.

‘Of wrong trees they’re barking up.’ She threw herself on the sofa and groaned. ‘Where are you, Katie, you bad, bad, girl?’

Joe knocked lightly on the door and came down the stairs.

‘Who’s winning?’ he asked.

‘Everyone except Rob,’ said Shaun.

‘Hi, Mr Lucchesi,’ said Ali, smiling wide. She leaned up on her elbows.

‘Hi, Ali. Like the hair.’

‘Blue-black,’ she said.

Joe sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘So how you all doing?’ he said.

‘Not bad,’ said Robert. ‘It’s been really hard on everyone.’ He made a face towards Shaun. ‘We’re all a bit in shock. We don’t know what Katie’s up to.’

Shaun put down the controls and left the room.

‘God,’ said Robert. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Joe. ‘It’s not your fault.’ Then, ‘So where were you guys that night, when Katie…’

Ali spoke first. ‘I hate to say it, but I was at home doing my homework. On a Friday night.’ She shook her head.

‘Robert?’ said Joe.

‘Uh, at the harbour.’

‘Oh. With Katie and Shaun.’

‘No. Just with the others, Kevin and Finn. I think we were, like, down near the lifeboat launch and Katie and Shaun were up the other end.’

‘Right. And you didn’t see them leave—’

‘See who leave?’ said Shaun, standing in the doorway with a bag of tortillas.

‘You and Katie. That night,’ said Robert quickly.

‘Just thinking out loud,’ said Joe.

‘Interrogating out loud,’ Shaun muttered.

Joe stood up. Something caught his eye.

‘What’s that scratch on your hand, there, Robert?’

Robert blushed. ‘Aw, football. I’m crap. I crashed into the goalpost.’

Joe nodded. Anger flashed in Shaun’s eyes.

‘We’re trying to play a game here, Dad.’ When Joe didn’t move, Shaun snarled an ‘OK?’

‘Sure,’ said Joe, getting up to leave.

Duke Rawlins wandered around the small roadside grocer’s, picking up products, reading the labels and putting them back down again. Two teenage girls watched him from behind the counter. He walked up to them.

‘Ladies. What d’y’all like eatin’ over here?’

They glanced at each other and giggled. ‘What do you mean?’ said one of them.

‘You know, like, what would you recommend? What’s your favourite dinner?’

‘Oh,’ they said at the same time. ‘Pasta.’

‘Both of you?’

‘Yeah. Everyone likes pasta. I’ll get you the nice ones,’ said the other.

She walked over to the freezer, took out two bags of tomato and garlic penne.

‘Here. Catch,’ she said, throwing one to him. He missed.

‘Sorry,’ she said, giggling, walking over and handing him the second.

He put them on the counter. ‘And two bottles of Coke,’ he said. ‘And a bottle of red wine.’

‘Are you going to tell her you cooked it all yourself?’

He laughed.

‘Aw, shit,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t have a cooker.’

The girls exchanged glances. ‘Bizarre,’ said one of them. ‘Well, you can give them a blast in that microwave over there and I’ll wrap them in foil for you after.’

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘But you do know, your cover will be blown,’ she said.

He smiled.

O’Connor stood in Frank’s office with his hands in his pockets staring out at the harbour.

‘Ali Danaher,’ he said.

‘Ah,’ said Frank.

‘I tell you, it wasn’t like that in my day,’ said O’Connor, turning around and smiling. Frank noticed his eyes looked clear for the first time. O’Connor shook his head. ‘There’d have been serious trouble if I spoke to an adult like that.’

‘Did you have an eye infection?’ asked Frank.

‘What?’ said O’Connor. ‘Oh. The red eyes? No. Contacts. She’s a bit of a smart arse, Ali, isn’t she? Anyway, she blew everything out of the water. Reckons no to drink, drugs, the Internet possibility, no to everything.’

‘I tried to tell you,’ said Frank. ‘There’s no point trying to fit modern theories to an old-fashioned girl like Katie. I suppose like me wearing contacts,’ he said, holding up his magnifying glasses.

Joe focused on the wrinkled tourist map of Mountcannon spread out in front of him. It showed the harbour, the church, the bars, two restaurants and the coffee shop, along with the scenic coastal drive past the lighthouse and two other roads out of the village, one a dead end, the other leading to Waterford. With a black pen, he marked the harbour and Katie’s house. Ignoring the scenic coastal drive, which would have brought Katie further away from home, he concentrated on the two other roads – the Upper Road and Church Road, both of which curved around to be connected by the straight Manor Road to form an uneven semi-circle. He wrote notes along the narrow white borders and stuffed the map into the inside pocket of his jacket. He took his car and parked it outside the school, walking the short distance to the T-junction at the edge of the village. Left would take him to Katie’s house, up the hill, along her regular route home. Right could also take him there, a longer walk down Church Road towards Mariner’s Strand and the Waterford Road. If, however, she took a left at the church, she would walk until she met the Upper Road, then take a left to her house.

Joe chose the first route, scanning the ground as he walked, taking everything in. He rounded the bend that brought him to the Grants’ house where Petey lived with his mother. Then he moved on towards Katie’s. He turned around before he reached the house and walked back to the T. This time he went the other way, taking a right down the steep and narrow footpath at the top of Church Road. He was protected from a sharp drop to Mariner’s Strand by a low crooked wall. He looked down at the water, slate grey, rolling diagonally towards the narrow shore in shallow waves. He looked left, across the road to the old stone church and its quaint, cluttered cemetery. Then he stopped, knowing at that moment exactly what he needed to find.

O’Connor came out from the small kitchen in the station with two mugs of coffee. He put one on Frank’s desk and walked back over to the window.

He took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I’m just wondering, Frank, could you be too close to all these kids?’

‘What?’

‘Obviously,’ he said, turning around, ‘your input is a great help, because you know the area, the people involved etc. But do you think your judgment could be clouded at all?’

‘No,’ said Frank, quietly preserving his dignity.

The iron gate to the cemetery was held closed with a loose length of dirty tow-rope. Joe pulled at it until it gave way. Every footstep crunched across the gravel as he moved along the rows between graves, then silence as he walked up the grassy slope to a modest, well-kept plot. MATTHEW LAWSON 1952–1997, BELOVED HUSBAND TO MARTHA, DEVOTED FATHER TO KATIE

And on the grave was a dead white rose.

Frank stood up to let O’Connor know it was time to leave. There was a charge in the room that he didn’t have the energy to take on. He understood what O’Connor said would have crossed anyone’s mind in the same situation. He was just surprised he felt the need to say it out loud.

As Joe walked back through the village, his relief at finding evidence of Katie’s route was overtaken by dread. What if the rose on the grave was not about her father? Maybe it was a statement. Her father was dead, she was planning…Joe shook his head. No-one was safe from the depths of his negativity.

O’Connor sat in his car and watched Frank cross the road to Danaher’s, his head bowed, his hands in his pockets. O’Connor knew he had probably lived up to whatever Frank was expecting from the youngest D.I. in the country. But he tried to convince himself he had said what he had to say.

Joe slid onto the bench beside Frank, opening the map of Mountcannon on the table in Danaher’s.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Here’s where they were in the village. And here are the possible routes out of town from there.’ Frank frowned.

Richie came back from the mensroom.

‘Is this guy serious? What is this?’

‘Richie,’ said Frank.

‘I’m just looking at where Katie could have gone that Friday night,’ said Joe.

‘Why?’ asked Richie.

‘Because I think I know.’

‘You know nothing,’ said Richie. ‘First of all, flip over that map and look at the date on the back. 1984. That map is ancient. Half the things—’

‘I’ve drawn in or crossed out accordingly,’ said Joe. Richie glanced down at the map, then did a double-take at the neat print in block caps at the edges of the page. He shot Joe a bemused look.

‘Either way, none of this has anything to do with you,’ he said. ‘We’re having a private meeting here. Do you mind?’

‘If you’ll just look for a second. You think she went this way—’

‘The only reason you know anything about what we think is because you’re friends with Martha Lawson. What she does or doesn’t say to you is none of my business. What is my business is you thinking that all this makes you part of the investigation. So you used to be a detective in New York. I used to work in a bar. But you don’t see me pulling pints in here, do you?’

‘Richie, a young girl is missing,’ said Joe.

‘Yes, your son’s girlfriend, I know that. So you should be grateful that every part of the investigation will follow procedure.’

‘I just want to help out here…’

‘You arrogant Yanks think you can save the world,’ said Richie.