Galway Confidential

5

Sister Mary

Was the first victim.

She was only twenty-four and worked as a teacher in the city center. Returning to pick up essays, she had been waylaid at the rear of the school. A man appeared as if out of nowhere and punched her twice in the face, then hit her with a hammer/axe.

That she didn’t die was a miracle.

She was in a coma, and I sure could identify with that. I did the old Guard gig of calling round to houses in the neighborhood, looking for CCTV, and discovered nothing.

Raftery volunteered to do part of the neighborhood but came up empty too. He said,

“This guy is a ghost. Either he’s extremely lucky or very calculating.”

I met with Sheila, told her I’d achieved nothing.

“Oh please, don’t give up.”

I was on the verge but said,

“I’ll give it a few more days.”

The second nun was Sister Agnes. She worked at the hospital and was returning to the convent when the man attacked her. Same MO, the punch to the face and then the hammer to the head. Raftery and I canvassed the hospital, surrounding houses, streets, CCTV, and again, nothing.

Raftery asked,

“You know what this means?”

When I shook my head, he said,

“We wait for the next attack and hope he slips up.”

A fourth strain of the virus was causing the number of infected to skyrocket and the government hinted at another lockdown. Nightclubs, which were just a month reopened, were now told they had to close at midnight, which was the time most clubbers went out!

The hospitals were on the cusp of total collapse. The frontline workers were beyond exhaustion. Dark days indeed.

Raftery said to me,

“You missed eighteen months of lockdown so now you might get to experience what it was like.”

Sister Brid was horrified by the attacks on the two nuns. She knew them only slightly. She wondered what kind of person could inflict such injury. Passing the Cathedral, she considered going in and lighting candles for the sisters, but the Mother Superior had warned her flock,

Don’t walk alone.

Don’t linger after dark.

Brid glanced at the sky, thought it was still bright, and decided to fast-track the candles. Once inside she was glad the church hadn’t yet gone electric, the whole ritual of getting a taper, lighting it, bringing it to the candles, gave her a sense of piety she rarely experienced.

She whispered to herself,

“Old school.”

And smiled.

She didn’t notice a lone figure enter from the rear and slip silently along the pews like a shark sensing blood.