Alice

‘Have you noticed the change in him?’

Alice swiped at the crumbs that surrounded her mouth and took a slug from the bottle of Coke to wash down the mouthful of toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich she’d sourced from the hospital’s visitors’ canteen.

Gallagher squinted back through the window.

‘What change? Do you mean the stubble? I think he’s trying to copy my beard.’

‘Not the stubble. Jesus! That look in his eyes. He looks calmer, don’t you think? There’s none of that eerie, distressed shit that was there at the start. He’s happy. He’s got what he wanted.’

They’d just finished a session with JP Carney, newly resident at the central mental hospital. He was sitting now where they’d left him, among his fellow inmates, in a large television lounge of soft furnishings and tables stacked with board games and books.

This was the low-to-medium security ward of the hospital. Carney had cooperated at every step: allowing the assessments, complying with the psychiatrists who examined him, willingly being admitted to the hospital; insisting he wanted his victim and his family to have their day in court so he, Carney, could plead guilty to the attack on Harry McNamara. He was happy to talk to the police. He wanted to see justice done.

Alice still didn’t believe a word of it.

‘I didn’t see anything different about him,’ Gallagher said. ‘And I’m starting to think you’re the one who belongs in here. Look at him – in there with a bunch of fucking nutters. Do you really think this is where he wants to be?’

Alice sighed. Gallagher had insisted on accompanying her to the interview. He’d been inserting himself more than usual in this investigation. She wasn’t sure what help he brought.

‘This place is better than prison, Sarge,’ she answered. ‘God knows what lies ahead for McNamara.’

Alice had gone to the hospital earlier, where Julie McNamara had sat with her husband every day for almost two weeks. She was aging fast in the artificial lighting, holding Harry’s hand as he lay there, unresponsive to all treatment. You had to give it to her – she was a wife in a million. All that public shaming of Harry the banker, all the humiliation she’d been put through because of it, and still Julie wanted her husband to live.

‘I don’t believe Carney,’ Alice had said, passing Julie a surplus-to-requirements package of grapes. She always brought something when she went to the hospital. She’d been reared with manners like that.

Julie took the punnet of fruit without a murmur.

‘Believe him about what?’ she asked.

‘The whole “I just snapped” story. Have you thought about what I asked – making a full list of your husband’s enemies? Somebody who might have had the wherewithal to work with Carney?’

Julie sighed.

‘It’s all I think about. I don’t have much else to do when I’m here for hours every day. It’s not like I can’t get Harry to shut up. But I don’t even know half the people Harry did business with. Believe me, I want to know what’s going on in Carney’s head too. It scares the life out of me.’

Alice kept stressing that she wouldn’t use anything Julie told her about Harry’s business dealings against him later on. For the moment, his wife said she accepted that. But she’d come up with nothing of use, and Alice knew Julie was holding back. You weren’t married to a man – you didn’t live with somebody for all that time – without knowing the skeletons in their cupboards.

Alice tutted in frustration. Julie, whether she meant to or not, was helping Carney get away with this.

At the rushed preliminary court hearing that Monday morning, the judge had declared JP unfit for immediate trial on the basis of both the medical assessments and the lack of a convincing book of evidence from the Director of Public Prosecutions showing that Carney had a motive. He’d directed a temporary stay in the hospital for ongoing monitoring, which also gave the police more time to build a case.

Alice looked in at Carney, who was sitting where they’d left him, alone on a beige sofa, pretending to read a book. He hadn’t turned a page in all the minutes she’d been watching. She had the distinct impression that he was watching her right back.

He had everybody convinced. The doctors, with their prestigious qualifications. The judge, who saw mad and evil bastards every day of the week. Even some of her colleagues, who, once it was determined that McNamara wasn’t going to croak and they weren’t looking, in fact, at a murder, dismissed Carney as a loony and McNamara as unfortunate (though most were secretly glad he’d got the hiding he deserved) and moved on to other, more pressing cases.

‘I’m still convinced it’s something to do with cash,’ she said, to Gallagher and to herself. ‘Follow the money, isn’t that what they say?’

‘I thought Julie McNamara was cooperating with you on that stuff,’ Gallagher retorted. ‘Harry’s enemies in the finance world, and so on.’

‘Oh, Sarge.’ Alice sighed. ‘Do you know anything about women at all? Julie’s priority is protecting herself and her husband. She’ll tell me what she’s happy for me to know. I’ll never get their secrets out of her.’

‘It’s not always money,’ Gallagher said.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Nothing. It’s just, sometimes emotions go deeper. Love, for instance. Lovers scorned. That sort of thing.’

‘Have you done a full one-hundred-and-eighty? What, Julie and JP were shagging and she got him to whack Harry?’

Gallagher shrugged.

‘I’m not saying that happened at all, and I definitely think JP is a few shillings short. If Julie and JP were a secret couple, maybe she didn’t realize he was nuts. Or she did and used it to her advantage, but now it’s backfired. I’m only speculating, anyway. It’s you – you’ve infected me with your paranoia.’

Alice looked at the sergeant, impressed.

‘Well, good. Sometimes, they are out to get you. You’re right too. I’ll have a look at Harry’s personal life as well. See what he’s been getting up to there. Thanks, Sarge. And here I was thinking you were as useful as a chocolate teapot.’