WE DRAINED OUR troughs of coffee and made our way back out onto the street. At the City Wall, we stood to one side to allow a couple to pass by, the woman draped around the man while he strode along with his hands in his pockets seeming oblivious to her attentions. As I watched them, it occurred to me that it was possible that Carole had told George about Dominic to make him jealous. It seemed like the kind of thing she would do. Carole was someone for whom attention from men was important; I had seen her deliver a man’s coffee to his table while leaving a woman at the same table to fetch hers from the bar. It wouldn’t have been easy for her having a husband whose attention was easily diverted.
Back in the Foyleside, Maeve and I stood at the top of the escalator whilst we made a decision to split up and meet again for lunch, struggling to stand still amongst the waves of shoppers.
“Got to get you back in time for your emergency haircut,” Maeve grinned, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.
“Speaking of which,” I said. “Did you ever have an inkling that Stan disliked Tony?”
I thought she would dismiss the notion as I had, but to my surprise, she stopped to think.
“Abby Grey said something about it,” I prompted.
Maeve’s eyes widened as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, I know what that was. It was the afternoon before the fire. I was in getting my hair cut – remember I ran into you in the square? Abby and myself were the only ones left in the salon and Stan was with Róisín at the back where they keep the coats. The radio was on but it went dead for a few seconds – I don’t think he realized we could hear them.”
“What did you hear?” I asked.
Maeve gave me a wry look. “Something like ‘Everyone thinks Craig is so perfect but they’ll soon find out he’s not.’ I didn’t think much of it at the time, just thought they’d had a run-in about the noise. He’d been giving out yards before that.” She frowned. “You don’t think it was Stan who started the fire, do you?”
“Seems unlikely, since his flat was destroyed too.” I remembered that Stan was supposed to have been in Dungloe with his mother that night.
As I traveled down the escalator, I remembered too the row that Leah had witnessed between Stan and Tony in the square. But then Stan had just lost his home at that point and Tony had lost his pub. Tempers were bound to be running high.
On the ground floor, sales were everywhere. Clothes hung carelessly off hangers, were piled untidily on shelves; the same sparkle and glitter that had enjoyed pride of place a week ago now in bargain baskets, time in the spotlight short-lived. Now that I was here, I found I had no appetite for shopping, so I sat on one of the benches to work through what was really occupying my thoughts.
Stan said he’d seen Carole on Friday night, the day before she disappeared, here in Derry and in the company of some man. They’d been close to the bus station, he’d said, according to Liam. The shopping center was only a short distance from the station. Maybe it was worth a wander down, if only to get a sense of what was there.
I exited onto Orchard Street and turned right. The footpath was glistening and I was glad I was wearing flat boots with a good grip. I walked down the steep hill past the old Orchard cinema, and turned left at the library, from where I could see the walls of the bus station. Buses arrived at and departed from an entrance on the other side, close to the Foyle, but the pedestrian access was here – I could see it from where I was standing. I watched as people emerged from the gap carrying rucksacks and cases, and realized I had no idea exactly what Stan had seen or where he’d been. I needed an excuse to ask him. Then I remembered I’d wanted him to tell Molloy about his noise complaint.
I dialed the salon.
Stan answered straightaway. I could hear the salon noise in the background: female chatter, hairdryers, a radio. He didn’t sound thrilled to hear my voice. “You’re ringing to cancel.”
“No.”
“Late, then.”
“No, I’ll be there.” I paused. “Have you told the guards about the noise you heard in the Oak?”
“Why?”
“Because I think you should. Even though it was a few days before the fire, it could still be relevant, could even be relevant to what happened to Carole. Tony might not think of it, and you were the one who heard it.”
He sighed. “Okay, I’ll give the sergeant a call later. Was that it? I have some highlights to get back to.”
“One other thing. You saw Carole in Derry the Friday night before the fire, didn’t you?”
“Who told you that?” He sounded wary and impatient at the same time, not a great combination if I wanted information.
“Liam. We were talking about it because we both met her that morning.” I didn’t mention that it was on the flight rather than the bus. I didn’t want to get Liam into trouble. “Liam told me you saw her with a man, and I was wondering if maybe I’d seen him too. Can you remember what he looked like?”
“You know I’ve told the guards all of this?” he said impatiently. “Please, Stan. I’ve been torturing myself about it, wondering if I might have seen something that could help.”
I was amazed that appealing to his sympathy worked. He gave a martyred sigh, but he answered. “I couldn’t be sure with the street lights. It was dark. But tall, with brown hair, I would say. Handsome.”
“Where did you see her exactly?”
“On the street outside the station. It was only for a few seconds. She headed up towards the Strand Road.” There was a pause. “I think … now don’t hold me to this, but I think she went through a door beside the casino. I didn’t tell the sergeant because I couldn’t be sure. Didn’t want to find myself giving evidence about it and getting tripped up by some smart-arsed barrister.”
“With the man?”
“I think so. It was dark,” he said again.
“What time was this?”
“And where were you?”
He finally snapped, but I’d been expecting it. “What is this? I thought you just wanted to know if you’d seen the same man.”
“Sorry. I was just wondering how well you could see her.”
“I’m sure it was her, if that’s what you’re wondering. I worked in the same square as Carole Harkin. I didn’t know the man. And to answer your question, not that it’s any of your business, I was in the Barclay Arms across from the station with some friends, and I was standing outside it at the time. Now if the interrogation is over, I have clients to attend to. I’ll see you at four o’clock as arranged.”
“Thanks, Stan.”
He snorted and hung up.
I could see the Barclay Arms from where I was standing. It didn’t seem like Stan’s kind of place. It was a rough-looking joint: blokes standing outside with plastic glasses even though it was the middle of the day, not prepared to be parted from their drinks for the length of time it took to smoke a cigarette.
I decided not to go in; not a difficult decision to make when I was catcalled across the street: “Like what you see, darling? Ach, why don’t you come and have a wee drink for yourself?”
I crossed over and walked quickly in the direction that Stan said Carole had gone with this man. I glanced across at the station. Stan was right: his view would not have been clear, particularly at night. The Guild hall stood in front of me, majestic with its red and yellow brickwork and fine clock tower.
A figure came into focus, jauntily, as if recognizing me: McFadden. He stopped with a broad grin.
“I thought you were in Letterkenny?” I said.
“Small detour.”
“I see.” Unused to seeing McFadden out of his usual context, I was stuck for small talk. It seemed he was the same.
“You in for the sales?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
And with that, we were out. He gave me a friendly wave and headed off, his mood obviously improved from the last few times I’d seen him.
I continued on towards the beginning of the Strand Road. It was early dusk and the light was eerie, smoky and cold. I passed a row of shops and suddenly I was standing outside the Hampton Beach Casino. Billiards! Poker! Blackjack! the sign screamed, the windows plastered with images of pound signs and slot machines. To the left was a red door, to the left of the door, a row of doorbells; it was a house divided into flats. When I turned back, I could still see the pub. Suddenly, the door opened and a woman came out pushing a buggy, shooting me a suspicious look as I stood aside to let her pass.
I walked on quickly up the street to gather my thoughts, but returned a few minutes later. I looked at the names on the doorbells – none were legible, the print far too faded. Should I ring one of them? Was I brave enough? My hand had almost reached the first bell when my phone rang. It was Molloy. I answered it.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yep. Why?”
“You sound a bit breathless.”
I came straight out with it. “I’m in Derry, close to where Carole was seen with that man. Stan said he thought she went into a door beside the casino.”
“What?” Molloy snapped. “And … ?”
“I’m standing at a door beside the casino.”
Molloy cut across me. “Get the hell away from there. Now.”
I decided not to argue. I was feeling a little exposed standing on this doorstep. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”
“What’s the address?” he asked abruptly.
I gave it to him.
“Right. Now leave Derry and come back to Glendara immediately, do you hear me? Let me deal with this. It may be nothing, but let me deal with it.”
“Yes, yes. I will. I’m leaving now.”
Molloy hung up, and for once I did what I was told, walking considerably faster on the way back than I had on the way down. Molloy had spooked me with his tone. It was getting darker and I was late to meet Maeve.
There were fewer people about as I made my way back. I couldn’t deny I’d have liked a bit more company. I felt wired, my heart beating fast. When I reached the Barclay Arms, I heaved a sigh of relief – it was brighter here, busier – but as I passed the pub, someone shouted in my face and made me jump. There was a burst of laughter behind me as I pushed down a wave of fear and quickened my pace. I turned right at the library and marched up the hill towards the shopping center, my breath coming quick and fast. I felt someone tap me on the shoulder, but when I spun around, there was no one there. I heard footsteps behind me and cried out before a young guy in a tracksuit ran past, giving me the same look as the woman at the red door. My mind was playing tricks on me. Finally, I turned into the shopping center and stood for a minute to catch my breath, feeling foolish, but relieved to be back in the bright lights.
Maeve was waiting for me at the top of the escalator. “Where have you been?” she asked, her expression changing from irritation to concern when she saw my face. “Jesus, are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t notice the time. Then I had to run so I wouldn’t be too late. Sorry. What do you think? A quick bite to eat and then home?”
“I might stay a bit longer. There’s a pair of boots I’ve been stalking,” she grinned. “And I’ve no emergency haircut to get back to, remember?”
We went to the self-service restaurant at the top of the stairs, where we grabbed ourselves a couple of sandwiches and more coffee – it occurred to me that maybe it was all the coffee that was making me so jittery – then made our way to the cashier. I was ahead of Maeve when I reached into my bag to pay.
The woman at the cash register was patient. “Take your time, love. There’s no rush.”
I rummaged about again, then looked at Maeve. “My wallet’s gone.”
She frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Certain. I think it must have been stolen on the Strand Road.”
“What were you doing down there?”
“I’ll tell you later. But it’s gone. I’m sure of it.”
Maeve offered a twenty to the cashier. “That should cover both.”
“Thanks, Maeve,” I said, as the cashier gave me a sympathetic look.
I looked across at Maeve.
“What’s going on, Ben?” she asked.