They drove in silence for the best part of the journey back to Dublin. The inspector felt a dull thumping behind his temples, the length and stuffiness of the day bringing on a headache.
‘Fancy a quick one in your local before finishing up?’ Ray suggested, mindreading. ‘I can stroll back through the park to get my car from headquarters.’
The dashboard clock said 8:00 p.m.
‘Go on, then,’ the inspector nodded, his arm twisted.
They parked at Tom’s house and walked up to the Hole in the Wall, a long, narrow pub that nestled against the outer wall of Phoenix Park. The owner had set up an outdoor seating area so his customers could enjoy the balmy evening. Tom and Ray opted for indoors, where it was cooler and quieter.
‘What are you having?’ Ray asked, as the inspector slipped into a recently vacated oak-panelled snug.
‘Get me one of their craft beers. Surprise me.’
His deputy returned with two tall glasses and packets of scampi fries and nuts.
‘What am I drinking?’ Tom asked, taking a sip from the cool, refreshing ale.
‘8 Degrees Howling Gale ale. Mine’s a Galway Hooker. I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something about my single state.’
They sat in companionable silence and let the stress of the day seep away.
‘Any progress on the Laura front?’ the inspector pried, as Ray shredded his beer mat.
‘None whatsoever. I don’t get it,’ he said, and took a swig of his drink. ‘She was into me for years, apparently, but she doesn’t seem to have any time for me nowadays. What am I doing wrong?’
Tom shrugged. Relationship advice wasn’t his forte. He thought of what Louise had said.
‘Have you told her you like her? Straight out?’
Ray snorted.
‘What? Like we’re teenagers down the back of the disco? “I like you, Laura. Do you like me?”’
‘Fair enough,’ Tom conceded. ‘Well, have you asked her out on a date? I don’t mean popping along to the pub with everybody else after work.’
‘Yeah, I mean, sort of. Actually, no. Not on our own. I don’t want to be in her face. She seems sort of angry with me. Like I’m the reason she’s single – yet she’s not giving me any signals at all.’
‘Ah, Ray.’ Tom shook his head. ‘You really are a muppet!’
‘Here, Grandad. It’s the twenty-first century. She could ask me out if she wanted.’
‘That might be something women feel they can do, but it doesn’t mean they all want to. No wonder she’s annoyed at you. She dumps her boyfriend and goes back to waiting for you and you do nothing. Don’t you think if she were the sort to take the initiative, she’d have done it long before now? I don’t know. How do you manage to get yourself dressed and out the door in the morning?’
Ray furrowed his brow, pondering what Tom had said.
The inspector’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, expecting it to be Louise asking why his car was home but not its owner. It was Laura.
‘Speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘Laura. What’s happening?’
He listened for a couple of minutes, making acknowledging sounds, while Ray sipped his drink and waited.
‘I see,’ Tom said. ‘Okay. Make sure somebody speaks to the women’s families tonight and tells them we’ll see them tomorrow. Where was that first victim from? Hm. Right. We’ll go out to her family, then. We’ll be in that neck of the woods anyway to see Una Dolan’s family. Let Brian Cullinane and Bridget Duffy know too, will you? They can make the trip to County Kerry. Thanks.’
The inspector hung up and took a mouthful of ale.
‘We have IDs,’ he told Ray, when he’d swallowed.
‘That was quick. Did we get the five right?’
‘No. We were one out.’
Ray raised his eyebrows.
‘Shit. Which one was wrong?’
Tom rifled through the pockets of his suit jacket until he found the small notepad he’d used at the team meeting earlier. He flicked to the page with the five names Laura and Michael had come up with.
‘Geraldine Lougheed isn’t one of the bodies. The rest were right. Una Dolan in 2011. Eimear Johnson in 2010. Treasa Lee in 2009 and Mary Ellen Lehane in 2008. It seems he didn’t start in 2007. His first victim was taken in 2006. Unless he’s buried Geraldine somewhere else, which seems unlikely. We’re searching the surrounding area, anyway.’
‘Who was his first victim, then?’
‘Believe it or not, Laura mentioned her at the meeting. Remember she spoke about a Pauline O’Hara?’
Ray nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I do. Didn’t she say the boyfriend or husband had reported her missing, but the family hadn’t?’
‘That was it. Because allegedly he was abusive and they thought she’d left him. Well, as it turns out, she hadn’t. Not of her own free will, anyway. It’s interesting, though, isn’t it? That she was in an abusive relationship.’
‘And Fergus Holland thought his sister was seeing a man who was hitting her,’ Ray added. ‘Interesting indeed. He could have been giving them those charm bracelets while he was dating them.’
A new theory had formed in the inspector’s head, one that caused a shadow to cross over his face.
‘What is it?’ his deputy asked.
‘I just had a disturbing thought,’ Tom responded. ‘Our killer. Think about it – either he waited two years before he killed again or we’re missing a body for 2007, possibly Geraldine’s.’
‘Or?’ Ray prompted, sensing there was more.
‘Or …’ Tom swallowed. ‘He kept Pauline O’Hara alive for a very long time before he murdered her.’