3
Darby wasn’t often taken by surprise. She was now.
‘Me?’
Kennedy nodded. ‘You.’
‘Why?’
‘That,’ Kennedy said, snapping his fingers and pointing at her, ‘is the question.’
‘I’ve never met the man.’
‘Byrne told me he was close to your mother – very close, were his exact words.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Did she ever talk about him?’
‘No. Never.’
Kennedy’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, his face practically screaming bullshit.
‘My mother,’ Darby said, ‘was super Catholic. Church every Sunday, and she went twice during the week, when she was healthy. She also did charity work with St Stephen’s for as far back as I can remember. But she never talked about that part of her life. She –’
‘Surely your mother must have shared her feelings on Father Byrne, when the news broke.’
‘You would think she would. But you’ve got to remember my mother was a product of a time when you never, under any circumstances, said anything bad about a priest or the Church. When the story hit about the Catholic Church shuffling around paedophile priests, it broke something in her. Did something to her faith. She didn’t talk about it – at least with me – and when Byrne became the lead suspect, I asked her a ton of questions, wanting to know more about him. She didn’t want to talk about it, called the whole thing sad.’
‘Was he at her funeral?’
‘No.’
‘What about the wake? Maybe he swung by to –’
‘By the time my mother died, everyone in the state knew who Byrne was,’ Darby said. ‘The guy was a pariah. If he came to the wake or the funeral, I would have remembered seeing him, believe me.’
‘So you’re saying he never swung by the house at any time.’
‘This is starting to feel like an interrogation.’
‘Darby, I’m just asking questions.’
‘Questions you could have asked me over the phone. Instead, you hired me on the pretext of re-examining the Claire Flynn case –’
‘Wrong.’
‘Are we done?’
‘Why? You’ve got someplace you need to be?’
‘Yeah. It’s called work.’
‘That’s why I hired you,’ Kennedy said. ‘To work.’
‘You mean talk to Byrne.’
‘And Mickey Flynn, while you’re here.’
‘Why? For what reason?’
‘Mickey showed up at Byrne’s house and almost killed him.’
‘No, I’m referring to the incident early last year, shortly after Byrne moved back into his mommy’s house. But now that Byrne’s drawing his final breaths, I’m sure Mickey’s hearing a clock ticking in his head and deciding to make a final run at him. I don’t want him to do that, and have told him as much. But I think he might listen more to you.’
Memories came to her of summer days spent at a beach in New Hampshire, followed by wild nights of drinking and other … things. Darby shifted in her chair and felt her pulse race when she said, ‘What makes you think he’ll listen to me?’
‘You two grew up together, went to the same high school. You understand these people – you’re a part of that stubborn Irish Catholic clan that’s still entrenched here.’
‘You’re Irish Catholic.’
‘Ah, but I didn’t grow up here, which, as you know, makes me a permanent outsider. And the fact that I grew up in one of the W-towns and went to Boston College – even some of the Belham cops treat me like I’m some privileged rich white asshole.’
‘That’s because you are a privileged rich white asshole.’
‘Ah, I miss your sarcasm and ball-busting.’
‘I was being serious.’
‘I am too,’ Kennedy said. ‘I need you, Darby. I want to find out where Byrne buried Claire Flynn and the two other girls, so I can nail that prick to the wall. Will you help me do it?’