Tom was sitting in their car recapping what they had learnt so far. Gerry was taking notes.
‘Right this is what we know. Catherine lived with her parents until she was eighteen in Ballymichael. Her best friend was her cousin Ann, now the landlady of Dalton’s pub in the village. At eighteen Catherine got a job at Rose Tree Manor in the kitchen. She lived at the hotel and became good friends with Molly Murtagh. She had one day off per week and always went home for it. And from what we’ve been told, usually with Molly in tow. She dated Robert Hegarty, the local guard, briefly, supposedly breaking his heart. He then went on to marry her other cousin Mary. She didn’t drink. She got pregnant at twenty five. When her parents found out there was blue murder. She refused to name who the father was. Her dad was furious and threw her out, disowning her. Her mother kept in touch with Catherine, but in secret. Have I missed anything, Gerry?’
‘No that’s everything I think. It still doesn’t shed any light on possible suspects though, does it?’ Gerry said.
‘No it doesn’t. And to be honest I don’t think that Ann Dalton was hiding anything. By the way, you played a stormer in there earlier, my love. She really took to you. So did Michelle. I’ll have to bring you along to more of my interrogations in future.’
Gerry was delighted with the praise. He took a look through the notes he’d made for Tom. He wanted to make sure they were legible and he hadn’t missed anything. He knew that a lot of people thought he was just a big old drama queen, but he could be serious too when needed.
Tom looked out the window of his car, taking in the surroundings. Somewhere in this village, someone knew who Grace’s father was. He was sure of it. They had two more leads to follow up on today. One was to pay Mrs Doyle in No. 2 a visit and then finally talk to Garda Hegarty.
‘Where you going?’ Gerry asked.
‘To buy some flowers. We’re going to pay an old lady a little visit,’ Tom said.
Ten minutes later he was knocking on the door of Mrs Doyle’s. Tom had a plan half concocted in his mind. He felt that he needed to change his story a bit if he was going to get anyone to open up a bit more and perhaps give some clue as to whom Grace’s father might be. He just hoped that Mrs Doyle didn’t get out and about too much. If she met up with Ann Dalton, or Michelle for that matter, his cover would be blown. He had told Gerry to stay in the car for this one. There was less chance of her associating him with the ‘gay couple’ later on when she spoke to the neighbours if he went in alone. He knew that in a small village like Ballymichael, there would be a lot of talk about them. Tom had leaned in the window of their car and putting on his best Jim Carrey accent said, ‘“If I’m not back in five minutes, just wait longer!”’ He was rewarded with a belly laugh from Gerry. Easily pleased!
A little old lady in her late seventies answered the door. She had a kind face and smiled a welcome.
‘Mrs Doyle?’ Tom enquired.
‘Yes.’
‘My name is Michael O’Grady.’ This was a name he often used as a pseudonym in investigations. It sounded strong and dependable. ‘I’m a friend of Noel Dunne’s who used to live next door to you,’ Tom said, shaking the lady’s hand.
‘Noel. Oh my, what a surprise. He was a lovely young man. How is he?’ Mrs Doyle said with a big smile.
‘Well he’s doing great as it happens. When he heard I would be in the area he asked me to call in and say hello. I got you these.’ He handed her a bunch of lilies. Not exactly a bouquet but the best the local shop could offer. He felt a bit guilty when he saw how pleased Mrs Doyle was. This was the part of his job he hated – telling lies.
‘Please come in, Michael. I was just about to have some tea. Will you join me?’
‘That would be lovely. I’m parched.’ Tom felt like he was walking into his own grandmother’s house. The wallpaper was lilac floral with a matching border and there was a Sacred Heart picture with a lighted candle underneath it. Mrs Doyle led the way into her living room, which had a large mahogany dresser against the wall, on which her fine china was proudly displayed. Tom took a seat as directed and waited for her to return with the promised tea. It was proper tea leaves like his Mam always served too. Mrs Doyle used a little silver strainer and the tea was delicious. It really did taste better like this. They chatted for a couple of minutes about Noel and his life in Australia. Or at least a fictionalised version of it! Tom didn’t really know what was going on in Noels life, but he tried to make a good guess. He wanted to get the subject onto Kitty, but didn’t want to rush things. He decided to lead Mrs Doyle down memory lane.
‘This place must have changed a lot over the years, Mrs Doyle,’ Tom said. As expected, that got her started on the good old days. And thankfully she finally mentioned living next door to the Dunnes.
‘You were obviously very fond of them all, Mrs Doyle,’ Tom observed.
‘They were lovely neighbours. Mrs Dunne was a great friend to me. I was devastated when she died. Hasn’t been the same for me since then. I never married, you see. Haven’t got much family to speak of, only a couple of nephews living in Kilkenny.’
‘That’s tough. It can be lonely I’m sure. What about Kitty? Do you keep in touch with her?’
Mrs Doyle looked sad at this question.
‘Kitty sends me a Christmas card every year. She was always a good girl. When Noel and Kitty were children they always came into me after school and I’d have a little treat for them. Then when Kitty grew up and went to work for a hotel locally, she used to call in on her day off and she’d bring me a treat. A bag of soft jellies usually. I loved them.’ Mrs Doyle had a lovely smile.
Tom smiled. The more he heard about Catherine the more he liked her.
‘It was such a shame what happened to her,’ Mrs Doyle’s old face looked wistful as she remembered thirty years ago.
Tom had his way in and finally felt that he may be getting somewhere so he gently pursued the subject. ‘Noel told me that Kitty left home. That must have been really hard on her mother.’
‘Oh it was. It near broke her heart. But Bill – Kitty’s father – wouldn’t have her name mentioned anymore. He was of the old school and was deeply shamed that his daughter had got caught,’ she said sadly.
‘Do you think he knew who the father was?’ Tom asked.
‘No, nobody did. That was the strange thing about it. Usually when someone got pregnant – and Kitty wasn’t the first, won’t be the last either I’ll warrant – you’d have a fair idea who the daddy would be. With Kitty it was different. She didn’t go out much. She never drank.’
Tom was getting frustrated. The same story over and over again. She must have gone out, once anyhow. Unless it was another miraculous conception!
‘What did she do when she came home on her day off?’ Tom asked.
‘Well in the early days she’d come home with a friend. Molly her name was, I think.’
Tom smiled. Nothing wrong with this one’s memory!
‘They used to spend the day at home with Bill and Maura, and then would go out for a drink. They were very popular. All the lads loved them.’
‘Did Kitty have any serious boyfriends?’ Tom asked.
‘She did go out with young Robert Hegarty. He had just moved to the village as the local guard. He was mad after Kitty. But she wasn’t that pushed. He wanted her to give up her work at the hotel and move home, get married. But she said she knew he wasn’t the one for her, so she finished with him.’
‘When was that?’ Tom asked.
‘Oh when she was about twenty one or twenty two I suppose. Let me think. That’s right, it was around the time that Molly stopped coming to Ballymichael with her. She got married.’
‘So what about Kitty? What did she do on her days off then?’ Tom wondered.
‘Well to be honest, Kitty never really wanted to go out. She didn’t drink and only went to Dalton’s to keep Molly company. Now that Molly wasn’t with her, she just stayed at home with her parents. I think she was trying to avoid Robert too. He took their break-up very badly,’ Mrs Doyle said.
‘Do you think they ever got back together?’ he probed further.
‘Robert and Kitty? I wouldn’t think so. He was never around. Plus he had plenty of new girlfriends when Kitty was off the scene. He was quite a catch to a lot of the local girls. He didn’t get married for years though. To a cousin of Kitty’s as it happens.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Tom murmured.
‘Between you and me I reckon he never got over Kitty and poor Mary was only a substitute for her cousin. I’m not so sure they have a happy marriage. It’s a pity because Mary is a lovely woman.’
The more Tom heard about Robert Hegarty the more it seemed likely that somehow or other he had managed to get Kitty back and was Grace’s father. His name was the only one that was ever mentioned when anybody talked about Catherine.
‘She helped out in the local church too,’ Mrs Doyle added.
‘Kitty?’ Tom said with surprise.
‘Yes, she worked there on her day off, doing the flowers. Father O’Hara said she was a godsend. He was very upset when she got pregnant. He was always at the house after Kitty left home, offering his support to Maura and Bill,’ Mrs Doyle continued.
‘I’m sure they appreciated that,’ Tom said. ‘Actually there was one other thing I meant to ask you. Noel mentioned a guy called Michael that Kitty and he were friendly with. I didn’t get a second name. Any idea who that might be?’
Mrs Doyle closed her eyes and thought about this for a minute. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t remember any friends of theirs called Michael or even Mick.’
Tom looked at his watch and realised he’d been there almost an hour. Gerry would be having a fit. He finished his tea and thanked Mrs Doyle for having him.
‘No thank you for the beautiful flowers, Mr O’Grady. It was lovely to have some company. I don’t get it very much. You must forgive me for rambling on about the old days. You’re very kind to humour an old lady.’
‘Not at all, Mrs Doyle. I really enjoyed our conversation.’
Tom leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, promising to call again should he be in the area. He also left his phone number with her in case she should remember whom the Michael could be. He walked down the hill to the church car park where Gerry was sitting waiting for him with a face like thunder.
‘Some five minutes Ace Ventura,’ Gerry said pouting.
‘Sorry, pet. That went on longer than I anticipated. But I did get some interesting information.’ Tom told Gerry the gist of the conversation he had had with Mrs Doyle.
‘So that’s two people we need to see now. Robert Hegarty and Fr O’Hara? The Garda station I presume?’ Gerry asked.