Authors: Graham Masterton
Katie sat in the back seat and took out her iPhone so that she could check on Detective Inspector O’Rourke and see how long it was going to take him to get to Dromsligo. She had a message from John.
Hope ur not 2 busy 2nite. Ive booked us a table @ Hayfield 2 celebr8 amazing flu vaccine sale!
She started to send him a text in reply, telling him that Detective Horgan had been killed while she was in the car with him, but after only a few words she deleted it. How could she use Horgan’s death as an excuse not to go out to dinner?
Far worse than that, she was going to have to break the news to his girlfriend, Muireann.
She stayed at the scene until Detective Inspector O’Rourke and Detective O’Donovan arrived, followed ten minutes later by a team of four technicians. The Mallow gardaí had closed the N20 for nearly two hours now and three more officers and seven Garda reserves had arrived to help search the road surface on their hands and knees for any possible evidence.
There were tyre tracks in the lay-by where the silver Mercedes had been waiting for them and the technical experts would take photographs and casts of those, but the shot had almost certainly come from a rifle, so it was highly unlikely that they would find a spent cartridge. Katie was feeling warmer now, and her stomach had settled, so she climbed out of the patrol car to watch the technicians at work and to talk to Detective Inspector O’Rourke.
‘Was there any case that Horgan was working on that might have put him at risk of his life?’ asked Detective Inspector O’Rourke.
‘He arrested Jurgis Walunis last week,’ said Katie. ‘He’s the younger brother of Algis Walunis, that Lithuanian drug-dealer we were talking about the other day. Walunis can be very violent to anybody who crosses him. We’ve arrested him God knows how many times for assault, but can we ever find a witness to stand up in court?’
‘You think Walunis might have done this?’
Katie thought about it, and then shook her head. ‘It’s not really his style. He likes to hear his victims begging for mercy, and he usually uses a knife or a broken bottle, or a baseball bat.’
‘Anybody else?’
‘I know that Horgan was checking on two male suspects in Togher because he had information that they were members of the Real IRA and were both in possession of firearms. I’m not sure what the latest story was with that, but he told me yesterday morning that he was hoping to make an arrest this weekend.’
‘But what if it wasn’t Horgan they were after? What if it was
you
?’
‘Well, that was my first thought,’ said Katie. ‘Just at the moment there’s any number of serial scumbags who would breathe a deep sigh of relief if I could be disposed of.’
Technical expert Denis McBride came waddling up to them in his Tyvek suit, holding up a bullet in a pair of tweezers. He was bespectacled and neatly bearded and deeply serious, and one of the best ballistics experts in the country.
‘I found this buried in the back seat upholstery,’ he said. ‘It’s a very powerful round indeed – 7.62 × 54 millimetre R – often used for sniper rifles, especially in Russia and Eastern European countries.’
‘Well, we know that a large proportion of the guns we find in Cork are smuggled in from the Baltic States and the Czech Republic,’ said Katie. ‘So, yes – I suppose it could have been Walunis, or one of his gang, but I still don’t think that Walunis would have been so clinical. This was a calculated hit. From what I’ve heard, Walunis has to work himself up into a frenzy first.’
‘Obviously I’ll have to examine this round more closely, back in the lab,’ said Denis McBride. ‘At a guess, though, I’d say it came from a Mosin-Nagant or Dragunov rifle, or a derivative thereof. They were manufactured under licence in many different countries – Finland, Poland, Norway – and usually they’re not too expensive, about six or seven hundred euros on the black market.’
‘Thanks, Denis,’ said Katie. She looked back at the Toyota. The interior was fitfully lit up by camera flashes, so that she could see Detective Horgan sitting behind the wheel and the blood that had sprayed all over the seat behind him. She turned to Detective Inspector O’Rourke and said, ‘I think I’ll be getting back to the station now, Francis, if you don’t mind driving me.’
‘Not at all,’ said Detective Inspector O’Rourke. ‘I should think you’ve had enough for one day. If I was you, and my missus was me, I’d give you a goody and send you to bed.’
If the circumstances had been different, Katie could have smiled. She hadn’t been given a goody since she was off school with the chickenpox – white bread soaked in hot milk with a spoonful of honey stirred in. But then again, it made her think of her mother, and that unexpectedly gave her a lump in her throat.
* * *
They had almost reached the city when Katie’s iPhone warbled. It was Detective Dooley ringing her.
‘I was wondering if you were still up in Dromsligo, ma’am.’
‘No, no, I’m on my way back,’ Katie told him. ‘I won’t be more than a couple of minutes. We’re in Blackpool, just passing the brewery.’
‘Jesus, that was an awful land about Horgan. None of us can believe it.’
‘I know, Dooley, I know. We can all get together later and talk about it. I think we’ll need to.’
‘You’re all right yourself, though?’
‘Shocked, like you are. But I wasn’t hurt.’
‘Thank God for that. I’ll see you when you get in so.’
There was something in his tone of voice that made Katie think that he wanted to say more, but was hesitant.
‘Was there something else?’ she asked him.
‘No, no, it’ll keep. You’ll be back here directly.’
‘Go on, tell me.’
‘Well – that was why I wanted to know where you were. We’ve had a response to that appeal you put out on the television.’
‘About the dead horses, you mean?’
‘That’s right. I think it might have given us a really good lead. In fact, better than good.’
‘Okay, that’s sounds encouraging. Tell me when I get in. I won’t be long now.’
They crossed over the Christy Ring bridge and drove along Merchants Quay. It was growing dark now and the street lights along the river were coming on. Katie never liked this time of year. It always reminded her of the happy times that would never come back, and all the people she had lost.
Detective Inspector O’Rourke turned into the station car park and tugged on the handbrake. ‘You’ll forgive me for saying this to you, ma’am, no disrespect meant, but you won’t be overdoing it?’
‘No, Francis, I promise. And thank you.’
Detective Dooley was waiting for her in her office. With one shirt tail hanging out and his red tie crooked, he looked like a schoolboy who had come out second-best in a playground scatter.
‘Horgan, of all people,’ he said, as she hung up her coat. ‘He was such a messer, always making us laugh. I mean, Jesus and Mary and holy Saint Joseph tonight, why would anybody want to shoot
him
? It was on the TV news only about half an hour ago, although they didn’t name him. I saw you there, too.’
‘I’ll tell you all about it after,’ said Katie. ‘Right now, I’d rather get back to business.’
‘You don’t even have a breeze who the shooter was?’
‘Not really, no. Denis McBride said the bullet was probably came from some Russian or Eastern European sniper rifle, but at the moment it’s anybody’s guess who fired it, or why, or even who they were aiming at. It might not have been Horgan.’
‘You mean it might have been you?’
‘As I said, let’s talk about it later,’ Katie told him, sitting down at her desk. ‘Tell me about this really great lead we’ve been given.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Detective Dooley. ‘This young couple came into the station about an hour ago. They’re downstairs now, in the visitors’ room. They didn’t see your appeal for themselves but a friend of theirs did and told them about it and they put two and two together, like.’
Detective Dooley prodded at a white mobile phone and then handed it to her. There was a selfie on the screen of a boy and a girl, both about eighteen years old, their hair tousled by the wind, both grinning and making thumbs-up signs. Behind them rose a grassy slope and on the slope three horses were grazing, two chestnuts and a bay. The horses were at least thirty metres away, and partly obscured by the boy’s head and right shoulder, but their coats were shining in the sunlight and as far as Katie could tell they were all in a fair condition, not swaybacked or moth-eaten. In the background she could see the thin blue strip of the sea, so they were clearly standing on a cliff top.
She peered at the selfie even closer. ‘How about this,’ she said, shaking her head, because there was more in the background than horses. On the right-hand side, half of the rear end of a large dark-green horsebox was visible. Two men were standing next to it, smoking. One wore a red tartan shirt and a pale-brown cap, the other a plain white collarless shirt and a black waistcoat. They had their backs turned away, so their faces were hidden, but Katie could make out the first six digits of the horsebox’s number plate, 131-C-74.
‘
That
is the cliff top at Nohaval Cove,’ said Detective Dooley. ‘And
that
is an Annard Renault Midlum 7.5 tonne horsebox. I’ve checked it out with the RSA and it was registered in March 2013 to one Paddy Fearon of Spring Lane Halting Site.’
Katie studied the picture closely. ‘This was taken in the summer, by the look of it.’
‘July the eighteenth. They’d been dating each other exactly a month. Between you and me, I think they’d been looking for somewhere to have it in the open air. But then this horsebox and these two rough-looking fellers showed up and threatened them, so they did a legger.’
‘I’d like to ask them a few questions,’ said Katie. ‘Does this phone belong to them?’
‘Yes, but I’ve already sent a copy of that selfie to my own laptop.’
‘Good,’ said Katie, standing up. ‘I don’t want to start counting any chickens, but I think you may be right. This could be just the break we need.’
Detective Dooley accompanied her to the doorway, but just as she was walking through it he said, ‘Ma’am?’
‘What is it?’
He touched his left cheek with his fingertips. ‘Sorry – but I think you have some blood on your face.’
* * *
When Katie and Detective Dooley walked into the visitors’ room, the young couple were holding hands and looking anxious.
‘We won’t have to stay here much longer, will we?’ asked the boy. ‘I should have been back at work an hour ago.’
‘No, we won’t keep you,’ said Katie. ‘I just wanted to have a quick word with you before you left. I’m Detective Superintendent Maguire, and you are?’
‘Michael – Michael Calvey, and this is Shelagh McGee.’
Katie handed Michael the mobile phone. ‘I really appreciate you both coming in to show us your picture,’ she said. ‘We don’t know for sure yet, until we’ve made further enquiries, but you could have given us some very important evidence.’
‘One of our pals saw it on the telly, about them horses being slung off the cliff at Nohaval Cove, and he remembered us talking about it and them two fellers chasing us off.’
‘Detective Dooley said this happened in July.’
‘That’s right. We was only trying to spend a bit of time together, like. We’re both of us still living at home with our families and it’s a nightmare. Always my younger brothers knocking at my bedroom door and saying are you shifting her?’
‘Same in my house,’ said Shelagh, blushing. ‘With me it’s usually me mam knocking and asking us if we want a cup of tea or a piece of cake, but you know she’s only checking on us.’
‘So you went to the cliff top at Nohaval Cove to get some privacy?’
‘Well, that’s right, like,’ said Michael. ‘It was a grand warm day and all but usually there’s nobody up there because it’s hard to get to, you know? I had my bike then, my Yamaha 125, so there wasn’t any problem.’
‘What time of day was this?’ asked Katie.
‘About three in the afternoon. We’d had burgers at McDonald’s and then we decided to get out of the city and take a walk by the sea.’
‘When did the horsebox arrive?’
‘Not so long after we did. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes later, something like that. We could see it coming along the track beside the field and we was thinking to ourselves what in the name of Jesus is somebody bringing a horsebox out here for? Well, you saw it in the photo, it was a big one, too.’
‘It parked right up close to where we was sitting,’ put in Shelagh. ‘Then these two fellers got out and they stared at us like what do you think
you’re
doing here? If a look could kill you, like. But Mikey said don’t pay them any mind, this is a free country and we’re just as entitled to be here as they are, and maybe they won’t stay very long.’
‘But then they let out the horses?’ said Katie.
‘They did, yeah, and the horses was just wandering around chewing the grass, like, and the two fellers had a smoke, and that was when we took the selfie. I don’t think they saw us taking it, though, they was too busy having some kind of a discussion. We’d already decided to mosey off anyway, because the whole point of us going there was to be on our own.’
‘Did they say anything to you?’
‘Oh, did they!’ said Michael. ‘Your man in the red shirt finished his fag and then he came over to where we was sitting and said, “Eff off, the pair of ye!” Just like that. Just, “Eff off!” So I said, “Oh yeah, boy, and supposing we don’t?” So he said, “Are ye looking to get yourself mangled, because you’re going the right way about it?”’
Shelagh took hold of Michael’s left hand between both of hers. ‘I think Mikey was ready to claim the feller, but I knew he wouldn’t stand a chance and that’s not saying that he can’t stand up for himself. So I said, “Let’s go, Mikey,” and so we did.’
‘Did you look back when you were leaving to see what those two were up to?’
‘I turned around the once,’ said Shelagh. ‘They was still standing there glaring at us.’
‘And you could still see the horses?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. But I just wanted to get away from there as quick as we could. I was really freaked, I tell you.’