Murder in Ballyhasset (12 page)

'He's been giving patients extra Valium and vitamins which they don't need, all on his own authority.'

Libby gazed at him blankly. 'What for?'

'He told me it will give us all less work, the patients will be quieter.'

'Well, I guess that would calm them down, would it not?'

Raman said frowning, 'We could give too much sedation, that's the problem.'

Libby mused, 'I think Shane has the right idea. I'd like plenty of painkillers if I was sick, to get rid of the pain, I mean.'

Raman got heated. 'Shane doesn't even tell anyone else what he's doing, nor does he write it in the charts.'

Libby gazed at him. Oh, that’s a serious breach of protocol, isn’t it?

Raman's eyes narrowed. 'Of course it is. You see, it's as if Shane's mind is somewhere else. He could harm someone. Sedation can be fatal, you know. Someone could die.'

It sounds like Shane is taking those drugs himself, she thought. 'Well, what have you done about this, Raman?'

'I've told our boss.' Raman continued, 'Shane never turned up on Monday or the next two days. The last time I saw him was last Saturday, in the pub.'

On Wednesday afternoon, Libby called to Shane's new semi-detached house in Ballyhasset town. She wanted to see if he had returned however, no one answered the doorbell. A full bottle of milk stood on the doorstep. Evidently, Shane was not at home.

Libby rang the nearest neighbour's doorbell. She heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back. Opening the door cautiously, a thin elderly man of around seventy stood there. He wore a dirty red dressing gown and smiled at Libby with toothless gums.

Libby asked him if he knew his neighbour, Dr Shane Collins well.

'I met that fellow Shane a few times,' he answered slowly, 'he's a nice friendly lad. I usually see him coming in and out, from my kitchen window.'

'Have you seen him recently?' Libby asked.

The old man shook his head. 'I saw no sign of him in the last few days at all.'

'Fair enough,' she replied, 'I'm sorry for interrupting you.'

'Not a bother,' said the old man, and closed his front door.

Libby needed to find Shane to talk to him again about Dr Kathleen Lynch. She pondered on whether Shane had something to do with Kathleen's death, and had gone into hiding somewhere. Or had his disappearance to do with drugs? she wondered.

Libby spoke to Conor in the Green Lemon on Thursday. Conor's face was pale. He held his hands clasped together.

'Do you have a drug habit?' she asked, coming straight to the point.

'No, I don't now, but I used to,' he replied. 'I began snorting cocaine two years ago but I stopped completely a few months ago. I'm completely clean now.'

'I believe you owe money to Shane,' she said.

'Yes, I do,' Conor admitted. He buried his head in his hands.

'How much?' Libby asked.

He hesitated. 'Over four thousand pounds.'

'Tell me what happened the night he disappeared.'

'Shane came into the Gents and bumped into me. I could tell he was drunk - his voice was loud and aggressive. He demanded his money back.'

'What happened next?' Libby asked.

'I told Shane I didn't have the money, I begged him for more time.'

'Did he agree to this?'

Conor said, 'Not at first. He said he was sick of me. He said I had to learn to pay my debts. I got angry.' Conor took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweaty forehead. 'I gave Shane a small puck in the face. He hit me back on the jaw. After that, we both calmed down. He said he'd give me one more week to find the cash.'

'Why do you owe so much money? According to Brendan, your finances are in good shape.'

'Well, they are, but all my cash is tied up.'

She stared at him in disbelief. 'In what?'

Conor sighed again. 'In my two houses and the business.'

'And cocaine is very expensive,' Libby added.

Conor avoided her gaze and stared at the floor. 'Yes, that too.'

Libby made her way down to the outpatients’ department in the east wing, on the Thursday evening. It was after six and all the patients and most of the medical staff had gone home. Raman was sitting at a desk with his head bent over a large file. She noticed his white coat and blue scrubs as he glanced up at her, looking distracted.

'Sorry to disturb you, Doctor. It's about your colleague, Shane. Has he come back yet?'

Raman shook his head. He said, sounding weary, 'Shane never turned up for work this morning again.' He gave Libby a sharp look. The last time I saw him was when we went for a few drinks to the Green Lemon.'

'What was his mood that night?' Libby asked.

'He seemed worried,' Raman said, wiping his eyes wearily.

'About what?'

'Shane said one of the nurses had accused him the day before of stealing sedatives.'

Libby nodded. 'You and I both know Shane has a drug habit.'

Raman said, 'Well, that's really what was worrying him, you see. Shane knew he had a serious drug problem.'

'And he wanted you to help him dry out?'

'Yes,' Raman replied, 'he asked me about addiction clinics. I told him about a good one in Galway.'

'And what did he say?' Libby asked.

'He said he would ring the next day.' The Indian doctor stopped, and then his face brightened. 'Perhaps that's where Shane's gone, into a clinic.'

'Shane doesn't owe much money,' said Libby.

'How do you know that?' Raman gazed at her with an uneasy expression.

'Well, we checked his bank accounts. He wasn't in debt, his loan payments were all up to date.'

'That's strange because I think he's badly addicted. Another doctor told me she saw him once snorting a white powder, in the doctors' mess.'

Libby said, 'We can check his hospital room, to see if he kept drugs there.'

'Okay, let's do it,' Raman said with a determined expression.

Libby took the lift with Raman to the second floor to the doctors' residence rooms in the west wing. They entered the room Shane had used last when he was on call, only a few doors away from where Kathleen had been found dead. Under the bed, they discovered a small suitcase with Shane's name on it, but it was locked.

 They brought the case down to a hospital porter in the basement, who opened it with a screwdriver. To their surprise, they saw ten small bottles of tablets inside. They thanked the porter and brought the box into the doctor's residence. Raman picked out several of the bottles and read out the labels. The bottles all had identical shapes but contained a variety of different tablets, all sedatives. Two had the label Dalmane and eight were labelled Valium. He poured out the tablets onto a small coffee table and looked at their shapes.

'Sister Ellen's missing drugs,' he said. 'So I was right all along to suspect Shane. I knew he was behaving oddly.'

'We have the proof here in front of us,' Libby said in agreement. 'Mind you, there's no sign of any cocaine.' She was silent for a while. 'How are you getting on with your protest?' she asked. She knew the doctors were planning a strike about long hours.

'Not good. The hospital board threatened to sack us all.'

'That's tough. So you gave in?'

'We did.' He gave her a weary smile. 'We cancelled the strike altogether. Our union is hopeless. This business about long hours has been going on for years, Shane told me.'

'Is that something to do with you needing to clock up hours of experience?'

'Yes, but that's really only for the interns. Senior doctors like me shouldn't have such long hours.'

Libby nodded. 'I see.' She wondered what it would be like to have to work all day and then do a night's work, followed by another full day without any rest. Rather him than me, she thought.

He grinned. 'It's not so bad in Ireland for doctors. It's worse in India, I can tell you. The hours are longer and we have plenty more poverty, believe me.'

T
he two private investigators decided to talk to Pat Sharpe. They travelled to his pub, the Green Lemon, for lunch on Friday, the 30th of June. The pub was crowded with diners, and the smell of vinegar and spicy fried food welcomed them inside. Libby felt her stomach rumble.

'The fish food is fantastic here,' Dawn said. 'I fancy a plate of cod and chips today.'

'I'll take the same,' Libby added, calling over the waiter. She ordered fish and chips for them both. The waiter arrived back laden with their food, after a short interval. The two women ate in contented silence. Libby found the fat-filled food delicious, wondering afterwards, with slight guilt, how many calories she had consumed.

When she had finished eating, Libby looked up and spotted Pat at the bar, cleaning glasses. She and Dawn went over and Libby ordered two pints of Guinness from him.

'Nice to meet you again,' he said, his eyes sparkling as he poured the drinks and waited for them to settle.

'We're making some enquiries about the death of the young doctor, Pamela Kelly,' she said. 'We'd like to talk to Doctor Shane Collins about her but he appears to have gone missing. The last time he was seen was in this pub. Do you know him?'

'Maybe.' He topped up the pints and handed them to her.

She took a photograph of Shane out of her handbag. Pat stared blankly for a few seconds at the picture. 'Yes, I've seen him here. I've served him once or twice. I spoke to him a few times, just about the weather and stuff.'

'Anyway, he's been missing since last Saturday night,' Libby said. 'Did you see him here that night?'

Saturday is my night off, I wasn't here.' He shouted at the barman at the other end of the counter, 'Hey Willie, have a gawk at this.' Pat took the photo off her and handed it to the barman. 'Do you remember seeing this man in here last Saturday?'

'I can't say for sure that I saw him,' said the barman, as he glanced at the photo. 'This doesn't ring any bells, sorry. We get a big crowd on a Saturday night.' He went back to stacking clean glasses on a shelf.

'These young fellas all look the same,' said Pat, and handed the photo back. 'And they gather in bunches.'

She drank some of her pint. 'Didn't you have problems recently with drugs being sold here?'

'Too damn right,' he answered. 'The cops raided me. They hauled me down to the office in the middle of the night. They gave me the fright of my life.' Pat took some clean glasses out of the dishwasher and laid them on the counter.

'Did you need to add extra bouncers after that?'

'Yeah, to stop the junkies and dope dealers getting in.' He gave a weary smile.

'These junkies are a slippery lot,' said Libby.

'One always manages to slip past the bouncers,' said Pat with a sigh. 'I work here most nights, and I keep a sharp eye out. If I suspect a person is a dealer, I get the bouncers to throw him out.'

'But they come back?'

Pat scowled. 'Too right, they're persistent bastards.'

'It's a lovely pub you run, regardless of all the troublemakers,' Libby said. 'Don't let those scumbags put you out of business.'

Libby and Dawn called over to Shane's girlfriend's apartment, around six pm. It was a small modern apartment, situated in a white three-storey concrete building, near the hospital.

They had to buzz Gina on the intercom outside the main gate. Gina pressed a button, which released the gate for them. She met the two investigators in the lobby and brought them inside her ground floor flat.

Libby explained to the nurse that she wanted to search Shane's house for clues as to his disappearance. Gina reluctantly handed over Shane's spare house key, at the same time warning Libby to bring it back. She then gave Libby directions to Shane's house.

His house was situated on the far end of the town, near the police station. The two investigators drove down a narrow track, off High Street. The house was a modern bungalow, painted white. The garden was large, and had a high lawn in desperate need of a cut.

Libby used Gina's key to enter. She found the main bedroom, at the end of a long corridor. It was a bland room with cream walls and a brown carpet. Shane's clothes were neatly folded in the chest of drawers, Libby discovered, after opening several drawers. She searched Shane's bedroom desk for clues as to his activities.

In the back of the bottom drawer, Libby found a locked diary. She got out her own penknife and broke open the lock. Libby hoped this would shed some light on where he was hiding.

To Libby's disappointment, his diary contained short notes about social events and meetings, nothing else. He referred constantly to dates with Gina. He went on golf club outings with Raman and Conor often, she saw, and squash club matches with other men whose names were unfamiliar. He had several meetings at night with men in a well-known Cork pub, the Horse and Plough. What's that about? Libby wondered. She closed the diary.

In another drawer, she found Shane's passport. So he never went abroad, she realised. He must be in Ireland somewhere.

There must be something more here we have yet to find,' Dawn said eagerly. She lifted up the small locker beside Shane's bed. Underneath this was a thick folder lying on the carpet. The yellow zipped plastic folder was covered in dust. When she opened it, she found about thirty large photographs.

Dawn stared at them, her mouth wide open. She roared at Libby, who stood gazing out the window, 'Be the holy, did you see the state of this woman? She's completely naked.' Dawn peered closer and then let out a shriek. 'Libby, come over here. You'll never believe who's in these pictures.'

Libby walked over to the photos and peered at a close-up of the woman's face. She realised, after a moment, what Dawn was fussing about. She recognised the woman's distinctive thick blond hair and almond-shaped eyes. 'Gosh, that's your friend Gina, the nurse.'

'She has a right puss on her in that photo,' added Dawn.

Libby examined the pictures one by one, her eyes opened wide. The first photos she examined were of Gina alone in various poses in the nude, her long blond hair loose. Her face wore a pouting grin. The nurse had a slender body, with unusually large breasts, Libby noticed, wondering if the breasts were surgically enhanced.

Libby examined several images of Shane and Gina together naked. She took a peek at other photos of Gina with strange men, in various sex positions.

'I didn't know anyone could bend like that,' Dawn said, her mouth wide open.

'Why did Shane take these awful pictures?' Libby asked in horror. 'He's acting like a pimp.'

Dawn wrinkled her nose. 'He must be doing it for money.'

'Shane gets a good salary as a doctor,' Libby said in agreement. 'It must be extra money for drugs he wants.'

One of the photos showed a back view of Gina in the nude, sitting on top of a naked man. The next photo Libby examined showed the same couple. It showed the man better. The third photo showed a close-up of the man's face, revealing him to be Pat Sharpe, the pub owner. Another image showed him lying on top of Gina, with his shirt still on.

All of the pictures appeared to have been taken in the same bedroom. Most of the images were in close-up so Libby found it difficult to see anything apart from walls and a bed. Was it Gina's bedroom they used? she wondered.

To her horror, she saw some pictures of a naked man who looked like Brendan Sullivan, of all people. She glanced at the pictures again and saw she couldn't say for certain if it was him or not. She took out all the photos of Gina with Pat Sharpe.

'How did Shane take these photos anyway?' Dawn asked.

'We'll have to ask Gina that,' Libby said.

They went back to talk to Gina at her apartment later that evening. Libby said with a frown, 'We found pictures of you and different men naked.' She showed Gina one of the photos.

Gina reddened and then replied, 'Where did you get them, they're private.' She tried to grab the pictures off Libby.

Libby ducked and turned away, holding onto the pictures. 'I found them in Shane's house.' She glared at Gina. 'You gave me the key, remember.'

'Oh right. Still, that doesn't mean you can tear up the floorboards.'

Libby said coldly, 'Shane is missing and Pamela is dead. We can't be worrying about his privacy.'

The tall blonde flinched and glanced at the pictures with reluctance. 'Don't I have privacy rights too? She scowled at Libby. 'You two needn't be looking down your noses at me, anyway.' She glared at Dawn. 'You're not so holy yourself. Shane and I were having sex. Nothing wrong with that.'

'But there are other men in these pictures,' said Dawn. 'Strange men.' She wrinkled her nose.

Gina shrugged her shoulders and examined her red polished nails. 'Sometimes I met other men.'

Libby said, 'Where did these sessions take place?'

'Right here in my flat, in my bedroom,' said Gina.

'And who took the photos?'

'Shane did and sometimes another friend of mine, Lisa did. Shane made a spy hole in my wardrobe. I'll show you, if you like.'

They all entered Gina's bedroom. One of the walls, on the left side had a full-length white wardrobe running the length of the wall. Gina opened up the long wardrobe. Her clothes hung on hangers at both ends of the space. She pointed to the peephole in the centre. The central area had enough space for a person or two to stand. Libby suppressed a smile, seeing a comical element to the whole thing.

'He used a zoom lens,' said Gina, with a sigh. 'Shane loves photography.'

'So Shane stayed here in the room all the time, and watched when you were at it with Pat Sharpe or the others,' Dawn said to the nurse, her lips pursed tightly. Gina avoided her gaze. Dawn went into the wardrobe and examined the substantial peephole.

'Kinky stuff,' Libby said.

'Yes, Shane wanted to get money from the men I had sex with.'

'I thought I saw Brendan Sullivan in some of those photos,' said Libby.

Gina nodded. 'He was one of the punters.'

Libby scowled. 'I didn't think Brendan was that desperate.'

'Did they all pay up?' Dawn asked.

'Pat did, but Brendan didn't, he refused. He got quite nasty, actually. He threatened to tell the hospital managers about both of us. He called me the devil's whore.'

'Why do you do this, Gina?' Libby asked, staring at the nurse in wonder. 'Surely, you earn enough money as a theatre nurse?'

Gina sighed. 'Shane needs the cash quickly sometimes. I do it to help him out. This is the quickest way.'

'What did he need the cash for?' Libby knew the answer, but wanted to hear Gina confirm this.

'Shane's addicted to cocaine. He owes a dealer a thousand quid, and he got aggressive about it last week. He demanded his money back from Shane. The dealer told Shane he would break his legs if he didn't pay up. Shane got terribly afraid.'

'So he must be hiding somewhere,' Libby said.

'Did you earn much money from this blackmail lark?' Dawn asked the nurse.

'Sometimes. Some of the men paid up immediately, especially if they were married,' Gina replied, flicking back the sides of her long hair with her fingers.

'Did you not find it hard, doing this sleazy work?' asked Libby.

'No, I didn't.' She glared at Libby with defiance, her arms folded. 'Shane demanded money from the fools, not me.'

'How long have you and Shane been doing this?'

'A year or thereabouts,' Gina answered.

Libby asked, 'It's a pity you didn't tell us about this blackmail business before.'

Pursing her lips, Gina said, 'It's not relevant to Pamela's death.'

 'You have a point there, I suppose.' Libby couldn't see herself how it tied in. She handed Gina back the pictures and watched while Gina vigorously tore them up into little pieces.

***

Libby wanted to talk the publican, Pat Sharpe about the photos she had found, of him and Gina naked. When she rang his pub he answered.

She asked, 'Can you talk? It's important.' The line was faint. In the background, she could hear talking and glasses clinking.

'This sounds serious,' said Pat, shouting down the phone at her, above the din.

Libby said. 'I heard that Shane Collins took some photos of you and his girlfriend.'

Pat's voice went higher. 'The little shit took pictures of me naked. He threatened to put them up around the pub.'

'So did you pay him?' Libby asked.

Pat Sharpe sounded angry. 'Of course I did. What else could I do?'

'Do you know where Shane is?' She added, 'I'll put it another way - are you willing to tell me where he is?'

'I haven't got him stashed away somewhere, if that's what you're saying. What kind of a person do you think I am? I run a respectable business here. I made a mistake, and I was photographed. Shane blackmailed me and I paid him off.'

'So you haven't seen him since?' asked Libby.

'I heard no more from him or his tramp of a girlfriend after I gave them the money.' Pat put down the phone with a bang.