Murder in Ballyhasset (4 page)

The next day, a Thursday, the private investigators called over to St Gabriel's mortuary. Painted white and containing a flat roof, the mortuary was a small one-storey concrete building located next to the main hospital building. They had an appointment to see the pathologist.

Libby said, as they entered the room, 'I know Dr Gallagher socially; I met him with my estranged husband Derek.'

'Your husband?' Dawn stared at her blankly. 'Is he a policeman?'

'Yeah, he's a detective inspector. He works in North Cork Garda Station.'

Large white marble tiles covered the whole floor, and small stone tiles lined the walls. Of the three metal trolleys which dominated the room, the central one contained a corpse, concealed with a sheet. Libby shivered, feeling the coldness of the room.

A long narrow desk lay against the whole of one wall. Dr Gallagher sat with his back to them on a stool at the bench, writing up notes. His assistant labelled samples.

The doctor raised his head and turned around when he heard the two women approach. A small energetic man of fifty plus, he had a red complexion and white unruly hair. He occasionally wore large thick glasses, which he kept dangling from a silver chain around his neck when not in use. Dr Gallagher was one of two State Pathologists for the whole Cork area.

'Hey Libby, how are you?' he enquired, with a grin. 'It's been a while.'

'I'm great, Doctor,' she replied.

'How's the new job going?'

'We're busy enough.' She smiled. 'You're looking good yourself, Doctor, very tanned and healthy. Have you been abroad?'

'Sadly no. I went fishing last weekend though, and fell asleep in the sun, hence the tan.' He glanced at her with curiosity. 'So what brings you here?'

He knows exactly why I'm here, Libby thought. Everyone in this town is talking about this murder. 'The young doctor who was murdered up in the hospital.'

'Terrible tragedy. I met Kathleen once - she was a fiery girl, all right. She gave out to me for being too slow producing a report, on one of her patients.'

Libby asked with amusement, 'And were you really too slow?'

'Not at all,' he replied. 'Kathleen wanted the report quickly, because she was going on holiday.'

He rummaged through a pile of papers on the bench. 'I did the post-mortem last week. I have the photos here somewhere.'

'Can I see them?' she asked.

'Hang on a second.' He grabbed a pile of large photographs. 'Here we are.'

'So what's your conclusion on how she died, Dr Gallagher?' Libby asked.

'Someone suffocated our poor wee lady.' He flicked through the pictures, stopping at one. 'Here's the one I want.' He pointed at the photo. 'See these bruises,' he said, 'they're called petechiae.' Libby noticed little dark-red blotches on the white surface of the victim's eyeball. 'There is slight bruising to the tongue,' he added, showing her another photo.

'See this red mark on the nose, the mouth is swollen and her larynx is bruised.' He paused, then he added, 'Notice her tongue is injured.' Libby examined the graphic images carefully.

The doctor said, 'All of these signs are consistent with someone holding a pillow forcefully over her nose and mouth, stopping her breathing. The police forensic team found fibres around her nose, which they tell me, are from the pillow.'

Libby stared at him. 'So this was our killer's weapon, the humble pillow.'

He nodded. 'The blood tests showed high levels of carbon dioxide.'

Libby's forehead creased. 'Any sign of sexual assault?'

He shook his head. 'None.'

'And no sign of robbery. So we have no clear motive as yet.'

The doctor put his photographs back in order.

'What time did Kathleen Lynch die?' asked Libby.

'I'd say she was dead about eight hours when I first examined her.' He stopped for a few moments and checked his notes. 'Let us see, that was at ten am. So I reckon she died around two am that day, which was let me see...' Dr Gallagher paused. 'Last Tuesday morning.'

'Kathleen must have really angered someone for them to kill her so brutally,' Libby said quietly.

'To end up on a trolley in here, after all her hard work.' Dawn shrugged. 'Qualifying as a gynaecologist and all. Doesn't seem fair.'

Finbar Meenan summoned Libby into his private office, first thing on Friday morning. Finbar founded Mooney's Detective Agency ten years previously along with Libby's father. Their main clients were women seeking evidence of cheating husbands.

 Finbar was an army officer who had taken early retirement. Aged sixty-five, he was six feet four in height, with a large stomach that betrayed his fondness for pints of Guinness. He had oversized facial features – big beaky nose, high cheekbones, strong chin set in a long sharp face. On this day, he wore a tweed suit with a waistcoat.

Libby sat down on the low shiny leather chair in front of his mahogany desk as Finbar loomed over the desk, spilling out of his chair. He always seems too large for this small office, she thought, I wonder if he enjoyed his holidays in Spain.

'How did your holiday go, Finbar?' she asked.

'Terrible.' He leaned back in his chair, his arms behind his head. 'The whole thing was a nightmare. The weather was boiling. I got sunburnt so I stayed in bed most of the time.'

Libby was fascinated by the vivid red suntan covering his face and neck. 'Did your wife enjoy herself?'

He frowned. 'No, unfortunately she caught a stomach bug, she was sick too.'

'And your sons, did they have a good time?'

'The whole lot of them drove me around the bend - my sons decided at the last minute to bring their kids. I thought they were just taking their wives. I nearly died when I arrived at the airport and saw them all.'

'I see.' Libby pictured the airport scene in her mind and laughed out loud.

'My youngest son got himself arrested for drunk driving. His wife had a canary.' Finbar took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one of its contents.

'How awful, did you get it sorted?'

'Oh, yes. He spent a few hours in a jail cell, but finally, after much negotiation and some cash changing hands, he got off with a fine.'

'Still, it must have been nice for you all to get a break,' Libby said, still laughing.

'I'm glad to be home, I can tell you.' Meenan straightened his tie. 'I'm looking forward to things being back to normal. I've got a new case of infidelity on at the minute.'

'Great,' said Libby.

'Tell me about the case you're working on, the young doctor, what's her name?'

'Kathleen Lynch.'

'The husband Mick Doody rang this office looking for me this morning. He's in the same golf club as I am.'

'Which club is that?' Libby asked.

'The Old Head Golf Club in Kinsale.'

'I'm thinking of joining a golf club near Ballyhasset.'

'This one is very exclusive, it wouldn't suit you. The members are mainly men.' Finbar grinned. 'No offence, Libby. It's a great place for us men to relax, away from nagging wives.'

'I'll join one nearer home,' said Libby, unperturbed. 'That club sounds a bit stuffy anyway.'

'I met Mr Doody in the bar there a few times,' Finbar continued. 'He was in the army like me, before he left and joined the county council. He's the Chief Planning Officer for West Cork. Nice friendly chap he is.'

Libby's eyes flashed with maybe just a touch of annoyance. 'Why's he pestering you? He knows I'm handling his case, I'm working as fast as I can.'

'Well, he wants you to work faster, according to Dawn. She took his call. He knows me you see, he trusts me better than you.'

Libby scowled. 'Mr Doody doesn't trust the police either, he told me this when we met.'

Finbar grinned. 'Stubborn fella.'

'I'll ring him today, tell him what I've found so far.'

'No, I'll speak to him first. I'll explain that you're handling his case.' Finbar Meenan leaned forward and stubbed out his cigarette. 'Well, go on then - what's the story about the wife, the doctor?'

Libby said, 'Someone killed Kathleen when she was on night duty, in the hospital, our local hospital.'

'I hate hospitals - too many sick people.' He grimaced. 'How did this killer get into her room?'

'With a spare key perhaps,' Libby said. 'He, or she, may have stolen a set from one of the maids. I spoke to a maid who mislaid a set ten days ago.'

'So the killing was planned,' Meenan said, rubbing his chin. 'Any obvious motive for Kathleen's colleagues to kill her?'

'Well, everyone she worked with said she was a bitch. And she had a fling with one of the doctors.'

He leaned forward with interest. 'That's only a motive for the husband. Mind you, it usually is the husband who's the culprit.' Meenan breathed heavily. 'Still, he'd hardly hire us to find her killer if he did the job himself.'

The man could have hired us to throw off suspicion, especially if he thought we were inept, she thought.

His face brightened. 'Kathleen might have been murdered by one of Mr Doody's enemies. I know it's a bit unlikely.' Finbar paused. 'Dig deeper and see if you can find any dirt on him.'

'Maybe Mick's not the devoted husband he appears,' added Libby, raising an eyebrow. 'You know he's a lot richer since she died. Kathleen was very wealthy.'

Meenan's eyes lit up. 'Now you're talking. Keep up the digging. We'll get to the truth eventually.'

'The pathologist found no sign of sexual assault and nothing had been stolen,' Libby continued.

'Which pathologist is this now?' Finbar stiffened his shoulders. 'Not that giant fellow with the funny Russian accent?'

'No, Dr Gallagher.'

'Oh, him.' Finbar relaxed in the chair. 'He's okay, he's fairly sound. Anyone else with a strong motive?'

Libby consulted her notebook. 'We talked to the intern who worked under her and a registrar called Raman Sharma.'

'Raman, what kind of a name is that?' he asked in disgust.

'Indian.' She kept her gaze on the floor. Here we go again, she thought.

'Another foreign doctor.' He frowned. 'This place is full of them. Does that lad speak English clearly?'

'Of course,' Libby replied evenly, her expression deadpan. 'He was very helpful, he told me a lot about how the hospital is run.'

'What about this lad Raman's alibi?' Meenan gazed at her keenly. 'I hope you checked that carefully.'

'I did try, but anyone could have slipped into the victim's room unseen.'

'Probably was a man, though,' Finbar said slowly, scratching his head. 'The killer had to be strong enough to suffocate our victim.'

Libby nodded. 'The whole process was soundless.'

'How do you know that for sure?' Finbar asked.

'Because a doctor slept on either side of her and they heard nothing.'

'Are you sure those doctors weren't on the wards at the time?' He narrowed his eyes.

'The pathologist said she died about two am. All of them said they were in bed by then.'

'Strange they heard nothing.' He digested this information for a while.

'How's young Dawn getting along?' he asked.

'Grand. She's a real help to me.'

'Really? Make sure you keep her busy. Her father said she can be a messer.'

'I haven't found that,' said Libby, frowning.

'I only took her on as a favour to my sister. She's a bit disappointed in Dawn.'

Libby asked, 'Why's that?'

He snorted. 'Dawn threw aside her degree when she qualified. She turned down a good job, she's a trained nurse.'

'She told me about that.' Poor Dawn is in the doghouse, Libby thought.

Finbar's features softened. 'You know your father was a great man, Libby. I really miss him in the office, even though it's six months since...'

'Since he passed away,' Libby finished for him. She sighed. 'Yeah I know. I hated coming in here the first few days. All the furniture, the photos, the files, everything in here reminded me of him.' She gave a small smile. 'But I've got used to it now, that he's not coming back, I mean.'

'He had a good life, your dad,' said Finbar.

She nodded. They both remained silent.

Finbar's phone rang shrilly. Before he answered he said, 'See you later Libby. Listen, you're going to be handling this case on your own. My back is so bad my doctor told me to cut down all unnecessary driving. You have Dawn anyway, to help you.'

'Oh right. No problem.' Very handy for you, this bad back, she thought, but she felt relieved, nevertheless, to hear she'd get less interference from Finbar. She rose to leave, in better humour after hearing this.

Libby called on Friday evening to Mick Doody's house in Kinsale, ten miles away from Ballyhasset. She drove slowly up the long driveway and parked in front of the house. She spotted a sleek black Jaguar sports car in front of the porch. She remembered seeing the car the last time she was there. At least Mr Doody is in, she thought as she climbed the steps up to the front door.

The maid answered, gazing at her with the same surly expression Libby remembered from the last visit.

'Hi there,' Libby said. 'I'd like to speak to Mr Doody. I came before.' She showed the maid her ID card.

The young woman reluctantly opened the door wide. Libby followed her into the kitchen, noticing the dazzling white presses and a polished wooden floor.

'What's this about?' the maid asked.

She's rather rude, Libby thought.

'Kathleen Lynch,' said Libby. 'Your employer's wife.'

'Kathleen is dead. She died last week.'

'I know,' replied Libby, 'It's a terrible tragedy.' 

'I get Mr Doody for you. Take a seat.'

'Thanks,' Libby said as she sat at the kitchen table.

After a few minutes, the planning officer appeared in the kitchen, seeming tired.

'Hi Libby,' he said in a dull voice.

'I understand how hard this is for you,' Libby said softly. 'I just have to ask you a few more questions.'

He smiled. 'Will you have a cup of tea?' He quickly switched on the kettle.

'I'd love a cup,' Libby said.

He produced a plate of biscuits and a sugar bowl and handed Libby a full mug of milky tea.

'I've been meaning to ask you,' Libby began, after she drank some of her tea. 'Was your wife a heavy sleeper?'

'Yes, she would've slept during an explosion.'

Libby gazed at him thoughtfully. 'So she probably never heard the killer come into her room.'

'I guess not.' Mr Doody answered flatly.

'I spoke to the doctor who worked with Kathleen.'

'Pamela Kelly,' he said. 'Giddy young girl. Kathleen said she was a hopeless doctor.' Libby took that in as she schooled her facial expression. Your wife was not much older, she thought.

'Did Kathleen mention anything was bothering her?' Libby asked, leaning forward in her seat. 'At work, for instance?'

He gazed at the floor, his mind evidently elsewhere. 'No, she didn't worry much about her job, she had no reason to.'

'Tell me a bit more about you and Kathleen. How long have you been married?'

'Six years,' he answered. His face brightened for an instant. 'We were very happy. She was my golden girl.'

'Really,' said Libby, feeling a sudden stab of pity for him. 'Have you any children?'

'None, I'm afraid.' He grimaced. 'Kathleen and I planned to start a family this year. That's never going to happen now.' His voice was bitter.

'I see you keep electric gates,' Libby said, drinking her tea.

He sighed. 'I got them in because we had a couple of break-ins recently.'

'Was anything stolen?' she asked.

'No, that's the funny thing, nothing was taken.' He frowned.

'Did Kathleen leave much money?'

'The house, mainly. I inherit it all, of course. Kathleen paid for this place with an inheritance from her father.'

'How much is it worth?'

'A hundred thousand pounds, or thereabouts,' he replied in a flat voice. 'There's no mortgage. The Lynch family made their money years ago in banking.'

Libby's eyes widened. 'What about life insurance?'

'I get about ten thousand pounds from that. Kathleen had a similar policy on my life.'

Quite a motive to kill someone you had gotten tired of, Libby thought. 'A lot of money, even nowadays in 1972,' she said. 'You're quite a rich man.'

'I've always had money.' He stopped. 'I hope you're not implying Kathleen's money gave me a reason to kill her?'

'No, but the police will see it like that.'

He nodded and gave a deep sigh. 'They do. That's why they're hounding me.'

'Now about the time you came into Shannon Airport,' Libby said, remembering what the sergeant had told her. 'Surely you have some evidence you flew in on the Tuesday, not the Monday as you planned?'

'Well no, I haven't, that's the problem.' He wrung his hands in agitation. 'You see my mates came back the day before I did. I was due to come with them, but I missed the flight. My ticket booking says Monday. The police think I came back on Monday, which would've given me plenty of time to kill Kathleen.'

She frowned. 'There must be a boarding pass, or did you pay extra for the next flight?' The airlines should have a record of this, she thought.

He sighed heavily. 'No, I didn't pay extra, and I lost my boarding pass. The police are on about this too. I can't bear all this crap right now.'

'May I see Kathleen's bedroom?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'You can if you want. When you go upstairs, it's the big room to the left. My bedroom is next door. You can't miss it.'

Libby climbed the stairs. She was expecting to find a Spartan place, in keeping with Kathleen's apparently rigid personality. Instead, she stared in surprise at the king-size bed, which dominated the room. The walls were pale-pink. A decorative bright-pink wardrobe stood on one side of the bed. A big bedside locker stood on the other. A fancy chest of drawers, which held a large ornate mirror, lay against a third wall, facing the window. On top of the white bedspread sat a teddy bear.

Wow, so Kathleen had a feminine side after all, she thought. Wouldn't be my taste, though, too girly, too much pink. She realised that Mick and Kathleen used separate bedrooms, which was mighty odd for a young couple.