Murder in Ballyhasset (7 page)

Libby dropped in to Brendan's sister on Sunday morning. She lived in the terraced house two doors down from Libby, on High Street. A sturdy, tall woman of around forty, with a pleasant smiling face, opened the front door. She wore a flowing black dress that reached her muscular calves, and black Doc Marten boots. Her long thick hair was jet-black and hung around her face.

'I'm your brother's new tenant for Number 5,' Libby said with a smile.

'Oh, you're the private detective, right?' Her eyes sparkled. 'Brendan told me he met you. I'm Nuala.' She shook Libby's hand, her bracelets jangling.

Libby smiled. 'Pleased to meet you. Brendan asked me to drop my month's rent in to you.' Nuala took the envelope, and slipped it into a purse, which hung around her neck.

'Won't you come in and have a cuppa?' She opened the door wide.

'I'm dying for one,' replied Libby, stepping into the hall.

She brought Libby into a dark kitchen, which held a huge black Aga cooker. The room was full of flowers, and not just the real variety. As well as a vase of sweet peas on the windowsill, there were red painted roses on the kitchen presses, yellow tulips on the curtains and a tablecloth with blue forget-me-nots. An enormous cat sat asleep on an old armchair beside the cooker. A young girl of about five sat at the table eating a bowl of something.

Nuala said, 'Lorna, say hello to Libby.'

'Hello,' said the little girl shyly.

Libby smiled at her. 'This is a lovely room.'

'It cheers me up.' Nuala flicked her hair back from her face. She boiled the kettle and searched for tea bags in the cupboard.

Libby glanced around at all the flowers, thinking it was a little too fussy for her own taste. 'Yes, I can see why.'

'I strive to be positive at all times,' said Nuala with a wide smile. 'These bright colours stimulate my creativity, you see.'

'What do you do?' asked Libby curiously.

'I'm an artist.' Nuala handed her a mug of tea.

'Do you ever paint the scenery round here?'

'I sure do.' She beamed. 'I paint our fabulous West Cork views, especially Glengariff Bay.'

'I think Glengariff Bay is fantastic,' replied Libby. 'The sea with the mountains behind, just heavenly.'

Nuala nodded. 'Or Goguane Barra, the forest. Have you ever been there?'

'I have,' said Libby, 'I love that little old medieval church up there. Fantastic. I'd like to see them sometime, your paintings.'

'I run a gallery in the town, near the church,' Nuala replied. 'Some of my pictures are hanging there.'

'I must call in, so.'

'Do, I'll show you around.' Nuala's eyes lit up when she smiled. 'We can have a chat. Listen while you're here will you sign my petition?'

'What for?' asked Libby.

'I'm organising a little demonstration march against the apartments going up on the seafront. Those ugly buildings will take away our lovely promenade walk.'

'I agree with you,' said Libby, 'You had a protest this morning, I hear. The whole town is talking about it.'

'We did,' Nuala replied. 'And we're having another one tomorrow.'

Nuala got out a big hardback notebook. Libby signed it, and put her address on the page. There were plenty of signatures, she saw. 'I love the promenade walk,' she added. Then she went over to peer at the two large photos pinned to the white walls. One photo was of two young men, one of whom appeared to be a younger Conor Reilly. She recognised him by his fine blond hair. 'Who's in this picture of young men?'

'Brendan, my brother, and his friend Conor Reilly. Conor used to live next door to us.' Nuala continued, 'My mother took those photos. This used to be her house. I never had the heart to get rid of them.'

'Do you see much of Conor?' asked Libby.

'I do, he works with Brendan.' She gazed at Libby curiously. 'Why do you ask?'

Libby thought for a moment. 'Do they get on well, the two lads?'

Nuala tossed her long hair back. 'They are a lot different from each other, but they are the best of friends.'

Libby was curious. 'How are they different?'

'Brendan dominates Conor all the time. He's much bossier.'

'Is Brendan older?' Libby asked.

'Yes, but only by two years,' replied Nuala. 'Brendan always protected Conor when they were at school.'

Libby went over to the second photo, noting how yellow it was. It was of a boy around ten years of age, laughing and holding the hand of a small dark man with a moustache. 'Who is the man?'

'That's my father. He's dead now.'

'Do you miss him?'

'Not at all. He was a monster. He was brutal to my mother. He beat her up regularly and no one knew about it except me and Brendan.'

Libby felt shocked. 'Why didn’t she leave him?'

'He threatened to kill her if she left him. She had every reason to believe he would do it. I didn’t know anything back then, but later on I understood.'

Libby felt puzzled. 'If a doctor suspects abuse, they’re obliged to report it to the police.'

'Ma always had an explanation, and she was convincing. She would say anything to protect him. She might say she was drunk and fell down. Ma never touched alcohol, but of course the doctors didn’t know that.'

Libby remained silent, unsure of what to say.

'I think what kept her from leaving was my brother and me,' Nuala said after a while.

'Where is your mother now?'

'She died of dementia a year ago, not long after Dad died of bowel cancer.'

'That must have been hard for you, losing her,' Libby replied. What a sad tale, she thought. Who knows what horrible memories decent, respectable people like Nuala carry around. Witnessing her father's brutality at a young age must have affected her relationship with other men. It must be hard for her to trust them. She noticed Nuala seemed to be living alone.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Nuala opened it, saying in a dull voice, 'Oh it's you.' Her brother Brendan marched in and sat down opposite Libby.

He scowled at his sister. 'I hope you're not wasting Libby's time with idle gossip. You do talk rubbish sometimes. Have you cooked a meal for me?'

Nuala replied nervously, 'Yes, I have. Your favourite, fish and chips.' She told Libby that Brendan always had his Sunday dinner with her.

Brendan waited as Nuala served him the food, and fetched him his knife and fork. Libby wondered why he waited for her to do everything, like she was some kind of a slave. Brendan had a tough side to him, she realised. Moreover, what was even odder, was that Nuala obeyed his demands without question. Libby watched Nuala's tense face, and wondered why she was so scared of her brother.

Libby then wondered how she had ever found him attractive.

.

Dr Pamela Kelly rang Libby and they arranged to meet in the Green Lemon pub late on a Sunday afternoon. While Libby waited, she ordered herself a drink at the bar and sat down at a table in the corner.

Shortly after this Pamela entered the lounge, spotted her and came over. She seemed flustered. 'I'm sorry I'm late, but I was on duty all day yesterday, and before that I've been up to my eyes in work.'

'No problem. What did you want to discuss?'

'I want you to help me find my boyfriend,' Pamela said in a flat voice. 'I haven't seen him for  a week. I rang his house again last night and this morning to see if he was back but there was no answer - it's very odd.'

Libby asked Pamela to describe what happened after the party.

'We talked after everyone left. Then I went home.'

Pamela saluted some young people who walked in. 'They're all hospital staff. We usually drink here because it's so handy for us, with the hospital being straight across the road.'

Libby shuddered as she imagined a crowd of loud doctors sitting together after work, discussing diseases. She sipped her fizzy drink and then said, 'Shane Collins is a good friend of Conor, I know.'

'That's right. They sometimes go on drinking binges, which I dread.' Pamela stiffened her shoulders.

'What's the harm in having a few drinks?' Libby asked.

'It's not the drink that's the big problem, it's the drugs. Shane's a bad influence on Conor, he takes cocaine.'

Libby's eyes opened wide. 'Conor takes drugs?'

'Well, just a little, now and again. He only takes it when he's with Shane.'

'Does Conor have a drink problem?' Libby asked.

The doctor hesitated. 'Not now, but he used to. He went sober years ago, but he breaks out now and again.'

'I see.'

Pamela shifted her position on the seat. 'The thing is you never know what Conor's going to do next, if he's pissed.'

Libby asked her curiously, 'Does he get into fights?'

'Yeah, sometimes,' Pamela said. 'The bouncers here banned him for a while for being drunk. The owner Pat Sharpe doesn't like him.'

It sounds like he's got a drink problem all right, thought Libby.

Pamela's lips tightened. ' I'm starting to think something bad has happened. I hope Conor's not... I hope he's not dead or anything.'

'I'll try to find him.' Libby grimaced. 'You haven't given me much information to go on, though.'

'Sorry,' said Pamela, with a weary smile. 'Brendan doesn't know where he is. I asked him. He should know since he works with Conor. Conor's gone a week now.'

The pub was starting to get fuller. Beside them, some men were having lunch, talking loudly and ordering pints. In the background, she heard the clink of glasses as the barman collected empty glasses from the tables.

Libby said, thoughtfully, 'So its a full week now since anyone's seen him.'

Pamela hesitated, fiddling with her hair. 'Yes. I should have looked for him sooner but I've had a lot on my mind lately. I found out last Saturday that I'm pregnant.'

So that's why she's got nausea, Libby realised. She knew then why Pamela looked exhausted - her face was drawn, and her eyelids drooped. 'Did you tell Conor about your pregnancy?'

'Yeah, after the party. He was shocked.'

So he got scared after that news, Libby guessed.

Later on, Libby rang Brendan Sullivan who said that Conor was probably at his house in Galway. He said Conor had taken a week's holidays and gave Libby the address of Conor's house.

***

Libby drove to Galway on that same Sunday, in the evening. She wanted to check out Conor's second house. She arrived at the address Brendan gave her, stepped out of the car, and walked up the driveway.

It was a small semi-detached house, which had the hallmark signs of having been newly built, the paintwork was fresh, no curtains were on the windows and the lawn was just beginning to sprout grass.

There was a car parked outside the front porch. She rang the doorbell loudly. There was no answer. Just as she was about to walk away, the door opened slowly.

To her surprise, Conor stood there gazing at her, a sheepish grin on his face. 'There you are,' said Libby, 'it's about time you showed your face.'

He sighed and then ushered her into the bare sitting room, where they sat on the new red leather sofa. The room had cream walls and a beige carpet. Conor took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened it and extracted one.

'Pamela has been worried about you,' Libby said.

Conor groaned. 'I got a shock, and I had to get away. Pamela told me, after the party, that she was six weeks pregnant.' He lit his cigarette, took a puff and inhaled deeply. 'She talked about us getting married.'

'So you ran away.' Libby glared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. .

'I got scared. I came down here to think.' Conor bent over the ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette viciously. 'I needed to think about things.'

'You went through a lot of trouble to hide yourself from her,' said Libby.

'I knew Pamela would be searching for me. I just wanted a break from her.' His face was flushed. 'What are you going to do now, anyway?'

She replied, 'I'm going to tell Pamela, of course.

Conor gazed at her in silence. 'I was afraid you'd say that. Alright, tell her but don't tell Brendan.'

'Why are you suddenly so afraid of him?' Libby asked. She thought of Nuala and her unease around her brother.

'I'm not.' Conor appeared puzzled. 'Why do you think I am?'

'His sister appears to be afraid of him.'

'I've never seen Brendan touch her,' Conor said. 'I've known the two of them since they were kids. Anyway, she's a year older. She was always bigger than him.' He sighed heavily. 'She's afraid of all men. Their father used to whack them around a bit, her and Brendan.'

'So she said. Did you ever see him do it?' Libby asked with curiosity.

'No, but Brendan showed me the marks on his back one time, where the father gave him lashes with his belt. Big ugly red lines, it was awful.'

Libby was horrified. 'Didn't you tell anyone about this at the time?'

Conor gazed at her dully. 'No. What was the point?'

 Libby didn't know how to answer this. I guess hitting children was not illegal back then, she thought. But hitting his wife was a definite crime and Brendan's father had got away with that, according to Nuala. She asked Conor, 'Will you come back with me now to Ballyhasset? Can't you meet Pamela? She seems miserable at the moment.'

He said slowly, 'No, I want to stay here a few more days. I'll ring Pamela myself tonight.'

Libby drove back to her office. She rang Pamela straight away to give her the good news about Conor.

Libby could hear the relief in her voice as the young doctor asked, ''Where was he hiding, anyway?'

'In his Galway house.' Libby replied. ''He told me clearly that he wants to be alone for a while and he'll ring you later.'

There was a silence before Pamela said, 'He must be annoyed about the baby.'

'You'll have to sort that out between yourselves.' You pair are worse than two children, Libby thought.

'Thanks, Libby.'

'Did you manage to track down the fellow you thought knew Doctor Kathleen Lynch?' Libby asked her after a moment.

Pamela said, 'What fellow?'

'The man you mentioned at Conor's party. You said he lived around here and that he knew Kathleen from years back.'

'Oh, him. No, I was wrong. I asked him and it turned out he didn't know Kathleen at all. I mistook him for someone else.' Pamela rang off. Libby  wondered if she was lying.