Deadly Intent (11 page)

Fergus looked out the window and Redmond tried not to step into the silence as he had earlier. This must be the art of questioning, he thought, to recognize when to make a reluctant witness sweat, or to give him just enough breathing space to utter the unsayable sentences.

After a long moment, he decided to add to the pressure on Fergus. ‘We've heard from colleagues of Oscar's that at least two of his women employees left their jobs without notice, following rumours of a sexual relationship in each case. So anything you can tell us about his patterns of behaviour, or about particular relationships, could be crucial to the investigation.'

‘We understand this is difficult for you,' said O'Kelleher after another pause. ‘But we need to know who had cause to be angry with Oscar, or jealous of him, or to have some other motive to kill him.'

Fergus looked from one to the other. ‘I know all that and I'm trying to think of what I can tell you. Really, it's just that … I never asked him about, you know, other women in his life. I preferred not to know the details, can't you understand that?'

Redmond tried not to feel impatient. However difficult it was for Fergus, at least he had not insisted on the presence of a solicitor throughout his interviews. But the gardai had a difficult job to do too.

‘As you know,' he continued, ‘some people believe Oscar became involved with Maureen Scurlock during the week, even though she was on holiday with her husband Dominic. Do you believe it's true that they became involved? And if so, would your father have set out to get what he wanted, in that determined way you described earlier?'

‘That wasn't what I said exactly.' Fergus reddened but then he spoke more firmly than before. ‘No, you see I don't believe my father was attracted to her at all. I think he played a sort of game with some women … Women like Maureen, for example.'

‘What game was that? And what do you mean, women like Maureen?'

‘She wasn't the sort of person …' Fergus was still blushing. ‘I'm sure Maureen Scurlock is a fine person. But I think my father preferred a different type of woman … I suppose I mean a more sophisticated woman, and probably younger too.'

‘OK. And the game?'

‘Maybe game is the wrong word. All I'm saying is that my father liked to flirt. He liked the fact … He liked to be reminded that he was attractive to women, but that doesn't mean he had a relationship with every woman he looked at twice.'

‘Was Dominic wrong, then, when he claimed that Oscar had assaulted Maureen?'

‘I don't know.' Fergus hesitated and then found his firm voice again. ‘No, it just doesn't fit, I don't believe it was my father who attacked her. Dominic must be wrong about that.'

‘How can you be sure?'

‘I can't be completely sure, but … My father wouldn't do something like that, down a country laneway, losing control of himself. No, I just can't believe it.'

O'Kelleher spoke softly, but with a steely undertone. ‘Or maybe Dominic knows his wife rather better than you knew your father? Maybe you're the person who's wrong about what happened?'

The afternoon wore on amid further questions and faltering answers. The air in the room grew heavier. Redmond began to wonder whether Fergus was putting on an act, hoping that the more he hesitated and fidgeted, the less the screws would be turned in the interview. On the other hand, Fergus had every reason to be dazed – he was young, shy and dealing with a traumatic shock all on his own. There was also a kind of stiffness or formality about him, as shown by his constant use of the word ‘father' rather than ‘dad'. Redmond could not decide what to make of him.

He jotted notes and questions on his laptop as the interview proceeded. How come Fergus was so sure about Maureen, if he had always kept his distance from Oscar's relationships with women? When he was questioned about his solitary walks, had he reacted uneasily? And earlier in the interview, why the assertion that his father had not antagonised him, when he had actually been asked about other people?

Fergus told them that he was very disappointed when Oscar decided on Wednesday night to return home to Tipperary the next day. Fergus had booked the holiday in Beara in the first place, as a surprise present for his father. But he repeated several times that they did not have a row about Oscar's decision. When he made up his mind, he rarely changed it. Indeed, Fergus said that his father was prone to impatience, and could suddenly lose interest in a place or in a group of people.

O'Kelleher pushed him to explain why he had chosen Beara in particular. Had he or Oscar any previous link to the area, or with others in the Cnoc Meala group? Were there any concerns in advance about the likely success of the holiday? But Fergus stuck doggedly to the answers he had given to the same questions already. He found the Cnoc Meala website by chance. They knew none of the other guests in advance. He had been hopeful that they would both enjoy the week.

He explained that he had just got a job in Australia, and booked the holiday as a leaving present, which he told his father about just a few weeks beforehand. It seemed a good idea to spend some time together before he, Fergus, departed to the far side of the world. Oscar liked to keep fit, and he thought he would enjoy a walking holiday. And being in a group would be easier for the two of them.

He relaxed a fraction while answering such general questions. He had never planned to work in his father's business, he said, but there was no conflict between them as a result. He had qualified as an engineer, but he was not particularly interested in electronic gates or communication systems that showed you who was ringing your doorbell. His new job in Australia was in solar energy research, developing giant mirrors placed strategically in desert locations.

‘I worked with him. I spent a few months working with my father. That was the year before last.' Fergus examined his thumbnail for a moment. ‘But I couldn't …'

‘You couldn't what?' Another half-sentence left dangling in the air.

‘My father had a strong personality, as you know by now. I couldn't … I wanted to stand on my own feet, so I was really looking forward to the new job in Australia. But now I don't know …'

It was impossible to follow up on every unfinished sentence.

There was a shortage of solar gain in Derryowen that afternoon, Redmond thought, as he looked out the window at a low sky over a grey sea. Plenty of energy in the waves, no doubt, as they beat incessantly on the shore, but he would go out of his mind if he stared at them too long. The gardai had been given the use of an empty house for some of the Derryowen interviews, while others continued in Castletownbere and Bantry stations.

Redmond had noted the times of various events on the day of Oscar's disappearance, and Inspector O'Kelleher went over the details with Fergus.

10.00 a.m.: Oscar left Cnoc Meala; bought a newspaper in O'Donovan's shop; had a conversation outside the shop with Darina O'Sullivan and said he might call in to her studio a while later, but did not do so.

10.20 a.m.: Oscar went for a walk along a coastal path near Derryowen Hotel, where he was seen by two other tourists.

10.30 a.m.: Oscar texted Fergus to ask him to book a taxi for him for 2.00 p.m., from the car park at Scannive Strand, a few miles from Derryowen. Fergus texted back soon afterwards to confirm that he had done so.

11.30 a.m.: Oscar had a coffee at the hotel; he mentioned to the barman that he planned to try the Coomgarriff Walk; he had a conversation with Maureen Scurlock, as seen through the hotel window by the two sisters and fellow guests, Stella and Zoe.

11.50 a.m.: Oscar left the hotel to go walking; he had a conversation with an old man, Ambrose, outside his house on the road out of Derryowen, and mentioned that he was on his way to Coomgarriff Walk; Ambrose also gave evidence that Oscar's phone rang and that he spoke to someone for a few minutes. Gardai did not know yet who had phoned him.

1.40 p.m.: Phone text from Oscar to Fergus asking him to cancel the taxi booking.

Mid-afternoon, perhaps 3.00 p.m.: Oscar was seen walking at a location about three miles from Coomgarriff, according to an English tourist who contacted gardai. No confirmation of this sighting by other witnesses.

Fergus agreed with the times noted, in so far as his own involvement was concerned. His mobile had already been taken away for forensic examination of the texts he had received from his father. Gardai were particularly interested in the 1.40 p.m. text, and whether the style or wording could suggest that Oscar wrote it under duress or threat of violence.

Redmond had the wording off by heart. It was brief and to the point: ‘Change of plan, work reasons, have lift, cancel taxi
.
' Fergus had no idea who or what gave rise to the change of plan. But he had already discussed the text with gardai on Friday, when they were trying to contact Oscar about Maureen's incident, and he said that he was not at all surprised at it. Oscar generally did as he pleased, and felt no need to justify doing so.

‘Did your father have a car at home in Tipperary?'

‘No, he didn't. But I thought I told you already …?' Fergus seemed more weary than impatient. His face was pale and haggard, as if he had not slept for a week. ‘My father didn't like driving and gave it up years ago. He often worked while he was travelling, so he employed a driver for business trips.'

‘And you drove him to Beara last Sunday? But you didn't offer to drive him home when he had to leave early?'

‘Yes, we came here in my car. But no, he didn't ask or expect me to leave early along with him. It was no problem to him to pay for a taxi.' Fergus sighed and looked out at the grey rolling waves. ‘As well as that … I don't know this for sure, but I think he quite liked to have other people at his beck and call, if you know what I mean.'

‘What about baggage? What did Oscar carry with him on Thursday morning?'

‘Surely I answered these questions yesterday? He had a small rucksack with him when he left Cnoc Meala. The rest of his stuff was in his room and I'd agreed to bring it home this weekend. But I thought his rucksack …? Your colleagues told me yesterday that you haven't found it yet?'

O'Kelleher eventually suggested a short break. Supplies had been provided on a side-table and he went over to put the kettle on. Fergus had brought his own mint tea, as he was still having stomach trouble, and just asked for hot water. Redmond watched the young man standing by the window. Slightly built, with unremarkable looks and light-coloured hair cut very short. But there was something missing too, Redmond decided. It was as if his blood ran too thinly, or the light in his eyes had gone out.

‘OK, let's go back over last Thursday one more time,' said O'Kelleher when they resumed their places. ‘You've told us you stayed in bed all morning, Fergus, because you were feeling ill. Around midday, you got up and sat around in the guests' living room, as Nessa McDermott has verified. At half past one, she offered to drive you to Castletownbere to buy some medicine from a pharmacy. You both returned to the house shortly after three o'clock, and you stayed in the living room for the rest of the afternoon, along with two Dutch visitors.'

Redmond took a gulp of black coffee as he listened. He hoped the bolt of caffeine would help him to concentrate.

‘Let's suppose you'd set out to guarantee yourself a good alibi, Fergus,' said the inspector. ‘You knew that your father was in danger, maybe, because his business enemies had pressurised you to help them?'

‘I don't understand what you mean.'

‘What I mean, my friend, is that you made a very good job of your alibi for Thursday, isn't that so? You spent most of the day in company, in spite of your claims that you enjoy time alone. When you and Nessa McDermott returned from Castletown, you didn't try a spell of fresh air on your own to improve your health, did you? Instead, you stayed nicy and cosy in Cnoc Meala where other people were sure to see you?'

Fergus shook his head in silence. O'Kelleher sipped his tea for a moment, his mild blue eyes regarding him steadily. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a razor-sharp edge.

‘It seems very strange altogether,' he said, ‘that you knew so little about your own father's business affairs, or who phoned him or why he might have altered his plans, either when he decided to leave Beara on Thursday morning or when he changed tack again that lunchtime. For God's sake, son, you lived with him in Tipperary, you worked with him for a while, and you came on holidays with him. But yet after all that, you still haven't a notion in the world who might have wanted to kill him or why?'

‘I'm sorry, I'm doing my best …' Fergus shoved his hands into his armpits. ‘I've answered every question as well as I can.'

‘Well, so you say, but let me tell you now that if you're keeping information to yourself, or protecting somebody else, you'll be more than sorry when we find out about it!'

Fergus made no attempt to answer this time. Redmond glanced out at the wide waters of the bay. The tide itself was at a standstill, it seemed to him, as they tried to dredge answers from the young man sitting across the table.

‘We're here to help you unravel what happened,' said O'Kelleher then. His voice was still sharp, but he sounded tired too. ‘You told us previously that Oscar was in a good humour when you saw him for the last time on Thursday morning, even though he had just been confronted with some major business problem – something so pressing that he had to leave Beara that day in order to deal with it?'

‘I've tried to explain to you.' Fergus became more animated, making a real effort to answer decisively. ‘My father was never happier than when he had a work problem to sort out. He wasn't like other people, that's what you have to understand. It always seemed to me that … You see, an easy life was the last thing he wanted.' His voice became stronger. ‘I used to worry about it, to be honest, that he took too many risks and maybe even … Sometimes I was afraid he actually courted danger, just for the sake of it.'