The Doll's House (15 page)

Kate hadn’t thought about Professor Henry Bloom in a while but they had had many conversations about society’s reaction to the killing of another. Socially acceptable in wartime, when the group dynamic shifts its view from the norm, doesn’t rest easily on the shoulders of the civilised world when the killing is outside this margin. The very existence of killers, people willing to harm others, threatens us all. Kate also knew from her time with Henry that the line between good and evil is within everyone. Given the right set of circumstances, all of us are capable of doing harm to another.

After the Jenkins report, Kate then forwarded her interim report on the Rachel Mooney rape. As she grabbed a coffee before her Monday-afternoon appointments, her mind again turned to Charlie. The way
things had been with Declan lately, the two of them drifting further apart, must be affecting their son.

Opening the window in her office, she instantly felt the cold October wind attack her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt more alone than ever. The sound of traffic outside was drowned by the ringing of the bells at St Matthew’s. Instead of closing the window, she remained staring at the street below, wondering if Declan’s silence said more than his words. And as if Declan, for once, had the same thought in his mind, he rang her mobile. Only this time, from his opening words, Kate knew they wouldn’t be indulging in polite conversation.

‘Kate, it’s Declan. I know you’re at work, but we need to talk.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I don’t know how to say this. It’s really difficult for me.’

She held the phone close to her ear, turning her back to the passing traffic outside, believing she already knew what he was about to say, for the words ‘it’s over’ were already etched on her mind. Clearing her throat, she spoke as calmly as she could, relieved Declan would be the first to say it. ‘It’s okay, Declan, go on.’

‘I’ve met someone else.’

O’Connor still hadn’t fully worked out why he’d asked Kate out for a drink, almost regretting it the moment the question had popped out of his mouth. He had no doubt what was keeping him awake at night. Sharing it with Kate, no matter how bloody understanding she might be, wasn’t going to help matters, and he’d no intention of discussing it with anyone in the force, irrespective of what support mechanisms were in place. He’d made his bed, and now he had better learn to lie in it.

Lynch, who’d been checking the CCTV footage when O’Connor arrived, seemed intent on spending the tail end of the afternoon constantly rewinding the tapes. Rubbing his hands down his face, in an effort to rejuvenate his thoughts, O’Connor was the first to break the silence. ‘Lynch, tell me there’s a good reason for you constantly rewinding that fucker.’

‘I’m looking at the sightings in Hatch Street and at a late-night shop. The quality is suspect in places, but the second sighting is bothering me. It looks like more than a casual conversation to me.’

O’Connor stood behind him.

‘Look here.’ Lynch stopped the tape as Jenkins exited the shop. ‘When Jenkins steps out, he stands there alone, opening the packet of cigarettes he’s just purchased. Watch him. He looks up and down the street before lighting the cigarette, almost as if he’s expecting someone. It’s only when he’s about to walk away that the other man appears.’

O’Connor leaned in closer, looking again at the stranger walking out of the shadows. At first the male seemed to be walking in the direction of the shop, but another few rewinds of the tape confirmed he had come at Jenkins from behind, out from a laneway to the right of the shop.

‘It’s at this point, sir, that they exchange words.’

‘How long are they talking? What does the tape say?’

‘Four point six five seconds.’

‘It could be simple pleasantries, Lynch.’

‘Maybe – but look here. Both men stand facing each other. Then Keith Jenkins either stands back or is forced back. It’s hard to tell with the split-second gaps in the footage. The second man lights his cigarette, his back to the CCTV camera, while Jenkins is facing it. They’re both standing further back than before, as if they’ve stepped in from the road for more privacy. Do complete strangers stop to have a cigarette together in the shadows? Maybe – but not for as long as it looks here. Look what happens next, when Jenkins walks away, leaving the other guy behind him.’

O’Connor kept looking at the footage. ‘The other guy stays put.’

‘Only long enough to let Jenkins think he isn’t being followed.’ Lynch moves the tape on. ‘Five seconds later he leaves in the same direction.’

‘What are you thinking, Lynch?’

‘The interaction is too intimate for complete strangers. Jenkins doesn’t look like he was forced back into the shadows, but he certainly went there.’

O’Connor looked at the tape again. ‘If this turns out to be the last sighting of the victim, this other guy is critical. Right, Lynch, let’s get agreement from the chief super to put the entire footage out there. I want it on every news bulletin going. We may not be able to make out who the mystery man is, but perhaps someone else will.’

‘Okay.’

‘Also, hassle Morrison on the weapon, and the distance the attacker would have been from the victim when the initial assault happened. If the killer and Keith Jenkins’s cigarette companion are one and the same, the killer could have used the earlier incident as a means of getting Jenkins to engage with him again.’

‘Sure.’

‘Did we get any more on Jenkins’s business associates?’

‘Mr Jenkins didn’t just like upsetting his studio guests.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘He had his finger in a number of shady dealings, not least of which was a property investment in Portugal. You know the kind of stuff, golf clubs, health spas, designer apartments and villas.’

‘So what’s shady about it?’

‘He didn’t put his own lolly in. He managed to convince other investors to put theirs in instead. He used a company set up a number of years back under the name of Hamilton Holdings.’

‘It has a nice ring to it, but you still haven’t told me why it’s shady.’ O’Connor sat back behind his desk.

‘When the shit fell out of everything here and in Portugal, numbers began plummeting. Some of the regular investors got nervous, especially when their accountants began hitting brick walls on percentage shareholdings and who they were in bed with on the deal. There were rumours about dirty money in there. Either way, Jenkins was playing hardball. It was only a matter of time before the money lawyers started asking awkward questions.’

‘Have we the list of the legitimate players?’

‘It’s proving tricky to unearth. Looks like everyone has gone to ground.’

‘We’ll need to do some digging. Get the CAB guys in. The money trail always leads somewhere. If anyone knows where to start, the guys in the Criminal Assets Bureau will.’ O’Connor stood up, stretching his arms. ‘This bloody haystack keeps getting fucking bigger, Lynch.’ Walking over to the wipe board, he looked at the headings from the previous night – missing wedding ring, mystery man and late-night shop, hotel receipt, method of killing, likelihood of another. O’Connor added the incident at the restaurant with Siobhan King to the list.

Turning back to Lynch in a more upbeat manner than he felt, he said, ‘Get French on the phone. Let’s see if we can get up close and personal with the family. Something tells me this investigation still has a long way to go.’

Orla’s letter was filled with the usual pleasantries. If Martin had read it, there was nothing in it for him to pay much heed to.

Once out of the house, my mood is less sombre. I have cash with me, so I think about hailing a taxi. I look across at a bus, pulled in at the stop on the far side of the main road. I wouldn’t even know what the fare is now. I remember bus rides with my father and Dominic, the three of us travelling into town, going into the shops for a treat, having lunch with ice-cream in tall glasses. When I talk to Dominic about them, he tells me I’m mixing everything up. That I couldn’t possibly remember because I was too small.

I wait for the traffic to clear before I cross the road, and as I do, the bus pulls away. There is a young girl in the bus shelter, sitting alone. She is holding a doll, her arms wrapped around it, rocking it back and forth like it’s a baby. I stare at her. She wants me to watch her. She has waves of curly ginger hair. It practically covers her whole face. When she looks up, there are hollows where her eyes should be, and her lips when she smiles are the same colour as my mother’s rose pink lipstick – the one in the golden case with the pretty roses in the middle.

Gerard doesn’t mention my bruises when I arrive. And, just like two days ago, he asks me to count backwards from two hundred, and soon I’m back in the garden. This time the flowers are different, red fuchsia and trailing white and blue lobelia hanging down from
above. The ground is soft, full of wild flowers, pansies, daisies and huge sunflowers, all scattered among the high grasses. I can feel their cushioned carpet beneath my bare feet. It smells of summer. This time I can hear sounds, birdsong falling like the flowers from above. I walk down another flight of stairs, and I am back in the same corridor. I know the room I want to go to. Gerard asks me what age I am, and I tell him I’m seven.

I open the door to my old bedroom. There are toys on the floor, and in the corner is my doll’s house. I see Sandy sitting beside it. Sandy has curly blonde hair and sea-blue eyes. Her legs and arms don’t have elbow or knee joints, so they can only move in a certain way. Golly sits beside her, with his large yellow bow. His eyes look as if he’s about to be knocked down by a truck. That doesn’t matter, because his eyes are always like that, as if he’s been given the fright of his life.

I hear voices, loud adult voices, coming from below. A man is shouting. I don’t know who he is. I must have finished a snack. There is an empty glass on my bedside locker, which looks like it was filled with milk, and a willow-pattern plate with crumbs on it. Debbie, my other doll, is the first to break the silence.

‘Ah, go jump in a lake,’ she says, as if she doesn’t care about the voices coming from downstairs. Debbie always says things like that. Things you have to listen to. Debbie has airs and graces. She thinks she’s the most important doll. Unlike Sandy, she has elbow and knee joints. I don’t like her, really, but I don’t ignore her either. You’d have to be mad to ignore Destructive Debbie. She’d make you pay the price. Debbie and Sandy live inside the doll’s house, but Debbie is definitely the one in charge. She often whispers when the voices from downstairs get too loud, as if she wants Sandy and me to listen carefully, but then yells at the top of her voice when others speak low.

Debbie is not impressed today. She is not one bit happy. Debbie has attitude. You need to understand that when you’re dealing with her. She has rights on account of being both clever and beautiful.
She’s telling me about the man, the one without a name. The one she knows likes Mum. I don’t think Dad is at home. It’s the middle of the day, and he would be at work. I can hear Gerard Hayden’s voice. He’s asking, ‘Who is talking, Clodagh?’

‘I am,’ I say. And I realise it’s me, the little-girl me, although there are no words coming out of her mouth. Debbie is staring. She is sitting in the corner by a spinning top, on top of the box of snakes and ladders.

The adult voices downstairs are quiet. Sandy wants me to put Debbie into her cardboard box, the one under my bed with the lid on it.

‘Don’t you want to know who the man is?’ Debbie laughs.

‘No, she doesn’t,’ says Sandy, right back at her.

‘The man loves mummy, the man loves mummy,’ Debbie sings, to the music of ‘Three Blind Mice’ – ‘See how they run’.

‘Shut up, Debbie,’ roars Sandy.

But she doesn’t stop: ‘I saw him kiss her, I saw him kiss her.’ Debbie sticks out her lips, like she’s about to kiss someone too. Then she says, sharp and cold, ‘Let’s all play house.’

‘What if we don’t want to play house?’ asks Sandy, but her face says she has already given in.

My doll’s house has three floors and an attic. The front opens when you release the small clip at the top. One panel, the larger one with the front door on it, opens to the left and the other to the right. The roof with the attic room has a flip-back lid, so when you open the house you can see all four levels and look inside every room.