The Nameless Dead (29 page)

I hardly needed to look at the numbers to know that the visitor had been James Callan. I told McCready as much.

‘When did he leave? Did she leave with him?’

McCready shrugged sheepishly. ‘I don’t know. It must have been when I was sleeping.’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ I snapped. ‘All you had to do was stay awake until I got here.’

I could tell he was embarrassed, but my anger would not let me offer him any words of comfort.

I sprinted across the road to the house. The lights downstairs were still turned on. A sliver of light from the hall spilled onto the front step where the door lay ajar.

I stepped up and pushed the door open.

‘Hello?’ I called. ‘An Garda. Ms Clark?’

There was no response. I was aware of McCready approaching behind me. I stepped into the hallway, half expecting to find Clark lying on the floor somewhere, like Seamus O’Hara. But the
place was empty.

We moved into the living room. The TV still played, but there was no one there. In the kitchen, the kettle was plugged in. A black purse lay on the worktop. But there was no sign of Sheila
Clark.

We searched the entire house, but it was clear that Clark had gone. Her clothes remained in the wardrobe, her purse and car keys lay downstairs. But she had simply disappeared.

I showered again the following morning, certain I could still smell effluent on my skin. When I came down for breakfast, Debbie and Penny were in the middle of a heated row.
Debs, it transpired, had borrowed Penny’s mobile phone to make a call, her own being out of credit. She had, unashamedly, checked through Penny’s text messages. There was a chain of
messages between Penny and John Morrison, which had started two nights earlier, when he had sent her a video-clip. Debbie had played it, unprepared for what she saw. She replayed it for me when I
arrived.

The footage was brief, running for less than thirty seconds. The picture was grainy and out-of-focus, but there could be no doubt about what we were watching. Stephen Burke lay prostrate on the
ground while he was beaten repeatedly with a baseball bat by an assailant whose face was not shown. They struck him several times in the crotch, then whoever was filming focused in on Burke’s
face as he wept, and laughed.

Debbie held the phone out, staring at me.

‘Dump that in the bin. Get it out of the house.’

Penny, on the other hand, was furious that her mother had read her messages.

‘You were snooping,’ she shouted.

‘I’m your mother; I’m allowed to snoop. To make sure you’re not involved in things you shouldn’t be.’

‘I didn’t ask him to send it to me,’ she said. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘He shouldn’t feel he can send it,’ I said.

‘That’s not my fault.’

‘Penny – you could get into real trouble for this. How many people has he sent this to?’

‘No one. Just me. He said he did it for me.’

‘How gallant,’ I said.

‘At least he did something about it,’ she spat back.

‘So did your father,’ Debbie said. ‘The right thing. He handed him over to the police.’

‘For all the difference that made.’

Debbie gripped Penny by the shoulders. ‘Do you not realize what this means? If John Morrison did that for you, what will he expect in return?’

Penny stared at her a moment. ‘Nothing he’s not already getting,’ she retorted.

Debbie had slapped her across the face before any of us knew what was happening. Even Penny seemed shocked, both by the force of the strike, and the source of it.

‘That boy never gets near the house again, Ben,’ she said to me. ‘And you’re grounded,’ she added turning to Penny. By that stage, Penny had already made for the
stairs, stomping up to her room.

‘Those people are going to bring us trouble,’ she said darkly. ‘I told you this would happen.’

Then she too turned and walked out of the room before I had chance to respond.

Shane was sitting at the table, his breakfast in front of him, his mouth open.

‘Not Miss Perfect anymore, then,’ he concluded, shaking his head, then spooning cornflakes into his mouth.

I crossed the border before heading into work. I was not surprised to find Jimmy Callan’s house empty, with no sign of his car. I stood at the living-room window, peering
in.

‘He’s gone again.’

I looked across to where the neighbour I had met with Hendry stood, leaning over the hedge that separated the two properties.

‘Any idea when he’ll be back?’

The man shook his head. ‘He asked me to cancel the milk for him. Indefinitely. I don’t think he’s planning on coming back.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ I said. ‘When did you see him?’

‘This morning. Just before eight.’

‘Was he on his own?’

The man seemed puzzled by the question. ‘Of course. He’s always on his own.’

‘Clark must have been spooked by Callan and did a runner. Either that, or he’s done something to her,’ I explained to Patterson in his office an hour
later.

‘You had a suspect followed without my permission,’ Patterson said incredulously. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’

‘I thought she might lead us to the child.’

‘I don’t give a shit about the child,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t care where it is or who has it, just so long as it’s not one more thing for me to have to deal
with.’

‘I’m afraid that I do,’ I said quietly.

‘Regardless, I’m your boss, and you’ll follow orders. Is that clear?’

I did not respond.

‘You know where the door is, any time you want to use it, Inspector.’

He turned his attention to the papers on the desk in front of him, but as I stood to leave he looked up again.

‘By the way, Lennie Millar contacted me.’

‘And?’

‘The feeling is that we’d not be successful in prosecuting anyone over the seven children. They were found as part of the dig.’

‘But they’re not Troubles killings.’

‘Regardless, it’s a loophole just waiting to be exploited. The DPP would only check with him if we tried to push for a prosecution, and he’ll have to tell them the same
thing.’

‘So what now?’

‘Forensics have been working through the night on the clothes they recovered. They’ve got nothing.’

‘What about Martin?’

‘Nothing,’ Patterson said. ‘No gun, no evidence, Clark’s statement is useless if we don’t find her. Nothing connects him to O’Hara.’

‘We know Cleary called him the night they were both killed. And what about the other stuff, the kids and the drugs testing and that? The smuggling?’

‘Have you not been listening? There’s nowhere to go with them. No child, no gun, nothing.’

‘We need to at least push him on the O’Hara shooting.’

‘We can push, but I’d not be holding out much hope.’

It was after ten by the time Martin was released from the hospital. His solicitor was waiting for him in Letterkenny station when he arrived. I’d met the lawyer before;
Gerald Brown worked out of Strabane. My suspicion that he represented every undesirable in the area was tempered slightly by the knowledge that the town was relatively small and Brown was one of
its most experienced solicitors.

‘Detective Inspector Devlin,’ he said, nodding solemnly.

‘Mr Brown, always good to see you.’

He said no more until we were settled in the interview room. Martin had showered in the hospital; his hair was still a little damp and he swept it back from his face. His skin was flushed around
his jowls, as if he had recently shaved.

‘I trust you’re feeling better, Mr Martin.’

‘My client would like it stated for the record that he has grave concerns about the way you have conducted yourself with regard to him over these past weeks.’

‘Grave? That’s an apt word.’

‘He feels you have attempted to intimidate him, you have visited his house out of jurisdiction, you have harassed his partner, and then last night you pursued him with a loaded weapon,
while he himself was unarmed.’

‘I know you had a gun, Mr Martin,’ I said. ‘We will find it.’

‘It was dark, I understand. You may have been mistaken in what you think you saw. Furthermore, in future, if you wish to speak to my client, you will apply to have him brought across under
the European Arrest Warrant. Though, of course, to do so, you will have to provide good reason to arrest Mr Martin, something which, as yet, you have failed to do.’

‘Sheila Clark made a statement to us last night that your father’s drug company tested skin cream on girls in St Canice’s home, as a result of which seven children were born
with severe facial disfigurement. So severe, in fact, that six of the children died before birth. The seventh was found with evidence of violent death. Miss Clark tells us that you were aware of
this and intimately involved in covering up the deaths.’

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘Yet you were involved in her illegal adoptions.’

‘No I wasn’t.’

‘She was living out of show houses on your estates.’

‘She was a sad old woman. She had no family and no home. I allowed her to live out of houses which I am unable to sell. It was an act of charity for an old friend. Had I known how
she’d repay me I can assure you she’d have been out of those houses long before now.’

‘Can you explain to me again what you were doing in the property in Islandview?’

‘I was cleaning it out. Miss Clark left quite a mess.’

‘You were getting rid of evidence.’

‘Of what?’

‘Your involvement in the smuggling of children, perhaps? What about the child in Drumoghill? Where is he now?’

‘There is no child. You should know; you already searched the place once.’

‘Illegally,’ Brown added.

‘A neighbour saw someone leave that house with a child. I believe it was your partner, Maria Votchek.’

‘Good luck proving any of that,’ Martin sneered, earning a reproachful glance from Brown.

‘Did O’Hara have second thoughts? When he discovered he was dying, did he regret what he had done, setting up Declan Cleary?’

I could tell from Martin’s reaction that at least one part of my question was news to him.

‘You didn’t know he was dying, did you?’

‘I had no reason to know, having not spoken to the man since we happened to work together in St Canice’s.’

‘You are grasping at straws,’ Brown said. ‘I believe that we’re finished here.’

‘I know you did it,’ I said. ‘I know you covered up those seven kids’ deaths and used Dominic Callan’s killing as a way to target Declan Cleary. Did you have
Dominic Callan killed too? Did he threaten you, too? We know he killed one of the children. Did you set him up with the army?’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Brown snapped, standing up. ‘You ought to be ashamed of your conduct in all of this. We will be lodging a complaint with your superintendent.’

‘He’ll expect nothing less, I’m sure,’ I said. ‘Before you leave, you’ll need to give a statement about the events of last night. While you’re
here.’

To be honest, I was being petty in detaining him any longer, for any statement would be of little material use.

Martin was finally free to go in the middle of the afternoon, and Maria Votchek collected him from the station. Brown also left, satisfied that Martin was not being detained further. I contacted
Jim Hendry and told him about how events had unfolded, in case the PSNI wanted to pick him up over the border.

‘We’ve nothing on him,’ he said. ‘We’ve searched the car and the house for forensics, but he’s clean.’

‘I believe he dumped the gun in the mudflats of the Foyle,’ I said.

‘Then so long as he keeps his nose clean, he’s in the clear for now,’ Hendry said. ‘Galling as that is for both of us.’

I was packing up for the evening, when Joe McCready approached me. Whether by accident or design on his part, our paths had not crossed during the day.

‘I’m sorry about last night, sir,’ he said.

‘Forget about it,’ I said. ‘I should never have asked you to go out.’

‘I was knackered, sir,’ he explained. ‘I couldn’t stay awake.’

‘It’s fine. Forget about it.’

He lingered a moment. ‘Any sign of Clark?’

I shook my head. ‘Nor Callan. I went to his house this morning. He’s disappeared, too.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure. I told him that his son was involved with Clark and the Martins in covering up the deaths of the children and that he killed the girl we found.’

‘Why did he kill her? Why not just put her up for adoption?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe they thought no one would want her. Maybe they were worried that people might ask questions if two children with Goldenhar were born in the home within a few months of
each other. I think Niall Martin got word to Jimmy Callan in prison that Declan Cleary had touted on Dominic. I think Callan had Cleary executed for it, though he’ll not admit as much. Maybe
he’s realized now that he had the wrong man killed.’

‘Maybe he’s looking for the right man, instead.’

‘Or woman,’ I said. ‘Clark’s keys and purse were still in her house. If she’d done a runner herself, she’d have taken that stuff with her.’

The Cold War was still in full swing when I went home, Penny sitting in her room, emerging only to eat her dinner in silence. She retreated back upstairs as soon as she’d
eaten the last bite.

I went up after her, knocking on her door before going in. She was at the computer, quickly shutting down the page she was on when I came in.

‘You need to sort things out with your mum,’ I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to quiz her about what she’d been doing before I came in.

‘She hit me.’

‘She lost her temper, Penny. You know she didn’t mean it.’

‘She snooped through my phone messages,’ Penny said. ‘I hate that.’

‘She’s worried about you. We both are.’

‘I’m not a child,’ she snapped petulantly.

‘Yes you are, honey,’ I said. ‘You’re our child. And you could be fifty, but you’ll still be our child. Getting older doesn’t make you less our daughter. We
maybe need to look at how we treat you, but we won’t stop worrying about you, or loving you, or wanting to protect you.’