Dead Men Whistling, page 3
Katie also recognized Viona’s shoes – pink T-bar courts with square gold studs all around them – although she hadn’t tried those on. They were Valentino Garavani and at least €700 a pair.
She knew roughly what the salary scale was for Ryanair’s cabin crew, so she could only guess that Jimmy Ó Faoláin must have been lavishing a fair amount of money on her.
‘We’ll need to talk to you down at Anglesea Street,’ she told Viona, sitting down beside her. ‘For now, though, there’s a couple of things I need to ask you, if that’s okay.’
Viona nodded. ‘I just can’t believe that Jimmy’s dead,’ she said, miserably. ‘I keep thinking he’s going to come walking in the door any moment, laughing and saying that he was only spoofing, like, do you know what I mean?’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
Viona’s lips puckered, and she gave a deep, heaving sob. ‘Monday morning. We’d spent the weekend together. We didn’t often get the chance to do that, because he was always so busy with this and that. We went down to Kinsale and had lunch at Finns’ Table. That was Jimmy’s favourite restaurant, Finns’ Table. He loved the baked lobster.’
‘So where have you been since Monday morning?’
‘Malaga. I was called to step in because one of the other girls was sick.’
‘Were you and Jimmy in contact while you were there? Any texts or emails between you?’
‘We texted each other Monday night, and then I texted him again on Tuesday afternoon telling him when I was going to be back.’
‘Did he reply to that?’
‘Only with the thumbs-up emoji, like.’
‘So you had no indication that he might be in trouble, or worried about something?’
Viona shook her head.
‘Were you aware that he might have been having any bother with his business? Any arguments with anybody?’
‘Jimmy never argued with nobody. He was always smiling. He used to say that he was born in the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow.’
‘You never heard anybody threaten him?’
‘Why would they?’
Katie looked up at Kyna and Detectives Markey and O’Donovan.
Kyna said, ‘As far as we can make out, nothing’s been taken. There’s a safe behind a painting in the study, but it doesn’t look as if there’s been any attempt to open it. No paintings or statues or ornaments appear to be missing.’
‘What about Jimmy’s family?’ Katie asked Viona. ‘Did he get along okay with them?’
‘Both of his parents are dead, but he has two sisters. One of them lives in Macroom and the other one I’m not sure, England somewhere I think. He never talked about them much. He was married before and his ex-wife married again and she lives in Carrigaline.’
‘Any children?’
‘A boy by that marriage. I only met him the once. He’s only about twelve and he seemed happy out, so far as I could tell.’
‘Did he ever mention Rachmasach Rovers to you?’ asked Detective O’Donovan.
‘The Rovers? They’re playing on Saturday at Thurles. He was going to take me along.’
‘But he didn’t say anything about match-fixing, like?’
Viona shook her head again. ‘He talked about his business all the time, and how much so-and-so was going to be paying him, and when, but nothing much else. Not about the Rovers, no.’
‘How long had you and he been doing a line?’ asked Kyna.
‘Six months, more or less. We met on a flight back from Naples. He came straight out and asked me to have dinner with him. I was dating another feller but he was a right langdang so I said yes.’
‘And how serious would you say your relationship was?’
Viona shrugged. ‘With Jimmy you could never tell. Like, he was always smiling and laughing and paying me compliments, but his eyes were always roaming around, do you know what I mean?’
‘Do you know who else had a key to the house apart from you?’ Detective Markey asked her.
‘Agata... she’s his daily. And Maeve, his cook, too, she must have done, because sometimes he’d ring her and ask her to come in and have his dinner ready for him for when he came home.’
‘Was your key always in your possession? Is there any chance that somebody might have borrowed it from you without your knowledge, even if it was for only a few seconds?’
Viona reached over and picked up her pink Mulberry satchel, which Katie estimated must have cost over €1,000. Mother of God, she thought, I’m getting as bad as Markey, putting a price on everything. But the coat and the shoes and the satchel spoke volumes about Jimmy’s feelings for Viona. Maybe his gifts were a substitute for genuine affection. Maybe they also betrayed what Viona had come to expect him to give her.
She opened up the satchel and showed Detective Markey the key, on a silver St Brigid’s cross keyring. ‘There. It’s always in my bag. I don’t see how anybody else could have borrowed it.’
Kyna said, ‘Did Jimmy ever give you gifts of money, or an allowance, even?’
‘He’d pay for a taxi if I needed one to get home. And he bought me things. But he never gave me big handfuls of cash, if that’s what you’re talking about. I never asked him for any, neither.’
‘Okay,’ said Katie. ‘I think that wraps things up for now. Like I say, we’ll be asking you to come to Anglesea Street once the technical experts have completed their tests.’
‘Can it be tomorrow morning? I’m supposed to be going to Lanzarote tomorrow afternoon, unless they give me compassionate leave, but the way they are at the moment, Ryanair, I’m not so sure.’
‘All right,’ Katie told her. ‘We’ll be talking to Agata and Maeve, too, and the gardener. Do you have his name?’
‘Dermot,’ said Viona. ‘I only knew him as Dermot.’ She paused, and then she said, ‘What’s going to happen to Jimmy?’
‘We’ll take his remains to CUH, and arrange for the deputy pathologist to examine him. After the post mortem he can be released to the undertaker, if the coroner okays it. I imagine it’ll be quite some funeral, what with all the friends he had.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Viona. ‘He knew thousands of people, and they all liked him, but he didn’t really have any friends. I tried to be his friend, but it was hard. Everything was always a laugh. I don’t think I ever saw him serious, not once. We had some gallery, I tell you, but gallery’s not the same as love, is it?’
‘Now there’s a question,’ said Katie.
3
She had only just taken off her anorak and sat down at her desk when Conor rang her.
‘Conor? What’s the story?’ she said, leafing through the files that had been left on her blotter while she was out.
‘You still sound coldy,’ he said.
‘I had to go out. But I’ll be taking some more Lemsip in a minute. I don’t feel too bad.’
‘That’s grand, and I’ve some news that’s going to make you feel even better. The surgeon has just rung me from Gilabbey and said that Barney’s brain operation was one hundred and ten per cent successful. Thankfully his skull wasn’t fractured and they’ve relieved all of the intracranial pressure.’
Katie burst into tears. Her assistant, Moirin, heard her from her open office door and poked her plump Snow White face around to see what was wrong. Katie flapped her hand and smiled to tell her that everything was fine. Her Irish setter, Barney, had been dog-napped by Travellers and beaten so badly that when he was dumped on her doorstep she was sure that he was going to die.
Conor had driven him immediately to Gilabbey Veterinary Hospital in Togher, where he was friends with one of their leading surgeons, Dr Domnall O’Sullivan. At first the prognosis had been grim. Barney’s legs and several ribs were fractured, and he had suffered several impact injuries to the head, most likely caused by being repeatedly hit with a brick.
‘Oh, Jesus, I thought I was never going to see him again,’ said Katie, tugging out a Kleenex and wiping her eyes. ‘What about his broken bones?’
‘It’s going to be one thing at a time, darling,’ said Conor. ‘They’re giving him thoracentesis at the moment to clear the fluid from his chest, and then they’ll be carrying out a full radiographic scan to locate all of his fractures. But Domnall says he’s amazing. He’s never come across a dog as badly injured as Barney who’s managed to survive. We’ll have to give thanks to Saint Roch.’
‘Conor, I don’t know what to say to you. You’re the one I should be thanking, not Saint Roch.’
Conor said, ‘I have another surprise for you, too.’
‘What is it?’
‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it? What time will you be home?’
‘Late. We’ve had a homicide, and I’ll have to hold a media conference in time for the Six One News. Do you know Jimmy Ó Faoláin?’
‘You’re codding me! I’ve met him a few times, at dinner dances mostly. What did the Echo call him? The Carbon Credit King. Jesus. Who killed him?’
‘If I knew that I wouldn’t be staying late. He was shot in his own house, up in Tivoli. The perpetrator let himself in and fired seven bullets through his toilet door.’
‘Holy Saint Michael. Do you have any idea what the motive was? I never heard anybody say a single bad word about him, ever.’
‘That’s why we’re all flummoxed. But listen, I’ll get home as soon as I can. What do you want to eat tonight? There’s some of that corned beef casserole left over if you want to heat it up.’
‘I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll just ring Apache for a pizza.’
Katie took a breath, and then she said, ‘Thank you again for taking care of Barney. If I didn’t love you already, I’d fall in love with you just for that.’
‘We’re not out of the woods yet, Katie, but Domnall’s pretty optimistic.’
‘And you’re still not going to tell me what your surprise is?’
‘No. Definitely not. I’ll see you later. I love you.’
Katie put down the phone, and as she did so, Chief Superintendent Denis MacCostagáin came shuffling into her office. He was wearing his usual shirt sleeves and red braces and baggy grey trousers, and his fine white hair was sticking up as if he had been rubbing a balloon on it and it was full of static. Up until now, Katie had always thought he looked seasoned and capable, but today his shoulders were stooped and his stomach was sagging and she thought he looked elderly.
‘I gather you’ve been up to see the late lamented Jimmy Ó Faoláin,’ he said, dragging out the chair on the opposite side of her desk and easing himself down.
‘Yes, sir. And there’s a mystery for you, if ever there was one. The second most popular man in Cork after Daíthí Ó Sé. It doesn’t look like a robbery that went wrong – not unless there was something specific in the house that his killer came to steal and there’s no way to tell that it’s gone. Unless I’m stroked, I’d say that it was a highly professional hit.’
‘We’re going to be under fierce pressure to get this one wrapped up quickly, Kathleen. Have you heard what came out about Garda Mulligan yesterday, at the Disclosures Tribunal? Holy Saint Joseph and all the carpenters! What with the district court throwing out our case against Joe Falsey last week, we’re beginning to look like a right collection of culchies.’
‘I’m aware of that, sir,’ said Katie. ‘But it’s far too soon to speculate what the motive might have been. Jimmy Ó Faoláin was popular all right, but he had his finger in so many pies, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d put at least one person’s nose out of joint, even if he hadn’t done it malicious-like. But whoever shot him, they knew what they were up to, and unless we have DNA or a credible witness, they’re not going to be easy to track down.’
Moirin came into the office with a cup of cappuccino and a plate of cranberry and almond biscuits.
‘Would you care for a cup of tea in your hand, Chief Superintendent?’ she asked him.
‘No, I’m grand altogether,’ said Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin, although he picked up a biscuit and took a bite out of it. He sat there chewing morosely for a few moments as if life were all too much for him, but then he said, ‘What I really came to see you about was McManus.’
Katie felt a chill, because she could sense what was coming. In co-operation with Inspector Carroll from Tipperary Town, she had arrested Guzz Eye McManus for dog-fighting, and he was due to appear in court in two weeks’ time. Guzz Eye McManus was a Traveller, although he was permanently based at the Ballyknock halting site on Palmer’s Hill, and he made no secret of the fact that he organized all the major dog-fights in Tipperary.
He had also made no secret of the fact that he had arranged for Barney to be dog-napped, and that Barney had been beaten because Katie had refused to drop the case against him.
His nickname ‘Guzz Eye’ came from the alarming cast in his eyes, so that nobody was ever sure if he was looking at them or not.
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin said, ‘I’ve been instructed that we won’t be pursuing the prosecution against McManus.’
‘Instructed? Instructed by whom?’
‘Frank Magorian. But before you throw a sevener, it wasn’t really Frank’s decision. The deputy commissioner was lobbied by Pavee Point to drop the case. They said that McManus was being discriminated against as a member of an ethnic minority.’
‘I didn’t arrest McManus because he was a buzzie. I arrested him because he was making a fortune out of having dogs ripped to pieces.’
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin swallowed the rest of his biscuit and smacked his hands together. ‘I know that, Kathleen, and you know that. But we have to be seen to be fair to the Pavee community, and considering that McManus would only be fined, if that, going ahead with a prosecution wouldn’t be worth the candle.’
‘The Pavee community? What about the canine community? What about those poor dumb animals who are tortured all their lives to make them fight, and then have their guts torn out so that scum like McManus can make a fortune out of them? Don’t they have any rights? Don’t we have to be fair to them?’
‘Unfortunately, the Pavee have lawyers, and the dogs don’t.’
‘Even more unfortunately, sir, the Pavee put the fear of God into people. I’m allergic to Frank Magorian, and I don’t make any secret of it, but I thought he was braver than that. What – is he frightened that a bunch of buzzies are going to come bursting into his golf club and beat him with his own putters?’
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Kathleen, but it’s a politically correct world these days, and we’ve quite enough turmoil in the Garda to be going on with.’
‘I’m angry,’ said Katie. ‘In fact, I’m raging. As you know, my own dog, Barney, was taken by McManus and almost killed. I’ve only just been told that he’s probably going to pull through. I love that dog. You don’t know how much he means to me. But I wasn’t going to let McManus off the hook, even if it meant that I’d lose Barney for ever, because every day there are hundreds of dogs going through hell – hundreds – and that’s what I’m determined to put a stop to.’
‘Kathleen – we don’t have the budget or the manpower to protect the human beings who need our help. We can’t be fretting about dogs. Besides, these dog-fighting gangs... you wouldn’t want to cross them unless you knew that you could lock them all up, and the law doesn’t give us the power to do that. They make more grade out of one dog-fight than a major drug deal, and they’re not going to pass that up and take up knitting.’
Katie said nothing. She liked and respected Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin, even though his first reaction to her promotion had been grudging, like many other senior male officers in the southern region. Now he accepted her, and defended her whenever she needed defending, although that was rarely necessary these days. Her success rate was well over sixty per cent and she had learned to hold her own against the golfers and misogynists and freemasons like Assistant Commissioner Frank Magorian, whose grip on the Garda was gradually weakening.
Chief Superintendent MacCostagáin looked down at her and she could sense his sadness. ‘I’ll see you later so,’ he told her, and took another biscuit.
*
Mathew McElvey, the young press officer, came up to see her at about three o’clock so that he could run over what she was going to say to the media about Jimmy Ó Faoláin.
‘Not very much, to be honest with you,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to appeal for witnesses, but that’s about all. I’ll say that his girlfriend found him shot dead at home, but I’m not going to say that he was found on the jacks and I’m not going to hazard any guesses about possible motives. I’m not going to say that everybody liked him, either. One person obviously didn’t, and that one person was enough.’
‘You don’t have any suspects at all?’ asked Mathew. ‘What about his girlfriend?’
‘I’m not ruling anybody out, but I can’t see the lovely Viona wanting to do away with him. He was the goose that laid her golden eggs. Of course we tested her hands for gunshot residue, just to be sure, but the result was negative, and we didn’t find any discarded gloves on the premises.’
‘She didn’t have a jealous ex, nothing like that?’
‘We’ll be checking that out, of course. But my feeling is that we may find some clues when the forensic auditors go through his books. Hell hath no fury like a man cheated out of a stock option.’
‘Right,’ said Mathew, looking at his watch. ‘I’ve told the journos to come in at four, if that’s okay with you.’
As he got up to leave, Detective Ó Doibhilin knocked at Katie’s open door. He was unshaven and his hair was scruffed up and he was wearing a bronze puffa jacket and light grey skinny-fitting tracksuit pants, with beer stains on them.
