Only Lies Remain: A Psychological Thriller Page 4

‘Yes, I am. I’m a single mother now. Amy and I can’t survive on social welfare.’

  Olive’s hands were heading for her mouth again. ‘But, Amy—’

  Barbara quietened her with a glare. ‘Heaven forbid any young woman should have to survive on that pittance. Aoife, I’ll ring Cian Mannion and I’ll tell him you will be perfect for the job.’

  ‘Really! That’s great, Barbara. Thank you.’

  ‘And I’ll make it clear that if he doesn’t hire you, he’ll have me to deal—did you hear that? Greta! How many times do I have to tell her not to let those kids into the kitchen?’

  Barbara stormed out of the room and the conversation returned to the group’s favourite topic—the raising of geniuses. Aoife stopped listening.

  *

  The elegant grandfather clock chimed twelve and Aoife had to stop herself from jumping to her feet. This was better than being let out of school. She had endured the torture so Amy could have an enjoyable morning, but now she was free. Their escape could not be fast enough.

  She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Amy threw a tantrum at being forced to leave Barbara’s playroom. Aoife didn’t dare hand her the phone, so she was forced to carry a screaming child the entire way to the car. The other mothers stood by, hand in hand with their perfect, well-behaved, open-mouthed children. Aoife caught the exchanged glances. Clearly, they all believed she was an unfit mother. Maybe they were right.

  Aoife could feel tears running down her cheeks as she drove out the long driveway. Five minutes later, she pulled over and handed the phone to Amy. Peace was restored but Aoife felt worse than ever. The mothers were right about one thing. She couldn’t handle her own child. No other child in that group ever threw a tantrum. If she couldn’t manage a toddler, how was she going to cope when Amy was a teenager? She resolved to put time aside each day to read parenting books.

  *

  The rest of the day was fairly routine, but by 7 p.m., Aoife was wearing the only dress that still fit her from her pre-baby days. She had found ten minutes to blow-dry her hair and even managed to apply a little make-up. She felt like a real person again. She looked around her. The restaurant had a vaulted ceiling and wooden panels, which seemed a little dated for a new restaurant. Maybe they were trying for the retro look? Aoife didn’t care. Her table had a linen tablecloth, and there were linen napkins, Newbridge cutlery and crystal wine glasses. Best of all, she was surrounded by adults. Her happiness dimmed a little when she read the menu.

  ‘When we’ve paid off our debts, we should do this every Friday,’ Jason said.

  ‘Better stock up on the lotto tickets, then. Have you seen the prices? We can’t afford this, Jason. Let’s go somewhere cheaper.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the cost. Mum’s paying for it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s okay. She gave me money for my birthday. Didn’t you notice we’re two hundred in credit at the end of each month?’

  ‘It’s a couple of months since I checked the statement.’

  ‘Well, that money is for me to spend on anything I like, and I want to spend it on this meal.’

  Aoife smiled. ‘Thanks, Jason. It’s good of you to share your present with me.’ She leaned back in her seat. The restaurant was warm and the lights dim. There was a quiet murmur of voices in the background. She closed her eyes and was nodding off when Jason nudged her with his foot.

  ‘Remember me? The person you wanted to spend more time with?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s just so comfortable here, and Amy woke me four times last night.’

  The waiter approached. ‘Are you ready to order?’

  Aoife smiled at him. ‘Yes, please. I’ll have the mussels for the starter and turbot for the main course.’

  ‘Ah, a girl after my own heart.’ The waiter grinned. ‘There’s nothing like fresh fish, and ours was only caught this morning.’

  ‘Really? That’s marvellous. I’ve never had fish that fresh. Where—’

  ‘Yes, you did, Aoife,’ Jason interrupted. ‘Remember when we were on our honeymoon? You had fresh fish every evening.’

  ‘I meant I’d never had fish that fresh in Ireland.’

  ‘What about the time—’

  ‘Jason, would you like to order?’

  ‘Oh, I’m allowed to speak, am I? Good. I’ll have chicken wings and steak.’

  The waiter reached for his pad. ‘How would you like your steak cooked?’

  *

  ‘I see he didn’t compliment me on my choice,’ Jason muttered as the waiter left.

  Aoife hesitated. She put down her wine, leaned towards Jason and whispered, ‘I want you to enjoy your birthday present, and I’d hate us to fight when you’re having such a bad time, but one more comment like that and I’m leaving.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That waiter was doing his job. He was being pleasant and polite. Nothing more.’

  ‘I was just reminding you about the fish you ate on our honeymoon. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I’m not discussing it, Jason. I don’t want to leave you here alone, but if you do that again, I’m gone.’

  ‘Aoife, I honestly have no idea what I said wrong. Everything seems to be annoying you today. Why are you in such a bad mood? Don’t you feel well?’

  ‘I’m not in a bad mood. Don’t try to make this about me. I’ve been in perfectly good form all day.’

  ‘You glared at me when I said we’d be late for the restaurant.’

  ‘I did not!’

  ‘And you yelled at Amy when she wanted more ice cream.’

  ‘I may have raised my voice, but I didn’t yell. She was trying to pull a glass bowl down on top of herself. I didn’t want her to get hurt.’

  ‘It’s okay, Aoife. I understand. It’s not easy being a single mother, but I’m here now and I want to help. Why don’t I take Amy out tomorrow morning for some father and daughter time? You can have a lie-in.’

  ‘That would be nice, but—’

  ‘You could do with a rest, right?’

  ‘Of course, but—’

  ‘That’s settled, then. You’ll have the house to yourself until lunch. That will give you a nice break. Oh, here are our starters.’ Jason smiled at the waiter. ‘Thank you. This looks delicious. So, Aoife, tell me about your interview next week. Is there any way I can help you prepare?’

  EIGHT

  It had been a long day. Yet another interview had ended in disaster. Aoife pasted a smile on her face as she rang Maura’s doorbell. Using her key would signal that everything was the same between them, and that could never happen. The lines of their relationship were already blurred. She needed to remember that Maura was not her friend, and she certainly was not her mother. Maura was related to her through marriage. That was it.

  ‘Any luck today?’ Maura asked when Amy had stopped jumping on Aoife and was gathering up her toys.

  ‘They said they’d be in touch, but I don’t expect to hear from them again.’

  ‘You’ll get a job, Aoife, I’m sure of it. The more experience you have of interviews, the better you’ll get.’

  The doorbell rang. Amy dropped her toys and raced to the glass pane.

  ‘Moaney! Hiya, Moaney.’

  Maura and Aoife exchanged glances. ‘What does he want now? Do you think Bridget’s right? Do they think I murdered Danny?’

  ‘Of course not. Bridget’s a bitter old woman. Ignore her.’

  ‘The spouse is always the main suspect, Aoife.’

  ‘My guess is they’re interested in the money. I mean, getting envelopes of cash from a stranger is pretty unusual. They’re bound to ask questions. But nobody could seriously think you were involved in Danny’s death.’

  ‘If the detective just wanted to ask questions, why not phone me?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s the way they operate. Don’t worry, Maura. Everything will be fine. I’ll let him in.’

  When Aoife went into the hall, she found Detective Mol
oney crouched down at the glass panel. She had always thought “Moaney” a particularly astute nickname, but it didn’t seem appropriate today. The detective’s tie was hanging over his shoulder, his long fringe had fallen into his eyes and he was pulling faces at a giggling Amy. He straightened the moment he spotted Aoife. When she opened the door, the detective’s tie was in place, the fringe had been brushed back and the steely glare had returned. The slight flush of the detective’s pale skin and his refusal to look Aoife in the eyes were the only indication anything unusual had happened.

  ‘I need to speak to your mother-in-law.’

  *

  Aoife turned on the Cartoon Network and Amy sat glued to the screen.

  Detective Moloney placed a padded brown envelope on the table and removed a smaller envelope stuffed with cash. ‘We’ve been monitoring your post. This arrived last week. We kept it for forensic examination. As you can imagine, we didn’t find anything useful on the letter that’s been through the postal service, but we found one fingerprint on the smaller envelope.’

  ‘Really!’ Maura’s expression brightened. ‘Have you been able to identify it?’

  ‘We discovered the envelope was posted in Hounslow in London. It’s a mainly Indian neighbourhood. Do you know anyone who lives in that area?’

  Maura shook her head.

  ‘Have you identified the fingerprint?’ Aoife asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Was that pity she read in his expression?

  ‘Who does it belong to?’

  ‘Your mother-in-law.’

  NINE

  ‘You must be mistaken. How could Maura’s fingerprints be on the envelope? How do you even have her fingerprints?’

  ‘I gave them to him,’ Maura said. ‘But I have no idea how my fingerprints could be on an envelope I’ve never even seen.’

  ‘I think the explanation is very obvious. You posted the envelope to yourself, didn’t you?’

  ‘What! You can’t be serious. I haven’t left the country.’

  ‘Did you ask someone to post the envelope for you?’

  ‘Detective, this is ridiculous.’ Aoife put a hand on Maura’s arm. ‘Why would Maura send herself money? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  The detective ignored her. ‘Do you want to tell me why you posted an envelope full of cash to yourself, Mrs Walsh?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll have to ask you to accompany me to the station.’

  ‘You’re arresting her?’

  ‘No. I’m asking her to voluntarily accompany me to the station for questioning.’

  ‘Can I come with her?’

  ‘If you wish, but it’s no place for a child.’

  Maura’s face was white. She gripped the table and held on to it a little longer than necessary as she got to her feet. ‘Helen next door will take her, Aoife.’ She turned to the detective. ‘I’ll go with you to the station, but there’s nothing I can tell you. I don’t know who’s been sending me money, and I have no idea how my fingerprints could be on an envelope I’ve never seen.’

  *

  ‘I don’t know what to do, Orla. I’ve been waiting in the station for over an hour. Would they tell me if they arrested her?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll arrest her yet, but it might be time she hired a lawyer. I’ll get you the name of somebody good. I presume she’s entitled to legal aid.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Maura!’ Aoife jumped up, tossing the phone on her chair. She picked it up again. ‘Orla, I’ll ring you back.’

  Maura looked exhausted as she sank down on the seat beside Aoife.

  ‘Did they say you could leave?’

  Maura nodded.

  ‘What were they doing all this time?’

  ‘They asked the same questions over and over. Who were Danny’s friends? Where did the money come from? What did Danny do every minute of every day of the last week he was at home? How am I supposed to remember that? I didn’t know he was going to disappear. It’s not like I was taking notes. And it was fifteen years ago. Can you remember what you did every minute of every day fifteen years ago?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘I need to get out of here, Aoife, and I need to speak to Jack.’

  *

  The taxi pulled into the North Circular Road. The driver peered at each tall red-bricked building as they drove up the street.

  ‘There you are, love.’

  Aoife walked up the long narrow drive while Maura paid him. They climbed the ten steps to the front door and rang the bell.

  ‘What is this place?’ Aoife asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Jack said he runs two charities around here. One is a halfway house for men coming out of the prison system and the other is for boys transitioning from foster care.’

  ‘I thought the State paid an allowance to kids who were in foster care.’

  ‘Only if they fulfil certain criteria. I don’t think anyone is going to answer, Aoife. Is there another door?’

  Under the steps, to the left, was a door which had probably once been the servants’ entrance. Maura rang the bell twice. They were ready to give up when the door opened. A young man of about eighteen held a sandwich between his teeth and balanced three books, a mobile and a mug of tea in one hand. He was slightly taller than average, but it was his face that caught Aoife’s attention. It was the most perfect face she had ever seen. His hair was the colour of wheat and his eyes were such a deep blue that Aoife wondered if he was wearing contacts. Judging by his age, and the fact that she had difficulty believing anyone so beautiful could be a criminal, Aoife figured this must be the halfway house.

  ‘Mmm?’ he said.

  Maura smiled. ‘I hope we didn’t come at a bad time. We’re looking for Fr Jack Byrne.’

  The young man waved at them to follow him. They entered a large, very untidy kitchen. Seven young men were seated around an oval table strewn with empty crisp packets and half-eaten sandwiches. All talk stopped as they entered. The young man placed his sandwich on the countertop. ‘What’s the matter with you? Never seen a woman before?’

  ‘Not in this house,’ a young man with glasses said.

  ‘Anyone seen Jack?’

  ‘He was in the office earlier.’

  ‘Come on.’ The young man led them up a narrow, dark stairs. ‘I’m Tadhg, by the way. Are you friends of Jack’s?’

  ‘We’re family,’ Maura said.

  ‘Really?’ He gave Maura a broad smile. ‘Jack’s a great guy. If it wasn’t for him, most of us would be on the streets.’ He peeked through the office window. ‘There he is.’ After a brief knock he opened the door. ‘Jack, some people to see you.’

  Jack was barely visible above the pile of papers that covered both sides of the large, ugly desk.

  ‘Maura!’ He stood up. ‘Come in, come in. What are you doing here? Oh, hello, Aoife.’

  ‘I’ve just been interviewed by the police. They think I killed Danny.’

  Jack paled. ‘Good God!’ He plopped down on his chair. ‘Well, we know you didn’t kill anyone, so there’s got to be some way to prove it.’ He got up, shoved some files off a battered armchair and motioned for Maura to sit down. ‘What did the police ask you?’ he asked, pushing boxes off a yellow fold-up kitchen chair and pulling it forward for Aoife.

  ‘They wanted a list of all Danny’s friends. They kept going over and over it, asking if I’d forgotten anyone. Then they started reading names off a list and demanded to know when I’d last spoken to them.’

  ‘Who were they?’ Jack and Aoife both asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of them. And everything I said they harped on and on about it. They must have asked me the same questions a hundred times.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Oh God, Jack, I don’t know. Everything. What have I been living on all these years? Did I ask someone to post money to me? What did I do every minute of the week before Danny disappeared? Why did I ring Stephen Mannion at th
e bank on a Saturday?’

  ‘Who’s Stephen Mannion?’

  ‘The bank manager,’ Jack said. ‘He was Danny’s boss. What was he doing at work on a Saturday?’

  ‘His wife was sick. She died not long afterwards. Stephen had to take a lot of time off for hospital appointments, so he often worked weekends. Danny was filling in for him during the week. Usually they talked on the phone on Saturday morning, but once Danny went into the bank to sort something out. I thought he might have stopped there on his way home.’

  ‘Why did the police have a problem with that?’

  ‘They didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe anything I said. Why did I wait twelve hours before reporting Danny missing? I mean, is that so strange? He was a grown man, and that Buckley lunatic was murdering girls at the time. One had disappeared a few days earlier. I felt stupid complaining that a grown man had stayed out overnight. By four a.m. I was beside myself with worry, but even then I didn’t think the police would take me seriously. I was sure they’d think he was having an affair. But that detective said my behaviour was “very unusual”.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t even remember half the questions they asked. I’m telling you, my brain is addled.’

  Jack opened the office door and shouted, ‘Guys!’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Could someone bring me up a pot of tea, please.’ He patted Maura on the shoulder as he returned to his desk. ‘Maura, you need to relax. I know this must have been very stressful, but the police can’t connect you to a murder you didn’t commit. Let them ask you all the questions they like. They’ll soon learn they’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say, Jack. Oh, that reminds me why I wanted to talk to you. The police claim Danny didn’t go to work either Thursday or Friday. You met him most Fridays for lunch, didn’t you? Did he say why he hadn’t been at work?’

  ‘We didn’t meet that week. I had the flu. But I phoned on Thursday to cancel and he was definitely at his desk then.’

  ‘Are you sure? You couldn’t be mixing up the weeks?’

  ‘I’m positive. I’ve often thought if only I’d met him that day, everything might have been different.’

  ‘In what way?’ Aoife asked.