Death at Whitewater Church Page 25

  “You were afraid they were Conor’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you thought Danny might have been telling the truth, after all, when he said he had something to do with Conor’s death?”

  She gave me a weak smile. “You can see why I began to worry when Andy McFadden told me that Danny’s DNA had been found in the crypt. I was so relieved when the body wasn’t Conor. It seems now that all Danny did was to wrap that poor Derry boy’s body in a blanket.” She added slowly, “Although I have no idea why he did that, nor how he knew that boy’s body was there in the first place. I don’t like to think of him moving it there himself. I can’t imagine what would make him do something like that.”

  “Did you know it was Christmas Eve when Lisa told him she was getting married?” I said.

  “Was it?” she said thoughtfully. “That would have upset him.”

  “I think it did. I believe he walked out of the pub.”

  “And went up to the church? But why?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it’s a bit of a coincidence. Do you mind me asking you something else?”

  “I suppose I do owe you.” She smiled.

  “Why do you think Conor came back?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “If I’m being honest with you, I’m trying not to think about that. I’m trying to accept that he came back for his old mother.”

  “But you don’t believe that?”

  “Something changed in Conor before he left,” she told me. “I think over the years while he was gone, we tried to forget that. We hoped he might be different if he ever came back, that he’d have got whatever it was out of his system. Unfortunately, he’s still the same.”

  “Lisa said something similar.”

  She looked up with interest. “Did she?”

  It occurred to me that the two women had probably never had a proper conversation about Conor’s disappearance. It seemed so odd while at the same time utterly unsurprising.

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure I should tell you this, but Lisa thinks he was having an affair before he left.”

  Mary raised her eyebrows for a few seconds before gazing out the window. “Poor Lisa was always so insecure. It happens sometimes when a father dies, you know. Sometimes I think that’s Claire’s problem, and then sometimes I think she was just spoiled.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid for once I think poor Lisa is right.”

  “So he was seeing someone else?”

  “I can’t be sure it was a love affair. But something was involving him, in a way nothing ever did before. Conor was always ensuring everyone else was okay, intrusively sometimes. But in the months before he left, he lost interest. There was something else there, too. A kind of suppressed anger, almost.”

  She paused before asking the question, as if she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answer. “Did Lisa say who she thought it was, that he was having the affair with?”

  “Alison Kelly.”

  She looked at me blankly. “Who?”

  “She was at Danny’s wake. They were childhood friends apparently,” I offered.

  “Oh, Allie McDaid.” Her face softened. “She was a cute wee thing. Had a rough time in the school, I think. The other kids used to call her the Yank because of her accent and she was a wee bit on the chubby side, which didn’t help. But she and Conor were inseparable.” Her brow furrowed. “She was at the wake, you say? I don’t remember seeing her. I thought the family went back to the States years ago.”

  “They did, but she lives in Buncrana now. She’s married to Raymond Kelly, the man who owns Whitewater Church. They moved back eight years ago.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, I can tell you one thing: Conor hated the man who owned Whitewater with a passion. I assumed it was because he was renovating the church he associated with his childhood and he didn’t like change. But maybe it was because my son was having an affair with this man’s wife?”

  “Maybe.”

  She heaved a sigh and stood up to go. Before she reached the door, I asked one final question. “When was the last time you saw Conor before he disappeared?”

  She turned to face me, frowning. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Humor me.”

  She looked to the ceiling as if struggling to recall. “I saw him early on the morning of his wedding day, about eight o’clock, in the house. He said he was going out for a walk.”

  “Do you think he could have been going up to Whitewater Church?”

  “Possibly.” She shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “Lisa said he wanted to pitch for work on the development up there.”

  Mary Devitt gave a brief laugh. “If there’s one thing I can be certain of, it’s that he would never have done that.”

  Chapter 33

  THE REST OF the day passed in a haze of appointments, allowing me little time to think about what I had discovered. So at half past five when Leah shouted a good-bye up the stairs and I heard the door bang, I spent the next little while pacing up and down my office trying to put those discoveries in some kind of order.

  My restless agitation was interrupted by a loud thumping on the door. I went downstairs to answer it. It was Liam. I don’t think I have ever seen a more miserable-looking expression on anyone’s face.

  “God, what’s up with you?”

  “That damn English couple have pulled out again.”

  “Ah, Liam. You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I was.” He followed me inside and dumped his phone on the reception desk so hard I checked to see if it had cracked.

  “I thought they’d got over their squeamishness,” I said.

  “Well, they had – until someone decided to warn them off.”

  “Warn them off how?”

  “They were up at the church having a look around and some guy came and threatened them. Can you believe it? Ordered them to leave and said that if they bought the church, they’d never have a day’s peace.”

  “Jesus. Who would do that?”

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Just now. They rang me to tell me about it. They just flew in last night to tie things up.”

  “Did they say what he looked like?”

  “They couldn’t see him properly. It’s dusk. And he kept his distance, apparently. If I could bloody well get my hands on him …”

  “Have you told the Kellys yet?”

  Liam walked through the open door of the waiting room and slumped onto one of the seats. “I’ve been trying to get them all day, but neither of them is picking up. I’m dreading it.”

  I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed. “It’s hardly your fault.”

  “No.” He looked up at me. “This isn’t. But I’m on thin ice with them as it is.”

  I was confused. “I thought you were their pet estate agent. I thought they’d asked you to sell all their properties?”

  “Aye. For no fee.” He put his head in his hands. “It’s all such a mess.”

  I followed him into the waiting room and sat beside him. “What’s going on, Liam?”

  “I should have told you this before but … I wasn’t supposed to be showing the church,” he said in a muffled voice.

  “What?”

  He lifted his head and stared at the wall. “Before he went to the States, Ray Kelly asked me to sell a few properties for him – sites, a couple of houses he owns in Buncrana, an old cottage. He mentioned that he might have to sell the church, too, at some stage, but not yet. He said he’d talk to me about it when he came back from the States.

  “After he left, I had a call from this English couple. Out of the blue. They’d been touring about up around Malin Head and they’d come upon the church and fallen in love with it. Wondered if there was any chance it might be for sale, and if so, could they have a look at it.” He paused. “So I showed it to them.”

  “But the gate and the church were both padlocked. How did
you get the keys?” I said.

  Liam looked sheepish. “Kelly gave me a key ring full of keys and the keys for Whitewater were on it.” He shrugged. “I thought it was fate. The church was exactly what the English couple had been looking for, they said. They wanted to restore it, turn it into a holiday house.”

  I remembered the broken padlock in the grass. “Was there a key to the crypt?” I asked.

  “No. I’m sure of that. I told you, I didn’t even know that crypt existed. I didn’t go near it.”

  “Did you let Kelly know you were showing the church?”

  He looked down. “No.”

  “Ah, Liam.”

  “I know, I know. I need my head examined to have done something so stupid. But none of his other properties were selling. And I thought, if I can have a solid offer for him on the church when he comes back – well, at least that’s something. He’d have to be pleased. And it’s not as if he would have been tied to anything until he signed a contract …”

  “You don’t need to give me a conveyancing lesson, Liam.”

  “I thought I was doing him a favor.”

  He looked so defeated, I immediately felt mean for having snapped at him.

  “And what about the survey? I assumed that was arranged on Kelly’s instructions.”

  Liam shook his head. “No. That was me, too. I was under a bit of pressure, see. The English couple were only here for a few days and they wanted the place surveyed before they confirmed their offer. I tried to ring Kelly at that stage but I couldn’t get him. His phone was off so I couldn’t even leave him a message.”

  “So you just went ahead anyway?”

  “Yes. I know I’m an idiot, but it’s just my bloody luck that the first time I show a property without instructions, there’s a body in it.”

  I tried not to smile. “No wonder Kelly was furious when he came back.”

  “That’s an understatement. He threatened to report me. Then agreed not to, if I sold all the rest of his properties on a no-fee basis. I’d no choice. I can’t afford to lose my license.”

  “And, of course, you couldn’t tell Molloy that you’d shown the church without instructions either?”

  Liam looked miserable. “That’s right. I’ve been having sleepless nights about that. But the padlock to the crypt was cut open, wasn’t it? That’s what Kelly told me anyway. So it’s not as if it was him who put that body there.”

  “Yes, it was cut.”

  Liam looked relieved.

  “So Kelly basically blackmailed you?” I said.

  “Well, it was the wife who did the blackmailing. She was the one who struck the no-fee deal with me. She plays a tough game, that one.” He stood up. “To be honest with you, it’s her I’m not looking forward to telling now. She scares the bejasus out of me.”

  “I think she’s under a fair bit of pressure with Kelly in the hospital.”

  “He got out last night.” Liam walked over to the reception desk and picked up his phone. “Still no call back.”

  I followed him. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I need them to know about this as soon as possible. Is there any chance you could tell them? I’d take a run up to Buncrana myself, but I have a viewing in half an hour. It’s my only viewing this week and having lost this bloody one again, I don’t really want to cancel it.”

  “It’s all right, Liam. I’ll get hold of them. If I can’t get them on the phone, I’ll drive up myself after the drama meeting. I’ll leave early, if it’s going on too long.”

  He didn’t even attempt to conceal his relief.

  After Liam left I tried both Kellys’ phones a number of times, but even the pub number was ringing out. I suspected there were staff there, but no one was bothering to answer it. I was tempted to drive up to Buncrana straight away, but knew I had nothing to gain by rushing things. I needed time to think. So Kelly hadn’t known that Liam would be showing the church. How did that change things? We had assumed that the body had been placed in the crypt without Kelly’s knowledge by whoever broke the padlock. But had Kelly just been happy for people to think that? Had he known it was there all along?

  It was clear that Molloy needed to know what Liam had told me as soon as possible, but I knew it would be better coming from Liam himself; I didn’t want to get him into more trouble than he was in already. But Liam had barreled out of the office so quickly after I had agreed to pass on the bad news to the Kellys that I hadn’t had a chance to tell him that. I dialed his number and left a message for him to call me back. I looked at my watch. If he was showing a property, he could be twenty minutes or more. I tapped my fingers on the desk. I badly needed a distraction.

  The two plays Phyllis had given me and which I’d promised to read before the drama meeting were sitting on the counter. I opened the first one. It was Mary Magdalene by Feargus O’Connor. I began to read the first scene. Distracted as I was, I could see it was beautifully written. I turned to the back; this was the play that had been written in Long Kesh Prison, the one Phyllis had said might be a step too far. But my curiosity was aroused. I turned on Leah’s computer and Googled his name.

  Newspaper account after newspaper account of O’Connor’s recent trial for dissident republicanism appeared before me. No photographs though. I was curious to know what he looked like. I picked up the play again: there was no image there either. I did a search for images of Feargus O’Connor and a raft of photographs appeared in front of me, the vast majority of them having nothing whatsoever to do with the Feargus O’Connor I was interested in. But some did. There were press photographs of him being taken into his recent trial in handcuffs, and photographs, too, from a much earlier trial in the 1990s, when he was convicted of involvement in a bombing in London. He was thin, with a gray beard in the later photographs, and a shock of red hair in the earlier ones.

  I scrolled down through the other pictures. A team picture after a hurling match published in the Derry Journal caught my eye. I clicked on the image to enlarge it. It was dated September 1985. The familiar red-haired youth was there again, standing in the back row, a member of an Under-21 team from Derry who had won some local league cup. I guessed he must have been about nineteen at the time. My eyes scanned the rest of the team. In the center of the picture was a large cup being held proudly aloft by a dark-haired young man with a wide grin and a mod haircut. I froze. The grin was familiar: it was a younger, stronger version of the one I had seen only two days beforehand in a hospital bed. It was Raymond Kelly.

  My breath quickened. Feargus O’Connor, a leading Republican with a string of convictions for explosives, had known Raymond Kelly in 1985 when they were both in their late teens, only months before the Sadie was blown up by the IRA. Coincidence?

  I scrolled down through the rest of the images for Feargus O’Connor, clicked randomly on a black-and-white photograph of what looked like a funeral cortège, and the full picture appeared in front of me. It was the funeral of a convicted IRA kidnapper. O’Connor was one of the pallbearers, his name mentioned in the caption underneath if I was in any doubt. I checked the crowd following the cortège. The faces were grainy, but there, unmistakably, wearing a mod suit with a skinny tie and walking with his head bowed, was Ray Kelly. I checked the date on the caption; the funeral had taken place exactly three months after the hurling picture was taken and a matter of weeks before the bombing of the Sadie.

  My mind started to race. Alison had told me that by the time Kelly was nineteen, he was working on a building site in America. That meant that he must have emigrated only months after those photographs were taken. And he had remained there for nearly two decades. It was beginning to look very much as if Ray Kelly had been forced to leave Ireland in a hurry. Had he been involved in the bombing of the Sadie? If so, where did Conor Devitt fit in? He was just a child when his father’s ship had been blown up. But he certainly seemed to hate Kelly.

  Suddenly, I remembered what Claire had said at the wake, about Conor loving ships and going
down to the shore to watch them. Could he have seen something that night?

  I dialed the Devitts’ landline. It rang out. I tried again, the same thing. I cursed Mary Devitt’s refusal to answer the phone and Claire for not being there. And then I remembered: the drama meeting! Maybe she was there. I ran down the stairs and out of the office, slamming the door loudly behind me. I raced across the square towards Phyllis’ shop. The windows were lit, but the shop door was locked, with the Closed sign hanging in the window. I banged on the door. Phyllis appeared within seconds, a startled look on her face.

  “Ben. What on earth?”

  “Is Claire here?”

  “No, she’s over at Eithne’s. They’re coming together.”

  I bolted back across the square, leaving Phyllis standing open-mouthed in her doorway. I knocked on Eithne’s door, but there was no answer. I looked frantically up and down the street – and then I spotted Claire coming towards me, a confused expression on her face.

  “Do you want Eithne, too?” she said. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been looking for her all day.”

  “No,” I said. “It was you I was looking for.”

  “I need to speak to her. I’m afraid …” Her voice was slurring again.

  “Never mind about that,” I said urgently. “I want you to tell me something. The night your father’s ship was blown up, you were only about eight – is that right? Can you remember it?”

  She frowned. “Aye.”

  “You said at the wake that Conor loved the ships, that he went to the shore to watch them. Did he ever sneak out at night to do that?”

  She shook her head. But her eyes avoided mine.

  “To watch for your father coming home maybe?”

  “He told me never to tell. I promised.”

  “That doesn’t matter now, Claire.” I wanted to shake her. It was like talking to a child. “You need to tell me. Think carefully: Did he go out that night?”

  She heaved a big sigh. “All right. I saw him leaving the house, in his pajamas, and his coat. He said he was going down to the shore to watch for Dad’s ship. He used to do that all the time; he’d sit up behind the pilot station where no one could see him. He made me promise not to tell as he knew he’d be in trouble. Gave me sweets not to tell.”