Someone You Know by Brian McGilloway Read Free Book Online Page A

up.’
    â€˜I was at the dentist,’ he explained. ‘How did the meeting go? Anything useful?’
    â€˜They’ve found black dog hairs on Karen’s clothes, apparently. He asked about known offenders with black dogs. I mentioned we’d yet to see Gene Kay and he suggested that we make him a priority.’
    â€˜Did he indeed? Giving orders to all divisions now? He’s really being groomed for greatness, isn’t he?’
    Lucy thought again of what Tara had said about Burns and her mother. She also recalled the comments about Fleming himself, standing now, florid faced, his breath sweet with the Polo mints he was cracking between his teeth.
    â€˜He said we were to work alongside CID on Karen’s case. The ACC approved it.’
    Fleming allowed himself the briefest flicker of a smile. ‘Of course she did.’
    â€˜Should we do it, then?’
    â€˜Have we a choice?’ Fleming said. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

Chapter Ten
    K ay lived in Gobnascale, in the Waterside. A staunchly Nationalist area, it abutted the equally hard-line Unionist area of Irish Street, the interface between the two marked by the point where the alternating red, white and blue paint on the kerbstones changed to green, white and orange ones. Kay’s terrace house was the end one of four. The front garden was small, the scrap of land thick with grass, trodden down in narrow lines by his dog, presumably.
    As they stood at the front door, Fleming nudged Lucy and nodded towards the end of the street. ‘We’re being watched,’ he said.
    Lucy followed his gaze to where a half-dozen youths stood at the corner, staring across at them. ‘They’ll hardly start anything,’ Lucy commented. ‘It’s still early.’
    They heard the dead bolt click and the door opened. Gene Kay was short, not much taller than Lucy herself, but stocky, broad-shouldered. His face was jowly, his hair and moustache white. He glanced past them at the group of boys.
    â€˜You may come in,’ he said, without looking at either of his visitors, then turned and moved back inside the house.
    Kay led them into the lounge. Two brown tweed armchairs faced a small TV jabbering away in the corner, tuned to a daytime chat show. In the other corner, a glass cabinet stood, its shelves empty of anything but dust. Behind the furthest armchair was a small drop leaf table with two wooden seats placed either side of it. A computer sat on the table, the screen black.
    â€˜What do you want then?’ Kay wore jeans and a red sweater. He was barefooted. His hand shook as he pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from a tin on the mantelpiece and lit it. Flakes of flaming tobacco fluttered to the ground and he stepped on them with his bare foot.
    â€˜We’d like to ask you a few questions, Gene. As part of an ongoing inquiry,’ Fleming began.
    â€˜Do I need a lawyer?’ Kay said, sitting on the armchair in front of the table. On the wall behind him was a painting of a child, a single tear perfectly formed on his face, his doe eyes, huge and brown, stared down beneath a ragged blond fringe. He held a cap in his hand. Lucy had seen similar pictures before, remembered in fact a newspaper story that suggested they were cursed in some way.
    â€˜That’s your right, Gene,’ Lucy said. ‘But at the moment, we’re just hoping to eliminate you from our inquiries. Do you know this girl?’
    She handed Kay a picture of Karen, which Social Services had provided, taken from her care plan. He studied the face, before handing the picture back.
    â€˜I think I saw her picture on TV earlier. Didn’t catch her name. She’s missing or something, is that right?’
    â€˜She’s dead, Gene,’ Fleming said. ‘She was found last night.’
    Kay nodded. ‘Well, it had naught to do with me. I’m sorry for the wee girl.’
    â€˜Where were you yesterday morning, Gene?’