The Nameless Dead by Brian McGilloway Read Free Book Online Page B

Hendry asked. ‘At what time?’
    ‘Around eightish, it must have been. The wife was watching her soaps and I had to get her to turn them down to hear.’ He blushed slightly. ‘I mean up, to hear them better over
the shouting.’
    ‘What time did he leave?’ I asked.
    ‘Maybe five, ten minutes later. He arrived in a taxi, but he walked back down the road again afterwards.’
    ‘You’re sure about this?’
    The man nodded.
    ‘You’ve been very helpful,’ Hendry said. ‘We might have to send someone out to take a statement from you. We’ll just check around the back.’
    The man stared quizzically at Hendry, clearly wondering why the need for a statement. By the time he’d see the lunch-time news, he’d work out why.
    As we moved around the side of the house, Hendry checked each window in turn. ‘Looks like there’s no one around, right enough,’ he commented.
    We’d reached the rear of the property. Callan’s garden was separated from the river by one small field. From his back fence, we could see across to Islandmore, past the metal girders
jutting out of the river, to where the burnt-out remains of the Commission’s diggers stood.
    ‘Maybe the sight of the digging spooked him,’ I suggested. ‘If he was involved in Cleary’s disappearance, it would be difficult to stand and watch from his back window
while the body’s being exhumed.’
    ‘Either that or he followed Cleary’s son after he left, shot him well away from his own house and he’s gone on the run. Either way, he’s guilty about
something.’

Chapter Twelve
    Mary Collins opened the door almost before I had rung the bell, and I suspected that she had been watching our arrival. Indeed, with the dig going on for her missing partner, I
suspected she had simply been waiting for news. I did not imagine that she could have expected the news we were bringing.
    ‘Inspector Devlin,’ she said to me, then smiled at Jim Hendry. ‘Hello,’ she said.
    ‘This is PSNI Detective Inspector Jim Hendry,’ I said. ‘Can we come in, Mrs Collins?’ She smiled anxiously when I spoke.
    ‘Have you found him? Have you found Declan yet?’
    ‘We’re not here about Declan, I’m afraid, Mrs Collins. We’d best go inside.’
    Her smile faltered. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
    ‘We have some bad news, Mrs Collins,’ Hendry said, his cap clamped tightly under his right arm. ‘We’re here about Sean.’
    ‘Sean’s not here; he . . .’ she glanced backwards into the house, as if Sean was waiting inside. Then she turned again, her face drawn, the terror of the situation only
beginning to hit her. She covered her mouth with her hand, shook her head. ‘You’re not . . . you . . . Has he been hurt? Where is he?’
    ‘We’d best go inside,’ I repeated.
    She turned from us, moving up the hallway. Suddenly she lurched to one side, her legs collapsing under her. I only managed to grip her under her arms to prevent her falling. Hendry shifted
quickly in beside me and, together, we hoisted her to her feet and brought her into the living room. We lay her on the sofa, all the time speaking to her, encouraging her to come round. Her skin
was pale, her face clammy with sweat.
    ‘I’ll get an ambulance,’ Hendry said, taking out his phone.
    Mrs Collins began to revive, moaning softly. I could see her eyelids flutter quickly, could see the shifting of her eyes beneath the thin film of their lids.
    ‘Give it a moment,’ I said. ‘She’s coming round.’
    After a few minutes, she had recovered sufficiently that she could sit up, though we insisted that she keep her legs up on the sofa. Hendry fetched her a glass of water.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t know what . . .’ her voice faltered into a mumble.
    ‘Would you like us to contact someone for you, Mrs Collins?’
    ‘My husband,’ she said. ‘My husband is out golfing. His number is on my mobile, on the . . . thing.’ She waved her hand vaguely in the direction