The Drowned Read online

  ‘Not a hint of that from any of them,’ said Detective Ó Doibhilin. ‘In fact, Tadgh had made a date to meet his girlfriend this evening, and the twins almost always go bowling on a Thursday night at the Leisureplex on MacCurtain Street.’

  ‘Then where in the name of God have they gone to?’ said Katie. ‘That Aidan looked tone, you know, as if he really cared about the way he dressed. I can’t see him going for two days without changing his sweater, let alone his undercrackers. But it’s their phones that worry me the most. All five of their phones have gone dead? And they’re still dead?’

  ‘No, you’re spot on there, ma’am,’ said Detective Ó Doibhilin. ‘Those type of lads carry their phones everywhere and only turn them off to charge them. You can see them standing in the jacks in a pub or a club. They’re straining the praties and still talking at the same time – phone in one hand, you-know-what in the other.’

  Katie said, ‘I’ll be liaising, of course, with Superintendent Pearse, but I have the strongest feeling that we need to set up a full-scale search. I want you two to go up to Mayfield and see if you can find any of their pals. Barnavara Crescent would be a good place to start. Talk to their brothers and sisters, too, if they have any. Young lads like that will often confide in their siblings when they wouldn’t dare to tell their parents.’

  ‘We’ll call into the Garda station, too,’ said Detective Ó Doibhilin. ‘They may have some idea who the lads have been hanging around with. There’s drug-dealers up there in Mayfield from the city centre sometimes and maybe they’ve got themselves on the wrong side of one of them – not paid their bill or something like that.’

  ‘None of them were involved with the Provos or the ONH?’

  ‘Again, not so far as we know. There was no hint at all from their parents that any of them are politically-minded. All they seem to be interested in is drink and uppers and girls.’

  ‘Okay, grand,’ said Katie. ‘Meanwhile I’ll have the press office put out a missing persons appeal. Five lads like that – Jesus, somebody must know where they are.’

  *

  To begin with, Detectives Ó Doibhilin and Scanlan went up to Dunnes Stores in Ballyvolane just to make sure that Darragh O’Connor hadn’t turned up for work without telling his mother. The manager solemnly shook his head and said that he hadn’t heard a word from Darragh and if he didn’t show up for work tomorrow, he would tell him his shelf-stacking days were over.

  Next, they drove around to all of the boys’ houses to talk to their brothers and sisters. The schools had all broken up the Wednesday before for the Easter break, so most of them were at home, or round at their friends’ houses, or playing in the field at the end of Lotamore Park, so they weren’t too difficult to find. Tadgh’s three brothers and Aidan’s two sulky sisters weren’t too happy about talking to the law, but Darragh’s twelve-year-old brother told them there was no question where Darragh had been going the last time he saw him – to Barnavara Crescent to score some Es.

  It was beginning to grow dark as they turned off the Banduff Road into Barnavara Crescent and the street lights were flickering on. They parked and climbed out and walked across the wet grass to the alley, where seven or eight young people were already gathered. It was still raining, but only softly now, more of a persistent mist. The young people were all wearing waterproof jackets with their hoods pulled up, and at least five of them were smoking. There was a pungent smell of marijuana in the air, like a smouldering compost heap.

  The young people eyed Detectives Ó Doibhilin and Scanlan as they came closer, but they made no attempt to flick away their joints. The two detectives were wearing windcheaters and jeans and they both looked much younger than they actually were, so they could simply have been a local couple walking along the alley on their way home.

  They stopped, however, when they reached the young people and Detective Scanlan said, very clearly, ‘We’re looking for some friends of yours.’

  At first, none of the young people spoke, but continued to smoke and stare at them.

  Detective Scanlan turned from one to the other. There were two girls there, and five boys. All of them had very pale faces, as if they lived on a diet of chips and marijuana and Monster energy drink. One of the girls was painfully thin, with skinny black tights and wedge-heeled ankle-boots. The other was plump and blonde and bosomy with a splodge of carnation-red lipstick and a silver ring through her nose.

  When none of them responded, Detective Ó Doibhilin took out his notebook, flipped it open and read out the missing boys’ names. ‘Conor and Stevey Martin, Darragh O’Connor, Tadgh Buckley and Aidan O’Reilly. When was the last time you saw them?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’ demanded one of the boys, bigger and older-looking than the rest. He had stubble on his chin and two tattooed teardrops beneath his left eye. ‘Don’t fecking tell me you’re pigs.’

  ‘You can call us whatever you like, sham,’ said Detective Ó Dobihilin. ‘But five of your pals have been missing now for nearly two days and we’re concerned for their welfare. As you should be, too.’

  ‘I didn’t know they was missing, did I?’ said the stubble-chinned boy. ‘How in the name of feck was I supposed to know they was missing?’

  ‘Well, you know now,’ said Detective Ó Doibhilin. ‘So what we’re asking you is, when was the last time you saw them?’

  ‘They was all here Tuesday night,’ said the skinny girl, putting up her hand as if she were answering a question in class.

  ‘Shut your bake, Maeve,’ said the stubble-chinned boy. ‘For all we know, they’re in trouble and these two pigs have come here to lift them.’

  ‘Jesus, be serious, will you?’ Detective Ó Doibhilin retorted. ‘We wouldn’t be coming here to arrest five people when there’s only the two of us, would we?’

  The stubble-chinned boy stood up from the breeze-block garden wall he was sitting on and made a show of shading his eyes with his hand and looking around.

  ‘For all we know you might have twenty two-bulbs parked around the corner.’

  ‘Oh, get over yourself, will you?’ said Detective Scanlan. ‘Their mums and dads came down to the Garda station in Anglesea Street to report them missing. They’re all worried sick. All of the lads’ mobile phones are dead and so far nobody’s seen hide nor hair of them. We’re not out to arrest them. We just want to make sure they’re alive and well.’

  ‘That’s what you say,’ said the stubble-chinned boy, sitting back on the wall. He sucked at his joint and then let the smoke leak out of his mouth and up his nostrils.

  ‘They was all here Tuesday night,’ the skinny girl persisted.

  ‘Maeve,’ said the stubble-chinned boy. ‘I thought I told you to shut the feck up.’

  ‘Well you did, but I’m not going to, because I was supposed to be meeting Aidan tonight to go bowling and I haven’t heard a word from him. This lady’s right. His phone’s dead and so’s Darragh’s because I tried to ring him, too.’

  ‘What time were they here on Tuesday night?’ asked Detective Ó Doibhilin.

  ‘I don’t know for sure. It must have been after half-past eight because I’d had my tea and changed to come out and Fair City had finished.’

  ‘How long did they stay? We were told they went down to Havana Brown’s that evening.’

  ‘That’s what they was planning to do, yes. But they came here first because they were meeting this feller who was going to sell them some Es.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Maeve,’ the stubble-chinned boy protested. ‘These are the fecking shades you’re talking to here.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Maeve. ‘What if they’ve had a crash and Aidan and the other lads have gone off the road and they’re upside down in a field and nobody can see them, and they’re all seriously injured, like, and they’re trapped so they can’t get out, but they’re bleeding to death or starving to death?’

  ‘What in the name of God are you blethering about?’ said the stubble-chinned boy. ‘There’s no fecki
ng fields around here they could be upside down in. For feck’s sake.’

  ‘It happened to that woman and her daughter in Fermoy, didn’t it, only last week? And they both died.’

  ‘That field was under a metre of water, you gomie lackeen, you.’

  Detective Scanlan went across and sat on the wall next to Maeve and said gently, ‘So... they came here first to buy some Es. Why didn’t they simply go down to the city and buy them there?’

  ‘Because there’s a feller comes here regular and gives them a bargain price, that’s why.’

  ‘Holy St Joseph and all the fecking carpenters,’ said the stubble-chinned boy, blowing out smoke. ‘How to be a snitch in one easy lesson.’

  ‘So did he show up, this feller?’ asked Detective Scanlan. ‘And did the lads buy their Es?’

  Maeve nodded. ‘That was about ten o’clock, I’d say. Then this taxi showed up and they all got into the taxi and left. And I’ve not seen one of them since. And neither have you, Colm, have you? Admit it!’

  ‘Oh go and feck yourself,’ said the stubble-chinned boy, flicking the glowing butt of his joint into the darkness.

  Detective Scanlan stood up. ‘Have any of you seen any of these five lads since Tuesday evening? Come on, speak up. Maeve may be right and we may be talking about saving their lives here.’

  Reluctantly, the rest of the young people shook their heads and mumbled, ‘No.’

  ‘Did any of you see where the taxi came from?’ asked Detective Ó Doibhilin. ‘Did it have the name of the cab company written on the side of it? Or any kind of picture, or a badge?’

  One of the boys said, ‘It was like a people carrier, do you know what I mean? I don’t think it had any kind of a taxi light on the top of it. Black, I’d say it was, or very dark blue, or maybe brown.’

  ‘So it looked like they’d ordered it?’

  ‘That’s right. The driver parked right over there, like, and waited for them. We had a couple of minutes’ more craic, and then they said, “G’luck so, this is our ride.” They all went over and climbed into the taxi, and zoom, off they shot.’

  ‘Right,’ said Detective Ó Doibhilin, taking out his notebook again. ‘I’m going to want all of your names and addresses and mobile phone numbers.’

  ‘Just don’t go ringing me,’ said one of the boys. ‘My old man will personally kneecap me with his Black & Decker if he finds out I’ve been talking to the law.’

  ‘Me too,’ said the boy who had told them about the taxi. ‘I’d rather stay unanimous, if that’s all right.’

  *

  When Katie came back from the district court she found Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán waiting for her in her office, talking to Moirin, her personal assistant.

  Kyna Ni Nuallán had returned to duty only three weeks before. Last year she had been wounded in the stomach while stepping in to shield Katie from being shot and it had taken her over six months to recuperate. She had lost over twelve kilos during her convalescence, but she no longer looked so gaunt, and with her blonde hair cut very short and wispy Katie thought that she was looking far too pixie-pretty to be a detective sergeant.

  ‘What’s the story, ma’am?’ asked Kyna, as Katie dropped her files on to her desk and unbuttoned her raincoat.

  ‘I’m happy to say that Seamus McDonnell was given eighteen months for assaulting a garda and perverting the course of justice. And I’m even happier to say that Michael Gerrety’s second appeal for early parole was turned down flat. We have enough pimps in this city without letting that scumbag out. How’s your inquiry into that college gang-rape coming along?’

  ‘Um, slow, I’m sorry to tell you. Almost all of the witnesses have suddenly started to suffer from memory loss. Even the two girls themselves are beginning to say that they’re unsure of what happened, exactly. “I was totally steamed that night... I can’t remember who did what to me... I mean, I might have led them on, like.”’

  ‘Do you think somebody’s leaning on them?’

  ‘I’m beginning to think so. One of the suspects is a big fellow named Ruarí Barrett. He was pure aggressive when I talked to him and I noticed when I was interviewing other students that he was always hovering in the background somewhere. When they realized he was watching, they started to be very cautious about what they were telling me.’

  ‘Did you check up on this Ruarí Barrett?’

  ‘I did, yes. He’s twenty-three years old and served for five years as an engineer in the Naval Service. He’s currently doing a one-year master’s course in mechanical engineering. I looked him up on PULSE, too, but he doesn’t have any offences recorded against him.’

  ‘So what are you planning to do next?’ Katie asked her.

  ‘I’m going to interview the two girls again, but separately, and away from the UCC campus. I suspect that one of them was right on the verge of telling me everything that was done to her – Niamh Nolan, she’s only seventeen and very shy. But the other girl, Aileen, came into her room while I was talking to her and after that she clammed up on me. It was Aileen who said she might have been too stocious to remember anything.’

  ‘All right, good,’ said Katie. ‘I’ll be interested to hear what you get out of them when you talk to them alone. There’s been too many of these mass sexual assaults lately. It’s almost like it’s a new craze. You’d think that boys these days would have more respect for girls, not less. I mean, Jesus, they’re politically correct enough when it comes to racism, or gay marriage, or transgenders.’

  ‘Father O’Reilly told me that it was the pornography on the interweb. That’s what’s causing it. The boys see it and think that’s the way girls like it.’

  ‘Oh yes, and how much of it does Father O’Reilly watch?’

  Kyna couldn’t help smiling. ‘What time are you finishing?’ she asked Katie.

  Katie knew what she was going to ask her: whether she might like to have a drink with her, in some bar where they wouldn’t be recognized. She seemed to have accepted that Katie wasn’t prepared to take their relationship any further, not so long as they were both serving at Anglesea Street, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t still crave her company – just to talk to her, and look at her, and give her a goodnight kiss when they parted.

  ‘Not tonight, Kyna,’ she said. ‘I have to talk to Michael Pearse about the search he’s setting up for these five missing Mayfield lads. Then I have to discuss with Denis MacCostagáin and Mathew McElvey how we’re going to present it to the media. But... maybe another night. Or maybe you’d like to come down to Cobh this weekend and have some lunch. I think I might actually have Saturday off, God willing.’

  Kyna nodded and pushed out her lower lip in a little mock-regretful pout, but said nothing. Katie knew that she owed Kyna her life, but she wasn’t yet sure if she owed Kyna her heart.

  *

  The rain eased off that evening, so even though it was late, she took her Irish setter, Barney, for a walk as far as the Passage West ferry terminal.

  The river Lee was as black as Indian ink, although it glittered with reflected lights. On the way back, Katie walked along the path that ran right beside the water’s edge. She stopped and lowered the pointed hood of her raincoat so that the evening wind could blow through her hair, and she stood for a while with her hands in her pockets while Barney snuffled around the bushes.

  She was beginning to question what love really was, and if it always came with infidelity and betrayal. Did one partner always love the other more than they were loved in return? Most of all, she wondered if her job as detective superintendent had made her too independent and too strong for men to love her. She knew that they found her physically attractive, but were they put off because she was too domineering?

  What would it be like, an intimate relationship with another woman? Would it matter what sex her partner was, so long as their affection was mutual and equal? She knew that Kyna was infatuated with her. Perhaps it was a crush and nothing more. Yet when they had kissed she had sensed that
Kyna was deeply excited, and she had felt strongly aroused herself.

  Barney barked at her. He was beginning to feel cold and hungry and tired. As if it were answering him, a ship out in the harbour let out a long, homesick hoot. Katie put up her hood and clipped on Barney’s lead and together they walked back along Carrig View.

  *

  Before she went up to her office the next morning she stopped in to see Superintendent Pearse. He was standing by his window looking out at Old Station Road and eating a sausage roll, his hand cupped underneath it to catch the crumbs.

  ‘Sorry, Michael,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast.’

  ‘I’ve had my breakfast,’ he told her. ‘This is my lunch. I was here at half-past five this morning. There was a big fight outside Cubin’s round about 3 a.m. Two fellers got stabbed and some brasser had her nose broke.’

  ‘Well, nobody can complain that the nightlife in Cork isn’t lively,’ said Katie. ‘Have you had any response yet to those appeals we put out for those five missing lads?’

  ‘Thirteen responses to the TV appeal. Five of them were hoaxes, or high, or langered. The rest of them sounded genuine and said that they knew all or some of the lads by sight, but none of them had seen them since Monday dinner time at the very latest.’

  ‘A fat lot of use that is. Did any of them have any idea where they might have gone to?’

  ‘Not one of them. Not for that length of time.’

  ‘How about the radio?’

  Superintendent Pearse shook his head. ‘Nothing at all. And it’s too early yet to expect any responses from the papers.’

  Katie said, ‘This is beginning to vex me now. How can five young lads totally vanish and nobody has a clue where they’ve gone to? I can understand one person going missing like that, but five of them?’

  ‘We’ve questioned all the taxi companies, by the way,’ said Superintendent Pearse. ‘None of them had a request that night to send a car up to Barnavara Crescent and pick up five passengers. I can only guess that they must have been given a lift by a pal of theirs.’