‘Is there something in there you wanted to hide from me?’ he said. ‘Something you’re writing that you don’t want me to see? Is that why you shred everything?’
‘Of course not. You’re being irrational.’
He knew the signs so well. She was trying to be bossy, but she was cowering. He smirked and gripped her neck tighter, sliding his fingers up under her hair and twisting her head so she had to look at him.
‘You know I am never irrational, sweetheart.’
‘Please, Kevin. You’re hurting me.’
He smiled. He knew he wasn’t hurting her, but he could if he wanted to.
He leaned over, pointed to the page she’d been working on. ‘What’s this about?’
‘It’s a work in progress, you know that. That’s why I need to shred the pages. I don’t want anyone to read it in its unfinished state.’
‘Are you writing about me?’ He wouldn’t put it past her to invent obnoxious untruths.
‘I write fiction, as well you know.’
‘It wouldn’t stop you making me into some kind of monster, would it?’ He laughed nervously. She shouldn’t worry him like this with her rambling writing.
‘You know I couldn’t do that. Stop, Kevin. You’re hurting me now.’
He withdrew his hand. Her head flopped and she reached to her neck. Long fingers with red polished nails.
He took a step forward, grabbed her hand. ‘Who is this for?’
‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about— Ouch!’
He’d slapped her without realising he’d done it. It was her own fault.
‘Take that off your nails.’ He moved away from her without apology. When he succeeded in breathing normally and reducing the screech in his voice, he said, ‘In future, drain the cans and cartons and wash them out before you crush them. I’m in charge of taking out the rubbish and recycling.’
‘I didn’t think—’
‘You never do, do you? Not unless it’s about making up some poxy plot for a book that will never be published. Give it up.’ He walked to the door, then turned back and stared until she looked up at him. ‘I’m serious, Marianne. It’s time you put that laptop on eBay and forgot your silly notions. You’ll never be a writer.’
He returned to the utility room to complete his morning duty. He couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself. One leaky drink can and he’d put her firmly in her place. Hopefully it was a good omen for the rest of the day.
Nine
Once Jim McGlynn had finished his examination around the dismembered body, and Jane Dore, the state pathologist, had cast an eye over it on site, the torso was removed to Tullamore Hospital mortuary. The pathologist had said she’d have to wait for it to fully defrost under sterile conditions at the morgue. Kirby filled Lottie in on the early-morning activity and left her to read over the two boys’ statements.
In the general office, he flipped the tab on an energy drink and said, ‘We’ll get a call when the pathologist is ready to start the post-mortem.’
‘Where are the two witnesses?’ Lynch said, plonking herself on her chair and kicking her shoes under the desk.
‘They gave their statements and their mothers brought them home. The drone footage is now in evidence.’
‘Poor kids.’
‘Not that poor. They owned a drone. Expensive toys.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Lynch folded her arms.
‘This might soften your bite.’ Kirby pounded the keyboard with stubby fingers. ‘I got the tech guys to put the SD card from the drone into a USB. It’s ready to watch.’
‘Could you not do that yourself?’
‘You know me and technology. Do you want to look at it or not?’
‘Sure.’ She wheeled her chair over and tucked her legs under his desk.
Kirby was suddenly conscious of his body odour and wished he’d nipped to the locker room for a spray of deodorant. No point in fretting now, he thought, and opened up the link on his computer.
‘You have to hit play,’ Lynch said.
‘Give me a chance.’
‘You sound like McGlynn.’
‘Normal service is resumed, so,’ Kirby laughed.
The images were surprisingly clear. Following the line of the tracks from up above, Kirby imagined the boys running behind the drone watching it on the phone screen, unaware of the horror they were about to uncover.
‘Pause it there.’ Lynch pointed at the screen and Kirby was sorry he hadn’t let her take over. He found the correct key and hit pause.
‘That’s about a hundred metres from where the body was found,’ he said.
‘I know, and I’m trying to get a feel for the terrain. How could someone get a body, a frozen body, down that far? There’s no road. It’s virtually a train track through fields.’
‘The canal is to the left as we look at it, with a towpath for walkers. Maybe the body was transported along the path, or by boat?’
‘A boat is a possibility all right,’ Lynch said. ‘No trace would be left behind that way. What about it being dumped from a moving train?’
‘Is that baby brain you’ve got?’
‘I take offence at that comment.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Shit, had he said something politically incorrect?
Maria Lynch laughed and tied her hair back with a bobbin. ‘I’m joking. But you’re right, there’s no way someone could conceal a frozen body on a train before hefting it out a window.’
‘It’s small. Jesus, Lynch, I’m sure it’s a child.’
‘I’m curious as to how long it’s lain there,’ she said as a uniformed officer distributed files on detectives’ desks. ‘There were two trains this morning before the boys made their discovery. I’ve organised for the drivers to be interviewed to see if they noticed anything on the tracks. We’ll have to speak to the passengers too.’
Kirby flicked through the file that had just been dropped on his desk. It looked like it had been quickly typed up by one of the new clerical assistants. Things were changing as fast as their new superintendent could sign them off.
‘The two boys reported that today was the first day they’d flown the drone over the railway rather than the canal. Could the body have been there a while?’
‘I doubt it.’ Lynch shook her head. ‘I’m sure a train driver would have noticed a torso in a great big block of ice.’
‘That’s the point, isn’t it? If it had been there much longer, more ice would’ve melted. The state pathologist should be able to give us a good idea of when it was dumped, based on the time taken to melt a frozen body in this weather. Let’s continue with the video and see if we notice anything.’
Pressing a key, he watched the footage intently as the drone flew over the single-line track.
‘Pity it’s not flying closer to the ground,’ he said. ‘We might discover some clues.’
Lynch said nothing. That unsettled him. He tried to concentrate on the screen, but his belly was rumbling and a headache began to thrum behind his eyes.
‘Don’t know how youngsters watch screens all day. I’m not five minutes here and already—’