Are You Watching Me by Sinéad Crowley

Author:Sinéad Crowley [Crowley, Sinéad]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784290498
Publisher: Quercus Publishing
Published: 2015-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

Christ.

She looked at Flynn again and he nodded. There was no need to say what they were thinking, because they were both thinking the same thing. Two murders; one centre for old people. Two men; both linked. This had just got interesting.

And another thought: Sorry Matt. You’re not going to get your day off for a while.

Chapter Eighteen

‘Why in the name of Jaysus didn’t you tell somebody?’

Claire saw Flynn wince, but decided to ignore him. OK, so it wasn’t the type of language they encouraged in the Garda training college, but to hell with it. Any chance of seeing her family this side of bedtime had all but disappeared and now this young one, this pale-faced, save-the-world young one, had apparently been failing to pass on vital information pertinent to a murder investigation. The time for patience had passed, and Claire raised her voice again.

‘I’m just not getting it, Miss Cafferky. Someone wrote to you, sent you a newspaper clipping about a murder and told you that you would be next, and it took you, what, nearly a week to come to us? You do know this is an ongoing investigation, don’t you? A murder investigation? Both James Mannion and Eugene Cannon were clients of yours – doesn’t that mean anything?’

Liz Cafferky looked up at her briefly, then ducked her head again. ‘Yeah. I mean, I don’t know. It does, of course it does. Look, I’m sorry, OK?’

‘So, do you feel ready to tell us exactly what happened, now?’ Flynn’s voice was gentle and Claire shot him an irritated look. There was absolutely no point in going easy on this kid; she knew it just by looking at her. Even behind the unwashed hair and miserable expression, you could see that she was extraordinarily pretty, but the young woman also looked fathoms deep in misery and completely unaware of just how much trouble she was in. In fact, it was highly likely she wouldn’t have come to the station at all if her boss hadn’t driven her to the door and all but carried her in.

Anxious to confirm the dead man’s identity and the link to Tír na nÓg as soon as possible, Claire had called Tom Carthy on his mobile shortly before seven a.m. on Saturday morning, only to find that he was already at the centre. He liked to ‘spruce the place up’ before the clients got there, he told Claire and Flynn when they arrived less than half an hour later. Claire couldn’t see evidence of much sprucing, but she welcomed the opportunity to see Carthy alone.

‘Another death?’

She was even more thankful for the privacy when she witnessed his reaction to their news. Carthy’s stance, mouth gaping, coffee mug paused halfway to his lips, would have been comical in another situation, Claire thought. And then she saw how quickly the colour drained from his face. They were standing in a dusty, unkempt hall and she nodded in the direction of the sitting room.

‘Perhaps if we could sit

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