GONE FROM THE GRAVE: Gripping Irish Crime Mystery - Detective Conal Brophy Book 3 (Detective Conal Brophy Crime Thrillers) by G.D. Higgins

Author:G.D. Higgins [Higgins, G.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

Forty minutes later, Brophy found himself at the entrance to the tree-lined boreen where he had stopped outside with McCall in tow a few days before.

Brophy questioned whether he was too rash being there and weighed up the possibility that it might hamper the outcome of the investigation in some way, him turning up without a warrant. He’d have to play it smart, but nothing was stopping him now. He was there, so he had no inclination other than to follow through. What he was expecting to find, he had absolutely no idea.

Unlike the last time he was there, it was pitch dark now. He flicked on the full beams crawling along the boreen. The wind had picked up, sending tree branches clawing down at the roof of the car. A chill crept up his body, not sure if it was a drop in the temperature or a physical reaction to the risk he was taking, turning up at Galvin’s like this, unannounced, pushing eleven at night.

He dampened the headlights on reaching the end of the cavernous lane, and the three farmhouses appeared like massive blackboards against the endless night sky beyond. Galvin’s house was also bathed in darkness, not a single light shining inside or out.

Brophy crossed the yard and drove onto the driveway, coming to a complete stop halfway down. The whole place seemed eerily abandoned, like it hadn’t been lived in for decades. There wasn’t a car in sight.

He contemplated turning back, pushed down on the clutch, and popped it into reverse, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t get to speak to Galvin tonight and scratch the itch scraping away at the back of his skull. What did he hope to achieve coming here at this time anyway? All Galvin had to do, was tell him to clear off to render it an utterly pointless journey.

Brophy cursed himself and turned the steering wheel a half turn to start reversing.

As the car pivoted, something caught his eye towards the side of the house. There was a space the width of the driveway along the left side of the house, leading out to the back and whatever lay beyond. He put the car in neutral, shut off the engine, and got out.

He didn’t think twice and began walking towards the side. Some trees swayed roughly to his left, and rattling wind chimes whistled in the strengthening weather. The crunch of the stones under his feet would surely alert anyone to his presence if his car hadn’t already.

Brophy reached the back of the house, and he noticed a conservatory that almost spanned its full length. It too, was cast in sheer blackness, not a sign of light or life.

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he next took in the expanse of the enormous back garden. At the end stood what he first believed to be a shed, but allowing his eyes to focus more, he discovered it was too well put together to be a shed and thought it might be some kind of guest house.

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