Killing Brother Donnelly: Galway Murders No. 8 (The Galway Murders) by Fee Derek

Author:Fee, Derek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Fiona sipped her tea and smiled at Gilligan. ‘You make a good cup of tea.’ She wondered if the fact that he made a good cup of tea was mentioned in his annual performance review. It was a sure bet that the gang at HQ didn’t know or care that he existed. ‘I need some air.’ She put down her cup and went outside leaving Tracy to engage Gilligan in conversation. Now that she was gone, they could talk about sport and clearing drains, man talk.

There was an autumnal chill in the air. The season was over and there was a feeling that everything was in shut down. There would be an uplift at Halloween and another at Christmas but Connemara in general was a ghost area from October to April. Only the hardy residents could brave the incessant cold and rain as well as the infrequent storms. She took out her mobile and called the hospital. The news on Tim was good. He was improving but wouldn’t be discharged until his wounds were healed. She asked them to tell him that his mother called.

Tracy appeared beside her as she finished the call. ‘How is he?’

‘Better, he’s on the mend.’

‘That puts your mind at ease.’

‘My mind won’t be at ease until he’s been discharged with a clean bill of health.’

‘Are we going back to Galway?’

‘Where’s Gilligan’s list of locals we should talk to?’

‘It’s in the file.’ He took out his mobile. ‘I’ll ask Brophy to text it to me.’

Five minutes later, he showed her the list on his screen.

‘We’ve only done the O’Toole woman.’

Gilligan had exited the station and was smoking a few metres away. Fiona called him over. ‘Who are the rest of the people on this list?’

‘Joey McDonagh is the local postman. Donnelly received a lot of packages from Amazon, and I think he used to provide a shot of whiskey for Joey. Mikey Lynch did the garden for him. McKeown and Folan run the pub and the shop and would have dealt with him. I was stretched to get five names because the man didn’t connect with locals.’

‘Where do we find the postman?’

‘Heaven alone knows,’ Gilligan said.

‘Do you have a number for him?’

Gilligan took his phone out and placed a call. He spoke in Irish and then closed the call. ‘He’s in Renvyle in a pub.’

‘What about Lynch?’

‘He works as a guide on tours around the area. The gardening is something that he does on the side. I’ll give him a call.’

Fiona looked at her phone. She wanted an early evening, a bath and some wine with a nice fish dinner and bed, definitely bed. ‘If this hits the skids, we’ll head back.’

Gilligan walked to them. ‘He’s just finished a tour and he’s on his way to the station.’

The young man that Gilligan led into the interview room was casually dressed in jeans and a roll-neck pullover. He was good-looking and well-built with fair hair and an angular face. He looked like he was in his early twenties, and he was the type that would set the local lassies’ hearts fluttering.

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