The Collector by Mike Faricy

Author:Mike Faricy [Faricy, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Credit River Publishing
Published: 2023-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Ryan Foley was in a section of Dublin known as the East Wall. He lived on Church Road in an attached, single-story brick house with a slate roof. His house was just a block down from St. Joseph’s church. The house and all the homes in the area were built back in the 1870s and ‘80s. The style in the area was a single-story structure with curved tops on the front door and the two front windows. Foley’s house had dark red trim around the front door and windows. The door itself was painted black and had a brass knocker. Dillon worked the knocker four times. They heard footsteps a moment later, and the door opened. The blonde-haired individual matched the image they had of Foley, slightly heavier, maybe five-foot-seven or eight. He was wearing a white t-shirt that read Dublin City Parks and Recreation.

He gave Dillon and Suel a quick look. “What can I do for you?”

“Ryan Foley?” Dillon asked.

Foley focused on their IDs and said, “What’s this about?”

“Mr. Foley, we’re with An Garda Síochána and were investigating a case. We believe you may have some information regarding an individual, and we’re hoping we might take a few minutes of your time. I want to stress that you are not a suspect, and as far as we know, you haven’t broken any law.”

“Let me ask again, what’s this about?”

“A woman from Rathmines by the name of Orla O’Hara was—”

“Oh, God. What’s she gotten herself into now? I know her…well…sort of. We went out a couple of times, but that was all. I think it’s been three or four weeks since the last time I saw her. I haven’t gotten a phone call from her, if that’s what you’re thinking. We had two enjoyable nights, and then she told me not to call her again, so I haven’t.”

“Would you mind if we came in? This shouldn’t take long.”

He seemed to think about that, then shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose.” They stepped inside and followed him into the sitting room just off to the left. The couch had a Hurley resting on it and a pair of running boots on the floor. A short-sleeved yellow and white team jersey that read East Wall, with the number 12 below that, was draped over the arm of the beige couch. The room was painted a cream color with dark stained woodwork that looked original to the house. Three framed team photos of a bunch of men in the yellow and white jerseys, all holding Hurleys, hung on the wall.

“Oh, sorry, I got a match in ninety minutes. How long is this going to take?”

“Just a few minutes for some general info. Anything you can tell us would help,” Dillon said.

“Let’s grab a seat at the table,” Foley said and stepped over to a small, antique dining table with four chairs. The table looked about as old as the house. He pulled back the chair at the head of the table and sat down. Dillon and Suel took a chair on either side.

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