grimly to the
whole conversation without speaking. He sat opposite me, his hands clasped.
"So," he said finally. "What do you think?"
"Seems
like forensics have done the thinking for us: he picks someone up — or is
picked up by someone - parks in the lay-by for a bit of sex; there's a tap on
the door, opens the window and bang."
"What
about the person in the car with him? An accomplice?"
"Hard to
see it otherwise. How did his killer know where to find him, unless he followed
him? Why not kill the passenger too? And why burn the car, unless they were
scared that the passenger had left some evidence. Either that, or it was some
poor innocent out for a night's fun who's wandering around Lifford in shock,
covered in blood."
"Jesus,
Ben, we need to clear up some of this quick. Two killings in a week. We'll
start to look incompetent."
When I came
out of the office, Harvey was still sitting opposite my desk. He stood when I
approached, his cap held in his hand.
"Everything
alright, sir?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Can I help you with something else?" I asked, lifting some of the
paperwork from my desk.
"Sergeant
Burgess asked me to tell you that Officer Moore from Ballybofey was on the
phone, sir," he said. "He said it was important."
Ten minutes
later we were on our way to pick up Whitey McKelvey.
Chapter Six
Tuesday, 24th December
It was late afternoon
and the sky was the colour and texture of slate. The moon was beginning to
shine from behind a thick bank of cloud that threatened snow, and the air was
cold and dry.
Three cars
left Lifford station on the way to Castlefinn where, Moore had reliably
informed me, McKelvey was staying with some cousins who were camped in a picnic
area. I knew the place he mentioned. Learning from the problems encountered in
Strabane, Donegal County Council had placed height-restriction bars across the
entrance to all public areas - lay-bys, car parks and so on - to stop the
travellers from using them. The group that had taken over the area outside of
Castlefinn had arrived in the middle of the night in early August and had spent
several hours dismantling the restriction bars. They then moved into the area en masse, before re-
erecting the bars, thus apparently materializing in the picnic spot like a ship
in a bottle.
The area was
not ideal for picking up McKelvey. While there were only two entrance/exit
points, it backed onto an area of woodland and fields. If McKelvey made a run
for it we would have difficulty catching him. We had decided that Holmes,
Williams, Harvey and I would approach the caravans from behind, waiting in the
trees in case McKelvey came that way. Costello himself, who knew the family,
would knock on the caravan door and ask to see McKelvey in the hope that he
might come peaceably Several uniforms would accompany him, while two cars
blocked the exits.
We stopped
about a quarter of a mile short of the campsite and my team got out of the cars
and began to pick through the bramble hedges that lined the road into the
field beyond. By following the perimeter, we would eventually come up behind
the site. The field was sodden from the autumn rains and it had now frozen into
thick brown ridges like waves, over which we tripped and stumbled. We had
misjudged how long it would take to reach the camp and Costello radioed several
times, impatient to get moving. Just as we reached the treeline directly behind
the caravan, the snow began. Great fat flakes at first, drifting lightly around
us, like eiderdown. Then the snow grew thicker and fell with greater speed,
gathering on the branches of the trees and settling on our backs and shoulders.
Holmes began to stamp his feet and blow into his hands for heat. Williams
shuddered involuntarily and Harvey offered her his jacket. Momentarily, she
looked offended, then smiled and took it. I couldn't tell whether Harvey was
blushing at her smile or from the cold, but I was left to wonder how
consistently Williams practised her
whole conversation without speaking. He sat opposite me, his hands clasped.
"So," he said finally. "What do you think?"
"Seems
like forensics have done the thinking for us: he picks someone up — or is
picked up by someone - parks in the lay-by for a bit of sex; there's a tap on
the door, opens the window and bang."
"What
about the person in the car with him? An accomplice?"
"Hard to
see it otherwise. How did his killer know where to find him, unless he followed
him? Why not kill the passenger too? And why burn the car, unless they were
scared that the passenger had left some evidence. Either that, or it was some
poor innocent out for a night's fun who's wandering around Lifford in shock,
covered in blood."
"Jesus,
Ben, we need to clear up some of this quick. Two killings in a week. We'll
start to look incompetent."
When I came
out of the office, Harvey was still sitting opposite my desk. He stood when I
approached, his cap held in his hand.
"Everything
alright, sir?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Can I help you with something else?" I asked, lifting some of the
paperwork from my desk.
"Sergeant
Burgess asked me to tell you that Officer Moore from Ballybofey was on the
phone, sir," he said. "He said it was important."
Ten minutes
later we were on our way to pick up Whitey McKelvey.
Chapter Six
Tuesday, 24th December
It was late afternoon
and the sky was the colour and texture of slate. The moon was beginning to
shine from behind a thick bank of cloud that threatened snow, and the air was
cold and dry.
Three cars
left Lifford station on the way to Castlefinn where, Moore had reliably
informed me, McKelvey was staying with some cousins who were camped in a picnic
area. I knew the place he mentioned. Learning from the problems encountered in
Strabane, Donegal County Council had placed height-restriction bars across the
entrance to all public areas - lay-bys, car parks and so on - to stop the
travellers from using them. The group that had taken over the area outside of
Castlefinn had arrived in the middle of the night in early August and had spent
several hours dismantling the restriction bars. They then moved into the area en masse, before re-
erecting the bars, thus apparently materializing in the picnic spot like a ship
in a bottle.
The area was
not ideal for picking up McKelvey. While there were only two entrance/exit
points, it backed onto an area of woodland and fields. If McKelvey made a run
for it we would have difficulty catching him. We had decided that Holmes,
Williams, Harvey and I would approach the caravans from behind, waiting in the
trees in case McKelvey came that way. Costello himself, who knew the family,
would knock on the caravan door and ask to see McKelvey in the hope that he
might come peaceably Several uniforms would accompany him, while two cars
blocked the exits.
We stopped
about a quarter of a mile short of the campsite and my team got out of the cars
and began to pick through the bramble hedges that lined the road into the
field beyond. By following the perimeter, we would eventually come up behind
the site. The field was sodden from the autumn rains and it had now frozen into
thick brown ridges like waves, over which we tripped and stumbled. We had
misjudged how long it would take to reach the camp and Costello radioed several
times, impatient to get moving. Just as we reached the treeline directly behind
the caravan, the snow began. Great fat flakes at first, drifting lightly around
us, like eiderdown. Then the snow grew thicker and fell with greater speed,
gathering on the branches of the trees and settling on our backs and shoulders.
Holmes began to stamp his feet and blow into his hands for heat. Williams
shuddered involuntarily and Harvey offered her his jacket. Momentarily, she
looked offended, then smiled and took it. I couldn't tell whether Harvey was
blushing at her smile or from the cold, but I was left to wonder how
consistently Williams practised her
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