First Death In Dublin City (Thomas Bishop Book 1) by Colm-Christopher Collins Page B

documents? It’s hardly reasonable doubt.’
    John’s expression curdled, he looked like he was about to cry.
    ‘But.. But.. But..’ He began.
    ‘But.’ Tommy said. ‘I happen to be quite the perfectionist, and the thought of leaving this uninvestigated leaves me feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable. Now, John, you’re on trial for murder in a month’s time, between then and now I’m going to investigate as to who exactly your wife was. If you want me to get anywhere with this, I’m going to need your help and you are going to answer every single question of mine. Do you understand?’
    John nodded.
    ‘Thank you.’ He said, and to that, Tommy nodded.
    ‘Now, where did you meet Elizabeth O’Hara?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Ghana.’ Said John.
    Tommy looked up at him.
    ‘Ghana?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Yes, see, she was an English teacher by trade, and I met her when I was on holiday, and she was teaching English locally with an NGO.’ John said.
    ‘When was this?’ Tommy asked, taking a bottle of orange juice from his pocket, and swallowed it in three large gulps.
    ‘I went to Ghana in the January of 2006, and met her there.’ John said.
    ‘She came back with you?’ Tommy asked. ‘To Ireland?’
    ‘Goodness no, she remained in Ghana until the following December when we married. I visited between times, whenever work didn’t call.’ He said.
    Tommy tried to rack his brain as to when he last heard an Irish person use the word ‘goodness’ but no such instances came to mind no matter how hard he thought.
    ‘When she returned to Ireland, what did she do?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘She returned to college, to teach Braille.’ John said, tears forming at the corner of his eyes.
    ‘To teach braille, why not go back to teaching English?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘She, uhm, well she seemed to have parts of her old life in Dublin she’d rather not return to.’ John said.
    ‘You’re certain she’s from Dublin?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Positive.’ John said, now quietly sobbing to himself. Tommy had seen such displays before, but this one was particularly well acted, as John’s aged face wrinkled in emotional pain.
    ‘You didn’t ask her about it ever, did you?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Oh, if only I had, then maybe she’d still be with me.’ John said.
    ‘Tell me about her hobbies – what did she do with her free time?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Well, she only ever thought part time, otherwise she was involved in several charities. I have been rather luck Detective, to be rather successful in my field and to therefore have become wealthy. I therefore have supported a number of charities with Betty’s support.’ John said. Despite himself Tommy was starting to like the guy.
    ‘And what charities did she support?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Uhm, the DSPCA, the DSPCC and, uhm, the Women’s Aid. She was on the board for the Women’s Aid shelter in Tallaght.’ John said.
    Women’s Aid. Tommy thought, already beginning to race ahead of his thoughts.
    ‘I’m going to investigate this John. But there’s nothing I can promise. A fake ID is not enough to overturn all the evidence stacked up against you.’ Tommy said.
    ‘Detective, I am innocent. But I will understand your tentativeness in believing it. Just, investigate it for me. And for the love of God, find the monster that shot my wife.’
    Tommy nodded, then turned and signalled to the Prison Guard in the corner who came forth and guided John from the house. Tommy, however, did not follow them out – an NA meeting was due to start in this room within fifteen minutes. So, he just sat patiently thinking of the reasons Betty O’Hara had for becoming Betty O’Hara.
     
     
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    Why don’t we visit hotels anymore?’ Asked Jennifer.
    ‘I don’t know, maybe we should do so someday soon. Hire a room with a giant bathtub, go for a swim separately in the pool, then bathe together at night. It would be beautiful. We’ll hire a room with a balcony, and sit there naked, raining or