the bottle of wine and she noticed that he had already been drinking. To be polite she shared a glass of wine with him but when he put his hands up her blouse, she decided he had to go. That’s when things got nasty. He gave her a couple of punches and tried to rape her, but his equipment failed. She managed to break free and locked herself in the bathroom with a mobile phone and called the police. The Super was gone by the time they arrived.”
“What do you think of her story?”
“She’s going to make a hell of a credible witness, and the photos don’t lie.”
“So what’s in it for her?”
“She wants his balls. When she has them she’s going to go after the PSNI for compensation. Depending on how much she gets she may open a bar on the Costa and get away from the terrible weather on this island.”
“No light at the end of the tunnel?”
“Not a spot. He’s well and truly done for.”
“Was he set up?”
“Maybe. She’s too cool for comfort. But shouldn’t he be old enough to have learned.”
“Thanks I’ll pass the message along,” Wilson said as he bundled up the photos on the desk. “I’ll keep these for a while if you don’t mind.”
He picked up the phone as Moira left the office. “It’s DCI Wilson,” he said when the phone was answered. “Order up some lunch for Superintendent Worthington in Interview Room One. He’s going to be with us for the afternoon.” He rang off and called the Chief Superintendent’s Office. “Is he busy?” he said when the Secretary answered. “Well tell him that I have to see him immediately.”
CHAPTER 11
It was almost 2 o’clock when Wilson finished his lunch of a tuna salad sandwich and a coffee at his desk. As part of his attempt to regain his youthful vigour, he had promised Kate that he wasn’t going to eat crap in the future. The tuna sandwich had been crap but at least it had been fish and the word salad had been on the label, although he had struggled to identify anything that could be considered salad between the two slices of stodgy white bread. His meeting with Spence was long and tiring. After he reported on his interview with Worthington and Moira’s meeting with Constable Doogan, Spence and he had tried to develop some scenario that would not be a disaster for both Worthington and the PSNI. The Chief Superintendent had organised a meeting with DCC Jennings for the afternoon, and he wanted to take a solution to HQ along with the problem. Try as they might neither man could come up with any scenario corresponding with the DCC’s wish to have the whole episode disappear. Wilson knew that he was going to be tasked with being the bearer of the bad news to Worthington. What a shit job this really was. His musings were interrupted by Harry Graham standing at his open door waving the search warrant for Gilroy’s house.
“Do we need any uniforms along?” Graham said.
Wilson took his coat from behind his chair and slipped it on. “Not for now. We’ll do a quick recce and then hand the job over to forensics.”
They drove in silence to Saint Cormac’s. The burned-out church had a distinctly Gothic look as it stood starkly against the backdrop of a cloudy sky. The smell of charred timber still hung in the air. Wilson and Graham made their way to the house that Father Gilroy had called home. The cottage was a small stone faced building of no more than 800 square feet, which had most probably been constructed at the same time as the church. The front door was a stout wooden affair that would take some getting through without a key. A small flower garden extended on both sides of the entrance. As he walked up the gravel pathway leading to the front door, Wilson saw the figure of Monsignor Devlin standing at the door.
“Good afternoon, Monsignor,” Wilson said as they approached the house. “I had a feeling that I would be seeing you here this afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector,” the Monsignor said
“What do you think of her story?”
“She’s going to make a hell of a credible witness, and the photos don’t lie.”
“So what’s in it for her?”
“She wants his balls. When she has them she’s going to go after the PSNI for compensation. Depending on how much she gets she may open a bar on the Costa and get away from the terrible weather on this island.”
“No light at the end of the tunnel?”
“Not a spot. He’s well and truly done for.”
“Was he set up?”
“Maybe. She’s too cool for comfort. But shouldn’t he be old enough to have learned.”
“Thanks I’ll pass the message along,” Wilson said as he bundled up the photos on the desk. “I’ll keep these for a while if you don’t mind.”
He picked up the phone as Moira left the office. “It’s DCI Wilson,” he said when the phone was answered. “Order up some lunch for Superintendent Worthington in Interview Room One. He’s going to be with us for the afternoon.” He rang off and called the Chief Superintendent’s Office. “Is he busy?” he said when the Secretary answered. “Well tell him that I have to see him immediately.”
CHAPTER 11
It was almost 2 o’clock when Wilson finished his lunch of a tuna salad sandwich and a coffee at his desk. As part of his attempt to regain his youthful vigour, he had promised Kate that he wasn’t going to eat crap in the future. The tuna sandwich had been crap but at least it had been fish and the word salad had been on the label, although he had struggled to identify anything that could be considered salad between the two slices of stodgy white bread. His meeting with Spence was long and tiring. After he reported on his interview with Worthington and Moira’s meeting with Constable Doogan, Spence and he had tried to develop some scenario that would not be a disaster for both Worthington and the PSNI. The Chief Superintendent had organised a meeting with DCC Jennings for the afternoon, and he wanted to take a solution to HQ along with the problem. Try as they might neither man could come up with any scenario corresponding with the DCC’s wish to have the whole episode disappear. Wilson knew that he was going to be tasked with being the bearer of the bad news to Worthington. What a shit job this really was. His musings were interrupted by Harry Graham standing at his open door waving the search warrant for Gilroy’s house.
“Do we need any uniforms along?” Graham said.
Wilson took his coat from behind his chair and slipped it on. “Not for now. We’ll do a quick recce and then hand the job over to forensics.”
They drove in silence to Saint Cormac’s. The burned-out church had a distinctly Gothic look as it stood starkly against the backdrop of a cloudy sky. The smell of charred timber still hung in the air. Wilson and Graham made their way to the house that Father Gilroy had called home. The cottage was a small stone faced building of no more than 800 square feet, which had most probably been constructed at the same time as the church. The front door was a stout wooden affair that would take some getting through without a key. A small flower garden extended on both sides of the entrance. As he walked up the gravel pathway leading to the front door, Wilson saw the figure of Monsignor Devlin standing at the door.
“Good afternoon, Monsignor,” Wilson said as they approached the house. “I had a feeling that I would be seeing you here this afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector,” the Monsignor said
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