Games with the Dead: A PC Donal Lynch Thriller. James Nally
here and admire this lovely gate?’ says Fintan.
‘God, you’re a patronising pig,’ snaps Tania.
‘Well said,’ I nod.
My eyes are drawn to the far corner of the graveyard and a pair of all-business ravens. They’re patrolling a candy-striped bundle under a creaking oak. As I get closer, I see it’s a pink-and-white striped sheet trussed up with green cord. The sheet ends are tied together and stained dark. The rope winds about the package three times widthways and once lengthways.
‘Expertly wrapped,’ says Fintan.
‘Got anything sharp?’
‘Try these,’ he says, handing me the car keys.
I tear a strip in the sheet. The stench knocks us backwards. A black cloud of flies descends.
‘What is that?’ screams Ellen.
‘It’s Julie,’ I say, turning to her and, despite my best efforts, failing to suppress a smile. But what I’ve just smelled means I’m not responsible for her murder. ‘Looks like she’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours. Thank God,’ I sigh, shaking my head out of sheer relief.
Fintan leans in close: ‘I think we’d better make an anonymous call.’
We turn to see Ellen jabbing at her mobile phone.
‘No wait,’ I say, but she’s already spilling to a 999 operator.
I look at Fintan. ‘How the hell are we going to explain this?’
‘We need to get away from here,’ he mumbles. ‘I’ll suggest the pub. We let them walk ahead, as soon as they get around the corner, bolt for the car.’
Ellen ends the call: ‘Don’t worry, Tan, the police are on their way.’
Fintan pipes up: ‘I don’t know about you ladies, but I suddenly really fancy a steak. Why don’t we wait for the plod in the pub?’
Ellen plants one hand inside her handbag, raising the other defensively. ‘If you or your weirdo brother take one step closer, I swear to God I’ll set off my rape alarm.’
‘Understood, loud and clear,’ says Fintan brightly. ‘Can I just say though, Ellen, as a parting line to a double date, that may never be topped.’
Pyecombe Cemetery, East Sussex
Thursday, June 16, 1994; 14.30
‘Christ, check out the fourth horseman,’ quips Fintan, nodding towards the cemetery gate.
‘Croissant’ Crossley – so-called, to quote an under- ling, ‘because he’s a fat, posh, perma-tanned poof’ – has arrived, and looks set to smash through headstones rather than zigzag around them. He may even claw a few corpses out of the dirt with his bare hands and rent them asunder, just to underline his current feeling of profound irritation.
‘Well, if it isn’t Burke and O’Hare,’ he snaps. ‘More like Mulligan and O’Hare.’
I’m still swooning on the stench of Julie Draper’s rotting flesh and shaking the hairy little hand of every passing bluebottle. It’s all confirmation that my surrender of the ransom last night did not precipitate her murder.
‘A perfectly innocent explanation, Commander,’ Fintan pipes up. ‘We were out for a drive with those delightful ladies. Donal loves an old cemetery, especially on a dreaded sunny day like today. Next thing he’s calling us over to Julie Draper’s body.’
‘We don’t know it’s Julie Draper,’ says Crossley.
Fintan smiles: ‘I do know, Commander, and as soon as they confirm its Julie, the media blackout can no longer be enforced? Condition 11 of the code.’
I wince; his bitching isn’t helping any bridge-building.
‘I’ll get a court order,’ bawls Crossley. ‘This maniac is still on the loose.’
‘All the more reason to publicise it and warn the public,’ says Fintan.
‘All the more reason to starve him of the oxygen of publicity. This isn’t a game, Lynch.’
For a verbal street-brawler like Fintan, Christmas has come early. ‘Tell me, Commander, and just to warn you this is on-the-record for when they confirm its Julie, are you still convinced her kidnap is connected to Suzy Fairclough?’
Crossley eyes him warily: ‘Suzy Fairclough was randomly targeted by a man called Mr Kipper. Julie Draper was randomly targeted by a man called John West. Now I know you only eat potatoes in Ireland but even you will have heard of John West Kippers. Draw your own conclusion, as you reporters always seem to do anyway.’
Fintan shakes his head. ‘A crime of this magnitude, with this level of meticulous planning and forethought, and you’re telling me it’s another random kidnap and murder?’
Crossley sighs. ‘Julie Draper had no enemies. She lived a very quiet life with her mum and dad, devoted to her pet dogs and fish. No ex-boyfriends to speak of. Why would anyone target her?’
‘There’s always something,’ Fintan goads. ‘Maybe you missed it. Maybe you weren’t looking for it. Maybe you’ve been duped.’
I remember the fish from Julie Draper’s deranged production last night. Before I can stop myself: ‘She kept fish you say, Sir?’
Crossley turns to me slowly, wearing a look of flabbergasted contempt. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You say she kept fish, Sir. What kind?’
‘Are you taking the piss?’
I shake my head.
‘Goldfish.’
‘Their names?’
‘I don’t know. Christ! Mutt and Jeff I think she called them in her proof-of-life call. Why in God’s name do you ask?’
I don’t answer.
Crossley stiffens. ‘You know I can’t help feeling it’s fitting you found the body, Donal.’
‘Sir?’
‘As it was you who totally fucked up our chances of apprehending her abductor last night. And that’s gone into my report.’
‘Sir, less than an hour ago I was scared stiff that I may have caused Julie to be murdered. Now I know I haven’t, I’ll take anything that’s coming my way on the chin.’
Fintan barely lets me finish. ‘Did you also put in your report, Commander, that the kidnap must be the work of a former or current police officer?’
Crossley’s startled reaction shocks me to the core. My God, he believes Julie’s kidnap is an inside job, somehow. For Fintan, this is an open goal.
‘I’m reliably informed that you wrote a memo to the Commissioner in which you stated that the expertise of Julie’s captor has convinced you that it’s an inside job.’
‘Nonsense,’ snarls Crossley, but way too animated.
‘Is that why you’re so keen to throw Donal under the bus, Commander, to cover up something that will embarrass the force?’
Crossley’s rattled. ‘I’d tread very carefully if I were you, Lynch. The only inside job I’m seeing here is an officer on my case bringing his reporter brother to the scene for an unofficial briefing. I’ve a good mind to arrest you both for obstructing the course of justice.’
Fintan smiles smugly. ‘Oh, I know why you’re so pissed off, Commander. Julie’s body here dashes