One Coffin Too Many Page 4

  “ So it’s possible? “

  “ Most things are possible, Inspector if you put your mind to it. “

  “ How about a helicopter, then? I’m sure it could be done in a helicopter. “

  “ But helicopters don’t land here, Inspector. Besides it would have to be quite a large helicopter to transport a coffin here. Look, see for yourself. Here’s the ledger of all flights taking off and landing here. They’re all small aircraft. Two or –four -seater aircraft like I said. Nothing about a helicopter. “

  “ And what about incoming flights from Britain and the Continent? “

  “ That just doesn’t happen at all, Inspector. And why should it with a regional airport less than a hundred kilometers away. They’d only land here in an emergency and they’d be lucky given the short length of the runway. “

  “ But it is possible as you say? “

  “ Well like I said…”

  “ You’re hardly open twenty-four hours? “

  “ No, strictly a sunrise to sunset operation. We only control take-off and landings from this tower. The regional airport controls everything sky-wise, radar and such. Don’t forget we’re strictly an aero club. We’ve our patch of sky and we keep to it. Everything else has to be squared with regional. “

  “ But somebody could sneak in here after hours without anybody knowing, couldn’t they? “

  “ They could but then they’d appear on the radar – they’d be spotted. “

  “ But if they didn’t want to be spotted how would they do it? “

  “ They’d have to turn off their identification transponder or failing that come in at sea level. You’re talking about top-rate flying. Hedge-hopping stuff. Probably ex-military. No doubt about that. The average pilot just wouldn’t have the experience and ability to try something like that. “

  “ So it’s possible, then? “

  “ Yes it’s possible, Inspector. It’s possible but risky, very risky. You’d have to have your wits about you with a caper like that. “

  “ So if somebody wanted to land here after hours he’d have to have some knowledge of the layout of this aerodrome. “

  “ That would be true and he’d also want to have somebody on the ground preferably with ground lights to illuminate the runway. “

  “ Right. And have you any ground lights here? “

  “ Ah no, not yet. Our budget doesn’t run to that. Perhaps in a few year’s time. Besides, who’d want to land here at night. Like I said there’s a regional airport near here. They’ve got all the facilities you’d need for a night landing. Why risk a crash? “

  “ I see. And what if somebody were to provide some sort of ground lights – something temporary? Could that be done? “

  “ Of course. We’re talking here about flares, Inspector. Once you know the aircraft’s about to land you ignite the flares and the runway is lit up. And then, of course, there’s the wind. “

  “ The wind? What do you mean? “

  “ No disrespect, Inspector but you don’t know a thing about flying, do you? “

  “ Not a thing, Mr. McFadden. I prefer to leave that to others. “

  McFadden laughed.

  “ Well, it’s like this, Inspector. You see that windsock out there? “

  Devoy peered into the distance.

  “ Yeah? “

  “ Without labouring a point, Inspector, that tells us which way the wind is blowing. Contrary to what people think an aircraft has to take off into the wind and by the same token land into the wind otherwise the plane could be toppled over. Do you get me? “

  “ I do, “ replied Devoy. “ So? “

  “ So that means whoever is sneaking in at night would want somebody telling him literally which way the wind is blowing seeing as the windsock is not visible and that person would have to have a radio, too. Do you understand, Inspector? “

  “ Understood, Mr. McFadden. Understood. “

  McFadden gave Devoy a searching look.

  “ You haven’t told me what this is all about, Inspector. Obviously some sort of criminal activity, I suppose? “

  “ Mr. McFadden you’ve been very helpful to me. I have to ask you to keep this matter to yourself. We

  are investigating what could be criminal activity but there’s nothing sure yet. We’ve exploring all avenues, so to speak. “

  “ Fair enough but if you want to bring a coffin into this country illegally then your best bet would be by sea. Any of the trawlers down in the harbour would be capable of that. Don’t forget we’re an island and there are hundreds of coves and creeks up and down the coast. “

  “ Thanks. I never thought of that. “

  Devoy made his way down the stairs. A thought occurred to him. He made his way back up.

  “ Mr. McFadden? “

  McFadden appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “ Yes? “

  “ Mr. McFadden I wonder would you mind if I had a look at the runway? “

  “ The runway. Why not? First let me consult the schedules. Don’t want you getting in the way of anybody. That wouldn’t do at all. “

  McFadden flicked through a few pages and then glanced out at the runway.

  “ No problem, Inspector. Everybody’s in. Nobody’s expected. Just keep a sharp eye out. Keep to the sides. “

  “ Well Angela, what have you got for me? “

  Detective Moore looked around the pizza parlor before answering.

  “ The technical people went through the place with a fine comb. Took some prints off the door but curiously enough there was nothing on the mysterious coffin. They then sealed off the mausoleum. They should have something by late Monday. “

  “ That’s odd. No prints. “

  “ Oh they probably felt they had to clean up the place a bit because of the cock-up and wiped the coffin clean. “

  “ Any subterranean passages detected – anything like that? “

  Detective Moore shook her head.

  “ Nothing like that. You see the mausoleum straddles the old and the new cemetery. There used to be a wall separating the two but that was knocked down a few years ago when the local authority took over the administration of the cemetery. The old part is still a jungle. Families died out or moved on. You’d need an army of gardeners with strimmers to cut away the vegetation. Some of the vaults are practically invisible. “

  “ Anything about the Marshalls? “

  “ They’re still living up in the mansion although that seems to be dilapidated too. I’m given to believe from a media source that they made a killing when they sold out to the Japanese. “

  “ So with the father and mother gone who’s left? “

  “ Just the son and daughter. She lives up in Dublin and he lives here with his wife. Strangely enough both are living there but in separate wings of the house. A tangled divorce of some sort. “

  “ That must be fun, I’d imagine. “

  “ The son. What does he do for a living? “

  “ As little as possible by the look of things. Roderick, that’s his name was in his early days a rising star as a barrister. Then his father died and he came into a lot of money. He inherited everything down here and his sister everything up in Dublin. He’s mad about horses and cards. Rumour has it that he has a serious gambling problem. He abroad a lot especially any town that features a casino. He uses his private plane from the local aerodrome to go off to Deauville in France. He well known in jet set circles. His wife has an up-market boutique in town. Brings in stuff from Paris and Milan. Designer stuff. No price tags in the window. Costs a bomb. And very sexy too. “

  “ Nice, “ replied Devoy. “ These women always have boutiques strangely enough – never anything useful like DIY shops. “

  “ DIY shops! They would hardly interest you, Frank. You’d break out in a sweat if you wandered into one. “

  “ Hey, that maybe be right but it’s hardly respectful. “

  “ Okay, sorry. “

  “ Kids? “<
br />
  “ A boy and a girl. Don’t laugh. She’s obviously took after her mother. She’s some type of banker in Zurich. Rarely turns up here. Too provincial for her, I expect. “

  “ And the brother? “

  “ Oh, he’s some type of artist. Got an atelier –cum- loft in town overlooking the river. Exhibits in town sometimes. Drives some type of American banger from the fifties. But we won’t find him at home now. He’s off somewhere with the in-crowd. Probably Ibiza. “

  “ Successful? “

  “ Not really. Too abstract. I wouldn’t say he’s making a living from it. Probably depends on the family fortune. “

  “ Smart man. I imagine him as someone with a completely shaven head and a pony tail at the back dressed in designer gear. “

  “ That would describe him to a tee. Fancies himself as a lady-killer, too. “

  “ So there’s hope for balding types like me yet would you say? “

  “ Oh I suppose so, “ she replied. “ Separated police inspectors could get a look in but only a look, mind you. Pear shapes don’t count unless of course they’re attached to a bundle of money. Do you fit the description? “

  “ Thanks for your kindness, Madam. Retreads like me really appreciate comments like that especially on a Saturday morning. And there I was hoping for a browse as opposed to a look. Still. “

  “ Well, you did ask? “

  “ Yes, I did, didn’t I? “

  “ So apart from the money they got from the sell-out, what are they living on? “

  “ Their land. They’re the biggest landowners around here. They don’t work it though. Most of it is rented out. “

  “ Anything else? “

  “ I’ve arranged for us to meet the Marshalls at ten-thirty Monday morning. Mr. Wade obliged us with their telephone number. “

  “ Excellent. “

  “ There’s something else. “

  “ Oh, what’s that. “

  “ We’ve got a new boss. He’s arriving Monday morning. A Superintendent Sullivan to be exact. “

  “ How did you find out? “

  “ The usual – the grapevine. He’s only temporary though, I heard. “

  “ What’s his form? “

  “ Haven’t a notion. The rumour is he’s a bit of an odd fish. “

  “ I see. Not a golfer like O’Shea. “

  “ No, I don’t think so. Suppose to be a bit of a loner. “

  Devoy grimaced.

  “ What’s with the face, Frank? “ Angela asked.

  “ I’m in one of my anti-social moods if you really want to know. “

  “ What’s the matter now? Problem with your phone again? “

  Devoy made a face again.

  “ Look at them, “ he said looking around the restaurant. “ Just look at them. “

  “ I’m looking at them, Frank. What’s the problem? “

  “ What did people do before they invented mobile phones? Jesus, every one of them has a phone stuck to their ears or failing that they’re looking at the screen. “

  “ So? “

  “ When the mobile phones first became widespread I used to think that people had an ear ache or headache and then it eventually dawned on me that they were actually listening to somebody. Then when I was a kid I watched women opening their compacts to examine themselves in the mirror. Now what do I see. They’re looking at a bloody screen to see have they messages. It’s hard to believe. “

  “ It’s not hard to believe, Frank. You’re just a dinosaur, that’s all. “

  “ Well thank you for the vote of confidence, Angela. “

  “ Don’t mention it, Frank. I’m sure you have other uses. “

  Devoy spotted his daughter passing by the window.

  “ Ah, “ he exclaimed. “ Here she is and on time too for a change. So unlady-like, don’t you think, Angela? Whatever is the world coming to? “

  Detective Moore rolled her eyes and turned to greet Sienna.

  ✽✽✽

  CHAPTER 3

  Monday

  Devoy sat on a hard chair in the late Superintendent O’Shea’s office. He had been summoned by phone to expect the new superintendent at 8:30. Sullivan hadn’t turned up yet so Devoy was studying the paler sections on the wall where the late Superintendent O’Shea’s photos had hung conjuring up the 1960s hit a Whiter Shade of Pale in his mind when the door opened and a man clad in fisherman’s gear burst into the office like a great explorer. He trod across O’Shea’s prized green carpet on which the late superintendent had practiced many a putt leaving a dirty wet trail like a snail before he dumped his fishing gear into the corner. He then shook himself like a wet dog, splaying seawater everywhere and then turned and pointed his finger at Devoy.

  “ You must be Devoy, right? “

  Devoy nodded.

  “ Superintendent Sullivan, “ announced the man as he started to peel off his fishing gear and throw it on the floor.

  “ I’m really sorry about this…”

  “ You’re right, sir. Devoy replied lamely. “ I’m Devoy. “

  “ Good, real sorry, Inspector Devoy. Thought I’d catch some early morning fishing and got caught in a squall. Had to ride the damn thing out. What can I do for you anyway? “ he asked, extending his hand for a handshake.

  Devoy shook his hand.

  “ I was under the impression you wanted to see me, sir. “

  Sullivan blinked a few times and creased his forehead as if that could help him to remember.

  “ Ah yes, I remember now. I just wanted to touch base with you seeing as you’re the senior man around – at least for the moment. Anything major I should be aware of? Any proverbial shit? “

  Devoy filled him in on the coffin.

  “ I see. Do you think this is an open and shut case – something simple that can be resolved without any fuss? “

  “ That I can’t say for certain now. I’m following definite lines of enquiries. I should be able to come to some conclusion within a few days. “

  “ Good. I’d hate to wander into anything sticky at this stage of the game. What’s the name of the family again? “

  “ The Marshalls. “

  “ The Marshalls. Never heard of them. Am I supposed to? “

  “ You’d probably remember them better under their trade name: they’re the local bigwigs. They used to own the crystal factory. It closed down a few years ago leaving hundreds out of work. The town is still on its knees on account of it. People feel let down by the family. Feel a part of their heritage is gone. “

  “ Ah yes, it’s coming back to me now. Didn’t they sell out to some Japanese or Chinese crowd? “

  “ One or the other, I believe. And they pulled out later. “

  “ Do you suspect foul play, Inspector? “

  “ That’s hard to say. I don’t even know if there’s a body in the damn thing. I’m given to believe it’s a foreign coffin. Lead- lined. “

  “ Surely there’s a name or some identifying mark on it? “

  “ There’s nothing. Nothing at all. “

  “ How do you know it’s foreign, then? “

  “ One of the undertakers told me. Said he’d seen lots of them come in over the summer months. Nothing unusual, he assured me. Lots of people die on their holidays, heat stroke, alcohol and too much physical exertion of various kinds. “

  “ Yes, I can imagine. What do you propose to do? “

  “ If all my enquiries come to naught I’ll have no alternative but to have the coffin opened and get the technical people involved. There’s no other way. God only knows what’s in there. “

  “ That means notifying Justice. And getting them involved means paperwork. The minister and his minions will be looking for paperwork from here till kingdom come. If you have to involve them make sure you’ve crossed your T’s and dotted your I’s. “

  “ I’m doing it by the book, sir. “

  “ No matter, Devoy. Listen, we can skip the formalities. I’m Harry
and you’re…”

  “ Frank. “

  “ Good. That’s out of the way then, Frank. “

  “ Like I said I just thought I’d touch base with you before the others come tumbling in. “

  “ I appreciate that Sup… I mean Harry. “

  “ Not at all. “

  “ The truth of the matter, Frank, is I’m not here to stay. What with O’Shea gone and Hartigan out of the way I’m really just filling in until they can find some replacements. They’re probably scrambling over one another and stabbing one another in the back right now to get these jobs. You know what they’re like. “

  “ Did you say Hartigan? What’s wrong with him? I mean he’s much younger than me. “

  Sullivan brought his finger up to his lips.

  “ Well not any more, I regret to say. This is just between you and me. Okay? “

  Devoy nodded wondering what Sullivan was going to say.

  “ Hartigan won’t be coming back, I’m afraid. He’s dead. Died on the job, so to speak. Went out with a bang. “

  “ A bang! You mean some sort of shoot-out? “

  “ Well, yes, you could say that but no guns were involved except his best friend. “

  “ I…I don’t understand. No guns, his best friend? I don’t get you. What do you mean? “

  Sullivan wore a pained look on his face.

  “ The only arm involved was his best friend, so to speak : his dick, his prick. Did you never hear that expression before, Devoy? “

  “ Can’t say that I did. “

  “ He was banging his secretary on the desk one morning after coffee break when he had a heart attack. Okay? Coming and going you might call it. Came as he went. Anyway he’s gone and seeing as I’ve only ten weeks to go before pension they asked me to come down here and be some sort of roving superintendent until they sort things out. It being summertime and lots of the pretenders on leave they’ll wait until everybody is back before they make a decision otherwise there’ll be hell. “

  “ So Hartigan’s gone?

  “ Yeah. Hard-on Hartigan was his nick name. Yeah, if it’s not golf it’s women. “

  “ Right. And his secretary? “