BooksBarbecue
Back Darkest Truth Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. COVER
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. Acknowledgements

‘I’ve told you about her before. She’ll haunt me for ever. Jacqueline Delaney. It was when I was working over in Gurran station. If we’d answered the call a couple of minutes sooner, then, maybe … But we were sick of her by then. The husband had a barring order against him. Timmy Delaney, a weed with one of those bum-fluff excuses for a moustache. A horrible man. And she kept saying he was going to kill her, barring order or not. She kept calling the station. We’d go and investigate. It was a cat one time, a bird on the Velux another time. The wind blew over the washing line one night, one of those roundy twirly things, and she heard the bang and called us in a panic. And it was nothing. It was always nothing. Until the night he killed her. I’d started at ten, it had been busy, and it was coming up to one in the morning, and we were in the patrol car eating our supper that we’d just got from the chipper on Baker’s Road. A sausage and chips with curry sauce I was having, I remember. We moved when we got the call, we did, but we weren’t killing ourselves with speed, we took it handy. Lost a couple of vital minutes. Only down along Cathedral Road and off to the left, a short spin, but by the time we got there Jackie’s head was half hanging off and Timmy was sitting on the floor in a pool of his wife’s blood, still holding the shovel he’d battered her to death with. Crying, he was, penitent, the fucker. He found God in prison after. He’s out now on licence, did his twelve years. I see him sometimes in town handing out leaflets for that dopey church he’s taken up with, whatever it’s called, some born-again shower of gobshites. So when you talk about Rhona, I know what you’re feeling. Or something like it. But the thing that keeps me sane, the only thing, is that I know I didn’t kill Jackie Delaney. Like you didn’t kill Rhona. You have to keep remembering that, Finn, or you’ll go mad.’

28

I didn’t bother with breakfast. The Law Society had provided a convenient resting place for my Friday night flit but I didn’t know who I might meet in the dining room and what questions I might have to answer.