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Chapters (59)
  1. Copyright Page
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by
  4. Praise
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Part One
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Chapter 18
  26. Chapter 19
  27. Chapter 20
  28. Chapter 21
  29. Chapter 22
  30. Part Two
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Chapter 25
  34. Chapter 26
  35. Chapter 27
  36. Chapter 28
  37. Chapter 29
  38. Chapter 30
  39. Chapter 31
  40. Chapter 32
  41. Chapter 33
  42. Chapter 34
  43. Chapter 35
  44. Chapter 36
  45. Chapter 37
  46. Chapter 38
  47. Chapter 39
  48. Chapter 40
  49. Chapter 41
  50. Chapter 42
  51. Chapter 43
  52. Chapter 44
  53. Chapter 45
  54. Chapter 46
  55. Acknowledgements
  56. Discover more from Rachael English . . .
  57. Prologue
  58. Part One
  59. Chapter 1

Her husband was less conciliatory. ‘Leo was a good man. You’re too young to remember that.’ Although his hands were swollen with age, he held his back as straight as a soldier on parade. He’d clearly given considerable thought to what he wanted to say. ‘You know what I learned from our family’s tragedy? Everybody forgets about the victim. The only reason people remember Leo’s name is because he was a priest. That gave him novelty value. I guarantee you, other men and women were murdered that year and, apart from their families, nobody talks about them. People don’t forget criminals, though. Take the three fellows who died the day you were shot. If you went out now and asked someone their names, they’d say “Warren Burke”. They’d know him because his family are gangsters, and gangsters are interesting. I doubt anybody could give you the names of the other two.’

‘Dessie Hartigan and Keith Fraser,’ said Conor, in a quiet voice.

‘My point is this: I always felt that people in Kilmitten were so wrapped up in themselves, and in which of their neighbours might have been responsible for Leo’s death, that they forgot about the victim. I’m not saying my brother, the Lord have mercy on him, was a saint … I wish he hadn’t been so fond of gambling … but he deserved better.’

Conor couldn’t argue. He believed the impact of the priest’s death had been blunted because he’d been viewed as an outsider. No matter that he’d lived in the village for more than a decade, in the eyes of some locals he wasn’t really one of them.

Hannah tapped her husband’s wrist. ‘To be clear about what you’re saying to us, Inspector Varley—’

‘Conor, please. Like I told you, this isn’t official business.’

‘To be clear, you think Leo’s killer might still be alive?’

‘I don’t know. And I don’t want to make this any more difficult for you.’

She fixed him with her blue gaze. ‘Not knowing exactly what happened to Gregory’s brother, and why it happened, is a terrible burden. Over the years, we’ve come to accept that we’ll never get the full story: that either Noel O’Grady took it to the grave … or that someone else was responsible and has managed to stay quiet. I’ve heard other guards say that crimes tend to be solved quickly or not at all. That doesn’t give us much hope.’

Conor placed his cup on a lace coaster. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any idea why somebody might have wanted to harm Father Leo?’