I knocked on Des’s front door. There was no answer. But his van was outside, so I waited. I glanced up and down the street, hoping nobody would see me. Mum would be very upset if she knew I was going to talk to Des, let alone visit him at his house. But I knew he wasn’t a threat now. I believed Lydia. And I needed to hear Des’s side of the story. I wondered if he would even talk to me. I stood there for a few more minutes and eventually he opened the door.
‘Jacki. What are you doing here?’ He didn’t sound mad, just surprised.
‘I need to talk to you,’ I said, shuffling on the doorstep.
‘OK so. C’mon in.’ Des was unshaven and looked exhausted.
I stepped into the hallway.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ he said. ‘Mam is dozing off in the sitting room.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s a lot better.’
‘That’s good.’
Des was looking at me suspiciously. I would have to get to the point.
‘Why are you here, Jacki?’
‘I wanted to ask you about something. Well, someone, actually. Beth Cullen.’
Des sighed. ‘I know what you’ve heard. But it’s not true. I didn’t kill her.’
We sat down at the kitchen table.
‘Can you tell me what happened? If you don’t mind, of course.’
‘No, I don’t mind. Especially if it’s going to put your mind at ease. It was a long time ago, Jacki. We were very young. She meant everything to me. Her dad, Jim, asked me why I didn’t cry at the funeral. Why I hadn’t cried once since I found out she was murdered. They saw it as an admission of guilt. The fact that I showed no emotion. Truth is I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t accept she’d been taken away from me.
‘I saw her that day, the day she was killed. She was in Carrick buying Christmas presents and I was doing a job in one of the shops. She came up for a minute to say hi to me. I went outside to her. All her shopping bags were in the basket of her bicycle. She told me she’d got me something, but I wasn’t allowed to see it till Christmas Day. Those were the last words she said to me. Since we first started going out, I’d never been apart from her for more than a week. I missed her like crazy. I missed her so much. I wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry. But I just couldn’t let myself. Because if I cried then it would all be real. If I cried, then I’d have to accept it. And I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.’
I felt terrible for Des. This was so upsetting to listen to.
‘Do you have any idea who did it?’ I said.
‘No. None whatsoever. I kept replaying that day in my head, but I don’t remember anything suspicious. The day they found her body was the worst day of my life. Michael Reynolds accused me from the outset. Because of that, a lot of people in this village think I killed her. “You’re going to hell for this, Des Butler.” That’s what he said to me. And he was right. My life has been a living hell for the past twenty-five years. The way some people look at me. The hate in their eyes, and the disgust and the fear. I would never have hurt Beth.’
Des sounded so sincere and looked so sad there was no way I couldn’t believe him.
Then he looked up at me.
‘Jacki, I really care about your mum.’
‘I know you do,’ I answered, and meant it. ‘Des, were you up at the house yesterday… in the afternoon?’
‘No, I wasn’t. I’ve finished working there for the moment,’ he said. ‘Where was I… I had to take my mother to the chiropodist in Carrick. Why?’
‘I just thought I saw you… it doesn’t matter. I’d better go. Mum will probably be wondering where I am.’
‘I wish everything could be finally cleared up,’ Des said as he saw me to the door.
I wished for that too.
As I walked along the path towards the Mulveys’ house I felt both relieved and confused. Relieved that Beth and Jane were the same person. It was Beth who I’d followed into the trees, Beth who I’d seen in the café. It all made sense now.
But I needed to find Beth’s killer. Lydia had said it was someone who lived in the village. And I knew it wasn’t Des.
I heard someone call my name.
‘Jacki!’ shouted Mary from the door of the Garda station.
‘Hi, Mary,’ I called back, but continued walking, not wanting to get caught chatting for ages.
‘C’mon into the house till I give you a bit of birthday cake,’ she said.
I sighed and crossed the road.
‘Nick isn’t here,’ she said as I followed her round the side of the station. ‘He’s down minding the shop.’
My heart sank slightly. After avoiding him for so long this would have been a good excuse to talk to him.
‘I didn’t really want to get a cake,’ said Mary. ‘But Rosie really wanted to blow out the candles, so I had to give in.’
‘Oh yeah, happy birthday, Mary,’ I said. I’d actually forgotten it was Mary’s special day. My mind was racing, trying to link together all the clues.
‘I was out checking if Michael wanted to have a cup of tea with myself and Joe,’ she said. ‘But the lads said he’s gone for a walk up in the forest.’
As I imagined Michael weaving through the conifers, I began to wonder if perhaps he was the person I was looking for. Lydia had said that the killer was too well connected. She’d also said that the man who’d tried to kill her had been going out with one of her friends. And I remembered during the fight in the shop Mary had said he didn’t have an alibi for the night of the murder. Maybe Mary even suspected her own husband. He certainly was a bully. The more I thought about it, the more suspicious I became. It was hard to believe he was Nick’s father.
‘I really better get going, Mary,’ I said, wanting to get back so I could jot all this down in my notebook.
‘Don’t be silly, c’mon in. It won’t take a minute. You’d better hurry before Joe Clancy eats it all!’
I reluctantly followed Mary into the kitchen. I glanced into the sitting room, where Mary’s daughter and her friend sat on the couch watching TV. The volume was so loud that they didn’t even notice us come in.
‘Are you having a nice birthday?’ I asked, trying to appear normal, not wanting to show any signs that I suspected her husband might be a murderer.
‘Ah yeah. It’s been quiet so far. Michael is taking me out for a meal later.’
‘Hi, Jacki,’ said Joe, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m grand, and yourself?’
‘Ah sure, can’t complain. I was just dropping Mary down her present. Don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten about her,’ he said, giving me a wink. ‘I better head on now. The missus will be wondering where I am. I’ll see ye later.’
‘Right you are, Joe,’ said Mary as he left the kitchen. She took a slice of cake out from a tin and started to wrap it in tinfoil.
‘It’s black forest gateau,’ said Mary, ‘Nick’s favourite. Actually I better remember to keep him a piece!’
The more I heard his name, the worse I felt. I really hoped I’d be able to fix things.
‘Did you get anything nice for your birthday?’ I asked, trying to change the subject.
‘Oh yes. Well, I got that beautiful painting from Colin.’ She pointed over to the far wall, at the painting I’d admired in Colin’s room the first time I’d met him.
‘It’s stunning,’ I said.
‘It’s wonderful. There’s something special about it. And Lydia said she’s dropping down my present later. My sister got me a nice bracelet… and wait till you see what I got from Joe and Rita. I’ll just go and get it.’
Mary hurried out of the kitchen. I looked around the room. Everything in its proper place, everything neat and tidy.
‘Here it is!’
She opened up a gift box to reveal a silver watch.
‘Oh, it’s lovely!’
‘Isn’t it gorgeous? I needed a new watch. Joe must have remembered that. He’s so thoughtful.’ There was a glint in Mary’s eye that I hadn’t seen before.