Chapter 17. Morning briefing

Detective Clarke sat fidgeting in Inspector Brown's office. He had arrived early for their 8:30 A.M. meeting, and Brown's secretary had asked him to wait. She expected the Inspector at any minute. Although only eighteen hours had passed since he’d talked with Brown the previous day, that meeting already felt like a distant memory. He had not been home and was hungry, tired, and frustrated with the case. He was not looking forward to briefing Brown.

He and Officer Bunt had spent most of the night going through case files in a fairly indiscriminate manner. They had very little to go on, and Clarke's conversations with the Kilroy and O’Neil families had produced no leads. Their only theories were related to drugs or a cult of some sort. Neither seemed likely, given the profiles of victim and assailant. However, the sheer viciousness of what had happened and Inspector Brown's strong recommendation to "think outside the box", had forced them to consider almost any possibility. Clarke’s gut told him that they were looking in the wrong direction, but he kept his mind open. Successful detective work was all about patience and diligence. He had plenty of both.

"Sorry I'm late," Brown grumbled as he entered the room.

"No problem, sir."

Brown opened his briefcase, pulled out a handful of papers, and dropped them onto the desk. A couple of pages fell to the floor. Clarke picked them up and put them back.

"Got your voicemail," Brown said, rummaging for something at the bottom of the briefcase.

"Yeah, I got the call at six this morning. They’re not sure what happened. It may have been a blood clot in the brain."

Brown extricated himself from the briefcase and pulled out a cheap, ball-point pen. "I called over to the Kilroy place this morning. Talked to Anne." He paused. "It's very tough for her."

"Did you see Rick?"

"Yeah, he was there."

"How did he take the news?"

Brown thought for a moment. "Well, it was a little strange. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, didn't even comfort his mother—and she was in a bad way. You just never know how people will react."

"It was the same last night at the hospital when his father came around. There was something about his behavior. I'm not sure what it is, but it's too odd to simply discount as a reaction to what has happened."

"You think he’s involved somehow?"

"I don't know yet, but we need to talk with him further."

"Okay, but don't overdo it. I’ve known him for years. He can be a little strange at times, but overall a good kid. Anything more on Kilroy?"

"As I mentioned in my message, he came around last night but didn’t say much. He’s still very weak and appears to have no idea of what happened."

"You think he’s bluffing?"

"I can't say yet, but if he is, it's an Oscar performance. The last thing he could remember yesterday was taking breakfast in Ballycastle."

"Why was he there?" Brown asked.

"He took a drive yesterday morning. We don't know where he went after breakfast, but we have a report of him coming into the town at about noon."

"What else? Did he say anything about the O’Neil kid?"

"No, nothing, and we haven't told him anything yet. The doctors advised against it last night."

"You’d better tell him soon. We don't want him hearing the news from someone else. You need to be there to see his reaction."

"I am going back to the hospital once we finish. I also contacted Doctor Toner. He’s with the Psychology Department at Queen’s University. He will be stopping by in the afternoon."

"Great. Let me know what he comes up with. Any updates from the team at the O’Neil house?"

"Nothing new. It looks like Kilroy trashed the place with his bare hands. It's what we guessed, given his injuries. We also got the toxicology tests. Nothing unusual."

"Where does that leave us?"

Clarke paused for a moment. "Not that far forward. I’m hoping Kilroy will talk, and we’re checking on a possible drug connection."

"OK, get going. We can talk later."

Just as Clarke stood up to leave, Bunt knocked and came in without waiting for an invite.

"Michael, you better sit back down. I have a couple of updates on the Kilroy kid that you both need to hear."

"Let's have it," Brown snapped.

"First, I checked the phone records. Yesterday at eleven-fifty-eight, someone in the O’Neil house called the Kilroy's."

"It must have been Jim calling Rick," Clarke suggested.

"Right. And Mrs. Kilroy confirmed that Rick did get a call from Jim at about noon yesterday. According to the records, the call lasted almost four minutes. So, here’s the interesting thing: the call most likely started just before the attack because we know the witness said it was noon when Kilroy entered the house. He’s ex-police and checked the time.”

"Jesus," Brown gasped. "Rick could have heard something; we need to get him in for questioning."

"Right," Clarke said. "Let’s confirm the exact timing of events. I want to know if the line was open during the attack."

"Already on it," Bunt answered.

"Okay, what else has Rick been up to?" Brown asked.

"This one," Bunt said, shaking his head, "you are not going to believe."