Read Online The Nameless Dead by Brian McGilloway - Free Book Online Page B

expression still one of defiant vulnerability. But, when I saw her now, it was clear something fundamental had
changed, something had broken inside her.
    She smiled when she saw us, though the gesture did not reach her eyes, which were puffy and raw with crying. I noticed that a baby monitor perched on the arm of the sofa by her head, its hiss a
constant, unbroken soundtrack to our conversation.
    ‘Hello, Inspector.’
    ‘Miss Cashell. Or are you Mrs now?’
    It was Christine’s partner who responded. ‘Christ, no,’ he said quickly. ‘We’re not married. We’ve moved in together.’
    Christine looked at him and I suspected for a moment that the speed of his denial had hurt her.
    ‘You wanted to see me, Christine.’
    She nodded. ‘Thanks for coming out. I wondered if you were still about.’
    ‘Is everything okay?’ The man’s fidgeting, her recent tears, his nervous pacing near the doorway bore all the hallmarks of the aftermath of a domestic-violence incident.
    ‘She’s hearing a baby crying. In that thing,’ he nodded towards the monitor. He snuffled again into one hand, rubbing at his nose, then wedged his fist into his pocket
again.
    ‘What’s your name, sir?’
    ‘Andrew,’ he said, pausing in his pacing. ‘Andrew Dunne.’
    ‘Would you like to sit down, Mr Dunne, and tell me what’s wrong?’
    He stared at me a second, as if reluctant to capitulate to my request. In the end, he moved across to the armchair in the corner and rested one buttock on the arm of it in a vague
compromise.
    ‘She says she’s hearing things in that thing. A baby crying.’
    I nodded, looking at Christine. She returned my glance, her eyes a little wide.
    ‘Is that not normal?’
    ‘It’s not my baby crying.’
    ‘And where is your baby?’ I said, smiling. I glanced around the room, half expecting to see a child sleeping in a carry-cot, but could see none. I nodded to Joe who drifted out into
the hallway to take a look around.
    ‘My baby’s Michael.’
    I nodded. ‘That’s a nice name. You have an older child, don’t you?’
    Christine smiled briefly. ‘Tony. He’s at school.’
    Dunne stood again. ‘You need to do something. She’s balling her eyes out constantly, hearing a baby crying in that thing.’
    ‘Someone hurt it,’ Christine said.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Last night. I heard the baby crying,’ she explained. ‘I heard him crying. I thought he was Michael. I asked Andrew to check but he wouldn’t . . . you wouldn’t
check.’
    ‘It wasn’t Michael crying, Chrissie,’ Dunne said. ‘I told you that.’
    ‘He cried on and on. Then I heard someone shout at him. I think they hit him. He didn’t cry after that. I’ve been listening all night, but he won’t cry.’
    ‘And you’re sure it’s not your baby.’
    ‘It’s not our baby,’ Dunne replied tersely, gritting his teeth. ‘I told her that. It won’t go in.’
    Joe McCready wandered back into the room. He looked at me and shrugged lightly.
    ‘Where is Michael now?’ I asked again.
    Dunne shook his head.
    ‘He’s sleeping,’ Christine said.
    ‘Jesus,’ Dunne snapped, suddenly leaving the room.
    ‘Are you okay for a second, Christine?’ I asked. ‘Garda McCready will take a statement from you.’
    I nodded to Joe, who moved over and sat on the edge of the sofa beside Christine. She smiled wanly, lifting the monitor and cradling it in her hand, her eyes fixed on the display.
    Dunne was in the kitchen when I went out, lighting a cigarette.
    ‘Is there something I’m missing?’ I asked.
    ‘She’s the one with something missing. A fucking screw,’ he said, pointing towards the living room.
    ‘Maybe keep your voice down, sir,’ I said. ‘You might wake the baby.’ I had meant the final comment to be light hearted. It had the opposite reaction.
    ‘There is no fucking baby,’ Dunne spat, flecks of saliva catching in the faint moustache of hair on his upper lip.
    ‘What?’
    ‘She lost her baby. Stillborn. There is no