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    No Past Forgiven: A Gripping Crime Mystery
    No Past Forgiven: A Gripping Crime Mystery
    No Past Forgiven: A Gripping Crime Mystery
    Ebook313 pages5 hours

    No Past Forgiven: A Gripping Crime Mystery

    By Valerie Keogh

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    About this ebook

    Nothing can ruin a romantic weekend like murder . . .

    Crime keeps getting in the way of Detective Garda Sergeant Mike West’s personal life. The woman he loves is living in his house, in his spare bedroom. It should be simple, but it isn’t. He has a solution: a romantic getaway in a lighthouse on Clare Island. A stunning place, a beautiful woman. What could be more perfect?

    Then one of the islanders dies in a bizarre and a tragic accident, and West is roped in to help. But it isn’t an accident. There is more than one suspect, and more than one secret, and this is about to become a working vacation . . .

    Previously published under the title Murder on Clare Island
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Integrated Media
    Release dateMar 2, 2020
    ISBN9781504070768
    No Past Forgiven: A Gripping Crime Mystery
    Author

    Valerie Keogh

    Valerie Keogh is the internationally bestselling author of several psychological thrillers and crime series. She originally comes from Dublin but now lives in Wiltshire and worked as a nurse for many years.

    Read more from Valerie Keogh

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      No Past Forgiven - Valerie Keogh

      1

      Detective Garda Sergeant Mike West was having a rare morning off. He’d got up at the usual time, dressed and readied for the day and then thought, what the hell, made coffee and sat reading the newspaper. Starting with last week’s, he worked his way through the days until by nine he had only yesterday’s paper to read. At nine, on the dot, he stopped and rang Foxrock Garda Station, leaving a message with the duty sergeant, saying he’d be in later.

      Andrews, he knew, would be flummoxed. Grinning at the thought of his partner’s face when he heard the news, he went back to his newspaper, turning a page with a sigh of contentment.

      His Greystones house was, despite many improvements and additions over the years, an old house. Doors opened and closed noisily and almost every floorboard squeaked so he knew when Edel was up and about. He moved to fill and switch on the kettle, anticipating her arrival, humming under his breath. When she didn’t appear, he assumed she’d gone back to bed. Maybe he’d bring her up some coffee. She liked a strong cup of it to start her day. He was getting used to her ways already.

      Freshly-made coffee in hand, he headed out into the hallway and looked up the stairs in time to see a vision in lace-trimmed camisole and French knickers coming down. He had just enough time to admire an outfit that exposed as much flesh as it covered before with a cry, Edel tripped and tumbled down the stairs. A half-empty mug she’d been holding went flying, clattering from step to step in her wake, emptying itself on the way.

      Tyler, the chihuahua, frightened by the noise, ran out, yapping and adding to the confusion. West shushed the dog, put the coffee he was holding down on the hall table and stooped to help her, pulling the camisole down over an exposed breast. ‘Are you okay? Have you hurt yourself?’ He saw colour flood her face and guessed her dignity, pride and self-respect all hurt. But, as she moved her limbs, trying to adjust into a more dignified position, he noticed that she wasn’t wincing in pain.

      ‘I’m okay,’ she mumbled. ‘I thought you’d be gone to work; it’s after nine. I was coming down to see if my jeans were dry.’ She wiped her hand on the edge of her camisole and looked back up the stairs in horror. ‘Oh no, what a mess I’ve made.’

      She had indeed. West took a look at the brown stains on the off-white walls, the splashes of coffee that spattered the cream carpet on almost every stair. He was about to say it’s not that bad, when he caught Edel’s eye. He couldn’t lie. There’d been enough of those. Looking back up the stairway, he smiled. ‘I’m sure it will wash off the walls. And, to be honest, I’ve never liked that carpet. It was there when I bought the place, I’ve just been too lazy to change it.’

      Standing, he reached down for her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Now, how about I go and get you a dressing gown and you come and have some breakfast.’

      They sat around the walnut table that dominated the dining end of the extended kitchen. West kept the conversation deliberately light, speaking of the garden, the plans he had for planting and then, laughing, they talked about what colour carpet would be suitable for the stairway. He didn’t mention her plans for Wilton Road, her ex-husband or the recent disastrous foray into volunteer work that had almost killed her.

      He made more coffee and opened a packet of biscuits, emptying them onto a plate and bringing them to the table with a flourish. ‘Morning coffee,’ he said with a smile.

      When there was a lull in the conversation, Edel mentioned a removal van she’d seen outside the house. ‘I saw boxes and furniture being offloaded and carried into the house next door.’

      ‘It’s rented,’ West explained. ‘There was a young family in it for about a year, they bought a house in Kilternan and moved out about six weeks ago.’ With that, he glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was nearly midday. ‘We’ve talked the morning away, I’d better get moving,’ he said, ‘will you be okay?’

      Edel smiled at him. ‘It’s such a nice day; I thought I might go for a walk.’

      It was the first time she’d mentioned leaving the house since he’d brought her home from the hospital a week before. It was probably a good sign; he shouldn’t worry about her, but he loved her and she had a tendency to get herself into scrapes of all sorts – life-threatening ones at that. So why wouldn’t he worry? He settled for saying, ‘Don’t overdo it.’ And with that restrained comment, and a smile, he left.

      2

      Edel sat a while longer after the front door shut. She’d seen the worry on Mike’s face; it was understandable she supposed. He’d rescued her and saved her life, but she wasn’t a child, she didn’t need watching. It was mid-afternoon before she was finally ready to venture out. She didn’t walk far, just to the local shops about ten minutes away. She bought a couple of bottles of wine, some biscuits and a packet of doggie-shaped treats for Tyler.

      The removal van was gone by the time she returned, the usual peace and quiet of the street restored. Wondering who’d moved in, she stopped outside the house. The curtains were open, but she couldn’t see anyone inside. She was about to move on when the front door opened, and a man appeared. Tall and broad, he stood and stared at her, his face dour and unwelcoming. ‘Sorry,’ she said, rushing to explain her nosiness. ‘I live next door, well actually I don’t, but I’m staying there. I saw the removal van earlier; I was just curious who our new neighbours were.’

      There was no change in the man’s expression. With a brief look behind, as though someone had called him, he said, ‘Me and my wife.’ Without another word, he stepped back and shut the door.

      The tears that came instantly to Edel’s eyes told her more than anything that she wasn’t quite recovered from her recent ordeal. Shoulders slumped, she walked on to West’s house, pushed open the gate and trudged up the path. Curiosity wasn’t a crime and she hadn’t been doing any harm. She threw a look of dislike at the house next door, surprised to see a face looking out at her – not the man but a rather attractive woman. As soon as Edel saw her, the face vanished.

      ‘Strange pair,’ she muttered, opening the door and heading inside. For a first outing, it hadn’t been too successful. Except for the wine. She took out the two bottles, admired the labels, hoped they were halfway decent, and put them on the table.

      After days of eating little, her appetite had returned. For the last few nights, West had brought home a takeaway. Perhaps she should cook dinner to show her appreciation for all he’d done for her. After a search in the fridge and cupboards, she decided on lasagne, one of her favourites and, humming, started to prepare it.

      She had no idea if he would be home for dinner or not. Theirs wasn’t what you would call a normal relationship. In fact, it wasn’t a relationship by any definition. He’d kissed her in the hospital, but since then, nothing.

      She knew he had feelings for her. But her feelings for him were more complicated. She owed him a lot. For goodness’ sake, the man had saved her life. But gratitude wasn’t any basis for a relationship. He was kind, trustworthy, handsome. Was that enough?

      She was skinning tomatoes when a thought struck her. When he brought her here the first day, she’d said she owed him so much, how could she ever repay him. A curious expression had crossed his face that she didn’t understand or question at the time. She understood it now. ‘Idiot,’ she said, squashing the tomato with a wooden spoon. He was kind, trustworthy, handsome and extremely intelligent. He wouldn’t kiss her again until he was sure she wasn’t responding because she owed him. ‘Aargh!’ She squashed the second tomato just as West opened the kitchen door.

      ‘Are you trying to frighten that tomato into submission,’ he said calmly, picking up one of the bottles of wine she’d bought, an eyebrow raising, so Edel guessed it must be good. Or maybe very bad?

      ‘I’m making lasagne,’ she said, hitting the tomato with less force. ‘You didn’t have any tinned, so I’m using fresh.’

      ‘I love lasagne,’ he replied, opening a drawer and taking out a bottle opener. ‘I also like Châteauneuf-du-Pape. I’ll open it, let it breathe a bit.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’m not usually home this early, actually. But Andrews has everything under control so I thought I’d take an early afternoon.’

      Edel shook her head. ‘Late mornings, early afternoons, do you ever work?’ She grinned at him, knowing exactly why he was home: he was worried about her. ‘You could have rung, you know,’ she said.

      West smiled but said nothing. ‘I’ll fill up Tyler’s feeding stations while you’re beating up those tomatoes.’

      There was a cosy domesticity about it all. Edel cooking dinner, West feeding the dog before sitting at the table and taking out that day’s newspaper to read out snippets he thought would interest her. When the aroma of lasagne began to waft into the room, he poured them both a glass of wine. ‘That smells delicious,’ he said.

      Edel checked her watch. ‘Five minutes,’ she said.

      To her delight, it turned out perfectly, and tasted even better. ‘Okay,’ West said, accepting a second helping, ‘you are now the official cook.’

      The silence that followed quickly became uncomfortable as each considered the temporary nature of the current situation. Finally, Edel, unwilling to upset the mood of the evening, smiled and said, ‘I’ll settle for that title.’ The future, she decided, was just that. It could wait. She switched the conversation to the strange couple next door and told him what she’d seen. ‘He seemed very unfriendly,’ she finished.

      ‘Moving house is very stressful; you probably just caught him off guard.’

      ‘I suppose, but there was something a bit strange about the way he stared at me, and as I came up the garden path, I saw a woman peering at me from behind the curtain. And, later, I heard some banging and shouting.’

      ‘They’re unpacking,’ he said. ‘It’s not a quiet or enjoyable process from what I remember. I think you’re reading too much into it.’

      Edel was about to pursue the matter when she saw a worried expression flit across his face. He’d been with her in the hospital when the doctor had told her that being kept prisoner might have delayed psychological impact, as might the morphine she had been injected with. Did he think she was becoming paranoid?

      Almost frantically, she searched for a safer topic. ‘I was thinking about your stair carpet,’ she said, remembering that she had indeed looked at the ruined carpet and wondered about its replacement. ‘The wooden floor in the hallway is so lovely, I wondered if you’d consider staining the stairs to match and having one of those runner type carpets, with stair rods. You know the ones I mean?’

      It was the perfect topic of conversation and they chatted amicably for the rest of the meal, the only contentious issue being when Edel said she’d pay for the carpet and the work involved. ‘After all, I’m the one who ruined your carpet.’

      ‘You keep making delicious dinners like this,’ West said, pushing away his empty plate, ‘and we’ll be quits.’

      It didn’t seem like a fair exchange to her. Perhaps, when the work was being done she’d have an opportunity to be more insistent.

      It was dark when she returned to her bedroom. Leaving the light off, she moved to the window and looked at the house next door. There wasn’t a light to be seen in any window; it was just as it had been the night before when nobody lived there. It was odd. Or was it just that recent experiences had left her suspicious of everyone and everything, except West.

      Switching on the light, she put the people next door firmly out of her head. It was all perfectly normal. Then she shivered. Hadn’t that been what she’d thought of Liz Goodbody? And look how that had turned out.

      3

      West sat in his office reading the latest crime statistics. Finishing, he picked up the first of that month’s persons-of-interest list, scanning the names, checking out the available photographs and committing them to memory. Some of them were nasty characters, their list of crimes including assault, rape, robbery, and drug dealing.

      ‘There’s always drug dealing,’ West muttered, putting the first page down. They’d taken Adam Fletcher out of the equation and it hadn’t made a dent. ‘May as well throw a stone in a pond,’ he added, picking up the next list.

      ‘Talking to yourself?’ his partner Detective Garda Peter Andrews said, coming into the office.

      ‘Stones, ripples, and how quickly they settle,’ West replied. With a smile, he shook his head and threw the list across the desk to Andrews. ‘More pictures to add to your collection.’

      ‘I thought they were going to stop sending paper copies,’ Andrews said, flicking through the pages.

      ‘Have you ever seen Clark sitting at his computer?’

      Andrews gave a half-smile to this sally, and dropped the reports back on the desk. ‘I’m not sure if Sergeant Clark knows how to switch it on, to be honest.’

      The two men had taken an immediate liking to one another when West was transferred to the Foxrock station after a disastrous and very short-lived posting to Glasnevin. The story of what happened was common knowledge, causing more than one colleague to look at West with narrowed eyes. Andrews had taken the new Garda Sergeant under his wing, initially from profound pity, followed quickly by genuine regard. They were cut from the same cloth; honest, straightforward, solidly-decent men. West, having spent several years working as a solicitor, brought skills to the job that Andrews admired. West, on the other hand, admired Peter Andrews’ street savvy and his ability to winkle information from the most unlikely source. They made a good team.

      But even good teams had their differences.

      Andrews had been aware from the very beginning of his partner’s unsuitable attraction to a suspect in a case they were working on. Aware, and openly critical. When the case had been solved, and Edel Johnson no longer a suspect, he’d shrugged at West’s reluctance to contact her. But apart from telling his wife, Joyce, how infuriating he was, he didn’t interfere.

      And then Gerard Roberts was murdered, and once again, Edel was mixed up in it. Andrews watched West and Edel and their romantic fencing, wondering if they’d ever get together. It hadn’t looked likely, but when they thought she was dead, he’d seen the desperate look of grief on West’s face. The depth of sorrow in his eyes said, like nothing else did, that he loved her.

      ‘How’s Edel?’ he asked now, noticing the slightly distracted look that West wore.

      ‘Does nothing ever get past you? It’s nothing. Well, nothing really.’ West tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘It’s just… the house next door… it’s been empty for a few weeks. A couple moved in this morning and Edel thinks there’s something strange about them.’

      ‘And is there?’ Andrews asked. Nothing surprised him these days; there were a lot of odd folk out there.

      West shrugged. ‘No idea. They’ve just moved in; I haven’t met them.’

      ‘No harm in checking them out, is there?’

      ‘You know the rules against using Garda databases for personal reasons as well as I do, Pete.’ West’s voice was firm.

      Honesty never prevented Andrews bending the rules when necessary. He easily justified it, never doing it for personal gain, always in the interest of a good outcome or to speed up processes that he felt were sent specifically to try his patience. He knew West didn’t approve and saw it as the thin edge of the wedge. ‘There are other ways of finding out about people,’ he said mildly. ‘There’s little privacy these days with everyone shouting their lives out on social media.’ Knowing West would be reluctant to pry, he added, ‘Leave it to me.’

      West met Andrews’ gaze. Butter wouldn’t melt, he thought, shaking his head. ‘I suppose it would put her mind at ease,’ he admitted. ‘But strictly under the radar,’ he said, his only admission that he knew Andrews would use Garda resources if he found anything out of the ordinary. Or if he didn’t.

      4

      The following days passed quietly. When Saturday came, chilly but blue-sky bright, West considered whether to ask Edel to come for the walk along Dún Laoghaire pier. It was two weeks to the day since they’d originally planned to walk it, plans that had been scuppered by events.

      He gazed at her over his coffee cup. She was looking better every day; her face was still too pale and shadows lurked under her eyes, but her auburn hair glowed, and her cheeks had filled out, just a little. She was getting there. He wasn’t sure about himself.

      He was just about to suggest the walk when she put her cup down. ‘After breakfast,’ she said, ‘would you be able to drive me to Wilton Road. I’d like to pick up any post and gather a few bits and pieces including’ – she plucked at the shirt she was wearing – ‘some more clothes.’

      ‘Of course, no problem. I’d nothing else planned.’ After all, there was tomorrow and other weekends for that walk along the pier.

      ‘Maybe I’ll pick up my car at the same time.’

      ‘The doctor said you shouldn’t drive until you’ve been back for your check-up,’ West reminded her. ‘That’s not until next week.’

      ‘But I’m fine, Mike,’ she said.

      He shook his head. ‘Your insurance would be invalid.’ He could see a mulish expression cross her face and knew she wanted to argue the point. ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘it’s not worth it. I’m happy to drive you.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said, throwing her hands up. Finishing her coffee, she stood and put the mug and plate into the dishwasher. ‘About ten minutes?’

      She didn’t wait for an answer and he watched her leave, a frown on his face.

      A little over ten minutes later, they walked side by side down the short path to the front gate which he shut religiously every day. Most of the houses on the road had paved their front gardens to provide off-road parking but he had resisted the temptation, liking the idea of the front gate, the ritual of opening and closing. He supposed he was a little old-fashioned. He caught Edel’s smile as he opened it and allowed her to go through first, wondering if she found him to be a bit of a fuddy-duddy.

      He was closing the gate behind them when he heard the neighbour’s front door opening. Automatically, Edel and West looked round. A woman stood in the doorway, her eyes sweeping the sky as if admiring the day. West instinctively took note of her average height, average build and rather plain features.

      He felt a tug on his arm. ‘We should say hello,’ Edel said, and without waiting for his answer, walked a few steps down the footpath until she was directly in front of the neighbour’s house. ‘Hi,’ she called, ‘Edel and Mike. We live next door.’ Getting no reaction, she added, ‘Welcome to the neighbourhood.’

      West grinned as Edel turned and caught his eye with a beseeching expression. He joined her, standing close enough to feel her tense body relax. ‘We’re just heading out,’ he said to the woman, ‘it’s a lovely day. Nice to meet you.’

      Maybe his tone was more relaxed and friendlier. For whatever reason, the woman responded, leaving her doorstep and taking a few steps down the garden path towards them. Close up, West decided she was prettier than he’d first thought. ‘My name is Denise,’ she said, stopping a few feet from her gate, near enough to them to be able to answer without raising her voice. ‘Ken’s still unpacking. I suppose I’d better go and help him or I’ll be in the doghouse.’ She looked back to the house before giving them a smile and heading back inside.

      In the car, West started the engine. ‘See,’ he said, ‘quite normal.’ Denise and Ken. He’d tell Andrews. Even first names would make it easier to do a search.

      Edel glanced at him. ‘You didn’t think she looked a bit nervous?’

      ‘No, I didn’t. She looked like a perfectly normal woman dealing with the horrendous job of unpacking. The sun is shining, she’d probably much prefer to go for a walk.’ He tried to keep his voice even, but he guessed a hint of exasperation had leaked out when he saw her slightly subdued face.

      It was an unfortunate start to the day and there was silence on the drive to Foxrock. West indicated and turned into Wilton Road and parked in the driveway of Edel’s house. It had been over six months since he’d arrived to investigate the dead body she had found in the graveyard behind her house. Over six months since she had discovered the terrible truth about her husband. A lot had happened since that first meeting.

      They didn’t spend long there, neither wanting to linger. Edel found a suitcase and packed all the clothes she thought she might need for a few weeks, collecting her laptop and bringing everything down to the hallway. She threw a smile to West who sat in the kitchen watching her through the open door. ‘All set?’ he asked.

      ‘Almost,’ she replied. ‘Just one more thing to do.’

      Heading back upstairs, she stood in the bedroom she had shared with her husband for such a short time. Her husband. She sat on the bed and smiled sadly, thinking of the man she’d loved, a man she never really knew, a marriage built on lies.

      What a poor judge of character she was. Taken in by Simon, and by Liz Goodbody. She shivered when she remembered being locked away in that deranged woman’s house. Being that close to death had been terrifying. But it was time to stop being a victim. Taking a final look around and straightening her shoulders, she decided it was time to take control.

      She’d sell the house and buy something smaller, maybe an apartment. If there was any hope of a relationship with West, she needed to move out and show him she could stand on her own two feet. She also needed to decide if she wanted to be with him for the right reason, not because she was too afraid to be on her own, or too grateful to turn him down.

      With that decision firmly in her head she headed downstairs, and with a nod to West they headed back to the car.

      ‘I’m going to put it on the market,’ she said. When he didn’t comment, she turned to him. ‘I’m also going to start looking for somewhere to buy; an apartment, probably.’ His face was unreadable. She reached a hand out and laid it on his arm. ‘You’re a good man, Mike. Kind and considerate but–’

      West held up

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