O’Callaghan pulled up outside the house of Mr. Ahern, a three bedroom semi detached in a surprisingly quiet cul-de-sac close to the centre of town. There was ample parking space at the front of the house, which made it that much easier for him to transfer from his car to his manual wheelchair.
Then he knocked on the front door. It slowly opened to the sound of an overhead motor. Mr. Ahern was in the hallway in front of him sitting in an electric wheelchair.
“Detective O Callaghan? I wasn’t expecting another person in a wheelchair. You can call me Mark. We should have enough room in the kitchen here behind me.”
O’Callaghan followed him into the kitchen. The internal doors could be pushed open in either direction. The kitchen was quite small but it provided a panoramic view of a long garden.
O’Callaghan decided to start off with some small talk before gradually upping the ante.
“Nice place you have here for yourself. Is it yours?”
“Yes, it is. Living here for over ten years now. It wasn’t as accessible when I first purchased it, it took quite a bit of work. Do you want to make yourself a cup of tea?”
“No, I’m fine thanks. Awful thing to happen to your PA, I think they call it?”
“It’s shocking and he was such a nice guy. He worked for me each morning. Always showed up on time, would do anything asked of him. A true gent. He’ll be missed.”
O’Callaghan listened and watched carefully. There was indeed sadness in the voice he heard, but not the emotional toil of someone convulsed in grief.
“Did he have any enemies, this Ray McMahon? He was in the Army, did he talk about it often?”
“No, I can’t imagine him having any real enemies. He was a kind soul. Do you think it was someone from his past?”
“Nothing can be ruled out at this point. Look thanks for your time.”
With that, O’Callaghan left. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Ahern fella. Was he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? There was something else strange. A smell of perfume. Somebody else had been in the house a few minutes beforehand.
Instead of heading straight back, he pulled up at the end of the street.
“So that’s why the fucker isn’t overly upset.”
A tall, busty long legged woman with short black hair walked into the Ahern residence.
O’Callaghan had his first sniff of a suspect.
Mark's Writing Corner 