The Iron

Niall knew there would be days like this when he was in the Garda Academy but no matter how much you believe you have steeled yourself, there is nothing quite like the reality.

A bloodied corpse of what was a quite beautiful forty year old woman lay in front of him.  Just him and the body as he waited on Detective Sean O’Callaghan to come.

Detective O’Callaghan was a living legend after his run in with “The Ripper” and he was now the go to person when a non gangland murder occurred in the Greater Dublin Region.  The fact he was a wheelchair user didn’t matter.  Fellow gardai would lift him up and over whatever stood in his way.  That wasn’t a problem this time.  This murder had occurred in a large bungalow in an affluent part of the city.

But Garda Niall Griffith had been warned .  O’Callaghan wasn’t exactly pleasant, whatever that was supposed to mean.

There was a loud knock on the door and Niall knew it must be him.   Once he opened the door, a scruffy disheveled man in civilian clothes wheeled himself in without saying a word heading straight to the body in the kitchen.  Niall quickly followed.

“This is a waste of time,” he finally said as he looked at the scene.

“What do you mean?” Niall said almost apologetically.

O’Callaghan then explained that his expertise was with serial killers, not this.  This murder was disorganized, probably a crime of passion.  Almost certainly the husband or someone like that.

“How do you know,” Niall replied, ferociously taking notes for his superior all the time.

Sean continued indignantly that that if you look at what is left of her face, she’s been hit repeatedly with the iron.  This was unplanned rage or else someone with a very low IQ.

After asking to be Niall to keep him updated, he wheeled himself out into the cold night as if he was just after having a cup of tea.

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“Bollocks!”

It wasn’t quite the reaction that Niall had expected after telling Detective O’Callaghan that the husband had a cast iron alibi.  He had been at a business meeting and four colleagues vouched that he was there at the time of the killing.

“Maybe, he got someone else to do it?” he foolishly suggested over his mobile phone.

He was now to discover why O’Callaghan though brilliant, was not the most popular in the station.

“Man, you cannot be serious.  It was a crime with passion, hatred behind it.  You can’t just buy that sort of thing!  Not even on the internet”

Niall explained that there was just no way it was him as he wondered how he had managed to get this liaison job.

“We’ll go there Thursday morning, not too early.  Meet me outside the house round 11am.  Tell the husband to be there.”

With that the line went dead and Niall was left wondering how he would explain to the husband that there were yet more questions to answer.

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“Where the fuck is he?”  That was what Niall thought as he anxiously waited outside the front door for Inspector O’Callaghan to show up.  He was already ten minutes late.

Then just as he was thinking about ringing his mobile, the inspector’s specially adapted car pulled in.  There was a torrential downpour occurring so he went back into the house to borrow an umbrella for the Inspector.

He shouldn’t have bothered for all the thanks he got.  By the time he had found one, O’Callaghan had already managed to get into his push wheelchair and looked indignant at the suggestion he might require assistance.  Niall wouldn’t bother next time.

They immediately went into the sitting room where the husband was waiting.  O’Callagan took center stage and started asking questions.

The husband was hesitant at first saying that he had already answered everything.  Niall now spoke up for the first time saying O’Callaghan was the best detective in the force, which brought about a quizzical look.

“It’s the clothes isn’t it.  This fine Garda here beside me in his immaculate uniform and here’s me in my wheelchair in shabby clothes looking like perhaps I should be out begging in the street.  Do you know why that is?” O’Callaghan said sincerely.

The man said nothing but shook his head perhaps instinctively.

“It’s because I’m prepared to get my hand dirty.  I used to dress like him but had to keep throwing stuff out from getting blood on them.”

That seemed to settle things down and he began to answer.

O’Callaghan spent a good half hour questioning him before he broke ashen faced into tears.  He had been happily married with two children, quintessentially upper middle class with a nanny to boot.

No sexual problems, perhaps even better than usual and no enemies.

O’Callaghan barely said goodbye on the way out.  Niall had heard he didn’t like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

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The last thing Garda Niall Griffith had expected first thing in the morning was a call from Detective O’Callaghan.  Once he heard his voice, a small shudder went through his body.

“Meet me at the house in a half hour to carry out out an arrest.”

He tried to interject but the line went dead.  He thought to himself that this was to be another wasted morning.  There was just no way it was the husband that did it and he hated the thought of bothering him once more.  But O’Callaghan was the Detective and he had little choice but to do as he was told.

So into the Garda car and off he went.  He was surprised to find O’Callaghan waiting outside for him in his wheelchair.

“Is he here?” asked Niall.

“He who? What are you on about?” said O’Callaghan before reaching up from the chair to reach the buzzer.

After a minute, the Filipina nanny opened the door looking somewhat shocked.

“He’s not here.  It’s just me and the baby, whose asleep.

“Probably best you ring him straightaway.  I have some questions for you,” O’Callaghan replied tersely.

She immediately phoned him to tell him to come back from work before they all went into the sitting room, closing the door so as not to waken the baby.

O’Callaghan got straight to the point.

“Mary,  I know your name from the files.  I do have to him admit this case had me flummoxed for quite some some time.  This was a brutal, impulsive crime of passion.  But when that which appears to be most obvious is ruled out, whatever is left no matter how improbable must be the truth.

That’s what turned my attention to you.  Unlike Garda Griffith here, I have all the time in the world to look into things, so I did.  I found your photo on a dating website, from at least a year or two ago.  You didn’t mind if it was a man or a woman.  Then I found out from your neighbour that you were not at home as claimed on the day in question.  You were lovers weren’t you.

But something went wrong and you couldn’t take it”

Mary sat down on the couch and began to cry.

“I loved her, I really did.  She promised to leave that fool but what you call reneged that day.  She turned her back and I just grabbed the closest object and began to hit.  She told me I was the love of her life, I couldn’t stop.”

With that Garda Griffith slowly walked over and put the cuffs on her before leading her away; leaving O’Callaghan to explain things to the husband when he arrived.