Page 89 of Irish Fury
“Then I understand your hesitation in contacting her once you were released, but it appeared to our officers that you were on a bus that would take you within two blocks of your childhood home. Were you going to your mother’s?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
“Why now?”
“The bitch owes me money,” she hissed before slamming her palm against the tabletop.
The detectives hoped to learn her motives for traveling to Dublin and what, if anything, she did while there. So far, she had avoided any mention of her time there, no matter how they went at it.
After her stint at the station, she would be released into psychiatric doctors’ care for evaluation of her mental fortitude.
If her odd behavior was anything to go by, Coll would bet she was destined for a straitjacket, not bars.
Thomas nudged Coll’s side when an officer interrupted the room and whispered something to the detective. Scott nodded and motioned to someone waiting just outside their door.
A woman brought in a large book or binder. It looked worn or haphazardly made. One thing was certain, Hannah Todd recognized it.
“That’s my personal belonging, Detective. Unless I’m under arrest for something, I would appreciate my things not being rifled through.”
“As I’ve explained, ma’am, your release was made possible outside of the law, and I’m afraid that your hospital, all the staff, and you will have to be questioned. Legally, you are still a ward of the local authority under the Mental Health Act, and your belongings can and will be confiscated until it’s deemed safe.”
The two detectives made a point of flipping through the pages of the ratty book, and Coll noticed that Hannah became more and more agitated, murmuring and whispering to herself.
“It seems this woman, Mirren, is of particular interest to you. Can you tell me why that is?”
Coll felt his heart lurch. Thomas cursed under his breath and sat forward. Every word from that crazy woman’s mouth had become more ominous.
“Ms. Todd, Hannah,” Detective Scott’s partner began, “be honest with us now. Why do you have a scrapbook of MirrenCampbell? Why did you go to Dublin? What have you been doing these past weeks?”
“It’s over, ma’am. Tell us what we want to know, and you can leave.”
“Leave where? Can I go to my mother’s?”
“I’m afraid not today, Ms. Todd, but you do need to cooperate. What were you doing in Dublin? Were you following Mirren Campbell?”
“No, I wasn’t following that dumb bitch. I hate her. She ruined my career. My life!”
Coll could see spittle flying from her angry lips. “Keep talking,” Coll said quietly.
Todd’s mannerisms were becoming even more erratic. She glanced over first one shoulder and then the other. She looked up, to the left, to the right, at her feet. A continuous stream of whispering, gestures, and winces throughout.
The woman was clearly battling demons of her own, and the sooner she was in the hands of doctors who would actually treat her—properly, humanely—the better. Part of him couldn’t help but feel a flicker of sympathy.
But it didn’t last.
Her destructive behavior had started before Dr. Portman. Long before that, she’d already crossed lines most people never even approached. Whatever had been done to her had only sharpened something that was already there.
And then there was his niece.
The moment that thought surfaced, any lingering compassion burned off. Whatever pity he might’ve managed was gone, replaced by something colder, harder to shake.
“If it’s Mirren you’re angry with, then why did you go to Dublin when she lives here in Edinburgh?” Detective Stubbs’ partner asked.
“You’re all wrong. Let me handle this damnit,” she hissed, and it was clear she wasn’t speaking to anyone in the room.
“Ms. Todd? Dublin. Why?”
Thomas spoke in a low voice so they could still hear what was going on below. “Did Margaret ever mention anything about a bird or a cat? Hannah asked what the girl thought. It didn’t seem like rambling.”
