Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [124]
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Sergeant Sean O’Meara had seen it all and done it all and, if he was honest, he would say that most of it was fairly depressing, but this occasion was just bizarre.
An extremely drunk man called Paddy Carroll was explaining over and over that he had been at a butchers’ dinner and someone had spiked his drinks. He had started to behave foolishly and so he agreed that his wife should take him home in a taxi. The wife, a Mrs. Molly Carroll, said that she was not a serious partaker of alcohol herself and had been delighted when her husband agreed to come home with her, as her feet were killing her. But when they got home, they were bemused to find Frankie asleep in the crib and their own family—son, daughter-in-law and grandson—nowhere to be found.
They had tried to contact several people, but hadn’t been able to speak to anyone who might know what was going on. They’d tried to find the child’s father but had arrived at his apartment block not knowing which flat he lived in. What sort of people don’t put their names on doorbells, asked Paddy Carroll, looking around him accusingly. What sort of people don’t want people to know where they lived? So what were they to do?
“So, you want us to find this Noel Lynch. Is that it?” Sergeant O’Meara asked. “Had you ever thought of ringing him?” And he handed the phone to Paddy Carroll, who suddenly looked even more confused.
Faith was pacing up and down at Chestnut Court. She had a sheet of paper beside the phone and she perched nervously beside it, trying not to jump when it rang. Anyone who phoned in was asked for their telephone number, but she had little information to give out. Yes, Frankie was still missing; no, Noel wasn’t there, he was out looking. No, they hadn’t called the police yet, but the time was fast approaching when they would have to do so. They had agreed that if Frankie were not found within the hour, Faith would call the guards. There wasn’t long to go.
Noel had phoned her eight times already, knowing as he did that she would call him the moment there was any news.
She checked her watch again. It was time. She had to call the police. Hand shaking, she reached for the phone, and as she did so, it rang. Her stomach lurched. Anxiously she answered.
At first, she thought it was a crank call. The man’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded muffled, incoherent, angry, she thought at first, but soon she realized he might be drunk. No, Noel wasn’t there, he was … No, he had been at home earlier in the evening but … No, his daughter was missing and the police were about to be called.…
“But that’s what I’m telling you,” the voice said. “I’ve got his daughter here. She’s with us now.…” And suddenly Faith heard the unmistakable sound of Frankie crying.
“She’s found, Noel! Not a hair of her head touched,” she said. “She’s great. She’s asking for her daddy.”
“Have you seen her? Is she there with you?”
“No. They brought her to the Garda station. It was the Carrolls. It was Paddy and Molly Carroll. It was all a misunderstanding. They were looking for you.”
“What the hell did they mean by that? What do you mean, looking for me? We were in all night!” Noel was torn between overpowering relief and fury.
“No, it’s all right—don’t get angry. They got enough of a shock already.”
“They got a shock! What about the rest of us? What happened?”
“They came home early from their do and they found her in the crib alone in the house. They must have arrived just after Fiona and Lizzie set off for the hospital. They called on all the neighbors, but there was no one around—Declan and Fiona were at the hospital with the Scarlets, Emily had been at Dr. Hat’s but they didn’t know that and, of course, Charles and Josie weren’t there. They tried to call Fiona, but she’d left her phone at Lizzie’s. Declan’s phone was busy, so they came to Chestnut Court to see you. Only by the sound of it they’d got the wrong flat number and were pressing the wrong doorbell. By the time we knew Frankie was missing they were on their way to the Garda. They thought