Footsteps

By Brendan Gerad O'Brien

1967. The Summer of Love. Or was it?
Dakota Lacey, a young American backpacker, arrives in a beautiful Irish seaside town on a glorious holiday weekend. The town is buzzing and every campsite is full. She's told there's room on the beach and pitches her tent there. She doesn't notice the sinister Smiling Man watching her every move, his uncontrollable urges driving him to the edge of madness again.
The Gardaí have dismissed the recent attacks on lone female backpackers as random, blaming them on the unusually hot weather and the all-night parties. After all, this was the Summer of Love.
Guard Jack Hayslip isn't so sure. But when he finds a link between the attacks he can't persuade his superiors to listen.
And Smiling Man is waiting to catch the young American woman alone. The longer he waits the more demented he becomes.
And the chase is on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brendan Gerad O'Brien
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201277741

Brendan Gerad O'Brien

Brendan Gerad O’Brien was born in Tralee, on the west coast of Ireland and now lives in Newport, South Wales with his wife Jennifer and daughters Shelly and Sarah.As a child he spent his summer holidays in Listowel, Co Kerry, where his uncle Moss Scanlon had a Harness Maker’s shop, now long gone.The shop was a magnet for all sorts of colourful characters. It was there that his love of words was kindled by the stories of John B. Keane and Bryan MacMahon, who often wandered into the shop for a chat and bit of jovial banter.After serving nine years in the Royal Navy, Brendan progressed to retail management, working as a Department manager with the UK’s second largest Supermarket.Now retired, his hobby is writing short stories, twenty of which have already been published individually over the years, and also as a collection called Dreamin DreamsDark September is his first full novel, and Gallows Field is the first time we meet Eamon Foley in a murder mystery set in Ireland in 1941A Pale Moon Was Rising is the next story to feature Eamon Foley, now with the Gardai investigating another murder in Tralee, Co Kerry.

Book preview

Footsteps

Brendan Gerad O'Brien

Published by Brendan Gerad O'Brien, 2022.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

FOOTSTEPS

First edition. April 25, 2022.

Copyright © 2022 Brendan Gerad O'Brien.

ISBN: 979-8201277741

Written by Brendan Gerad O'Brien.

Footsteps

Brendan Gerad O’Brien

Contents

Footsteps

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Thank you

Bio

Chapter 1

The blond-haired tourist knew she’d had too much to drink. She’d never been very good with alcohol. Now it felt as if she was rolling around in a boat in rough weather. She should have stopped ages ago but the wild carnival atmosphere of the campsite was incredible and she didn’t want to miss out on all the fun.

The night was pulsing with frantic Irish music. A huge bonfire in the middle of the site threw off smoke that reeked of burgers and sausages that were sizzling on battered old frying pans. Hand-rolled cigarettes were passed around with bottles of warm beer. People sat on the grass strumming guitars and banjos and beat out their version of The Clancy Brothers or the Dubliners on upturned buckets.

Long-haired hippies in colourful kaftans smooched in whatever space they could find. Others drifted away to find a place where they could get to know each other better.

Someone threw another log on the fire and a shower of sparks caught the night breeze and fluttered away up towards the cloudless sky. The blond-haired tourist tried to follow them with her eyes but her legs had turned to sponge and she staggered towards the flames. And she shrieked when an arm reached around her waist and steadied her.

She leant back into him. Despite her spinning head, she felt extremely relaxed. This was the best evening she’d had in a long, long time and she hoped to drag it out for just a little bit longer.

She had no idea how badly that was going to go.

If only the day hadn’t started the way it did. Bobby-Jo and Lillie were supposed to be her best friends. They’d been together since infant school. Now they were at University and they were still best friends. And in the summer of 1967 - The Summer of Love - they were backpacking around Ireland.

But today the blond-haired tourist was so disappointed with them, and their meanness towards her, she was calling it quits and heading back home to Canada.

It was the June Bank Holiday when the three Canadian friends wandered into this little town on the Kerry coast. The weather was amazing and the place was teeming with visitors determined to take advantage of it. Every campsite was packed tighter than a duck’s eyelid.

Flower Power had spread like a rash. A whole generation of young people was growing their hair long, smothering themselves in beads and flooding the planet with love and peace and rock and roll. Hordes of them headed for wherever the hippy trail took them. Backpacks and kaftans were all you needed to travel the world. And if you could sing a Beatles song too you were guaranteed free beer along the way.

When the friends eventually found a site that had some space they were told there was room for only one tent. The blond-haired tourist thought they’d all squash in together. But she was stunned by her friends’ reaction. They insisted only two of them could fit comfortably into one tent. They would draw straws. The loser would have to find somewhere else to spend the night.

The blond-haired tourist caught the look that shot between Bobby-Jo and Lillie when she drew the short straw. So it was like that, was it? And after everything they’d been through together? They pretended to be sorry and they made all the right noises. But in a heartbeat, the blond-haired tourist knew she’d never really been part of their gang after all. She was only there to make up the numbers.

She swallowed her disappointment and slinked away. And by the time she’d walked through the town, her mood had changed from simmering fury to sad resignation. This once in a lifetime adventure was ending sooner than she’d expected. There was no sense in going on alone. The fun had gone out of it now. She might as well head back to Shannon and catch the next flight home.

She automatically stepped off the pavement as a group of people approached, and she looked up in surprise when one of them spoke to her.

‘You’re on your own?’

‘Pardon me?’

The man with a huge smile pointed at the maple leaf on her backpack. ‘I noticed you earlier. Weren’t there three of you? What have you done with the other two?’

His smile was so infectious she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back. And she gave him a short, sanitised version of what happened.

‘Oh, dear. That is a shame,’ he tutted. ‘Look, the lads are camped in that field behind you. I know tis a holiday weekend and all that, but why don’t we ask Dennis if he could squeeze you into a corner someplace.’

She didn’t resist as he manoeuvred her across the road and right up to the front door of the little yellow cottage.

Dennis had a huge red face and smiling eyes. ‘Well, I’m afraid every single bit of space is already taken.’ He gave a sad shrug.

‘What about down in the corner by the main gate?’ The smiling man was persistent. ‘There’s loads of space there.’

‘Ah sure, isn’t that place all overgrown with brambles and nettles. You couldn’t possibly pitch a tent amongst that lot.’

‘But if we could, you’d let her stay, right?’

Dennis threw his hands up and gave a belly rumble of a laugh. ‘I will. And I’ll only charge her half price for it too.’

It didn’t take them long to sort it out. Someone appeared with a massive sheet of canvas and they spread it out in the corner of the field, right up to the stone wall. Then everyone trampled all over it until the ground underneath it was flat enough to sit on.

The blond-haired tourist was embarrassed by the fuss everyone was making of her. The group had swollen to over a dozen people and they were all eager to help her put up her tent. Every one of them was unbelievably pleasant, buzzing with friendship and delighted to be of assistance on such a wonderful day.

It wasn’t long before someone got a bonfire going in the middle of the field and soon there were all sorts of things cooking on it. The music started with the wailing of Uilleann pipes and the rattle of a bodhran. A banjo appeared and then a guitar, and then the singers joined in and there was no stopping them now.

And the smiling man was at the centre of it all. He oozed charm. He produced a crate of beer and passed the bottles around. He knew how to work a crowd. And when the pubs opened he led them all in an eager procession down the road to the nearest one.

The blond-haired tourist went too, even though she was dog tired and desperate to lie down. It was impossible to resist the pull of the craic. But she was so glad she went. The whole town was buzzing. Music poured out from every pub and the roar of happy laughter rose and fell like the waves on the beach behind them.

It was well past midnight when they all trundled back to the campsite and carried on partying.

But now the blond-haired tourist couldn’t stay awake any longer. ‘I think I’m going to turn in.’

The smiling man had his arms around her waist and he gripped her tighter. ‘That’s fine. I’ll see you to your tent.’

‘No, no. I’m good.’

‘No you’re not,’ he laughed. ‘You can’t even stand up straight let alone walk across a field full of holes and clumps of grass. I’m making sure you get there in one piece. So c’mon.’

He steered her through the rows of tents and into the quieter part of the field. When they were far enough away from the others, the blond-haired tourist felt a hand slide up under her shirt and cup her breast.

She pulled away sharply. ‘Don’t ...’

The smiling man acted as if he hadn’t heard her as he moved his hand back to her waist.

They were just a few feet away from her tent when the blond-haired tourist staggered and fell back against the smiling man. And this time both his hands slipped inside her shirt and grabbed her breasts.

She pushed him away with her backside. ‘I said don’t do that. Please!’

The punch caught her just above the ear. She yelped but she didn’t fall. And when she spun around she was horrified by the change in the smiling man’s face. It was all out of shape now, angry sharp edges and wild eyes.

Standing behind him was one of the other men who’d helped her pitch her tent. His face looked seriously weird too, distorted by a smirk that reeked of malice.

The blond-haired tourist opened her mouth to scream but the next punch was straight into her face. She felt her nose explode a second before the white light wiped out everything else.

Chapter 2

‘Guard Hayslip.’

Jack Hayslip groaned and his shoulders sagged. He’d only just come into the Garda station for his morning rest break. It had been a long hot shift and he was desperate for a nice cup of tea and a cigarette. The temptation to ignore the duty sergeant and walk straight onto the canteen flickered through his mind. But only for the briefest of moments. The consequences of pretending not to hear his name being called would outweigh the inconvenience of missing his break. He turned and forced a smile.

‘Good morning to you, Sarge. And what can I do for you today?’

Hayslip wasn’t sure if the twitch in the corner of the sergeant’s mouth was a smile or a grimace. He always believed that behind the sergeant’s rock hard face there was a rock hard heart. So it was always a delicate balancing act to stay on the right side of him.

‘That young woman you were briefed about at this morning’s meeting.’ The sergeant didn’t take his eyes off the ledger and his pen made loud scratching noises on the paper as he scribbled in it. ‘She has regained consciousness.’

Hayslip waited for him to continue. But the sergeant dragged it out for a few more seconds before he glanced up sharply.

‘I want you to go over to the hospital and find out everything you can about what happened to her.’ He pointed his pen at Hayslip. ‘And remember, she’s still in intensive care and extremely fragile, so be gentle with her. Don’t go charging in there like a Kerry bull and trample all over her testimony. Be tactful, listen to what she has to say and don’t rush her.’

He turned back to the ledger and dismissed Hayslip with a jab of the pen.

‘Oh, right you are, Sarge.’ Hayslip cleared his throat. ‘But can I ask, is it all right if I go to the canteen first and get myself a cup of tea? I can look through my notes there. Just to refresh my memory about the case, you understand?’

‘Don’t be too long, then.’ Another twitch at the corner of his mouth, but the Sarge didn’t look up. ‘The Inspector wants an update before he goes home. He’s been here all night so he’s not in a great mood.’

Pat Lynch and Danny Leary were sitting at the corner table in the canteen reading their newspapers. Hayslip got himself a mug of tea and took it over, pulled out a chair and slapped his notebook on the table as he sat down.

‘Lads, I need to recap on the young woman we were told about at this morning’s briefing.’

They both looked up together. ‘Why’s that, Jack?’

‘She’s after waking up from her coma and the Sarge wants me to go over to the hospital to speak to her. I just want to go over what we were told about her.’

Lynch folded his newspaper and gave a lopsided grin. He had the healthy face of a man who’d spent his whole life on a farm. ‘And is that because you weren’t paying attention? Again? Jasus, but you’ve got it bad, haven’t you? You poor auld romantic eejit.’

‘What’s that song? You know the one?’ Leary tapped out a rhythm on the table with his long thin fingers. ‘The Joe Brown one - That’s what love will do ...’

‘It was last summer ...’ Lynch sang.

‘I fell in love ...’ Leary tapped harder.

Then together. ‘My heart told me what to do ...’

‘Will you shut up, you feckin eejits.’ Hayslip slapped the paper out of Lynch’s hand.

‘No. Listen, that’s the wrong song.’ Lynch hooted. ‘It should be the one by that American fella. What’s his name? You know the one.’

He stood up and put his hand on his heart. ‘Oh Carol, I am but a fool ... ‘

‘Yeah,’ Leary stood up too. ‘Don’t ever leave me, cos ...’

‘Will you cop on,’ Hayslip pretended to throw a punch at them. ‘This is serious?’

‘What? Are you saying this thing with Carol Flynn is not serious? Does she even know that? And if it isn’t serious why are you moping around like a lovesick teenager all day long?’

‘I am not.’

‘Yes, you are. You look like you’re in a trance half the time. Your eyes are glazed over. No, you can’t fool us, lover boy. We can see the blood on your shirt where Cupid pinged you with his arrow.’

Both of them laughed even louder when Hayslip looked down and instinctively touched his chest.

‘Lads, for feck sake. Just go over the notes with me again so I won’t be looking like a right eejit when I’m talking to her.’

Leary and Lynch sat back down and put on their serious faces as they flicked open their notebooks.

‘Her name is Hanna Riley,’ Lynch read. ‘She’s from Prince Edward Island, Canada. She’s backpacking around Ireland and she pitched her tent at a campsite near Ballykelly over the Bank Holiday weekend. The site owner found her in her tent yesterday morning. She was naked and her hands and feet were tied with her underwear. She’d been viciously attacked. He called the guards and an ambulance took her to St Catherine’s Hospital.’

‘Michael Griffin is the local guard,’ Leary added. ‘Most of the other campers had already moved on when he got there, and the ones that were still around claimed they heard nothing. There was a big party going on well into the early hours and there were people all over the place. The site owner said he didn’t remember anything about her except she paid for just one night. That’s why he went to see her, to ask her what she wanted to do. If she wanted to stay longer. And that’s how he found her. Mick Griffin gathered up her stuff and brought it over here.’

‘God, I’ll never get used to that kind of stuff.’ Lynch seemed to sink in his chair as he took a swig from his mug of tea. ‘It makes me sick to my stomach. I’m haunted by the thought of it every time my girls go out for the evening. Even if they’re in a group, I’m like a cat on a hot brick until they come home again.’

‘But there’s no telling them,’ Leary agreed. ‘You can lecture them about keeping safe and being aware of who’s around them until you’re blue in the face. But it goes straight in one ear and falls right out the other one before you can blink.’

‘That’s cos they see us as miserable auld sods. We don’t know what tis like to be young like them. Drugs, sex and rock and roll. They think they invented all that craic. Before they discovered sex, babies were delivered by storks and dropped under a gooseberry bush. They can’t imagine we were ever young ourselves.’

‘Well, I certainly was,’ Lynch chuckled. ‘But I can’t imagine you ever being young. I’d say you were already twenty when you were born and you became thirty-five overnight.’

‘You cheeky shit.’ Leary flicked him on the shoulder. ‘I had my day, I can tell you. I had my day.’

Lynch swept his hands over his hair as if he was combing a thick quiff. ‘Yeah, I can imagine you in front of the mirror back in the day, when you had hair to comb. And I bet you wore your collar up like Elvis. And you shook your hips to the beat.’ He looked Leary up and down. ‘That’s if there are hips under all that lard.’

Leary threw his head back and gave a bellow of a laugh, then he jerked up straight when he saw the figure coming in the door and heading over to them.

‘Oh, hello Sarge.’

‘A tea break is what I said, Hayslip!’ The sergeant waved a finger around the table. ‘Not a bleeding siesta. Just cos the weather is like Spain it doesn’t mean you can act like a Spanish grocer and fall asleep for the afternoon.’

All three of them grabbed their mugs and swallowed the last of their tea, and then they all stood up.

‘Right you are, Sarge.’ Lynch put on his cap and fiddled with it until it was straight.

‘And Hayslip,’ the Sarge raised his eyebrows as he stared at Hayslip. ‘There was a call from a Miss Carol Flynn. She thinks someone has been in her private quarters and stole money from her purse. She asked for you specifically. She says you’re a regular in her pub and you’re familiar with the place.’

Was that a smirk?

‘So once you’re finished with the lady over in the hospital you can wander over there and see what you can do for Miss Flynn.’

Hayslip knew his face was bright red now and he made a great show of pulling on his cap and straightening it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the huge grin on the faces of Leary and Lynch. And the knowing shake of their heads.

Chapter 3

Dakota Lacey stopped halfway across the old town bridge and looked down at the cool brown water of the River Feale as it meandered between the lush green fields before disappearing around a bend in the distance.

She dropped her backpack on the pavement and stretched to see over the thick stone wall. She was hoping to find an easy way down to the riverbank where she could soak her weary feet in the shallow pools under the shade of the trees. But there wasn’t an obvious path anywhere nearby. It looked like she’d have to go farther into the town. There was bound to be a lane down to the river somewhere.

In the distance, she could see a church steeple. With the clear blue sky and the rows of brightly painted houses around the town square, this was the typical Irish scene her grandfather had told her about many, many times over the years. No wonder he missed it so much.

She spun around when she heard a vehicle slow down behind her. Three long-haired hippies were looking at her through the window of a garish green and white VW bus with huge flowers painted on the doors.

‘Hi.’ The one with the yellow bandana had his arm out of the window and he gave her a beaming smile as the bus stopped by the kerb. ‘Do ya want a lift somewhere?’

Dakota put the accent somewhere near Boston. ‘Hi,’ she beamed back. ‘You guys are from the States, right?’

‘Yep.’ He pointed at the Stars and Stripes on the pocket of her jeans. ‘Same as you, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ She stepped closer and held out her hand. ‘Dakota.’

‘Dakota?’ The guy with the bandana took her hand in a firm grip. ‘Never been here, I’m afraid.’

He turned to the others. ‘Any of you guys been to Dakota?’

‘Can’t say we have,’ they both replied.

‘No,’ Dakota laughed. ‘That’s my name. Dakota Lacey. I’m from Colorado.’

‘Oh right.’ He squeezed her hand tighter as a ripple of laughter bounced between them. ‘I’m John. This is Paul. And the ugly one driving the bus is George.’

Dakota watched them for a moment. Were they joking with her? But they stayed straight-faced.

‘OK.’ She let go of the hand. ‘John, Paul and George? And Ringo is in the back, right?’

‘Ringo?’ John’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. ‘Of course not. He never rides with us. He hates this jalopy. He pukes every time he gets in it.’

Then Dakota caught the twinkle in his eye and he spluttered. ‘Ringo is the cat. He stays in the house.’

Dakota rolled her eyes as more laughter filled the van.

‘So where you headed?’ George called across to her.

She took a battered map from the pocket of her backpack and straightened it out. ‘I’m not sure how to pronounce it.’ She pointed to a town that was circled in pencil. ‘But it’s right there on the coast.’

‘Hey, that’s where we live.’ John tapped the spot with his finger. ‘You’re welcome to hop on board and ride there with us.’

‘Yeah.’ Paul leant back and pushed the sliding door open. ‘Hop in.’

Dakota picked up her backpack and threw it on the bus before scrambling in after it.

‘Thank you.’ She desperately wanted to kick off her boots and let her feet cool down as she settled into the seat behind George. But she didn’t know how long it would be before they got to