Whispers On Main Street is the debut novel from Marie O'Connor, set in the west of Ireland in the early 1960's.
Nate runs a mobile grocery service around the villages situated near the fictitious town of Ballantur in the year 1961. His mobile grocery service isn't merely a purveyor of goods—it's the lifeblood of communication among the isolated villages. Nate loves to gossip, and he relishes his role as the town's unofficial newsman, weaving tales from one doorstep to the next.
Garda Caitlyn Kennedy who is one of the first Ban Gardas in Ireland and has been sent to Ballantur for duty. Her first day goes horribly wrong. Her first mission is a disaster and her second one does not go any better. Her hot-headed boss, Sergeant Lamb, is not impressed.
One night following a Garda raid on the local pub, Nate’s wife - Babs, is caught in a passionate embrace with the local postman, Sammy Joyce. Their passionate embrace becomes a public spectacle, witnessed not only by the town but also by an enraged Nate, who physically assaults Sammy and threatens him. But as morning light breaks over Ballantur, Sammy's lifeless body is discovered by the roadside—the victim of a seemingly random hit and run—or is it?
Caitlín considered the direction the victim had been taking. It looked like Sammy was commencing his delivery rounds leaving the town and heading to the first village – Friar's Hill. She presumed he was hit by a vehicle that was travelling in the same direction. Scanning the road, she looked for a broken headlamp or some type of debris that might have been displaced during the impact. She walked nearer to the body. The road had evident tyre-tracks of a vehicle entering and exiting the little lay-by at the gate in a swerving motion. They were broad, probably those of a truck. Part of the hedge had been flattened at the right-hand side of the gate by the weight of the vehicle. She examined the grass more closely and it appeared that the heat of the vehicle had melted the ice, indicating that the vehicle had become momentarily stationary. She could vaguely make out more than one set of shoeprints – one set her own. The others could be Sammy’s and perhaps Pa Leonard’s? One blurred set was imprinted from the other side of the road, approaching the body and perhaps retreating. Or did the driver get out to see what he had done and then drove off?
She suspected Sammy must have been walking in the centre of the road, on the green bit in the middle, probably for a better grip while holding the bike on his left-hand side. You couldn’t cycle on this icy surface. When he heard the vehicle approaching he would have walked into the lay-by at the gate to let it pass. The bike had fallen away from him and was now lying by the gate. It did not appear to have been damaged at all, with its carrier bag still intact. She got closer to Sammy. She didn’t know if she should but she shoved her hand down inside the back of his coat and jacket. His inner body was still warm. Blood had trickled from his nose. Most of his injuries would be internal. The most distressing thing was the mark of the wheel that was ingrained across his back, its black, wet and oily track easy to see on Sammy’s navy knee-length coat. She looked at his emotionless face. His hat had been thrown ahead to his left. She saw his smoke-stained fingers.
Caitlín’s concentration was broken by the sound of cars approaching. She straightened herself up and saw Sergeant Lamb, Garda Tully and off-duty Garda Martin getting out of one car, while a more important-looking garda with a walking stick, accompanied by three others, dismounted from another.
Sergeant Lamb beckoned her towards them, making her feel a bit intimidated by their strong manly presence.
'Garda Kennedy, this is Superintendent Patrick Jordan from Castlebar. His men are here to assist and will cordon off the area.'
'Good morning, sir.'
'Ah, a new bangharda! Can you tell me what we have been presented with here this morning?'
‘Yes, sir.' Caitlín calmed herself and took a deep breath, despite being surrounded by seven men subconsciously attacking her composure.
'Identification confirmed as Sammy Joyce. Mid to late forties. Male. Occupation, local postman on duty. He appears to have received a fatal impact to the back of his body. The body is still insulating heat, so exact time of murder to be confirmed, but I would estimate within the last couple of hours. Weather conditions are evident of a hard night’s frost, leaving the road surface very icy, creating hazardous driving conditions. Indications would suggest the victim was hit from behind by a vehicle moving at speed. He fell where he is. His bicycle, which I presume he was pushing, is at scene undamaged. There is a clear imprint of a tyre on the back of the body. It is a wide mark which suggests it was not a car, or a van, but a truck. There are also footprints on the road which suggest that perhaps the driver stopped, walked to the body and then returned to his vehicle and drove off. However, they could be those of Mr. Leonard, the man who found him. Or possibly the victim’s own. Until, and if we hear further, sir, it appears to be a fatal hit and run. Whether it was deliberate or not at this stage is unclear.'
'Very good. What’s your name again, Garda?
'Caitlín Kennedy.’
'Next of kin need to be notified, Garda Kennedy. Was he married?’
'I don’t believe so, sir.'
'Is there a reason to believe it was deliberate?’
‘Mr. Joyce had been involved in two physical altercations, one as recent as late last night. The first was a scuffle in the town square where he took on a local troublemaker for abusing a deaf man. In the latter, last night, he was assaulted and his life was threatened by a man who caught him fraternising with his wife. Whether either of these altercations led to this is hard to say at this stage without further investigation. However, the tyre-tracks showing how the vehicle swerved towards the victim might indicate that it was deliberate rather than a skid.’
'The State Pathologist and forensics in Dublin have been rung, but if this ice is nationwide they will be a while getting here. So what do you plan to do next?'
She felt the Superintendent was testing her.
'A full-scale examination and search of the scene and surrounding area,’ she said. ‘Door-to-door enquiries with a particular interest on the sightings of any trucks in the area. We need to question the people who threatened him to see if we can establish a motive.'
Whispers On Main Street by Marie O'Connor is published by Poolbeg Press
