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“Why would you need to know that, John?” Linc asked sharply.
Bets rushed in to add, “Veritas is an anonymous street artist. Besides, Liam’s statement is about the permission he granted on behalf of the center as an employee.”
“Which is his right,” Donal gritted out, “and one the board approves of.”
The officer only looked down at his notes, riffling through them uneasily again. “As I said, this is routine.”
“Officer Hart,” Patrick added, “you didn’t give any indication that there would be questions along these lines today.”
John cleared his throat—never a good sign to Linc’s mind. “The Irish government has expressed some concerns about Veritas coming to Ireland like this and would like more information. Mr. O’Hanlon is the only one with such information.”
“I don’t see the relevancy here, Officer Hart,” Patrick continued.
Linc glanced over at Donal and fought a curse. He could smell Malcolm’s whole “inciting insurrection” crap in this line of testimony. “Hold on a second. You haven’t been tasked with leading some crazy manhunt to go after Veritas, have you, John?” Linc drawled.
Liam was suddenly leaning forward in his chair. “Why would you want to go after Veritas when I gave permission for the mural?”
Because Malcolm didn’t like his johnson being pulled. He wanted blood. “I’m sure Officer Hart is planning on telling us that.”
The Garda officer tapped his pen to his notes. “It’s struck a few of my supervisors and others that Mr. O’Hanlon is not represented in the mural.”
“What?” Bets asked sharply, glancing around the room in shock. “Why would that stand out to anyone?”
Linc had noticed it as well, and he’d heard the talk about it amongst people in the village and some of the conjecture about why. But he didn’t think the Garda were interested in discussing different artistic interpretations.
“Mr. O’Hanlon was on the scene with Taylor McGowan, which is what the mural was based on.” John laid his hands over his notes. “Why wouldn’t Veritas depict him as well?”
“Maybe because it’s art.” Bets’ hands were now gripping the table’s edge. “And Malcolm was on that road to threaten Taylor. Not my son. Although he threatened him too the moment Liam arrived. Why aren’t you pressing any charges against that man?”
John picked up a pen and gripped it tightly. “That isn’t my jurisdiction, but I’ve been told the Garda in the area have spoken to Mr. Coveney.”
“And?” Bets pressed, prompting Linc to put his hand on her rigid back in solidarity.
“I think you should ask that question of the appropriate Garda,” he hedged.
“Please, Officer Hart,” Patrick implored. “You’re in the same Garda. Surely you can provide some enlightenment. My calls have gone unanswered so far.”
“Malcolm claims they had car trouble,” John said, “and he has witnesses to back up his statement.”
“And what about Denis following her from the airport?” Donal pressed.
“The airport hasn’t been able to locate the appropriate security tape so far,” John answered, his face a blank wall.
“Convenient,” Donal muttered.
“I would like to return to what Mr. O’Hanlon can tell us about Veritas,” John reiterated.
“I don’t think so.” Linc shook his head. “If the Irish government has some beef with Veritas, they can take it up with Veritas themselves.”
“Mr. O’Hanlon is a material witness—”
“In what?” Patrick asked sharply.
Everyone sat up a bit straighter at that, including Liam. “I thought I was clear,” the young man reiterated. “I approved the mural, which makes it legal.”
“Yes,” John said, fighting to keep a poker face. “I’ve been instructed to ask some more questions—”
“Why don’t you send those over to Patrick here since Liam and I have a meeting about the museum,” Linc announced, standing and checking his watch for show. “John, our thanks to you and your fellow officer for coming. Y’all have a good rest of your day.”
