The two finished the leisurely breakfast before settling with their laptops to work on their speeches.

* * *

O’Brien left the station mid-morning and drove to the GMIT campus. Parking his police cruiser in a no-parking zone in front of the building, he entered, found MacGowan’s office, and knocked at the open door. “Dr. MacGowan?”

MacGowan huffed. “Yes. What can I do for you?” His voice reflected his irritation at being disturbed.

O’Brien removed his hat as he entered. “I’m Chief Superintendent O’Brien with Garda. Do you have a minute?” He did not state the reason for his visit but figured Ailbe already figured it out.

“Of course, Chief Superintendent. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Dr. MacGowan.” O’Brien unbuttoned his coat and planted his ample frame in a wooden guest chair.

“What can I help you with, Chief?” Ailbe's blunt directness belied the faux smile on his face.

O’Brien retrieved a small notebook and pencil from his pocket. He opened the notebook to a clean page. “I’m following up on the death of a GMIT student, Keenan Moynihan. I believe your program includes him as one of your students.”

“You are correct. One of the best students in program history.”

O’Brien made notes as Ailbe spoke. He did this to remind him of the conversation and unnerve the person being interviewed. He exploited everyone's innate curiosity about the notes. The tactic worked on many perpetrators. “Do you have any idea why anyone would want him dead?”

Ailbe avoided answering O’Brien’s question by asking a question of his own. “Do you believe someone murdered the student?”

“At this point, we have not ruled anything out.” O’Brien paused to up Ailbe’s tension a notch or two. “Evidence indicates foul play, and I’m curious about what information a college student would possess to put his life in danger. Are your students working on something possibly considered criminal?”

Ailbe’s smile turned to a frown. The chief's long history included interviewing individuals who habituated the territory south of the law. His question ventured a bit too close to home.

“I have no idea, Chief. Keenan's popularity remained high among my students. Everyone liked him and admired him. He became the leader of this class. Not because he wanted to be, but because his personality and bearing made him a natural in the role.”

“Did he have a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

“Not as far as I'm aware. Keenan never indicated a preference for a specific classmate and never mentioned anyone, at least not to me.”

“Would any of his classmates have been jealous of his leadership or stature?”

“No. Everyone wanted to be Keenan's friend.”

“I read the note from the constable who spoke with one of his fellow students the night before we found Keenan’s body. He made mention of a discovery. What might he have been talking about?”

Ailbe coughed and stood for water from the tray on the table near his desk. The Chief Superintendent smiled. He hit a nerve, and Ailbe’s discomfort showed.

Ailbe poured a glass and drank all the contents. “My apologies for the interruption,” Ailbe placed the glass back on the tray. “Now, your question again?”

“The discovery,” O’Brien repeated.

“Oh yes. I assigned each student a research project as part of their program of study. The projects do overlap, but I leave it to the students to discover how the overlap fits. If a student discovers it, I give them extra credit.”

“I suppose Moynihan discovered the…what did you call it…overlap?” The chief wrote in his notebook.

“He did, indeed,” Ailbe said.

“Did Mr. Moynihan visit with you about his discovery?” The chief monitored Ailbe’s reaction as he asked the question. A flash of uncertainty flicked through Ailbe’s eyes.

“I don’t recall he did, chief.” Ailbe avoided Chief O’Brien’s gaze.

“Hmm,” O’Brien noted the uneasiness MacGowan showed. He hid something. “I think that's all the questions I have for now, Dr. MacGowan.” He closed the notebook and placed it and the pencil in his jacket pocket. “I thank you for your time. May I call on you again if I have any more questions?”

"I am pleased to help in any way I can.” Ailbe rose to usher the Chief out.

The Chief rose from the chair, shook Ailbe’s proffered hand, and left the office.

* * *

As O’Brien walked into the station, he reflected on the conversation with MacGowan. He’s lying about visiting with Moynihan, and I’m betting he held back information.

He stopped at Healy’s desk. “Healy, I need records of Keenan Moynihan’s email for the past month. I need a list of who he corresponded with and what they said. I also need his cell phone records, calls, and texts.”

“Yes sir,” Healy nodded.

The Chief Superintendent still found nothing but his gut sense to tie MacGowan or Knowlan to the crime.

In half an hour, Healy delivered the requested information. O’Brien pored over the cell phone and email records for Keenan Moynihan, chewing on his unlit cigar as he read. He needed something to provide a clue as to why someone murdered Moynihan.

“Ask for a list of the students in MacGowan’s class,” O’Brien yelled to Healy. “I need as much information about those students as possible.”

“Right away, sir,” Healy called the University and requested a list of students in MacGowan’s class, including demographic and contact information for those students. Five minutes later, he handed the faxed list to O’Brien.

“You do outstanding work, Healy,” O’Brien said, the wet, unlit cigar stub clenched between his teeth. “I don’t care what the boys at the pub say,” he chuckled and winked at Healy. The two men developed an amiable working relationship. O’Brien’s sense of humor helped.

“So you go to the gay pub, sir?” Healy chuckled as he left O’Brien’s office.

O’Brien compared Moynihan’s email list with the list of students. He found several matching names. He examined the cell phone list of calls and texts but only had numbers.

“I need names to go with the numbers on this cell phone list of Moynihan’s,” O’Brien yelled at Healy.

“Right away, sir.” Healy placed a call to the cell phone company. He gave them the numbers and asked them to fax him a list of names matching the numbers. The cell phone company asked for verification of the police investigation.

“Sir, we need verification for the cell phone company. Can you ask the Deputy Commissioner to notify them?”

“I’m on it,” O’Brien picked up the phone and dialed the home office for his region.

“O’Brien. What’s up?” Cassidy answered.

“Sir, we need the phone company to release records to us. For the murdered lad investigation, I need names attached to the numbers connected to his cell phone calls. I sent a list of those numbers to you.”

“I’m on it, O’Brien. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”