A Carra ring imm-6

by John Brady

  Malone seemed to be changing gears just for something to do now.

  “We might be getting out from under Smith and Company,” Minogue said.

  “What, a gouger who’s going to cough up the fells who did for Larry Smith?!”

  “There’s a chance,” Minogue said. “Just today, it came up in a court recess. ”

  “Huh. Jases, I’d sell anyone, anything, if I was up against a ten-year term. And if I was a junkie? If I was a junkie with bills that could get collected the wrong way in jail, I’d rat on Mother Teresa, so I would.”

  There’d be no pleasing Malone now, Minogue decided. He studied the half-built apartments beyond Christ Church. Bow windows, wasn’t that something. Cubicles for yuppies. Then it struck him that Malone could be edgy because he’d been told to attend on the PM for Aoife Hartnett. Minogue decided to waive preliminaries.

  “The PM’S not going to be that bad, Tommy. Pierce knows you don’t need the full chapter and verse during.”

  “It’s all right,” Malone said.

  “I can phone him, leave a message.”

  “’It’s okay, boss. No big deal. All right?”

  Minogue gave up. He though about putting more life into tracing the missing stuff from Shaughnessy’s car. Somebody doing their job right in Dublin Garda divisions had to have an ear with fences and gougers. Her purse was gone. Access card at least. Shaughnessy’s cards, his camera. Other paraphernalia. And what about all the people at the dos that Shaughnessy or Aoife Hartnett had been at?

  Full of questions, Minogue strode into the squad room. He was dimly aware of, and indifferent to, the fact that he was annoyed. The job, he thought, osmosis of Kilmartin’s personality. Maybe it was Malone nagging him about signing for a gun.

  Murtagh kept his head down for most of the questions. There were still eighteen cars that needed following up at the long-term car park. Minogue told Murtagh to phone the family of whoever’s name was on the car and find out when the hell he or she had parked their bloody car there.

  If Fergal Sheehy was down to the last few interviews then he’d better start finding more: widen the net. A weapon — search the whole damned airport top to bottom. Get Farrell to start right away even. Decide on the motorway even — maybe the weapon was fecked out the window in a panic. And warm up the appeal and put it out again. Specifics: roads in Mayo, person missing. Did Shaughnessy have a camera when he’d arrived in Ireland, or did he bloody-well not? Still trying to figure that out, was Murtagh’s reply. Where were his credit card receipts then? Murtagh pointed to a copy pinned on the boards. Minogue saw Murtagh’s eyes dart to Malone’s as he walked over.

  “He paid the hotel here on, what’s this, Mastercard?”

  “The last one they have is for the hotel, yes.”

  “Are they saying that he didn’t use it afterward or that they don’t know yet?”

  “My new pal, Debbie, in the States says that’s it. They’d have it recorded inside of two days now.”

  Minogue looked up from the copy at Malone.

  “Other cards?”

  Murtagh didn’t quite carry off the southern accent on the vowels.

  “She done told me she’d run a credit check on heem. He was done flagged bad for priors.”

  “What kind of prayers?”

  “Naw,” said Murtagh. “Pr-i-ors. He went to hell on an American Express and some other cards a few years back. They nixed him. He only got back on the books a few months ago. There’s a low limit on his new one too.”

  “Cash then,” Minogue declared. “Bank records. He must have been carrying, for the love of God.”

  Murtagh chose his words carefully.

  “I’ll put priority on it, so, boss.”

  Minogue couldn’t miss the tone. He turned from the boards again and gave Murtagh the eye.

  “Thank you,” he said, just as deliberately.

  Murtagh closed a folder and looked up brightly at Eilis.

  “Any word from our leader beyond in Boston, Eilis, oul stock?”

  “Not yet,” said Eilis. “Quiet for him, isn’t it now?”

  “Be nice to get him back,” said Malone. Minogue wasn’t going to ignore this.

  “I’ll maybe phone him tonight,” he said to Malone. “I’ll tell him you were asking for him. He’ll like that.”

  “Me too,” said Eilis. “Tell him I miss him. His quiet ways. The subtle wit.”

  “He’ll be touched, Eilis. It’ll be news to him too, I’d venture to suggest.”

  “Don’t forget me,” said Murtagh. Minogue turned his glare back on him.

  “I suppose Sheehy and the crew too?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” said Malone. “Definitely. They asked me to tell you.”

  “He’ll be deeply moved, then.”

  “All the mob in Serious Crime too,” said Murtagh. “I was at a do there and they were asking after him.”

  “Did the president send her wishes too, Eilis?” Minogue asked.

  “Oh,” she murmured. “I forgot to write it down. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “What about filling in for him over at Keagh’s Pub?” Murtagh asked. “He foots the bill for a few rounds. Did you forget?”

  Minogue pinned the copy of the transaction record back on the boards.

  “Enough,” he said. “I hear ye. Loud and clear. Wait till I get paid, at least. I’m skint.”

  “Ah, you’re always skint,” Malone said.

  “Mine’s brandy then,” said Eilis. “Brandy’ll make up for it.”

  “I’ll go easy on you,” said Murtagh. “Three pints.”

  “One for each day since Jim left, right?”

  Murtagh beamed.

  “What about you, Tommy?”

  “Same as John Boy there. Fifteen pints or so.”

  Minogue looked over at the message board. The slips were green this week, were they. Where the hell did Eilis dig up those memo pads? He gave Malone a thoose on the arm as he walked by. “Just gimme the money instead of the pints then,” said Malone. Minogue saw that his partner was losing the battle to hold back a grin. Malone dropped his head, pushed out his elbows, and jabbed at the air with open hands.

  “Won’t work,” Minogue warned him. “I have the reach, pal.”

  “You better reach into your shagging pocket when payday comes, so.” Minogue put his arms out but Malone was on him too fast. He felt Malone’s arms clamp his as he was shepherded to the wall.

  “Yous culchies,” muttered Malone. He feigned a left hook.

  “Corner boy,” Minogue said.

  Eilis shook her head and lit another cigarette.

  “Men,” she said to no one. “The more they begin to cop on how useless they are, the more of a bloody racket they make.”

  “Heard that,” said Malone and parried Minogue’s attempt at a shove.

  “I give up,” said Eilis.

  “Nail him one in the chops, there, you,” said Murtagh.

  “Who?”

  “Any of yous. I don’t care who.”

  Malone let Minogue push him away.

  “That’ll learn you,” he grunted. “Fifteen pints and the hiding of your life, you sodbuster.”

  “Do you want your messages,” Eilis called out, “or do you want another round to knock the shite out of one another?”

  “Eilis!” said Murtagh. “The bleeding language…!”

  “Not you,” she said. “His honor here. A personal and a call from the quare fella what’s with Leyne. Freeman. He’s a Yank.”

  Minogue straightened his shirt collar.

  “Whyn’t you tell me on the cell phone, Eilis, when I was over beyond at Aoife Hartnett’s crowd?”

  “He phoned a quarter of an hour ago only. I told him I could raise you and conference you through to him if it was urgent.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked if it was a cell phone. I said it was. He said he’d wait, so.”

  Malone exchanged a frown with Minogue. The inspector took the
slips from Eilis’s outstretched hand. Kathleen first. Today was her half day. He’d forgotten.

  She was eating something when he phoned her. Iseult had a plan, she told him. She had consulted her conscience before phoning with the news that she’d be going out for a swim in Killiney Bay. Orla’s father had a boat, remember. Iseult didn’t want them worrying, that was all. Wasn’t that nice? He rubbed at his eyes and held in a sigh. His knuckles ached when he tried to switch the receiver to his left hand. The office had gone quiet. He turned to see where Murtagh was.

  Purcell had come out of Kilmartin’s office. He’d nearly forgotten about him being here, Minogue thought as he listened to Kathleen’s arrangements. Iseult didn’t mind him coming out in the boat with Orla’s father. In fact she wanted it. Didn’t things work out well there? Minogue nodded at Purcell. Then he stared at the phone cord until his eyes went sandy. Purcell had sidled over to Murtagh, who was ignoring his questions.

  Minogue said good-bye to Kathleen and let the phone down slowly. Purcell tried again with Murtagh. Murtagh looked him up and down.

  Minogue studied Purcell’s face. Curious, suspicious.

  “Heard the news on the Smith thing?” Purcell tried. He looked from face to face. Malone stopped rubbing his nose and looked over at Purcell.

  “It might be the clincher,” he said. “Home free. That’d be great.”

  Minogue studied the phone number Freeman had left.

  He stood and stretched. Purcell fingered his lip and watched his approach.

  “Matt.”

  Purcell had scaly skin, redder when he was bothered.

  “Matt. You know I think the same thing. I’d only be delighted to walk out of here. We’re only here to assure administration that the case is gone as far as it could go for now, that the Smith file is jammed for good reason. We can’t have people thinking that the squad’s just sitting on it.”

  Minogue searched the sparse hair Purcell had recently combed down. “That’s as far as it goes,” Purcell said. “We all agree on that, I think.”

  “Smith’s file is active, Sean,” said Minogue. Purcell nodded, looked at the wall. “We review in short every month, going back eight years to a stabbing in Fairview even. We reassign in full every three months to get the new eyes on it. It’s always moving. Always.”

  “You know that, I know that, but it’s been reviewed independently.”

  Minogue looked at Kilmartin’s clock.

  “You know,” said Purcell. “I never get pally when we go in like this. Never. I shouldn’t even be talking to you probably It’s just that, well, this isn’t some hooligan getting his arm broken in a squad car, this is a case of the best we have here. No one seriously believes what that bitch said in the paper. She parroted anything the Smiths said just to sell papers.”

  Bitch, Minogue reflected. Well, now Purcell should move on to a different department. A different job, maybe.

  “Nobody in their right minds could believe what she was letting these gangsters say through her column. Really, I mean…”

  Minogue said nothing. Purcell finally shrugged and looked away.

  CHAPTER 22

  Minogue watched Murtagh checking the levels on the cassette recorder by the phone. He lifted the phone and got a line several times, listening.

  “Go ahead,” said Murtagh. “Anytime now. It’s line one, don’t forget.”

  Minogue glanced down at the phone number for the Aisling Hotel. The receptionist had an odd accent. Like the ad for that new detergent. He didn’t get a chance to thank her before he was switched. Two rings. Gone, was he -

  “Yes? Hello?”

  “Jeffrey Freeman?”

  “Yes. Hi. Is this Officer Minogue?”

  Officer, Minogue thought: that’d do nicely.

  “It is indeed. You phoned me.”

  “Can we meet? Soon?”

  None of this Thank You For Returning My Call? He let the pause linger.

  “Why?”

  “It concerns the Shaughnessy case.”

  “The Shaughnessy case. You better explain where you fit with that now, like a good man.”

  “Okay. I can give you background, but we really should meet, personally.”

  “Talk for now, Mr. Freeman.”

  “You know about Mr. Leyne, right?”

  “What have I been told about Mr. Leyne?”

  “I understand you were informed he’s on a life support system at the…”

  “The Blackrock Clinic, yes.”

  “Your commissioner, right?”

  “He didn’t put him there, Mr. Freeman. He only told me about it.”

  “And that it is absolutely confidential?”

  “Words to that effect, yes ”

  “You haven’t told anyone about it, have you?”

  Minogue looked across at Malone.

  “Mr. Freeman — ”

  “Jeff, please — ”

  “Jeff I have two phones here on my desk. Tell me why I shouldn’t lift the other one and call in a squad car to go to your hotel room and drag you out here?”

  “What? I mean, excuse me? Is this some kind of, intimidation, I’m hearing?”

  “It’s notice of intent.”

  “It sounds like a threat. -”

  “It’s not a threat,” Minogue broke in. “Threats are about the future. What I’m keen to do would take all of about seven minutes.”

  Malone had made his way over. He raised his eyebrows at Minogue, held up his hand, and clamped his fingers on his wrist. Minogue shook his head.

  “You’re serious, I do believe you’re being serious. This is unbelievable.”

  “If I believe you are a threat to public order or you’re trying to obstruct a murder investigation, there’ll be a half a dozen coming through your door.”

  “Well let me relay that news to the embassy. They’d be interested, I’m sure. Then your commissioner.”

  “Good day to you, Mr. Freeman. You’ll be coming here in person in about a half an hour to see for yourself just how mistaken you are ”

  “Wait! Look — let’s take a step back from this. I’m a visitor here. Maybe I haven’t come across the way people here are used to.”

  “You’re going to be a resident here if you don’t get smart. You’ve got about ten seconds.”

  “My client here — ”

  “Your employer, you mean. Play by the rules. To me you’re a person obstructing a murder investigation.”

  “Okay,” said Freeman, “say what you like, but I have a legal obligation to my client. I’m telling you that I have to respect it. I can only do that by meeting you in person. And I don’t want any police, Garda I mean, tail this time.”

  Minogue sat in tighter to the desk.

  “What do you mean, this time?”

  “Let’s not waste time on that one. Please? I was told you were in on everything. So: we don’t need the ‘escort.’”

  Minogue said nothing.

  “Okay? So we can get together on this? I’ll hand over what I’m supposed to and then we can proceed whatever way you like.”

  “Take a taxi here then. Or I can have you picked up.”

  “Please. Mr. Leyne directed me to deal with you. You only.”

  “Me?”

  “Mr. Leyne doesn’t have confidence in the authorities here,” Freeman said. “You’re known. So is your boss, the one on vacation. He was very specific.”

  “Was?”

  “‘Is,’ ‘was.’” Freeman’s voice dropped. “I need your assurance that what I tell you stays confidential?”

  “Why?”

  “I have to execute Mr. Leyne’s instructions,” he said. “When he becomes, well, when he becomes incapacitated.”

  “I’m a policeman, Mr. Freeman. Get serious now, or — ”

  “Do you know much about Leyne’s Foods? How stock markets work?”

  Minogue’s Biro broke through the paper.

  “Look,” said Freeman. “Mr. Leyne’s son telephoned from I
reland. I have a signed statement from Mr. Leyne here stating the substance of their conversation.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I’m afraid I have to repeat that my instructions are to contact you in person and deliver the material to you.”

  Minogue caught Malone’s eye.

  “Enough of this trick of the loop playacting. I’m bringing you in.”

  Malone pointed down at Freeman’s name. Minogue nodded.

  “Wait,” said Freeman. “This won’t help. It’s a goddamn mess already.”

  “Do you think so, now,” Minogue said. “Well it’s only starting for you. You’re about money, mister; I’m about crime.”

  “If you give me a chance,” Freeman said.

  “You should have handed this over when your boss dragged in those reports, the private-eye stuff on Shaughnessy.”

  “Believe me,” Freeman said. “We’re acting in good faith here. Please.”

  Minogue let down his arm, held his hand over the mouthpiece.

  “Throw him out the window, boss?”

  He looked up at Malone. Murtagh was slowly nodding. But Freeman didn’t need to phone, he realized. And this “You’re known”? Leyne’s bluster in the car coming in from the airport, he’d known all about Minogue all along. There had been a broad enough hint, with Leyne’s happy disdain for the “researchers” he hired. How Leyne got himself those copies of police investigation records involving this wayward son of his back in the States, that said something about his reach too. The personal touch, insiders. Now this Freeman fella was holding his nose, for a fine fee too no doubt, and trying to engineer another inside track for Leyne to get to Inspector Minogue.

  He closed his eyes for several seconds. He saw Leyne’s sallow face again, the strain as he labored out of the car. Damn! He shoved the phone back on his ear.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m coming over.”

  “I really appreciate it, and so will, so would — ”

  “Well I don’t, let me tell you. Give me everything you’ve got. I want a statement from you; I want whatever documents and records you have. I want your utter and undivided attention. I don’t want to hear name dropping or flag waving or client privilege talk. Leyne picked you for something, I don’t know what, but I hope for your sake he picked right. Are you with me on this now?”