‘Yes, Mrs McCabe, I meant it. Your husband is not a murderer. But he knows who is, and so I have to find him, I have to help him tell the truth.’
While she was taking this in, Eileen gently and slowly rubbed her hand up and down young Mickey’s back. She was beginning to relax.
‘I may need to talk to you again sometime today, Mrs McCabe. Will you be in?’ Kieran asked.
‘No, not here, I’m takin’ Mickey to me mother’s. We’ll stay there for a while. It’ll be safer there.’
Kieran nodded and went over to the window. He looked out into the early morning. ‘I wonder where Sparrow will stay – that’s safe?’
CHAPTER TEN
Monday, 16 December
Offices of Williams Wholesale Depot, 3pm
NOBODYWAS QUITE SURE exactly what Williams Wholesale Depot actually wholesaled. Whatever it was, it obviously made big profits, for Simon Williams’s office in the building was huge and had all the trappings of financial success.
Simon’s steel-tipped heels clicked on the cobble-block maple floor now as he paced the room. Bubbles and Teddy simply stood in the same position they’d been in since they walked into the office half an hour ago, as if they were playing a game of statues. For minutes on end Simon continued to pace and the Morgan brothers never took their eyes off him. Simon walked to the panoramic window that overlooked the docks. He stopped, his legs apart. He clasped his hands behind his back, stood for a couple of moments like a king overseeing his realm, then slowly turned and returned to his desk. When his fist slammed onto his desk all of the items on it – the telephone, his writing pad, his diary, and sundry little office items – leaped into the air simultaneously. Strangely enough, both Morgan brothers also left the ground.
‘Don’t give me that shit!’ Simon screamed. ‘I want that little bastard. It’s been four days and not so much as a fuckin’ whisper.’ He was in a total fury. He stood up again and pointed out the window.
‘Somebody out there knows where he is!’ He pointed silently at Teddy. Teddy was unsure whether or not this statement required an answer, but he decided to venture some kind of explanation.
‘Nobody’s talkin’, Mr Williams. Sparrow has a lot of friends out there.’
This was a mistake. Simon walked over to Teddy. ‘Nobody’s talkin’? What do you mean, nobody’s talkin’? What are you runnin’ out there – a debatin’ society? Make the fuckers talk! Simple! Spill some blood! Then they’ll talk! They’ll fuckin’ sing!’ The telephone on Simon’s desk beeped and began to flash a little red light. Simon pushed the button and yelled into the intercom. ‘What!’
‘There’s a Detective Sergeant Clancy to see you,’ a nervous voice replied.
Simon was startled at first, but then began to gather himself. He straightened his tie and brushed down his jacket. ‘Oh! Yeh. Right. Eh, give me a minute, and then send him in.’
‘That’s the new fella from Serious Crimes. Do you want us to stay, Mr Williams?’ Teddy asked.
Simon walked around his desk straight to Teddy, their noses nearly touching. ‘No. I do not want you to stay, Teddy, I want you to go. Go and catch me a Sparrow. And if he won’t come out, then fuckin’ flush him out.’ He pinched Teddy’s cheek and said, ‘Tweet, Tweet!’
Bubbles began to giggle. ‘Nice one, Mr Williams, tweet, tweet.’ When Simon turned around, Teddy kicked Bubbles on the shin.
The Morgan brothers left through a side door and moments later Kieran Clancy entered the room through the main door. He looked calm and cool. Simon came around the desk with an outstretched hand.
‘Detective Clancy, come in and make yourself comfortable,’ he said, welcoming him grandly.
Kieran took Simon’s hand and surprised Simon with the warmth of his shake. ‘Thanks very much, Mr Williams, it’s very good of you to see me without an appointment.’ Kieran smiled. Simon ushered him to a chair and indicated that he should sit down. He waved away Kieran’s thank you.
‘No appointment is necessary for a member of the force, Detective Clancy. I like to think we can help each other. I’m a great supporter of the local police.’ Simon was every inch the local businessman.
‘I heard that, all right. Some of the lads are very fond of you.’ Kieran took out a cigarette and held it up as if to ask if it was okay to smoke. With a wave of his hand Simon indicated his assent.
‘Well, Detective Clancy,’ Simon responded, ‘I like to think that the members of the force can come to me in times of … of personal emergency. And they do.’
‘Ah, that’s nice. Now, as the new head of the Serious Crime Squad, Mr Williams, I thought I’d better introduce myself to you on a one-to-one basis, so to speak.’
Simon smiled a knowing smile and nodded. ‘I can appreciate that, Detective. A private chat, so to speak.’
Kieran lit up a cigarette and took a drag. ‘Exactly.’ He blew out a puff of smoke. ‘You see, Mr Williams, I don’t know what kind of arrangement you had with my predecessor, and that’s his business, but I thought I’d come over and make my own deal with you. Are you with me?’
‘All the way – eh, may I call you Kieran?’
‘Eh – no,’ Kieran said, and carried on, ‘so, here’s the new deal, Mr Williams. You stop committing crimes on the street and I won’t arrest you.’
Simon stared at the young detective dumbfounded.
‘So, what do you think? Are we on?’
Simon Williams gathered himself, and seeing that he had been taken in, leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar, lit it and exhaled a long plume of blue smoke. He smiled at Kieran.
‘Now, aren’t you the smart arse!’ he said. The bitterness in his voice was not missed by Kieran.
Kieran poked the two fingers that were holding his cigarette in Simon’s direction. ‘You can count on it, Mr Williams!’ He smiled and took another drag from his cigarette. At no time did his blue eyes leave Simon Williams’s.
Simon leaned forward in his chair and placed both elbows on the desk. ‘And you, my detective friend, can count on this. If you come into my patch like fuckin’ Rambo, it will be a short stay.’
Kieran stood up and leaned on the desk with one hand. With the other hand he stubbed out his cigarette on the leather inlay in the centre of Simon’s desk. He looked into Simon’s face.
‘First of all, Mr Williams, I’m not your friend. Secondly, this is my patch. Thirdly, I’m not Rambo. And, Mr Willliams, your time is up!’ He turned his back on Williams and began to walk towards the door, brushing his jacket off. At the door he turned and pointed directly at Simon.
‘Now, Mr Williams, I’m off to find Sparrow McCabe – to sort of get things rolling.’
‘Now you’re talking, Detective,’ Simon sneered. ‘That’s what you should be doing instead of threatening local businessmen. You should be off catching that murderer.’
Kieran looked at Williams with a smile on his face. ‘Oh, he’s not my murderer, Mr Williams, he’s my witness. After I get him, then I’ll come and get you. Simple!’
Simon stood at his desk and spoke through his teeth. ‘I’ll have you writing parking tickets in a month’s time.’
Kieran turned to deliver his parting shot. ‘I beat you to it, Mr Williams. Go and check your Jaguar! Good luck.’ He left and closed the door firmly behind him.
For a few moments Simon stared at the closed door, his lip quivering with anger. He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and he went to the window. He stood, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back. He was thinking.
* * *
Across the street a shadowy figure stepped from the darkness. It was Sparrow McCabe. He had a frown on his face as he watched Detective Clancy’s car drive away. He began to walk down Dock Street towards the city centre, his brain trying to figure out what exactly could have been going on between those two. He wondered about Clancy’s chuckle as he passed the Jaguar. At the bottom of Dock Street he turned into Misery Hill, where there was a lit phone-box. Sparrow took a handkerchief from his pocket
and wrapped it around his hand. He glanced around to see he was alone, stepped into the phone-box and smashed the light. In the darkness he inserted a coin in the box and punched in his mother-in-law’s number. He waited for an answer. Sparrow was relieved when Eileen answered.
‘Hello, Eileen love. It’s me. I’m fine. Listen, I’m gonna get somebody to call up to our place tomorrow. I want you to get some things together for me.’
* * *
The Clancy home, 8pm
The room was festooned with Christmas decorations. Claire and Mary were playing on the floor. They had five dolls and were making five separate beds from little bits of blankets and cushions that they had taken off the couch. The scent of freshly-bathed children filled the room. From the kitchen came the sound of pots banging and plates being laid out. Moya was busy preparing for the Christmas dinner-party that night for her parents.
Kieran sat in the armchair by the fire, fondly watching his daughters play Mother. Slowly his eyes drifted up to the Christmas tree. The tiny Christmas lights twinkled and reflected in the silvery tinsel. Tiny angels perched on the end of each branch. At the tip of the tree stood one large white angel dressed in white, with her arms outstretched. ‘Good will to all men,’ Kieran read – except husbands, was his next thought. In the ten days since the PJ Duff murder case had started, Kieran had slept with his wife only three times. He was getting what he called the ‘do not adjust your set’ treatment – all picture, no sound.
His daughters were less affected with his absence, for he would get home in the evenings and have a couple of hours with them before they went to bed. Unfortunately criminals do not work nine-to-five. Most of Kieran’s investigations took place at night and into the early hours of the morning. This was not appreciated by Moya. One would imagine that the daughter of a policeman would be well prepared for a time when she became the wife of a policeman herself. This was not the case. Moya hated her childhood memories of her father never being there. Now it seemed her childhood was coming back to haunt her and she was not amused.
The doorbell chimed and from the kitchen Moya called out to Kieran. ‘That’ll be them, Kieran.’
Kieran rose to get the door, on the way informing the children, ‘Granddad and Grandma are here.’
The children shrieked with delight and ran to get to the door before their father. Ned and Carmel Connolly had beaming, festive smiles on their faces. The children virtually attacked them.
‘Easy, easy, let’s get our coats off first,’ Ned said to his grandchildren. Kieran took the coats and hung them in the hall as kisses were exchanged by grandchildren and grandparents. Kieran opened his arms to embrace Carmel. ‘Merry Christmas, Carmel, it’s great to see you.’
‘Where’s my daughter?’ Carmel asked looking around the room.
‘In the kitchen, as usual, cooking up a storm. I think you’re getting a steak with diane sauce – and I’m going to get poisoned!’ Kieran raised his eyes to heaven.
Carmel chuckled. ‘Oh I see, we’re at that stage, are we? Well, I’ll just go in and give her a hand.’ And Carmel headed for the kitchen.
The children had now calmed down and had gone back to playing with their dolls. The two men strolled into the sitting room.
‘Will you have a drink, Ned?’
‘I will, Kieran, and as I’m staying the night make it a hardy one! I haven’t been able to have a decent drink over the last week with these bloody drink driving checkpoints! Damned Gardaí!’ The two men laughed. Kieran poured two stiff drinks and handed one to Ned.
The Commissioner eyed his son-in-law. ‘Well, I hear you settled into the Serious Crime Squad out in Snuggstown pretty quickly?’ Ned walked to the couch, settled himself and stretched out his legs.
Kieran saw that his father-in-law was getting comfortable. ‘Kick off your shoes there, Ned.’
‘I will if you don’t mind, Kieran.’ It was a habit with policemen: the only true way to real comfort was to kick off the shoes and walk barefoot on a carpet – it probably came from spending a lot of time on the beat.
Kieran settled himself in the armchair. ‘What d’you mean, Ned? What have you heard?’ Kieran asked.
‘I heard about your visit up to Mr Williams’s office,’ the Commissioner said with a knowing smile.
‘News travels fast,’ Kieran chuckled.
‘Well, tread carefully there, son. I don’t want you upsetting the apple-cart.’
Kieran frowned at his father-in-law. ‘Upsetting what apple-cart? Simon Williams is the root cause of ninety percent of the problems in Snuggstown. If I can rattle him in any way, I will, and I don’t see it as upsetting any apple-cart. Exactly whose apple-cart are we talking about here?’
‘Everybody has their suspicions about Williams,’ the Commissioner said, ‘but nothing has been proved in a court room. I just don’t want you going in there gung-ho and thinking you can rattle this fellow easily. He’s a cool customer, Kieran.’
‘He’s an extortionist, he’s a drug-pusher, he’s a scumbag and a murderer, and I intend to nail him for this latest murder.’ Kieran spat this out, but was glad to note that at each punctuation his father-in-law was nodding.
‘Well, unofficially keep me informed of what’s going on, and officially if there’s anything I can do you just call.’ Ned raised his glass.
‘Well, from what you’ve said I hardly think you need me to keep you informed. But I appreciate the offer. Tell me, Ned, what d’you know about a Sergeant Muldoon?’
‘That creature?’ Ned quickly retorted. ‘He was suspended about five years ago for conduct unbecoming of an officer. He’d been sent to arrest some young fellow and he beat him within an inch of his life. The rumour at the time was that the arrest was just a bogus thing, and that really Muldoon was doing a bit of enforcing for Williams, but nothing was ever proven. He’s kept his head down since though. Is he giving you a hard time?’
‘Yes, he is. But I don’t mind that, I can take a hard time. I’m just wondering if he’s on Williams’s payroll. I don’t want him messing up my investigation.’
‘Do you want him taken out?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Well, just let me know when. I can have him out of there on the pretext of special training at a moment’s notice.’ There was no sound coming from the kitchen now. Ned nodded towards the kitchen door. ‘How’s the new life going down with Moya?’
‘Badly, to put it mildly,’ Kieran said.
‘Oh then, she’s her mother’s daughter!’ Ned raised his glass again in a silent toast.
* * *
When the welcoming hugs had been exchanged in the kitchen by mother and daughter, Moya went back to work. While she worked she spent fifteen minutes bemoaning her husband’s new promotion. Carmel listened dutifully and made no comment, letting her daughter go on and on. When Moya had spilled out all her grievances, she looked to her mother for comment. She was surprised at what she got.
‘Well, dear, if that’s the case then the only thing you can do is leave him!’
Moya wasn’t just surprised, she was stunned. Carmel adored Kieran. Carmel was of the opinion that Kieran was the best thing that had ever happened to Moya. Moya stared dumbfounded at her mother. Carmel took in her daughter’s questioning gaze and began to explain.
‘That’s all you can do, Moya. You have two options: either you stay and support your husband or you leave.’ Carmel leaned over the salad bowl and plucked out a scallion. She dipped it in some mayonnaise and took a bite. Chewing it, she smiled at her daughter. ‘I love scallions!’
‘That’s not fair, Mum,’ Moya said.
‘No, it’s not fair, dear. But life isn’t fair, Moya. I stayed with your father because I love him, not because I loved his job. I hate his job, I have always hated his job, but I loved him. I had an option too – I could have left him. But then I wouldn’t have him at all! So I made a decision: to have him for five minutes in a day was better for me than to not have him at all. So I didn’t try to compete wi
th his job. I just tried to live my own life and love him in the moments we had together. I know many women who aren’t married to policemen and have their husbands home at half-past six every day, and they just sit watching television – they don’t talk, they don’t do things together, in fact they don’t even have each other for five minutes. They’re just bored. Kieran will work the most unreasonable, unenviable hours possible, doing a task that is thankless ninety percent of the time. But Moya, when he’s with you, he will be with you.’
Moya began to sob. Carmel took her daughter in her arms, laid her head on her shoulder and brushed her fingers through her daughter’s hair, just like she had done when Moya was ten years old.
‘Help me, Mum, please! It’s so hard.’
‘I will dear, don’t you worry. I will!’
Ned and Kieran were discussing the prospects for World Cup qualification by the Irish soccer team when the two women re-entered the room. Moya went to the table to make the final adjustments. Carmel sat beside her husband. Kieran poured Carmel a glass of wine, then sat down again to wait. When she decided that the table was ready for dinner, Moya went directly to Kieran’s chair. In front of her parents she bent and kissed him softly on the lips.
Then she straightened up and announced, ‘Dinner is served, everybody.’
A little stunned, Kieran glanced over at Carmel. Carmel smiled and winked.
* * *
St Thomas’s Boxing Club, 10.30pm
The outside of the boxing club looked dull. Christmas lights had been threaded around the edge of the sign that read St Thomas’s Boxing Club, but it did little to alleviate the dour look. The sign was lit by a single, cheap spot-lamp. Sparrow had been standing in a doorway across the street for two hours now. Nobody had left the club for over thirty minutes, and he was sure that the club was now empty, except of course for Froggy. He felt fairly sure it was safe to make his move.
The Scrapper Page 9
