The Scrapper

by Brendan O'Carroll

  ‘I thought it might warm the house up a bit.’ Kieran sounded almost apologetic.

  ‘It does, thanks,’ Eileen replied, a little confused now as to whether this man was friend or foe.

  Kieran sat back down at the table. Eileen didn’t know what to do next.

  ‘Listen, Detective Clancy, I’ve told you all I can. You can go now if you like. I’m sure you have better things to be doin’ on Christmas Eve?’ she suggested.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you the way it is, Mrs McCabe. I have a man coming here at about 5am. I’m going to try and have somebody here with you around the clock, so we’ll stay until five.’

  She looked at Michael Malone and he was nodding in agreement. ‘Don’t you men have families?’ she asked.

  ‘Kieran has, but not me.’ Michael sounded like it was a gift to not have a family.

  Eileen looked at Kieran. ‘Two daughters. Seven and four.’ Kieran smiled and looked at his watch. ‘As long as I’m home before Santa arrives I should be all right.’

  ‘We’ll try not to get in your way,’ he added, again sounding almost apologetic.

  Eileen relaxed a little. ‘Okay. Would the two of you like tea?’ she offered.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Kieran replied.

  As Eileen went to make her way to the kitchen Michael asked, ‘Mrs McCabe? Would you mind if I turned on the TV?’

  ‘Not at all, the remote’s over there.’ She pointed to the mantelpiece.

  * * *

  Sparrow knew these bushes very well. And why wouldn’t he, they were his bushes, at the end of his garden. He had planted them and nurtured them, and now for the first time he was using them. Even though the curtains were drawn he could see that there was light in the sitting room. Suddenly the kitchen light went on and he saw Eileen walk to the kettle and begin to fill it. Instinctively he wanted to call out her name, but knew he couldn’t. He swallowed hard and held back tears. He crouched and darted across the garden to the back of his shed. He crouched again, and slowly made his way to the sitting-room window. He peeped in. Through a crack in the curtains he could see Detectives Clancy and Malone. He saw Malone point the remote control at the television set; with a couple of flashes the set came alive. On the screen he could see Gay Byrne talking to Peter Ustinov. Minutes later Eileen arrived into the room carrying three mugs. She handed one to each of the policemen and put one down on the opposite side of the table to Clancy. She then left, returning seconds later with a plate of biscuits. Eileen began to nurse her cup of tea. She looked upset.

  As quietly as he could, Sparrow climbed onto the garden wall and began to scale up the drainpipe. When he was level with Mickey’s bedroom he looked across at the small window that was half-open. It now looked further away than it had done when he was on the ground. Sparrow got a tenuous grip on the window sill and stretched his leg to climb up. He slipped from the drainpipe and hung precariously for a few moments, expecting that any second now the back door would open and the two policemen would come out. But nothing happened.

  With a great effort Sparrow scrambled up onto the windowsill. He gripped the window frame of the small window and pulled himself erect. Leaning in through the small window he undid the latch of the larger window which now swung open. Silently Sparrow slipped in through the window, through the curtains and gently put his feet on the floor of his son’s bedroom. Mickey was curled up in the foetal position, sound asleep. Quietly Sparrow sat on the edge of Mickey’s bed and looked down at his son. He thought of how terrified his son must have been at the fire-bombing. He thought of how much a failure he had been as a father, not there to protect his child when he needed him most. He stroked Mickey’s face softly. Mickey woke. Sparrow shushed him with a finger to his mouth.

  ‘Daddy!’ Mickey was delighted.

  ‘Shush, son. Quiet now, there’s people downstairs.’

  ‘I know dad, it’s the police. They’re trying to catch you for shooting PJ Duff.’ Like all children, Mickey spoke plainly and frankly.

  ‘I didn’t shoot anyone, son. They think I did and they’re wrong. Believe me, I wouldn’t hurt anyone, son. I just wanted to see you tonight and say Merry Christmas!’

  * * *

  Downstairs the two detectives were watching the television. Eileen was not paying too much attention to it, instead going over in her head the options for the future of her family. None of the options was attractive. For some reason Kieran Clancy looked at the ceiling. He stood up.

  ‘Can I use your bathroom?’ he asked.

  Eileen was startled out of her reverie. ‘What? Oh yeh, it’s upstairs.’

  Virtually on tiptoe Kieran made his way up the stairs to the landing. The bathroom door was open but instead Kieran looked at the door of Mickey’s bedroom. Slowly he went to the bedroom door, and quietly and gently turned the handle to open the door a crack. He saw Sparrow McCabe sitting on the edge of the bed with his son. He listened.

  ‘Daddy, are you a good guy or a bad guy?’

  ‘I wish it was that simple, son. But I think I’m a good guy. What do you think?’

  Mickey sat up and puts his arms around his father’s neck, squeezing him tightly. ‘I think you’re a good guy too, Daddy!’ he said.

  Gently Sparrow pushed Mickey back down and pulled the covers up to his neck. Then he looked over at the bedroom door and saw the detective. The two men stared at each other.

  Mickey was still gazing at his father’s face, his view of the door blocked by Sparrow’s body. ‘Daddy, are you home for good now?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet, son,’ Sparrow replied. ‘Not yet.’

  The two men stared at each other again. Slowly and quietly Kieran closed the door. Without using the bathroom he returned down the stairs and entered the sitting room. He went back to the table and sat down. He took a sip from his mug of tea. Michael Malone looked up at him. ‘Everything okay, Kieran?’

  ‘Yes, Michael. Everything’s okay.’ Kieran took another sip from his mug of tea and quietly spoke to himself, ‘Merry Christmas, Sparrow.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Thursday, 26 December

  St Thomas’s Boxing Club, 10am

  EVEN THOUGH IT WAS A BANK HOLIDAY, St Stephen’s Day was still boozing time, and certainly didn’t bring out the boxers. Nobody turned up at the club to work out. Undeterred, Froggy opened up as usual and swept around the gym, even though the place had not been used since the last time Froggy had swept it.

  Froggy didn’t recognise the two men in suits who arrived into the club. Still, he smiled his welcoming smile.

  ‘Hawoo,’ he said. Leaning the brush against the wall Froggy went over to the two men, his hand extended. Had he known them he would have given them a hug as he did everybody he knew, but for now the men would have to settle for a handshake.

  Neither of the Morgan brothers took Froggy’s hand. Instead, Bubbles mimicked Froggy by returning his ‘Hawoo’ and adding ‘cabbage!’ The two brothers laughed. So Froggy laughed.

  ‘Who are you?’ Teddy asked, the smile gone from his face and the laughter gone from his voice.

  ‘Froggy, hawoo,’ Froggy again offered his hand.

  Teddy slapped Froggy’s hand down. ‘Where’s Sparrow McCabe?’ he asked.

  Froggy put a finger to his lips. ‘Shush, it’s a secret, don’t tell Mammy.’

  * * *

  From his vantage point in the shop doorway across the street from St Thomas’s Boxing Club, Sparrow could see the Jaguar parked outside. He knew Froggy was a creature of routine and would be there to open the club. He hadn’t expected anybody else to arrive, of course, least of all the Morgan brothers. It was typical of those dopey brothers, he thought, to imagine that Sparrow would hide out in the club. The street was coated with about an inch of snow. The only tyre marks on the street were those of the Jaguar.

  Sparrow waited in the doorway for twenty minutes before he saw the Morgan brothers exit. They were both laughing. Before they got into the car Bubbles said something to Teddy. They both
laughed again. Sparrow watched them climb into the Jaguar and drive away. He waited another five minutes before crossing the street and slipping into the club. The main gym was empty. Sparrow stretched up and put the inside bolt on the door. He began to weave his way through the punch bags.

  ‘Froggy! Hello, Froggy, are yeh here?’ Sparrow called. Carefully Sparrow made his way through the club, room by room. There was no sign of anyone. Then he heard a very low moaning sound from the showers. He rushed in to find Froggy lying in the basin of one of the cubicles. He was naked. The bruises along his back were clearly made by the handle of the brush that Froggy used to sweep the floor every day. His right eye was swollen and closed and two of his teeth were missing. The blood from his burst lip was running down his face and into the shower basin, diluting under the running shower before going down the plughole. Pale and shaking, Sparrow bent down and hugged Froggy.

  ‘Froggy, Jesus Christ! Froggy,’ Sparrow whispered to him quietly.

  Froggy grasped Sparrow and clung tightly to him. ‘Spawoo, I didn’t tell anyone! It’s a secret … shush, don’t tell Mammy.’ He whispered because Sparrow had whispered.

  For fourteen years Sparrow McCabe had known he didn’t have what it took to finish a job. For fourteen years he had kept his head down, living with this shame, saying as little as possible and just getting through life day-by-day. For fourteen years Sparrow had been running from his failure in Madrid, from what he saw as a failure in his very being. For the last eighteen days he had been running – from the police, from Simon Williams, from the Morgan brothers. Now, at this moment, Sparrow realised he had been a worm for the past fourteen years. He had been content to allow the Simple Simons of this world to take whatever they wanted, and for himself to be happy with whatever crumbs were thrown his way. As he held this innocent man in his arms he could feel his pain and his hurt bubble over. The worm was about to turn.

  * * *

  Serious Crime Room, Snuggstown Police Station, 11.30am

  Ned Connolly and his wife had called to their daughter’s for the customary St Stephen’s Day visit. After greeting his grandchildren and presenting them with their Christmas gifts, Ned had one quick drink, then decided to drop down to Snuggstown’s police station to visit his son-in-law. He was not surprised that Kieran was working today, for he knew that when a detective gets hold of a case it becomes more than the pursuit of justice, the righting of a wrong, it becomes personal. In his day, Ned had been that kind of detective. If the truth be told, he wished today he was still that detective, for he regarded what his son-in-law was doing as real police work. But this wasn’t just any old case. Simon Williams had been a slippery fish for many years. He had a finger in many pies and some of them very legitimate pies, as well as being politically connected.

  He offered his advice to his son-in-law as he sat across from Kieran at his desk. He meant it only as a caution, but Kieran took it as an accusation.

  ‘You know Williams is behind it, I know Williams is behind it , so just leave me at it and I’ll prove he’s behind it!’ Kieran tapped his finger firmly on the desk as he spoke.

  ‘I’m just saying tread carefully!’ Ned said.

  ‘I heard what you said. But listen, Ned, I’ll tread whatever way I have to tread to lift this bastard. He’s a cool customer all right. But I can ruffle him; I have to shake the tree to see what falls out. I know if I can get him flustered, if I can get him into a panic, he’ll make the wrong move and I’ll grab him.’ The personal nature of this case had heightened for Kieran since he’d met Eileen and Mickey McCabe. Here was a family whose entire world had been upturned just to accommodate the aspirations of a scumbag. Yes, it was personal.

  The Commissioner raised his arm, the palm of his hand facing Kieran as if he were on point duty and halting traffic. ‘Yes, but on the way you’re stepping on a lot of toes. I must remind you, Williams has a lot of interests, there are a lot of people, big people, who would be upset if we just ruffle his feathers and then can’t prove anything.’

  Kieran sat up. ‘Are there now? Tell me, Ned, are you one of them?’

  Ned’s face went red with anger. Slowly he stood up and stared down at his son-in-law. ‘Don’t you even suggest that!’ he growled.

  ‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about, Ned!’ Kieran wasn’t backing down.

  Ned went to the coat rack where he’d left his coat. He put it on, fitted on his cap and began to make his way from the room without further comment. Kieran realised what he’d done.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ned,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  Slowly Ned turned to face Kieran again. There was anger in his face at first, then he bowed his head.

  Kieran went to him and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Leave it with me, Ned. I swear to you I’ll take him. Clean as a whistle.’

  Ned looked up into his son-in-law’s face – God how he wished he were in his shoes. ‘It had better be clean, Kieran, squeaky clean. If you march Simon Williams into a courtroom you’d better make sure he doesn’t march out again. Otherwise you and I could be looking for our own window-cleaning round.’

  For a moment the two men looked at each other. Then the door swung open, banging into the heels of the Commissioner. Malone stepped in and, realising what he had done, became flustered.

  ‘Oh Jesus! Commissioner! I mean Sir, I mean …’

  ‘It’s okay, Michael, I’ve been hit by worse!’ Ned laughed. ‘I’ll leave you to it!’

  Michael breathed a sigh of relief when he had gone. ‘Wouldn’t that be just my luck, dumped out of the force for hitting a commissioner with a door.’ The two men laughed.

  ‘What has you in such a flap anyway?’ Kieran asked as he went back to his desk.

  ‘There’s a phone call for you,’ Michael said.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘He wouldn’t say. He said he wanted to talk to you. D’you think is it …?’ Michael didn’t even have to say Sparrow’s name.

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ Kieran answered as he punched the button on his phone. When he had the line he simply said, ‘Sparrow?’

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  ‘I thought it would be. Are you okay?’ Kieran smiled towards Michael.

  ‘Am I okay? You couldn’t give a shit how I am!’

  ‘On the contrary, Sparrow McCabe, I do care how you are. You might not know me but believe me I know you. And I’m a fan!’ There was silence on the other end for a few moments.

  ‘You want to catch Williams?’ Sparrow asked then.

  ‘That’s the whole point of the exercise.’ Kieran’s heart was thumping now.

  ‘Okay then, I’ll help.’

  ‘Good. You tell me where you are, I’ll get you picked up, we’ll get him into court and we’ll nail him!’ Michael reached for a pen and pad. Even he could hear Sparrow’s laughter.

  ‘Are you serious? Do you think that on my testimony alone you could nail Simon Williams? Grow up. You’ve about as much chance of putting Williams in jail with the evidence you have as you have of shoving butter up a porcupine’s arse with a hot needle. No. We do it my way!’

  Again there was silence for a couple of moments. Kieran pushed the pad and pen away from him and leaned back.

  ‘Okay, Sparrow. I’m listening.’

  ‘Not now. Not on the phone.’

  ‘Okay then. Where and when?’

  ‘I’ll call yeh back.’ The phone went dead. Kieran replaced it in its cradle.

  ‘Well?’ Michael was as anxious as Kieran.

  ‘He’s going to call me back. We’ll have to wait.’ Kieran put his head in his hands.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ he suddenly heard Michael call and he looked up. Moya was standing at the office door with the two children. Kieran stood up and moved towards them.

  ‘Moya? Hi, kids.’ The children ran to Kieran, and he picked them up and hugged them.

  ‘Your children wanted to say hello to you on St Stephen’s Day,’ Moya announced somewhat coldl
y.

  ‘I know, love, I’m sorry I missed –’ Kieran began, but was interrupted by Michael.

  ‘Hey, guys, want to see the computer room?’ he said to the children.

  ‘Yes, Michael,’ they answered in unison and ran after him.

  ‘Thanks, Michael,’ Kieran called.

  With the children gone Moya was not afraid to show she was upset. She sat in the chair that minutes before had been occupied by her father.

  ‘I’ve seen this before, Kieran. Year after year, Daddy missing, never there. Christmas was something Mum and the family did together, but not Daddy. Oh he would pop in and out for brief visits, but there was always something going on, always somebody who needed more attention than his family. Kieran, I ask you, who needs more attention today than your kids and me?’

  Kieran went over to Moya, got down on his hunkers and took her hand. ‘Sparrow McCabe does. Right in the middle of Snuggstown, Moya, is a woman with a young boy and they’re terrified. They’re terrified because already somebody tried to burn down their home. The boy thinks he’ll never see his father again. Not just this Christmas but never again. I don’t expect you to understand it, Moya, but I can make the difference.’

  Moya shook away his hand angrily. ‘Oh, Superman now, are you?’

  Kieran’s tone remained level. ‘No, Moya, not Superman. Just a policeman. It’s all I ever wanted to be, Moya, a policeman, someone who could make a difference. Oh, I know in the big picture I make feck-all difference, but to a woman and child in Snuggstown and a man on the run, in their world, I can. A big difference.’

  Moya burst into tears. Kieran crouched beside her again, and tried to hug her. He was surprised but glad when she hugged him back. Abruptly Moya stood up and took out a tissue, dabbing her eyes.

  ‘Okay, all right. Once and for all I agree I’ll be a policeman’s wife. You make the difference, Kieran, and I’ll make the home. I’m doing my best, Kieran, this is all so hard.’