by John Brady
Another pint or two wouldn’t kill him. He had about four hours to kill. He stepped out of the telephone kiosk. He should make his way up toward the canal, get some smokes on the way. He should maybe try to get a snooze before that-no, he mightn’t wake up in time. A sandwich or something, in case he got hungry later on. Find a spot near the canal and lie low there. The canal, yeah, that was using the head all right, the old psychology. He passed another pub. A couple stepped out of his way. He wasn’t finished by a long shot. If it worked out tonight, maybe he was only starting. That cop, what the hell was his name again? Man… Minooley… Minogue. He stopped by the door of another pub and looked in. Half-full. One pint maybe.
TWENTY-FIVE
Okay,”said Kilmartin. “Enough of that.”Minogue looked over. “Kenny,”said Kilmartin. “Round two with him. Now.”
Minogue stretched. He eyed his watch as his arm slid by. God in heaven: seven.
“You want to pick him up?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Talk to me about him.”
No Murtagh, Minogue realized. He had gone for his tea just after receiving a call from a Garda detective in Pearse Street: Jack Mullen had remembered that he had stopped into a shop while he was out of sight on the time log. The proprietor remembered him. The shop was in North Strand. It looked like Mullen was clear. Murtagh had merely thrown his biro across the squadroom. Kilmartin, when he was told, had sworn for a count of ten.
“I’ve been reading and reading and reading. He’s still off the map long enough to do it. And I’m not going to wait. I want him under pressure. So talk to me about him.”
“Give us time to plant him for some of the gaps, James.”
“No. He has everything. Motive-she was going to throw the Egans at him. I want to put him through hoops. What do you say?”
“You’re just hungry. Look how late it is.”
“That’s your informed opinion?”
“When it is not necessary to make a decision, it is necessary not to make a decision.”
“Christ, you’re really contrary today. As for that frigging jaunt out to hell there with-”
“Scenery, James. Background. Context. Now we know whereof we speak.”
Kilmartin sat on the edge of the desk and began scratching under his arm.
“And what was so goddamned edifying about meeting Molly’s shagging brother? I mean, I hold with your good intentions and all that, but that brother’s a head-case.”
“So now you have a lot more sympathy for Tommy’s plight then.”
Minogue heard the rasp of Kilmartin’s stubble as the Chief Inspector rubbed his jowls. Kilmartin turned to survey the boards again.
“Don’t go getting ideas. I mean to say, look at us. Senior staff, seven o’clock in the evening. No Malone, no Murtagh. No firm road to follow yet. So why not squeeze Kenny?”
“Let him stew, Jim.”
“Talking to the wall, I am,” Kilmartin muttered. “How many left on the list John Murtagh finalized from the files?”
“Two that we haven’t filled in. Both of them are making statements as we speak. One in Coolock, one’s been interviewing since five over in Store Street. Nothing so far.”
“Nothing,” said Kilmartin. “Those thicks above in Serious Crimes! And us waiting around here like goms of the first order. You know what they’re telling us, don’t you.”
“I think so.”
“They’re telling us that they’ll get the statements, that they’ll get the evidence, that they’ll get the gouger we want for this case. ‘It’ll emerge’ style of investigation. ‘All in due course.’ Like the Holy Ghost or something.”
Minogue closed the folders. An image remained in his mind of the television schedule he had doodled on.
“Come on, Jim. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Out. Away. It’s the weekend, man. Buy me a sandwich.”
The Inspector pulled the phone out of the charger.
“Look at you,” said Kilmartin. “Grabbing the toy there. You told me you consider that device I fought long and hard to get a ball and chain.”
“Only sometimes.”
“Oh, yes, run with the hare and chase with the hound. And I’m supposed to buy you a sandwich?”
“I’m expecting a call.”
Kilmartin raised an eyebrow.
“ ‘Expecting,’ Matt?”
Minogue gave him a cool look. Kilmartin tried not to smile. Minogue locked the folders in his desk and walked out into the yard. Kilmartin wasn’t long joining him.
“Do you know what I’m going to tell you, Matty boy?”
Kilmartin stopped by Minogue and looked up at the cloud also.
“By God, now, there’s something. Do you think?”
“What were you going to tell me.”
“Oh. Keane and his scouts in Serious Crimes would never have tried to pull a stunt like that in the past, let me tell you. Treating us like the country cousins. You know what it is? All this joint-op crap has become a fecking religion. Committees. Consultants. Civilians with Social Science degrees wandering the halls asking stupid questions. Paperwork. It’s all a sham, man! All this ‘co-operation’ stuff makes me puke. Thicks and incompetents hide in committees. The real job’s done well away from committees and bloody consultants and-”
“Yes, Jim. Okay.”
The edges of the cloud were pink.
“Well, Keane and Co. in Serious Crimes know damn well I can’t throw it back in their face like they deserve. And you know why, don’t you? It’s your butty Tynan is the witch-doctor now. He’s the one issuing edicts. ‘Policing the Modern European State.’ Did you read that? My Jases! I was halfway through the second page before I realized he meant Ireland!”
“He didn’t write it. He commissioned it.”
“Hah! Proves my point exactly!”
Minogue took a parting look at the massive cloud. Where had it come from so quickly?
He drove the Kawasaki up onto the footpath and kicked out the stand. He listened to it idle before switching it off. Then he took off his helmet and laid it on the tank. He looked across the canal. It was almost dark now. There had been no long sunset tonight. He unlocked the chain and put it through the front of his helmet before locking it to the back wheel. Leonardo must have been stoned, he’d decided. He’d take him for a few pints. Calm him down, loosen him up. No, someone might see them and remember them. He rapped the petrol tank with his knuckles hard enough to hurt.
He looked across at the canal. Lights shimmered on the water. He spotted the silhouette of a couple who had stopped to neck. They stayed at it for a few seconds and walked on. He stepped down off the road onto the bank and looked up at the wall by the bridge. Leonardo had ideas which were too big for his brain. Watching too many videos. Pills. He stared into the shadows by the bridge. No, no one. He let his eyes wander up and down the canal bank. A man carrying a bag was strolling along the far bank. He turned slowly, taking in the shadows and the parked cars, the office windows and the occasional figure walking by. What game was Leonardo up to?
He moved further down the path. He stepped into the corner where the bridge met the wall and turned around. The noises of the city around him seemed to be coming down a pipe, mixed in with the splash of the waters falling from the lock at the far side of the bridge. The water flowing fast from under the bridge lost its force not far into the canal. He kicked at a beer can, landing it in the weeds, stepped down the bank and peered into the darkness under the bridge. Leonardo might even be watching him now, to make sure he was on his own. Leonardo Hickey, mastermind. Doper. He looked down at the dark waters. Out of his depth, the Great Leonardo. Where the hell was he?
A figure stepped down the bank, stopped and stood facing him. A guy. Leonardo? Tight haircut, a bit heavyset. That wasn’t Leonardo. He took a few steps back up along the wall but the face stayed in shadow. His heart began to beat faster. Leonardo playing games.
“Leonardo?”
The head moved
from side to side. He stared into the shadows.
“Hey, Jammy!”
Something detonated in his chest and ran down his veins. Who was it? Had Leonardo sent him?
“Jammy! Come on out here. I know you’re in there. Come on out and have a chat.”
“Who is it?”
The answer came in a tired drawl.
“Santy Claus.”
He’d heard the voice before but he couldn’t put a face with it.
“Step out so’s I can see you.”
“Well, who are-”
“Don’t be such a gobshite! Bobby sent me. Says howdo. Okay?”
“Well…”
“I’m coming in after you, Jammy, if you don’t come out.”
He took a few steps toward the figure. His hands began to tingle. He pushed his shoulders back and stepped on the balls of his feet. One guy, okay, but were there others?
“I don’t know anything about this, man. Why did Bobby send someone-”
“Yeah, yeah, Jammy. Sure, sure-right over here, man. Don’t be shy.”
The fear tightened around his ribs now.
“Hey, look, I don’t know anything about this, you know. I don’t-”
“That’s okay, man. It’s okay. Come on out. Over here. Come on.”
Stocky more than broad. It sure wasn’t Lolly. Was this guy standing with his back to the streetlight on purpose? He stopped a dozen feet back from him. Still no others.
“What do you want, like? Bobby, I mean. What does he want from me?”
Was that a laugh? The man rubbed his nose and chuckled.
“‘What does Bobby want?’ Ah, come on up here. What does Bobby ever want? Who did you think you could piss on, Jammy?”
“I’m not trying to piss on anyone, man. I don’t even know who I’m talking to.”
The guy held out his arms and shrugged. Whoever he was, he enjoyed scaring the shit out of people. Was Leonardo watching all this? Like a knife sliding in between his ribs, it came to him that Hickey had fed something to the Egans, some story that’d get him a rep. The big prize for a moron like Leonardo, the price of an in with the Egans. Had they believed him?
“You know me, man. No? Ah, come on. When you used to go to the Club? No, you were never in the ring with me. Just as well for you too, ha ha. Come on, make a guess.”
“Haven’t a clue. There’s a lot of fellas go to the Club-”
“Ah, come on! I’m a few years on, okay. Yeah, I’ve been sort of out of commission. Go on, make a guess-here, I’ll even give you a clue. The Twins: okay, now you’ll get it.”
“Terry? Terry Malone?”
“Attaboy. Gone, but not forgotten, huh? You remember my ring name, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“But you don’t know whether you should use it? ‘Cause you’re wondering to yourself, ‘Jesus, Terry’s a header and all. If I say anything he doesn’t like, he’ll go bananas.’ Isn’t that it?”
“Well…”
“You can say it. Go on, go ahead. Honest!”
“Terry the Bull.”
Malone rubbed his hands together and chortled.
“Make my day, yeah! I like it! Say it again.”
“Terry the Bull”
“Oh, yeah! How many times d’you see it?”
“Which, em ”
“De Niro, man! The film of the fucking century!”
“Oh, yeah A few times It was a great film, yeah ”
“ ‘Great’? Man, it was fucking brilliant! The slow motion…Did you see the sweat flying up with every dig, huh? Boom, boom wham! I tell you, you could feel it, man Right?”
His stomach had knotted up on him. Terry Malone sounded a bit pissed. Maybe he was out of his box on something.
“I thought you were inside, Terry You know?”
“Well, I was, wasn’t I?”
“How’d it go for you?”
Malone laughed.
“Poxy, that’s how. Fucking p-o-x-y. Thanks for asking. But it’s back to form, you know. Got me old job back. And I want to make up for what I lost, man. So Bobby knows that. He gives me this little number right off the bat. Call it a contract. And all this crap about unemployment, hah? You working, Jammy?”
“No. Rock and roll. A few nixers.”
“Stuck for a few bob, are you?”
“No, not so much. The odd game too, you know. Snooker. Pool.”
“Ah yeah. You used to be sharp. You still?”
“Yeah, well I can still pot ’em. ”
“That’s nice. Wait a minute. I know. You’d a preferred that Bobby had sent Painless around here, right? Him and Lolly, the team Laurel and fucking Hardy ”
He thought about making a break for it.
“What’s the matter, Jammy? Don’t you want to hang around for a little chat?”
He could think of nothing to say. He shrugged.
“What are you scared of, Jammy? You know how to look after yourself, right? Come on up here, I want to talk to you, show you something. Come on, what’s keeping you?”
He took a few halting steps into the space between them. Terry Malone’s hand shot out. He sidestepped and moved down the bank a few feet. Malone gave a breathless laugh and let his hand hang in the air.
“You still got them, Jammy. You’re quick. That’s good. Now listen. You’re a nice lad, Jammy I mean it. Do you think I’m trying to get up your back?”
“No, I don’t. No, Terry. It’s just that, you know, I wasn’t expecting…”
“Yeah, yeah… Your heart’s in the right place. Eddsy told me that too. Believe me?”
“Yeah. Yes.”
“That’s good. You know how Eddsy is. Moody, right? Ha ha ha. But Eddsy’s always rabbiting on about loyalty. You know what loyal is, Jammy?”
Terry Malone took a step toward him. The lamplight showed the bruises on his face.
“See them? That’s about loyalty. You know what I mean?”
“No, Terry. I don’t. Not really.”
“Ah, some day I’ll explain it all to you. When I got more time, like. I’ll just tell you this much for now. I do me time in the ’Joy, walk out, look up and down the street. There’s none of mine there at the gate to give me the big welcome or anything. Get the picture?”
“Sort of, Terry, but I’m not sure-”
“No, you don’t,” snapped Malone. “.’Cause I fucking don’t! How could you then?”
“I don’t know, I mean.”
He couldn’t recall if he’d heard of Terry Malone doing drugs. Maybe he’d picked it up in the nick.
“Where was I? Oh, yeah. Loyalty. I had a few jars on me when I got in the door. Next thing I know is I have this two hundred percent dogfight with me brother, you know?”
“Ter-Tommy?”
“Tommy, yeah. Tommy the Pig. Call him that, I don’t care. Really. Why should that bother me? So that’s loyalty for you: I only get hammered at home. My own fucking brother. Isn’t there some lesson in that or what?”
“I suppose, yeah. Yes.”
“You were loyal to that fuck Hickey, weren’t you? You felt sorry for him, right?”
Malone had calmed down a bit. He wondered if this was part of being high.
“Sort of. Well, I felt a bit sorry for him, I suppose.”
“That so, now? Well, loyalty’s a two-way street, Jammy. Eddsy thinks you can make people be loyal if you just scare the shite out of them. You think Hickey was loyal to you?”
He tried to swallow but his mouth was chalky. The stink from the canal seemed to have gotten suddenly worse.
“I don’t know, Terry, like. I mean you never know with people, do you?”
Terry Malone had his hands in his pockets as he strolled toward him. The thick lip was twisted up weird because Malone was trying to smile. He smelled something from Malone’s breath now, a sweet-sour tang in the air momentarily stronger than the stink off the water.
“ ‘You never know,’ huh.” He shook his head. “Come here, wil
l you. Walk down here a bit. I got something I want you to see. Somebody.”
“Well, Terry, like, it’s not like I don’t want to talk to you. No, it’s not that or anything.”
Terry Malone laughed.
“Oh, yeah, man. I forgot. You think I’m here to do for you. Don’t be worrying, man. It’s just I get to talking and, well, the time just flies. You got to go? Go ahead.”
Tierney shrugged.
“You’re shitting bricks, aren’t you, Jammy.”
Tierney said nothing.
“Scared? Of Eddsy? You shouldn’t be. If you were the job, you wouldn’t be standing here talking, man. Okay? So take a walk here. Nobody else, man. You have my word.”
Tierney took one step, then another up toward the footpath.
Why couldn’t he breathe right? The night seemed to be tight over his face. Terry the Bull kept talking.
“So there’s Eddsy himself waiting when I get out the door of the ’Joy. Right there in the car. Waves me in. Says he heard I was going to walk, thought I’d like to get back into the world, you know? And that feels good. Maybe not as good as if you’d a seen your own family there at the gate. Because, well, let’s face it, I was no big thing to Eddsy, was I? Sure I did stuff with him and Bobby and Martin. But, hey-a welcome like that! Gives me a fistful of tenners. I had a half a bottle of champagne drunk before we hit town, man. Champagne! Tells me a place I can stay if things don’t go over rosy at home. Eddsy knows more than I do about human nature, I’d have to say after that. Makes a point of being there himself, you see?”
He nodded. The fear was beginning to ebb a little.
“But I only cop on later why Eddsy’s so interested in me. I don’t get all the news inside, do I? It’s Tommy the Pig. He’s got himself a new job, hasn’t he. And he’s bent Eddsy’s nose. To do with this girl getting done in. So Eddsy tells me about it. How she screwed up, how she tried to screw him out of merchandise. Know what I’m saying?”
