‘Will I call a cab?’ Asked Gary.
Tommy shook his head and pointed to the Harcourt Street Station gate.
‘Just left from here.’ And Gary shuddered in reply.
Copper Face Jacks was something of a Dublin institution: one of the most profitable nightclubs in the world it every night saw lines and lines of country people enter and leave with someone new by 5 in the morning. At this time of the day however it was open to no one but its most privileged of clients: An Garda Siochána.
Tommy rang the bell to the old Georgian house, which was opened by one of the co-managers.
‘Ah, Tommy, been a while. Come in.’ Coppers during the day had been a haunt while Tommy was a member of the Branch.
Tommy followed the man in. The nightclub was large, and elaborate with stairs all over the shop, but Tommy was staying on the lower floor. He turned left and passed into an airy bar more used to being open during the dark. A Brazilian woman was cleaning, and Tommy nodded to her briefly before sitting on a bar stool, Gary sitting beside him. In the corner a group of men were doing accounts. The co-manager took down a half empty bottle of Jameson from behind the bar, and exchanged it for Tommy’s twenty.
‘You alright champ?’ Asked Tommy, unsure since when he had started saying champ.
Gary shook his head as he poured himself a cup; before Tommy gave himself a helping of the brown liquid.
‘Never thought I’d see anything this bad again.’
‘Again?’
‘Yup, I was in town that night, the Blackrock six.’
‘The night the six killed that kid?’
‘Yeah. It was my leaving cert results night. Horrible shit.’
‘Shit. They’re to be released soon enough.’ Said Tommy.
‘I know, they were in my year sure. Watching them, like dogs, tear apart that kid: They deserve whatever happened to them. I still remember it, and after Amy..’
Now Gary started to sob.
‘We don’t have to talk about the Blackrock six.’
‘Why do they name the incident that? Why name it after the perpretrator? The kid who got torn to pieces, that’s who I want to know about. You know, he was shouting; and the guys in my year didn’t like how loud he was being, so they grabbed him, threw him over a barrier onto the road in Campden Street; and just started hitting him. They stood on his head and hurt him best he could; bouncers were nowhere to be found.’
That’s two acts of sadistic violence you’re tied to Gary.
‘Nowhere?’ Tommy seemed to remember the story being that the crowd that had gathered around the beating prevented anyone from interfering.
‘Yup, smashed him to pieces. Dead upon arrival in hospital. But still, no one knows his name; instead the whole thing is remembered as being the work of the Blackrock six. Will the same thing happen to Amy? No one but me and Claire to remember her while the “Dublin Ripper” gains national fame for what he did to her. It’s.. Unfair. I really can’t help but think back to that night in Campden Street, and whether anybody ever felt sorry for that boy’s dad.’
Tommy glanced at Gary, then raised his whiskey glass.
‘To that boy’s dad.’ And Gary smiled, raised his own, and both men knocked it back.
After five minutes more of talking Tommy reminded Gary that he had a killer to catch, and Gary excused him; he however agreed to check in on Claire before the day was out, just to make sure everything was ok.
As he eased himself off his stool he took from his pocket the penknife he had taken from Anne’s desk on his way out. He slid it from its sheath, and pressed the cold metal against Gary Clancy’s neck.
‘You ever touch Claire again, I’m goin g to cut you ear to ear. Understand me champ?’
Tommy thought he would deny the accusation, but instead he just nodded – a knowledge of when to shut up showed an understanding of the police.
Gary, you’re guiltier by the minute.
##
Through the pouring rain, Tommy could tell that the door to the Clancy house was ajar. The garden hadn’t been tended in some time, and tears of mud had begun to sprout up among the cobblestones; green weeds gasping for sunlight arising too into the wet Irish air.
The wooden door was heavy, and when Tommy pushed it it squeaked against the wet floor of the hall, the Dublin rains slowly entering in the open front door. Inside the house was cold, the wood floors and walls icy to the touch. When he breathed, Tommy’s breath fogged up before him, with the only sound still being the rains falling outside – but, what was that? A soft sobbing, echoing off the empty walls. All the photo frames had been torn down, all Amy Clancy’s art work removed – the walls had nothing left to do but echo the mourning of its sad occupants.
Tommy moved into the kitchen. Claire Clancy, of course, was the source of the sobs, yet she presided over a terrifying scene. Before her was a bottle of red wine, its cork removed, but no glass was present – beside the bottle was a tipped over tube of Xanex. ~The tablets were sprayed across the table, and were being taken, one by one.
Claire looked up at Tommy through blackened and swollen eyes. ‘Leave me alone.’ She said.
‘I can’t.’ And Tommy stepped closer.
‘Please. Let me end this.’ She said.
‘I can’t. My job is to prevent things like this.’
‘Please. For me.’ She said.
‘It will get better.’ Tommy said, putting Anne’s knife down on the kitchen table – reminded of how the first time he and Claire had fucked had been on the same table.
‘No. Tommy you twat, no it won’t.’ Claire said.
‘Still, I need you alive to press charges against Gary.’ Tommy said.
Claire laughed aloud. ‘Gary’s the expert at avoiding courtrooms, it will never stick.’
Tommy wondered what that meant, but before he could ask, Claire swooned and fell onto the table and began to slide off.
Tommy caught her just before she fell.
‘Leave me.’ Claire said.
‘I took an oath, I can’t.’ Tommy said.
Claire glanced up at Tommy with sleepy drugged eyes as he called for an ambulance.
‘Well.. Well, well, well… I suppose DI Bishop, you’re coming with me.’ Claire said, and with that she leaned back and Tommy barely had time to raise his hands before Anne’s knife came slashing towards Tommy’s neck.
The blade bit deep into his left hand, and stopped just half an inch from his eye. He howled, screamed; and when Claire pulled the blade back out, the pain was such that his legs gave way underneath him. She had gone so deep as to strike a vein, and now hot red liquid was spilling over him and the kitchen floor. Beneath the flow of blood he could see the startling white of his bone.
Claire pulled her hand back again, ready to strike again, but this time Tommy was ready. He remembered how she had winced when she had breathed in his office earlier, so he curled his right hand into a fist and struck the right side of her ribcage; where Gary had most likely cracked or broken one of her ribs.
After being struck, Claire keeled over in pain and Tommy took it as his chance. He leaped over her and using his one good hand, lashed his handcuffs onto Claire’s right hand, before rolling his weight so as to twist one hand into the other and lash them together. It was a very complicated skill that had taken Tommy years to master it, but when you worked in Branch, such skills were necessary.
##
It took ten minutes for the ambulance to arrive. Two paramedics stepped out and found Tommy bleeding profusely on the porch.
‘Holy shit.’ One said, and Tommy lifted up his ID.
‘Suicide attempt inside.’ He said, and one of the medics rushed in, the other tended to Tommy.
‘Doc, you know your emergency medicine?’ Tommy asked.
The medic looked at him.
‘Because I need you to stitch this up, before hospital.’ Tommy said.
‘Ha! Not a chance fella.’ The medic said.
‘Look, what’s your nam
e?’ Tommy asked.
‘Paul.’
‘Look, Paul, Im investigating the Ripper, and I really haven’t got the time to spend a day in A&E. He probably is about to find some other little girl, do you understand me?’
Paul hesitated.
‘But I don’t have sufficient painkillers.’ He said.
Tommy grimaced. ‘I’m in Narcotics Anonymous, so the surgeon at the hospital won’t be giving me any painkillers either. Please, I’m giving my informed consent.’
It was then that the next paramedic came walking out with Claire.
‘I just emptied her stomach there, but she’ll need to be pumped and kept under observation. Still, she’ll be fine.’ He said.
Paul looked at Tommy, then back at Claire climbing onto the ambulance.
‘Ok, I’ll do it on the way.’ Paul said, so Tommy followed him onto the back of the ambulance.
The job was quick, efficient, and painful. First came a gauze soaked in saline solution to clean the wound, and next came the sewing needle. Tommy was given a standard mouth guard to bite on, but it did nothing to hold in his screams as a needle puncture the flesh either side of the wound and slowly brought the two flaps together. Next came the wound specific bandage, followed by a tiny carboard cast to stop his hand moving too much and reopening his stitching, and then a regular plaster to cover even that.
Upon reaching the hospital, Claire’s cuffs were removed, and she was escorted into the emergency room, while Tommy was allowed to go free. After calling her, Anne arrived fifteen minutes later.
‘The fuck happened to you?’ She asked, and Tommy glanced down at his throbbing hand.
‘It hurts, so so very badly.’ Tommy said.
‘Didn’t you get painkillers?’ Anne asked.
Tommy shook his head, and Anne grimaced.
‘What now?’ Anne asked.
Ignoring the pain, Tommy spoke.
‘The only one of the murders that had any sane motive was the first death, Amy Clancy; the rest were just the actions of a violent madman. Its Gary Clancy, it has to be.’
‘Do we have proof?’ Anne asked, not even questioning Tommy’s theory – it seemed natural to her too.
Tommy shook his head. ‘No, and he’s been smart. He has some experience with weaselling out of accusations, according to Claire. I bet you he has his tracks covered and once he feels us padding after him he’ll stop his killing.’
‘So, what? We go and scare him and hope he stops his killing? He’ll go back to it, he’ll just stop leaving the bodies in public. And if he’s left no evidence we’ll be years pinning something on him.’
Tommy grimaced with each throb in his hand. No one truly would begrudge me something to numb the pain – but no, such thoughts led down a very dark road.
‘We would be, if we weren’t able to go right now and arrest him for his assault on Claire.’
‘Will she testify against him?’ Anne asked, surprised.
Tommy lifted his hand. ‘She’d better, if she doesn’t want me to arrest her for attempting to murder a member of An Garda Síochána. She’ll then be facing a life sentence.’
‘Tommy, if he’s as good as you claim; he’ll get a lawyer and rubbish Claire. You know as well as I that when you coerce a witness into court they always fall apart on the stand.’
‘I know, but we’re not arresting him to put him in jail on assault charges. Arresting him means we’ll be able to derive whether he truly is the Ripper. Might be we won’t be able to find enough to prove it in court, but we’ll know.’
‘What good is that?’ Anne asked.
Tommy looked at Anne, wondering how it had come to this.
‘Once you and me know he’s the Ripper, beyond reasonable doubt; if we beyond a shadow of a doubt know he killed those three girls, we try get him for it. But if he evades the law, he can’t evade us. We do whatever necessary to stop the Ripper, so once we find him, we either find or fabricate a reason to arrest and convict him. It doesn’t matter how short the sentence because once he’s in Mountjoy, we leak into the prison that he’s a child killer; and he’ll be killed by nightfall.’
Silence descended upon the car.
‘Tommy…’
‘I’m not even talking about Gary, but the Ripper. We have to stop him.’
Anne looked at him.
‘We have to know, me and you, 100% have to agree.’ Anne said.
Tommy nodded.
‘I’m serious, I have a veto if I don’t feel that this is our guy.’ She said.
Tommy raised his right hand. ‘Deal.’ He said.
‘Deal.’ Said she.
And they shook upon the death of the Dublin Ripper.
##
Tommy passed the cone of water over to Gary Clancy who wet his lips then left it on the table.
‘You done with Jerry now?’ Tommy said, pointing to the door, but meaning the solicitor who was sitting just outside it.
Gary nodded.
‘What, exactly, did you do to Claire Clancy?’ Tommy asked.
Gary smirked, his long legs barely able to fit under the steel table of the interview room. Slimy fucker, Tommy thought.
‘Look, Detective, I know you earlier held a penknife to my neck and warned me not to hit my wife again, but like I said then, I really have never laid a hand on my wife and am appalled that you would even think I had.’ Gary said, staring down at the tape recorder with a grin.
Tommy leaned back in his chair and smiled right back.
‘Gary, it really isn’t great to open the interview with a complete fabrication – unless you want to make a legitimate complaint about me, then I’d advise you keep to facts. Now, Gary, Claire is currently in hospital with what doctors are claiming are a clear result of violent and sustained attack. Now you may be lucky, and get away with just being charged with Assault Causing Harm, get five years in jail; and avoid being charged with Causing Serious Harm which, of course, carries a fabulous life sentence.’
His eyes narrowed. He doesn’t believe that she’s gone to the authorities.
‘She told us all about your last flirtation with the law, waltzed right out of that courtroom didn’t you?’ Tommy asked.
Now Gary looked shook. Didn’t think Claire would finally report your violence?
‘I was, years ago, accused of a crime; and was at the time found innocent. Now forgive me if I’m wrong, but aren’t sexual partners usually the prime suspects in physical assaults on women?’
‘You’d be very correct.’ Tommy said.
Gary smirked again. ‘Well detective, I haven’t conjugated with my ex-wife in years. Weren’t you the last one to fuck her? Haven’t you been in a relationship with her for the last few weeks?’
He’s trying to be clever, suspects should never try to be clever.
‘Is that jealousy I hear? You decided, because I carry around a Sig Sauer you couldn’t start on me, so you’d beat up your ex-wife instead?’ Tommy asked.
‘I couldn’t give a flying shit who she fucks.’ Gary said.
‘Anger and objectification in the same sentence? Do you think of Claire as an object?’ Tommy said.
Gary grimaced. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be trying to catch whoever killed Amy? Can’t they get some other Garda to handle this fake shit?’
‘Don’t worry, we already know who did it, we have the killer under our nose: just waiting for a bit more evidence and we’ll have him.’
‘Who is it?!’ Gary asked, jumping out of his chair.
Not exactly the reaction I expected.
Tommy stood up to face him.
‘You’re a fucking suspect in an assault – there’s a woman in hospital claiming that her severe injuries; injuries, may I add, that are obviously the result of an assault; were caused by you. So you go out now and talk to your lawyer and when we get back we’re going to discuss what you’ve been up to these last few days. And you’d better stop with these bullshit answers because a courtroom isn’t going to be very impressed at all.’<
br />
And so, after only five minutes of questioning Tommy and Gary broke off the interview. Gary got up and stretched and left the room to sit on a bench next to his lawyer. Tommy checked right, and went through the two doors needed to get into the viewing room. There, Anne and Matty O’Hara were seated between the viewing window and an old computer logged into Anne’s account.
‘What you think?’ Tommy asked.
‘Well, we were hoping for one of two reactions no? Either he’d realise you were talking about him when you said the Ripper was nearly ours, and get really guilty or suspicious. Either that, or, he’d think someone else was taking the rap and he’d get really excited at the thought of getting away with it. Getting angry and wanting to know who the guy was seems to be the kind of reaction you’d expect from a grieving father.’ Anne said.
‘Keep pushing?’ Tommy asked.
‘Keep pushing.’ Matty said.
So Tommy gathered his papers and left the room looking into the hall where Gary and Jerry were talking on a wooden bench. He was about to shout to them, to tell them the interview was back on, when he got called back by Anne’s shout.
On his desk, Tommy’s phone was ringing; he glanced at the screen: Peter Hayes. He paused for a second before he answered.
‘Yo, Peter, kind of busy right now.’ Tommy said.
‘Tommy she’s gone! She’s been taken!’ Peter shouted.
‘Who?’ Tommy asked.
‘Colleen. My daughter. Tommy a white van came around and a guy just dragged her in, in plain sight, in front of my wife.’ Peter said.
‘Jesus. Reg plate?’ Tommy asked.
‘She said it happened too fast.’
‘When was this?’ Tommy asked.
‘Less than half an hour ago.’
‘Ok, Peter I need you to call your wife and tell her to meet you in Ballyfermot Station. Do you hear me? You then will stay there until I get there. Do you understand?’
‘Yeah Tommy.’
‘See you in twenty.’ Tommy said, then he hung up. Next he punched in one of the emergency numbers engraved on every Detectives brain. After two rings someone picked up.
‘Detective Inspector Thomas Bishop here; put out a Child Rescue Ireland Alert. Urgency required. Missing is one Colleen Hayes, fourteen years old, brown hair. I’ll have a photo soon enough. She was last seen twenty five minutes. It is believed she was taken by a male aged somewhere between thirty-five and sixty who is currently driving a white Ford Transit van.’
First Death In Dublin City (Thomas Bishop Book 1) Page 21
