Ли Чайлд - Belfast Noir

The man smirked. “Detective McCormack.”

“Oh, now I remember. Detective McPiggy. Isn’t that what the other officers call you?”

“What?” McCormack looked as if he’d had a dick-in-the-zip moment.

“Don’t ever make the mistake of patronising me again.”

A hand touched Naomi’s shoulder.

“Easy, tiger,” Karl said, appearing out of nowhere, smiling. “We don’t want the big bad detective getting tough with you.”

“Ha! Just let him try it!” Naomi glared at McCormack, before walking back in and heading up the stairs.

“We need to ask you some questions, Mr. Kane,” Chambers said. “We’re enquiring about the disappearance of Graham Butler, and any information you may have with regards to—”

“Whoa. Hold on a sec. Why’re you asking me about that scumbag?”

Chambers pulled out a small notepad. “According to our information, he was last seen leaving here yesterday. He was to return to his hotel for a meeting, but never made it.”

“Another one added to your long list, Kane,” McCormack snarled. “Seems people who get too close to you either end up murdered or disappear into thin air.”

“If you truly believe that, shouldn’t you be frightened?”

“Frightened of you ? God, what I’d give to have you alone for—”

“Detective McCormack?” Chambers said softly but with authority. “Can you go back to the car, please? I’ll finish this report.”

McCormack seemed on the verge of ignoring Chambers’s request. Then, as if thinking better of it, he complied.

Chambers waited until his colleague left. “You don’t make it easy for people to like you, do you, Mr. Kane?”

“I’m not running for election.”

“Is there anything you can tell me, now that Detective McCormack has left?”

“Have you checked out the drug dealers Butler was dealing with? They should be your prime suspects.”

“They are the prime suspects, that’s why we want to be able to eliminate you from our enquiries, so that we can focus entirely on them and not waste time.”

“Off the record?”

Chambers nodded. “Off the record.”

“I detest Butler. He is a cowardly thug who likes to beat up on young girls. Will I lose any sleep if something appalling has happened to him? No. Have I anything to do with his disappearance? Unfortunately not. Satisfied?”

“For now.” Chambers closed the notepad. “If you remember anything of importance, will you contact me?”

“My birthday’s in a few days. How’s that for importance?”

Chambers turned and walked away.

* * *

Saturday morning. Early. Too early for some. The doorbell sounded in Karl’s office. Four impatient rings.

“What the hell . . . ?” Karl moaned from beneath the warmth of the duvet. “Naomi?”

She turned onto her side, a pillow jammed against her ear.

“Naomi? Can you get that? My head’s killing me.”

“Your feet aren’t, so get it yourself. I warned you last night about drinking so much Hennessy.”

Tamed, Karl proceeded trance-like down the stairs.

Four more rings.

“All bloody right! I hear you!”

Opening the front door, he was greeted by Sean, the postman, holding letters and a small package. “Morning, Karl.”

“Never mind that oul’ shite, Hans Brinker. Do you like sticking your bloody fingers in holes that don’t belong to you?”

“Who the hell’s Hans Brinker?”

“Read a book and find out.”

“You look rough, like you’ve been boozing and cruising when you should’ve been snoozing—”

Karl snapped the mail from Sean’s hand before slamming the door in his face. Made his way upstairs. Yawning.

Once back inside, he sat on the sofa. Checked the senders’ names on the envelopes. Tore up four as junk. The other was from the bank. He wanted to rip that up as well, but thought better of it. Left it on the table. Began opening the package.

Inside, a small see-through plastic sleeve used for storing stamps and the like. He eased it out. A small opaque shadow could be seen within the sleeve. Holding it to the light, he scrutinised the contents.

“A double-headed mermaid . . . ?” Then it struck him what it was; more importantly, where he’d seen it. “Oh shit . . .”

* * *

“I suspect that at one time it belonged to Graham Butler. His left forearm, if my memory serves me correctly. Someone has peeled it from his skin.”

“How can you be so certain this is Butler’s skin, Mr. Kane?” Detective Chambers asked, sitting alongside McCormack at Karl’s desk.

McCormack was studying the tattoo, gripping the tiny envelope with tweezers. He seemed absorbed in the ghastly slice of inky flesh.

“I don’t want to go into particulars, but you have my word on that.”

McCormack made a mocking sound with his throat. “ Your word?”

“That’s right. My word, McCormack. Don’t forget, I could easily have thrown the tattoo in the bin. No one would have been any the wiser.”

The corner of McCormack’s upper lip curled with contempt. “You called it in because you were afraid that down the line, word would eventually get out that you had destroyed evidence. Self-preservation. That’s you in a nutshell. You’re up to your neck in something. I can smell it.”

“That’s your body odour you smell,” Karl said.

“Why would someone send it to you?” Chambers asked.

“How the hell would I know? Ask the people who made him disappear. Butler was probably bringing too much heat down on them with all the bad publicity he received in the media. Perhaps they were telling me case closed. I don’t know.”

Chambers seemed unconvinced as he walked to the door. “I’m sure we’ll be in contact again, Mr. Kane. Good day.”

McCormack stood there for a few seconds before moving toward the door, a cynical smile on his overgrown face. “Oh, we will be in contact. Soon, Mr. Kane.”

* * *

Two days later, leading drug dealer Nelson Roberts was charged with the abduction and suspected murder of Graham Butler. Yet Karl took scant interest in the arrest, having more pressing matters to contend with . . .

“Happy birthday, big fella,” Naomi said, kissing Karl while handing him his birthday present.

“I told you I didn’t want any fuss made. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” Karl said grinning, quickly unwrapping the box like a kid on Christmas morning. “What the hell . . . ? A bloody phone? I already have a phone.”

“Not like this you don’t. It’s an iPhone. The latest model.”

“For God’s sake, Naomi. You know I’m not into all these new gadgets. Too complicated.”

Well, you’ll just have to get used to it, instead of that ugly brick you call a phone. You’ve got to move with the times.”

Karl sighed. “All I asked for was some Old Spice aftershave. Something simple, like me.”

“Would you stop grumbling, and pretending you don’t like—”

The door opened, revealing Lipstick, smiling. She gave Naomi a hug before walking over to Karl and planting a big kiss on his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Karl. Hope you like it,” Lipstick said, handing him a small, package covered in birthday paper.

Before he unwrapped the package, Karl could tell from the shape what it was. He dreaded what he would have to say to Lipstick, refusing to accept a dead man’s stolen watch, no matter how expensive. Her feelings would be hurt, terribly, but that couldn’t be helped.

“Well? Do you like it?” Lipstick asked, as he slowly brought the watch out of the box, studying it.

“A Timex . . . ?”

“You don’t like it?” Lipstick said, disappointment in her voice.