Кен Бруен - The Ghosts of Galway

But

Ferociously tenacious.”

Frank Cass, one of the Fenians, was shot dead outside his home in Mervue. Among his possessions, the Guards found a letter threatening his life and signed by Jeremy Cooper.

The gun used in the shooting was found in Cooper’s bedroom.

Slam dunk.

I heard about this and knew it was a frame and the most likely person was Emily. It was the kind of neat package she specialized in. I got a call from his solicitor, asking if I would come and see Cooper. I said,

“Seeing as how it went so well on our last meeting?”

The solicitor chuckled, said,

“Despite everything, he has a certain respect for you.”

I went, mostly out of curiosity. The Guards were jubilant, told me,

“He is fucked.”

I asked,

“That a legal term?”

Got the look.

Cooper seemed to have shriveled, his whole frame sunk in on itself. Too, he looked ill. Very.

He raised a limp hand, said,

“Thank you for coming.”

I nodded, took the chair opposite where he was perched. I said,

“You seem to be rightly screwed this time.”

He smiled and it seemed as if the very act hurt his face. He asked,

“Did you set me up?”

I said,

“No.”

He continued to stare at me, then,

“I believe you, it seems a little too clever for your limited abilities.”

I said,

“You seem remarkably calm for a guy in your position.”

He shrugged, said,

“My health is so walloped that I won’t be around for a trial.”

I made to leave, he asked,

“Aren’t you curious as to who did this to me?”

Now I got to do the shrug, said,

“All you psychos getting rid of each other is actually a blessing.”

He savored this, then,

“The whole deal smacks of your deranged lady friend, the lovely Emily.”

Now I got to smile, said,

“Like I said, all you psychos.”

He wasn’t letting go, tried,

“She tried to do for you once. She won’t stop.”

This was beginning to get on my wick, so I said,

“Have a nice life, what remains of it.”

He said,

“Hayden, her little helper, he lives at 18, Mansfield Road.”

When I didn’t answer, he added,

“You do know he drove that green car?”

Outside, I lit a cig and his solicitor came out, said,

“Poor bastard is done for.”

A young Guard came rushing out of the station, said,

“Mr. Taylor, if you have a moment, the super would like a word?”

Good heavens.

In the past if Clancy wanted a word , I’d be hauled in by the scruff of my neck. I said,

“Yeah, okay.”

Followed him to Clancy’s office.

Seated behind a massive desk, he was in full regalia, dress uniform and three Guards ranged behind his back. They almost appeared welcoming .

He stood up, extended his hand, greeted,

“Jack, good to see you.”

I tried,

“Um...”

And had nothing. He nodded to one of the three, snapped,

“Get the man a chair.”

They did.

I sat.

The air of welcome, of camaraderie, threw me completely. Worse, Clancy beamed at me, a huge smile encompassing whatever passed as warmth in his chilly nature.

Creepy.

“Now, Jack, I don’t know if you are aware but the new minister of justice...”

He paused.

To see if I knew what that was?

Continued.

“Has introduced new legislation allowing ex-Guards, retired Guards, to act as consultants, advisers to the force.”

Waited

Then,

“I know you have always regretted having to leave the force.”

To leave!

Right.

As they say in the U.S., I had my arse handed to me, kicked me the fuck out, is what happened.

Now, my heart lurched. Oh, my God, was it possible I would be a Guard again? I felt dizzy with hope. I tried to speak but felt choked. Clancy looked around at the Guards, smiled, said,

“I think we may well have made Mr. Taylor’s day.”

The Mr . should have tipped me off.

Clancy began to unfold a large sheet of parchment, said,

“Have a gander at this, see how you like it.”

I moved toward the desk, my legs weak, looked down at the document, read,

As

  If.

Do you ever recover the one great love of your life?

Me, not really.

Anne Henderson, way back, but the intensity clung to me still. Booze eased the ache but, ofttimes, intensified it. ’Tis madness for sure. She made me feel like there might be a better version of my own self.

There wasn’t.

More’s the Galway pity.

Past my humiliation, my deep shame at the hands of Clancy, I was walking along the beach, dogless and lost. The beach near the army barracks is usually deserted, why I chose it. The sea was a wild thing and I debated the merits of death by water.

Clean,

Said the utter mad part of my mind.

I simply stood by the water, my mind in turmoil, when I heard,

“Jack?”

Tentative.

A woman walking toward me, carefully, as if I might be dangerous. I was but not to her.

Not then.

Do you half hope the love of your life will be old and battered like your own bitter soul?

That the years have mangled and chewed the very thing you cherished?

Yes, in the realm of rage, you half desire their ruin.

She wasn’t ruined.

Not a bit.

Au contraire, as they say in literary novels.

She looked gorgeous.

Anne Henderson, once the very beat of my beating heart.

We stared at each other for a moment. The would we ,

Wouldn’t we ,

Hug?

It hung there like a shy reprimand. Then she held out her hand, asked,

“Jack, how are you?”

Men and women just are not built for handshakes. I took her hand, it felt like torn hope.

I said,

“Not too bad.”

Jesus. Lame or what?

I mean, what if I spit it out,

Like,

They cut the heart out of my beloved pup .

The Guards reduced me to a level of shame I didn’t even know I still possess .

Oh ,

And a young lady I am intrigued by tried to murder me .

And

   And

     And

How’s that sound?

She lied, said,

“You look...”

Pause.

“Well.”

The moment when Clancy humiliated me burned anew in my mind.

To paraphrase Macbeth,

Who knew I had so much shame in me!

She examined with that close scrutiny that Irish women excel in. Said,

“I forgive you, Jack.”

Fuck me.

I wanted to scream

“Oh, really? How magnanimous of you, how have I survived all these hard years without that vital act?”

I said,

“Thank you.”

Then I did that thing that people do when they are completely out of the next thought. I said,

“Nippy for the time of year.”

Oh, sweet God, like a stranded Brit.

And,

She laughed.

Asked,

“I wonder if I might enlist your help?”

Christ, sure, there wasn’t anything on the planet I wouldn’t do for her. More’s the Irished dumb ass. I said,

“Depends.”

Thought,

Seriously, I said that?

Her face changed, the briefest flash of annoyance, then,

“I will pay you. I didn’t expect you to work for nothing.”

Before I could stop myself I blurted,

“One time I would have done it for free.”

Fuck.

She shook her head as if she knew such nonsense was inevitable. I asked,

“What do you need done?”