Ken Bruen - The Emerald Lie

Jesus.

She motioned for me to get him, and added,

“Wipe your feet.”

To, I suppose, accessorize her wiping the floor with me. I could have of course just said,

“Aw, fuck off.”

And fucked off me own self.

But I never

Her house was spotless, OCD in huge evidence or maybe just being sober. She got a biscuit and broke it in half for the pup. She asked,

“What is his name?”

In a futile attempt at humor, to lighten the mood, I used the line from my favorite western:

“Never name something you might have to eat.”

Whoops.

She glared at me, spat,

“That’s not even remotely amusing.”

Phew-oh.

I noticed a framed print with the words

KISS

The acronym KISS is applied from principles of business, advertising, computer systems. Einstein said, “Everything should be made as simple as possible but not too simple.”

Like most alkies I had a passing knowledge of AA slogans but this was new to me. She saw me looking at it, asked,

“You know who wrote that?”

“Einstein?”

She literally puckered her lips in dismissal, said,

“My dear friend Parker Wilson, the poor man they are accusing of horrendous things.”

Which is the whole reason for my visit and now I had an in. I asked,

“You knew him well?”

“Define well.”

Fuck me, I definitely liked her better as a meek drunk. This new abrasive bitch was beginning to piss me off. I went offensive.

“Not a difficult question and, might I say, you seem to have come on in leaps and bloody bounds.”

She sighed as in,

“God spare me imbeciles.”

Said,

“My therapist stressed I need to be assertive.”

I nearly laughed, said,

“Trust me, it’s working.”

She rubbed the pup’s ears. That eased me a bit, not a lot, but climbing down, she said,

“My late husband, Park, and two other men had a group based on golf, sex, and money, and they rather fetchingly called themselves 4-Play.”

Fetchingly!

I snarled,

“Was this before or after your husband molested your daughter?”

Bull’s-eye.

Her face crumbled, the force behind her eyes dimming, and she looked as though she might fall down.

I could give a good fuck.

She tried,

“I didn’t know, I couldn’t have known, I thought she was just...”

Um.

“... a quiet child.”

I let that hover before I shot,

“The wife never knows, eh? And now you do know and you have a saying by one of his...”

I had to search for the word:

“ Mates

Displayed on your fucking wall.”

She said, very quietly,

“Please don’t curse.”

I took a deep breath, then,

“I know two of the men, in a photo Emily has, were already arrested, your husband is... um... out of the picture, so that leaves Wilson, and I have been asked to try and clear his name.”

She stared at me in amazement, uttered,

“You?”

I said, with tight control,

“It’s what I do.”

She pondered this, then,

“They all drank a great deal and I’ve learned in my program that normal inclinations become perverted by alcohol.”

Fuck’s sake.

I said,

“Blame the demon drink, eh?”

A thin, mean smile danced along her lower lip. She said,

“One feels you have experienced some demons of your own.”

Bitch.

I gave up, said,

“Here’s my mobile number. If you think of anything that might help your friend’s defense, I would be grateful.”

I called the pup, who decided to show off and made an impressive leap into my arms.

Who knew?

I was at the door when she said,

“I would like to say it’s been a pleasure but I have learned that honesty is essential. It says so in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous .”

I looked at her, the smug expression, figuring she’d scored the last point, and said,

“That same book talks about a state of mind that I think you may have.”

“Oh, and what might that be, Mr. Taylor?”

I let the moment build, then,

“A state of mind that only can be described as savage.”

Park’s aunt Sarah had a conference with the lawyer representing him.

You get what you pay for and, in this case, as she was laying out a shitload of green, she had the whiz kid of the city. But smarmy.

Oh, yeah.

Sarah knew to be suspicious of any man who wore more jewelry than she did. And not only that, but classy gear. And he did that annoying thing of shooting his cuffs to emphasize a point and, of course, to show you the Cartier watch, etc.

His office alone cost as much as the salaries of the Irish Water Board. And he was just as arrogant as those charlatans. He said,

“I’ve been in touch with Sergeant Ridge. She is the chief cop on the case and a dyke.”

Sarah wanted to ask,

“And this sexual data helps... how?”

But every question cost another five hundred euros. She nodded sagely. Not easy when you did not wish to draw attention to your double chin. He continued,

“It seems our boy used to give himself ECT.”

She thought,

“What?”

The lawyer smiled and this had the effect of her checking to see if she maybe had something stuck in her teeth. He said,

“If we go the insanity route, this will be a huge advantage.”

Then he suddenly stood up, majestic in the movement, spluttered,

“Good gracious, where are my manners?”

He had the Trinity accent that those who attended in the ’70s acquired. Not quite posh but cultured, showed learning more than breeding. It let you know they were indeed better but not showy with it.

“Coffee, tea, we have Earl Grey and Darjeeling.”

She refused, wanted to get to the bottom line. He continued,

“Our Mr. Wilson administered a voltage of five hundred watts to his brain on frequent occasions. You might say his mind was indeed scrambled.”

Sarah was, dare I say, shocked. She made a small

“Oh.”

The lawyer seemed to think this was appropriate and said,

“Mind you, there is now a bracelet on the market that gives you three hundred forty watts. It comes as a black rubber wristband with an LED light buried inside it; they are calling it a wearable personal trainer. Two copper terminals deliver the current with a simple two-second warning.”

Sarah was aghast, wondering if he was trying to sell one to her. She asked,

“Good heavens, why?”

He chuckled, genuinely amused, said,

“It’s named the Pavlov bracelet after the Russian who conditioned the dogs.”

This she knew about but she was mystified, said,

“I am mystified.”

He elaborated,

“It is designed to stop us yielding to our addictions.”

Sarah was shaking her head. He tried to elucidate.

“Invented by a Stanford whiz kid of the name Maneesh Sethi, it sells at a price of three hundred euros.”

He waited and when she had nothing, said,

“We can use this to show that Park, though obviously off his fucking head...”

She jumped at the obscenity as he intended. He liked to have her full attention. Then,

“Was at least trying to, shall we say, cure himself.”

She was dubious, asked,

“And that would, um, fly?”

He laughed again, a more brutal tone having leaked across his words, said,