John Brady - A Carra ring

“No. I will in a little while.”

Tynan took out a notebook.

“Really, now,” he muttered and he crossed something out. “Do you think a small Jameson would help the proceedings here?”

“Only if there was a pint to go with it,” said Minogue.

Tynan closed the book with a snap

“Go to Quinn’s,” he said. “They have a snug there.”

Tynan put down the envelope. He laid the sheets on top of it.

“So that’s it,” he said. “There’s nothing here about Leyne’s response to the son’s phone call.”

Minogue studied the countertop by his glass. The light coming through the whiskey fanned golden on the wood. He eyed Tynan.

“Leyne collects things, doesn’t he?”

“What do you mean?”

Minogue had to wrench his eyes off the play of the light.

“What I mean is that the son was here to get this damned stone and smuggle it back to Leyne, John. To get back in his good books. To get his name in the will.”

Tynan poured water into his empty glass. Further down the bar two old men had engaged the barman in a discussion about farmers. It was a poor enough pretense at not eavesdropping, Minogue decided.

“That’s a fair take,” said Tynan. “The son mentions that this stone had been verified by an expert.”

“This ‘expert’ being Aoife Hartnett,” Minogue said.

Minogue became distracted again by Malone’s hands. He hadn’t let up rubbing them, squeezing them until it seemed the knuckles would burst through the skin. O’Leary’s phone went off. He listened, nodded, and ended the call.

“No sign of those fellas yet,” he said to Tynan.

“Not even the car?”

O’Leary shook his head. Tynan turned back to Minogue.

“Well I don’t see the son telling him over the phone that he’s killed someone,” he said. “There’s no point. It’d poison things for him entirely. Yes?”

Minogue shivered. The whiskey was working against him now.

“I just don’t know,” he managed. “Panicking?”

“Does it sound like panic to you?” Tynan asked. “Not to me. The gist of the conversation is the son telling him this stone is a genuine find, this Carra stone. That no one knows it’s been turned up, so no one’s going to miss it. And on he goes into the some story about it.”

Tynan waited for Minogue to look his way.

“It’s also clear to me from this flimsy statement that Leyne has doubts about the whole thing anyway,” he said. “It’s what he doesn’t put in the affidavit is what’s got me wondering.”

Minogue thought about Eileen Brogan crying. Garland biting his lip as he tried to explain the leave of absence he’d pushed Aoife Hartnett into. He saw Dermot Higgins pointing and clicking, heard his distracted murmurs, the pictures dissolving and sliding off the screen. He rubbed his eyes. It didn’t help: his thoughts were slipping away.

“Okay,” he tried “The call is made ‘just outside Dublin.’ The son is in a hurry. Has he a means of getting this stone out of the country at this point, a plan? Contacts? We don’t know ”

Tynan shifted on his stool. Wanted to get going, Minogue registered.

“You read up on this Carra place, didn’t you?” Tynan asked. “What about this stone anyway? Is there such an item?”

“Legend says there is. Or there was.”

“It’s never been found though?”

Minogue missed with his glass as he was returning it to the table. It tipped, rolled, and fell on the floor, intact. Tynan lifted his feet to place them away from the spilled whiskey. Minogue reached down and brought up the glass. He fixed Tynan with a glance.

“Okay, let me throw in a question now,” he said. “Declan King was at the airport to meet Leyne. So was Hayes. What did they know, how much, and how early?”

“King reports to the minister, not me. Hayes, I’ll be getting to.”

“They colluded in keeping information from us. What’s your view on that?”

Tynan began to stack the coins on the counter. He placed the last coin, a five-penny on the top He looked up suddenly at O’Leary.

“Tony. You and himself here give us a bit of room, will you. ”

O’Leary waited for Malone to rise. Tynan watched the door of the snug being pulled tight.

“Listen here, Matt. No more noises for now, about Hayes working behind your back. King, I can’t do anything about.”

“I had two connected murders on my hands,” Minogue said. “Three, now.”

“You don’t. The squad does. You’re off the case, for now.”

“We’ve been led. Now we’re being shoved aside. And Leyne or his fixers are papering over the cracks all the time. ”

“Leyne’s in a coma. He has brain damage.”

“He knew something was up. He’s been throwing bones to us. The private-eye stuff on the son, now the affidavit — but I say he knew all along.”

“He had his own interests,” said Tynan

“Two hundred million of them, is that it? Is that what concerns the likes of Hayes and King? Or you?”

“Did Freeman tell you that?”

“No. I asked him about the will and he got into a dander.”

“Well you’d just arrested him, driven around the streets, growling at him.”

“Why did Leyne have a lawyer with him? He was expecting the worst.”

Tynan lifted the coins in groups from the stack and began dropping them back on the stack.

“Two hundred million, I heard,” said Minogue. “Am I wrong?”

Tynan released the coins and rubbed his hands.

“It’s not two hundred million,” he said. “It’s fifty. It’s part of what he’s worth.”

He looked up from his palm at Minogue.

“Leyne made contact with people in the last government,” he said. “He had a proposal, to donate fifty million dollars to the development of Irish culture. It was to go into history, heritage centers. Like the Carnegie libraries years ago.”

Heritage, Minogue thought. He watched Tynan examining his palms.

“Let me guess,” he said then. “There’s a deal involved. An amnesty for stuff Leyne had, stuff he’d bought that was smuggled out of Ireland? Goddamn it, John, we give amnesties to tax dodgers and drug barons here every day, so why not Leyne?”

Tynan let the seconds pass.

“That was the deal until the son got himself jammed in the works,” he said then. “Leyne would never have to divulge who or where or how these pieces ended up in his possession. And that the fifty million would be very welcome, thank you very much.”

“Hush money,” Minogue said “A half-step up from extortion.”

“Look at the results,” said Tynan. “A lot of money for heritage here, recovering missing — stolen — artifacts too. Call it restitution if you like. That would be a good day’s work. Yes?”

Anything you want, Minogue was thinking, the hand grasping his arm.

“I think that Leyne actually tried to make me an offer,” he said. “Except that I was too thick to get it.”

“For all your work, you’re still a bit of a gom, I’m afraid.”

Minogue gave him a hard look.

“Well here’s how I see it then,” he began. “Or does it matter, at this stage?”

“It matters. Fire away.”

“King was in touch with Freeman on a regular basis. King would be doing the trick-bicyclist routine, the deal maker with the delicate stuff. Hayes, maybe the gofer to shadow Leyne or Freeman while they’re here. Fits, doesn’t it? Except that Aoife Hartnett is murdered. And Shaughnessy himself.”

Tynan turned on him.

“Listen,” he said to Minogue. “The clock has moved on. You have to come in now. The case proceeds, but you need to step aside for a while at least.”

“Why? Because now Freeman’s been murdered? Because we weren’t shown the menu? Because we crashed the party?”