John Brady - The good life

Malone nodded.

“Well, yeah. They were up to that, all right. Tell me, when were yous up there?”

Kilmartin looked at Minogue.

“Earlier on today,” said the Inspector.

“Today? No. You must have gotten your days mixed up. Couldn’t have been today.”

Minogue shrugged.

“It was today,” said Kilmartin. “And well I remember it. Brother of yours is hardly civil to the Guards, is he? He gave us-well, he tried to give us-a bit of a bollocking there.”

“Today?”

Kilmartin cleared his throat and took out his cigarettes. Malone looked him in the eye.

“What’s the story there, Molly? What are you looking at me like that for? You’re the one should be answering the bloody questions here. As a matter of fact, now that I have the both of you here…”

Kilmartin’s words trailed off. Minogue and Malone both studied the smoke flowing out of Kilmartin’s open mouth.

“What?” Kilmartin murmured.

“I got Terry committed yesterday,” said Malone. He nodded at Minogue. “His idea. Gets him off the streets. It was either treatment or arrest for assault, right?”

“Right,” said Minogue.

“No, no, no,” said Kilmartin. “I-wait a minute-Matt, you were there with me…”

This time Minogue saw that Kilmartin knew. His eyes opened wide and he leaned in toward the two policemen.

“That wasn’t Terry up at the shop, like,” said Malone. “That was me.”

Minogue wiped at the smudge again but got nowhere. It had to be from the photocopier. He and Malone had taken her statement, had her charged and had signed over just before one o’clock. He let the copy of Patricia Fahy’s statement drop onto his desk, leaned back until the chair bit into his back and stretched, Eilis wandered over and dropped a yellow phone-message sheet on the desk.

“Waterford city,” she said. “They’re far from sure. He was missing for two days. Someone spotted the car under the water yesterday evening and they walking by. The rain delayed them getting it out.”

He searched over the note.

“Lost his job, they said… Who reported him missing again?”

“Oh, I forgot to write it in. Sorry, I’m half asleep, so I am. Will I phone them back?”

Minogue shook his head.

“No, I’ll do it.”

Kilmartin sauntered in from the car-park. He had draped a double-breasted jacket over his shoulders. The debonair air puzzled Minogue. Kilmartin looked like a cross between Maurice Chevalier and a bouncer. He surveyed the squadroom as though visiting it for the first time.

“Oh, oh,” Minogue heard Eilis murmur before she walked off.

Kilmartin seemed to be examining the surfaces of the desks now. He turned to the notice-boards and studied them with the respectful interest of a visiting civilian. Minogue decided to test the waters.

“How’s Jim this fine morning?”

Kilmartin’s brow shot up. He looked over with a smile.

“Oh, fine, thanks, Matt. And how’s yourself? Family well?”

“Topping, thanks. Nice jacket there.”

Kilmartin looked down at his shoulder.

“Do you like it?”

“I certainly do. Well wear to you.”

Kilmartin smiled faintly and returned to his survey of the squadroom.

“Nice to have the change of weather, isn’t it?”

Like a tourist in the National Gallery, Minogue thought. Should he wait until Kilmartin brought it up before asking how the summit with Serious Crimes and Co. had gone?

“Couldn’t be better, Jim. Couldn’t be better.”

Kilmartin smiled again and squinted close up at a photocopy of Leonardo Hickey’s mug shot. His tone was warm and inviting when he spoke.

“Any sign of that trick-acting bastard?”

“He’s getting better. He’s taking counselling already. Wants to go into acting now, he says, after his taste of the big time lying in that van. He’s even willing to take the rap for doing that car. Says those few days changed his life.”

Minogue stopped and watched as Kilmartin gently tore down the photo of Leonardo Hickey and crumpled it in his hand.

“It wasn’t that Hickey character I was referring to,” said Kilmartin,

He began to scrunch up other papers on the notice-board.

“Oh, em, Tierney? He’s appeared and got remanded-”

“No, no, no. Not him either. No, I saw his statement this morning before I went off to Keane. No, no. His goose is cooked. So’s the Fahy one, for that matter.”

Was he to expect a compliment from Kilmartin?

“Er, who then, Jim?”

“Your sidekick. Molly. Al Capone. Voh’ Lay-bah. The Play Actor.”

“I told him to go home and see about his family. He’s to phone in before twelve.”

Kilmartin seemed to suddenly tire of his task. He looked across at Minogue, the vaguely satisfied smile still playing about his face.

“How’d it go, Jim? The meeting with the task force-Keane and the rest of them?”

Kilmartin opened his eyes wide again. No wonder Eilis had headed for the sanctuary of the ladies’ toilet, Minogue thought. Perhaps he should join her there.

“Grand thanks. Grand. No problem.”

“No, em, questions you couldn’t answer?”

“Man dear, there are no questions that I couldn’t answer.”

“Virgin Birth, then. Start with that one. How’d they do it?”

Minogue’s taunt had no noticeable effect. Instead of provoking Kilmartin into wrath, his colleague merely looked down at the floor and shook his head.

“Ah, Matt, Matt. Will you never get sense? Always the wag. Always the tart quips. That’s attention seeking, you know. No. Keane and Co. were intrigued, I’ll tell you that. Very intrigued. Of course, I was well-briefed. I had nothing to worry about, did I?”

Minogue ran his tongue around his upper teeth while he gave Kilmartin the eye.

“Oh, yes,” Kilmartin went on. “Got the signal very early on. I knew things were going to go smooth.”

“Ah.”

“ ‘Ah’ yourself. Did you phone him?”

“Phone who?”

“The Iceman. He was sitting up there at the head of the table. Looking very pleased with himself.”

“John Tynan?”

“Did you phone him?”

“Yes.”

Kilmartin slowly nodded.

“Well, now. I sort of thought so. As I was saying. Tynan set the mood. Do you want to know what happened? Of course you do. Yes, Tynan backed us up to the hilt. What’s this he said again? Something about orthodoxy for its own sake… Very smart, I remember thinking… Ah, I forget. Anyway. It’s Keane’s stuff now. He thinks he can use the bit in Tierney’s statement more than Kenny’s. About the source of the drugs, I mean. It’s a bit better than hearsay so he might just stuff a warrant with it when they pounce. Says it’ll be a handy option for when they put the drop on the Egans.”

“The bit about what Mary said on the phone to Tierney?”

“Yup. How she was out of her mind worrying that Eddsy’d come after her if she couldn’t come up with the money. Odd she never mentioned Kenny to anyone, says Keane to me later. Who cares, says I.”

“Kenny was her own job, I think. She didn’t even mention Tierney’s name to Kenny when she threatened him with the same Tierney either. She’d learned to keep things in different compartments.”

“Um. I think you have it there all right, old bean. Yes. Keane wanted to talk to me all day about the whole thing. So did Daly, the other fella… Oh, yes. Well, I left them shaking their heads, so I did. You know the style.”

Indeed Minogue did. Few things pleased James Kilmartin more than seeing other Guards slack-jawed about how the Murder Squad closed a case. Keep ’em guessing was so often Kilmartin’s byword.

“What a dummy though,” said Kilmartin. “Tierney, I mean. Right thick. A sucker.”