John Brady - All souls

For a moment, Minogue wanted to shout back that there was nothing he could tell them, that they were stupid to imagine he could.

“Well? Do you think we’re fucking iijits here, then?”

Though the man hadn’t raised his voice, Minogue felt some shock of familiarity. It was less the swearing than a tone of voice he had heard before.

“I was down here on account of a family matter. My brother’s family had-”

“Your brother, hah! And the son, no doubt. A right pair, they are. But sure, at least their hearts are in the right place. What brought you down the second time then?”

“When I heard about Bourke being shot-”

“Ah, don’t be trying to pull the wool over my eyes with some cock-and-bull story about this fucking thing, whatever it was. You were down here on dirty work-”

“I came down to see about Bourke. Doesn’t anybody care that he got shot out the back of-”

“What the hell do you care one way or another?” came Ciaran’s voice. “You took up with this Bourke thing as a cover for doing your spying and sneaking around. What was your mission here?”

Minogue coughed and the twine cut into his wrists.

“…this shite about you crusading down here, you and Crossan…”

He strained forward coughing and his chest tightened with the spasms.

Was this a ploy to make him believe that Crossan was in the clear? The stranger’s tone was less contemptuous now.

“…so stop being a fucking yob. You’ve worked up a speech and a story that you think is going to work. Guards are like that, aren’t they? You think everybody else is stupid.” The voice came closer. Minogue stiffened as he heard shoes squeak.

“Ah, but I shouldn’t be so hard on you,” the voice resumed. “You tried. But there comes a point when a man has to look out for himself. So let’s get down to business before we run out of time.”

Minogue sat very still now.

“Right. You’re an Inspector in the Guards. You work for the Technical Bureau, whatever that is-”

“The Murder Squad is one of-”

“Start with the Howards now. You were nosing around there this morning. What brought you there?”

Clare accent for sure, Minogue decided, but he could tell no more.

“I wanted to talk to Mrs Howard.”

“About what?”

“Other details from the night of that fire, when Jane Clark-”

Something shrieked on the floor and Minogue instinctively ducked his head.

“I told you he was a-!” shouted Ciaran.

“It’s the truth,” Minogue protested.

“Fuck you and your lies!” Ciaran shouted. “You’re scouting around for us! Waiting to pounce! You and a whole posse of cops and Branchmen and God knows what else! Aren’t you?”

A shiver ran up Minogue’s chest and seemed to light with a small piercing shock on his nipples. He waited for the stranger to calm them down a bit. The voice was no longer muffled when it whispered into his ear.

“I’m coming back in ten minutes, and I may have to do for you. It might be quick, and it might be slow. It all depends on you. You’re quick enough with the wit when you want to be, but this is not the time or the place for smart remarks. Think hard now, mister polisman. I’ll be back. If you’re still at this codology, it’ll be all over.”

Minogue heard the footsteps cross the room. The others seemed to be leaving too.

“Leave the bag on him,” said the stranger. “Get him used to the dark.”

Minutes passed. Fear blurred his mind and he lost track of time. When the door scraped, Minogue’s heart leapt. The absurd plea almost came out in words: That wasn’t ten minutes… They had given up on him, they were going to just kill him because they were losing control of the situation and the time.

“Who’s there? Who is it?”

He strained again to hear any movement. The ends of his fingers began to tingle.

“Who’s-” A choking sob erupted behind his tongue and his voice broke.

“Ah,” came her voice. “You’re good and scared now, aren’t you?”

Her footsteps behind him, slow.

“You’d better tell them, you know.”

Minogue realised that his eyes were wide open. His heart was thudding as if it were outside his body. He couldn’t utter a word.

“Do you hear me? Tell them. What’s the use of trying to keep it in? What’s it worth now?”

“But there’s nothing I can tell them,” he gasped. “I’ve told the truth and they don’t seem to-”

“Don’t play that again now,” she said with a faint snort which he read as impatience. “Tell them.”

“I can’t-there’s nothing.”

He heard her move to his right side. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Tell me then. It was me you wanted, wasn’t it?”

The panic blocked his words again.

“Come on. Stupid, you’re not. I could tell that right away-”

“People think I know what’s happening around here, that’s what’s so-”

“They sent you because you’re from here. You’re an insider. Come on now, don’t be wasting time. They’re serious out there. They’re waiting for a lead from you-”

“‘We,’ you mean, don’t you?” he managed to say.

Sheila Howard made no reply.

“It was Crossan persuaded me that the Jane Clark case stank-”

“Look. Do you think that time is on your side here? That you can buy time? That they’ll forget about you or something? They’ll have to decide about you pretty soon.”

“‘They’?” Minogue risked. “You should know. You’re in cahoots with them. They treat you like dirt. Why would you want to-”

“Oh, shut up about that, would you? He wasn’t like this. It’s all eaten away at him, this whole thing, and he forgets sometimes. That’s how he…

“Oh what the hell would you understand?” she whispered. “Just shut up talking about that! Can’t you see? You’re the one in trouble. Start acting like you know it. What did Naughton tell you?”

The name caught Minogue off-guard.

“Well? What did he tell you?”

“He told me several things. He told me that your husband is a fool, for one thing. Then he told me that nobody called the station the night of the fire. I tried to get him to explain but he got into a dander. He took a few swipes at me and Shea-”

“That’s just it! You brought more Guards into this. What for?”

Minogue’s mind reeled. Where could he begin to explain?

“You’re holding something back. What brought you up to the house this morning?”

“You didn’t tell me that you’d left the pub in a huff after some row with Dan Howard’s father.”

“After some row. Oh, Christ, what do you know? What do you think happened that night, then?”

His panic had begun to ease and he realised that talking was giving him back some of his composure. He thought of lying to her but his words came out before he had calculated his reply.

“I think you took the car out to her cottage and you had it out with Jane Clark.”

“Had it out?” Toying with him.

“Argued, fought. I don’t know.”

“Do you think I killed her?”

He knew by her voice that she was half-smiling.

“I don’t know. She might have been in your way. I really don’t know.”

“God, you’re stupid. At the same time as being smart.” Her mood had changed again, he realized.

“Not like Romeo out there?”

She slapped him across the face before he could sense her anger.

“You bastard. Peeping Tom. You think I didn’t see you gawking?”

Something in him was satisfied to have had this effect on her. He had his head down and away, waiting another blow. Nothing came.

“So they sent you in to work your spell on me,” he said.

“One last chance,” she replied, calm again. “They mean what they say. When they come back-”