Alex Barclay - Darkhouse

Shaun gave a start. ‘OK, OK.’

He ran back down the steps. Joe paced up and down the living room. He heard Ali walk through the hall.

‘Hey, Mr Lucchesi,’ she shouted in.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Joe.

Shaun stood behind Ali and stared at his dad as if he had lost his mind.

‘She’s going home?’ he said.

‘On your own?’ said Joe, turning to Ali.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m a big girl now.’ She smiled.

‘Shaun, come here a minute,’ said Joe.

‘Hold on,’ said Shaun, leaving Ali in the hall.

Joe grabbed Shaun’s elbow, then felt him jerk hard from his grip. His voice was low and urgent as he handed Shaun the phone. ‘You put her on this phone to her father and get him to pick her up right outside that door. And you wait until he does that.’

‘What’s going on?’ said Shaun, panic creeping in to his voice.

‘Just do it,’ said Joe.

Ali made the call and stuck her head into the living room.

‘Frank Deegan was on his way here,’ she said. ‘So Dad asked him to take me home. He’ll be here any minute.’

Joe wanted to explode. The last thing he needed anyone to see outside his house was a garda car.

He stood up quickly. ‘I’ll give you a ride.’

‘No, you’re grand,’ said Ali. ‘I couldn’t drag you out of your way. Honest to God, Frank’s on his way. I’ll be fine.’

‘It’s not a problem.’

‘I want to play her one more track on my CD,’ said Shaun, pulling her towards the basement.

Joe sat back down and put his head in his hands. He stayed that way until the doorbell rang.

‘Hello, Joe,’ said Frank. He handed him a card in a blue envelope. ‘I met the postman on the way in.’ Joe recognised Danny’s writing.

‘Could I come in for a chat?’ said Frank.

‘Uh, not really. I haven’t got the time right now. I’ve got a lot on.’ His eyes flicked around, past Frank into the trees.

‘You don’t really have much of a choice, Joe. It’s about the fax you brought to Dr McClatchie.’

Joe felt a wave of anger at the betrayal.

‘It’s not a problem, the fact that you did that,’ said Frank. ‘I just need to see it. Dr McClatchie has some concerns.’ Joe could see that Frank had a police sketch in his hand and the mug shot of Duke.

‘I don’t have it. It’s in the garbage.’

‘Sorry. I think you do. Can I come in?’

‘All right,’ snapped Joe, hustling Frank into the hall and closing the door quickly behind him.

‘I don’t have time for this.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Frank. ‘I’m on my way to a meeting in Limerick and I need to see it. I’ve doubted you before about this Rawlins man. I’m letting you know now that I’ve changed my mind. I’m going out on a limb, here. I haven’t run this by my superiors, because I need to make sure I’ve everything tied up before I do.’

Joe felt the urge to shake Frank by his shoulders and roar at him, ‘It’s too little, too late.’ He went to the den and got the fax. He folded it up and put it in a brown envelope. He steadied himself on the desk as a sharp pain sliced a path between his temples. He pulled open the desk drawer and saw an empty bottle of Advil. He shut the drawer quickly. Even if there had been twenty tablets in there, he had promised himself that until this was over, he wouldn’t take any medication... unless the pain was extreme.

He saw Danny’s card on the desk and ripped it open in case it was important. It was a print of The Scream by Munch. Joe shook his head and tried to smile. Inside it said, ‘Remind you of anyone? Happy fortieth, partner. Have a good one.’ Joe wished he could.

‘Here,’ he said when he came down, handing Frank the fax. ‘Put it in your inside pocket now.’

Frank frowned. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘Doesn’t matter. Is that everything?’

‘No. I need to speak with Anna.’

‘Oh. She’s in Paris, sorry.’

Frank shook his head. ‘Do you have a number where I could contact her?’

‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Her parents don’t have a phone.’

‘Really? Well, I might as well tell you that she saw this mug shot. She was in the house with Nora the other day. She had a very bad reaction. It was as if—’

Joe’s heart pounded. ‘I hadn’t told her I was checking things out,’ he said quickly. ‘She was annoyed with me for not telling her. That’s why she’s gone to Paris.’

‘Tell me why you phoned me about Siobhán Fallon,’ Frank said suddenly. ‘Have you seen her?’

‘No. But I thought I might have the other day.’

‘Where?’

‘In town. But it wasn’t her. Frank, I really can’t hang around talking.’ He pressed his hand to his jaw. Frank turned around and opened the front door.

‘I’ll send Ali out to you.’

‘Right, so. Thanks for the fax, Joe. I appreciate that.’ He stepped outside, then looked back. ‘What I don’t appreciate is being lied to.’

Oran Butler and Keith Twomey sat in their Ford Mondeo in the car park of Tobin’s Supermarket. It was a grim, red-brick building in a bad neighbourhood. Two fat butchers in bloodied aprons stood at a corner, gunning cigarettes. A group of longhaired boys in baggy pants and big sweatshirts skateboarded by them along the smooth concrete.

‘How long have we been here?’ asked Oran, picking toffee out of his teeth. A pile of empty wrappers were gathered between his legs.

‘Two hours,’ said Keith.

‘Have you seen one of them actually complete a trick?’

‘Nope,’ said Keith as they watched another skateboarder try to jump onto a railing. He stumbled down the steps instead, his board smacking onto the tarmac.

‘The fucking noise is going through me,’ said Keith.

Oran swept the sweet wrappers onto the floor and started on a new pile. Keith glanced down.

‘Of all the people to be sharing a place with Richie Bates, it’s the messiest fucker around. I don’t know which one of you to feel sorrier for.’

Another skateboarder flipped his board halfway over, then landed with his feet on the ground at either side.

The two men looked at each other and shook their heads. When they looked back, a man was walking past the boys towards the entrance. He moved jerkily, like his joints were popping in and out of their sockets with each step. He led with his chin, his narrow mouth downturned, his eyes like slits. He smoothed his greasy red Caesar forward onto his zitty forehead and slowed as he approached the eldest of the boys.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Keith, sitting up. ‘Let’s see what happens here. That’s Marcus Canney, total scumbag.’

They watched as Canney spoke, then reached into his pocket, pulling something out, extending his arm towards the boy, giving him more than a handshake. Oran and Keith bolted and were on the pair in seconds.

Joe spoke before Duke could — as soon as he hit the green button to answer the call.

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘You know why,’ said Duke.

‘OK, yeah, I do. But you’ve got it all wrong, buddy. I need you to take in some new information, see if you still want to do what you came all this way to do.’

‘This is not a dialogue situation.’

‘But two people work better for you, Rawlins, don’t they?’

‘What the fuck are you talkin’ about?’

‘Two on one makes it a bit easier?’

He could hear Duke’s breathing, slow and laboured.

‘I notice things,’ said Joe. ‘I have eyes... like a hawk.’

Duke said nothing.

‘I know what you were doing today,’ said Joe, ‘and I pity that girl you’ve found to shovel your shit. But, then you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own...’ He paused. ‘You think you’re a man? You’re nothing but a piece of shit, a cowardly piece of shit.’