Ken Bruen - Dublin Noir

“Hi, I’m Kathy.”

He asked her if it was her first time in Dublin. She told him it was, and that she’d come because her father was born here and she’d always wanted to see it. When she told him she was from New York he said, “Ah, love New York. I was there once when I was at university, but I want to go again. I’m a playwright, you see.”

“Really?”

“Well, aspiring. Had one play produced last year, at a small theater here in Dublin.”

“That’s great.”

“Believe me-it sounds more impressive than it is. The theater’s a twenty-five-seater and it was empty half the run… Are you on holiday with your husband?”

Kathy saw Patrick looking at her engagement ring.

“Oh, no,” Kathy said. “I’m not married… I’m not even sure I’m engaged anymore, actually.”

“So you’re here with friends, are you?”

“No, I’m here by myself, actually.”

“Oh, that’s very nice. If you need any suggestions on places to go, I’d be delighted to help out.”

“Actually, if you could tell me how to get to the O’Connell Street area that would be great.”

Patrick came over and circled O’Connell on Kathy’s map, and marked several other spots, writing in the names of his favorite restaurants and pubs. Kathy liked smelling Patrick’s cologne and it felt good with him close to her.

After a few more minutes of pleasant small talk, Kathy looked at her watch and said, “I better ask for my check and get going.”

“Would you mind doing me a small favor?” Patrick said. “Could you watch my laptop for just one minute?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kathy said. “Sure.”

Patrick smiled-he had nice dimples-then went into the café. Kathy caught the waitress’ attention and made a scribbling motion with her hand. The waitress nodded but was busy taking another order.

Kathy looked at the map, at the markings Patrick had made, thinking how nice he was for doing that. He was kind of cute and he had a sexy accent. Too bad he was too young for her-he seemed to be about twenty-two or twenty-three- and she never really liked artsy-type guys.

She was looking closely at the map, at the location of a good produce market which Patrick had circled, when it happened. She was aware of someone moving quickly next to her and then she looked back and saw the guy with dark wavy hair sprinting away down the block. Instinctively, she grabbed her purse, relieved that it was still there. Then she looked back at the guy who was running away and realized he was holding Patrick’s laptop.

Kathy hesitated and didn’t say anything for a few seconds, until the thief had already turned the corner, and then she screamed, “Stop him! Somebody stop him!”

The waitress and a customer-a man in a business suit-came out of the café.

“What happened?” the waitress asked.

“Somebody stole a laptop,” Kathy said.

“Where’d he go?” the man asked.

“He just ran away… around the corner,” Kathy said. “Can’t you call the police or something?”

Then Patrick came out and seemed confused. “What happened?”

“Your laptop was stolen,” Kathy said.

Patrick peered at his empty table with a look of horror, shock, and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” Kathy said. “This guy just came down the block and grabbed it.”

“Did you see what he looked like?” the man in the suit asked.

“No,” Kathy said. “I just saw him from the back… He had wavy hair. He was wearing jeans.”

“I don’t think that’ll help the Gardaí very much,” the waitress said.

“Go ahead and call,” Kathy said. “Maybe they can catch the guy.”

“I’ll call,” the man in the suit said, and he took out his cell phone and walked away.

Patrick was sitting, devastated, with his forehead against the table.

“I’m so sorry,” Kathy repeated. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I had everything on that machine and it wasn’t backed up,” Patrick said. “My whole new play-it’s gone.”

“I feel so awful,” Kathy said. “I mean, the guy came up so quickly. I didn’t even see him.”

“Maybe they’ll catch him,” the waitress said.

“Bollocks they will,” Patrick said, looking up. His eyes were red and teary. “The cops never catch those fuckers.”

“It’s my fault,” Kathy said.

“Why’s it your fault?” Patrick said. “This city’s going to shit, I’m telling you. Bastards.”

The man in the suit returned and said, “The Gardaí will be here soon.”

“Not soon enough, I’m afraid,” Patrick said.

“You never know,” Kathy said. “Maybe they’ll catch the guy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll try really hard to find a laptop,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, it’s doubtful they’ll catch him,” the waitress said.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kathy said. “I feel responsible.”

“What do you mean?” Patrick said.

“You asked me to watch it and I didn’t. I got distracted. It’s my fault, I guess.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Patrick said. “It took me a year to save up for that computer. And they cost a lot here-much more than in America.”

“I’m really sorry,” Kathy said. “Wait, I know.” She reached into her purse. “Let me give you some money.”

“Don’t bother,” Patrick said.

“No, it was my fault-here.” She dug into her purse. “This is all the cash I have-here, take it.” She handed Patrick some bills. She wasn’t sure exactly how much was there, but she’d exchanged $200 into euros at the airport.

“Really, I appreciate the offer,” Patrick said, “but it’s not necessary.”

“Please, you have to,” Kathy said. “I feel awful.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“You have to. Come on, I know it’s not enough for a new laptop, but it’ll have to help. It’ll make me feel so much better if you took it.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Patrick said. “It took me two years to save up for this and I can save up again. Until then, it’s back to pen and paper, I suppose.”

The waitress shook her head and went away to take someone’s order.

“Good luck,” the man in the suit said, and he went back into the café.

“I guess the Gardaí’ll be here soon,” Patrick said to Kathy. “You don’t have to wait.”

Kathy was still holding the money. She was starting to cry. “You have to take the money,” she said. “If you don’t, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it my whole trip and I’ll have a horrible time. Please, just take it.”

Patrick looked away for a few moments then turned back and said, “I suppose if you’re insisting…”

Kathy gave Patrick the money. She apologized a few more times then just wanted to get away. She took her map, then went into the café to charge the bill on her AmEx since she didn’t have any more cash. When she returned Patrick was still waiting for the police, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“I really am sorry,” Kathy said.

“It’s all right,” Patrick replied. “Have a great time in Dublin, all right?”

“I’ll try to.”

Kathy walked away, relieved. Following Patrick’s instructions, she ambled along Grafton Street and across the Hapenny Bridge. Still shaken up, she wasn’t able to absorb much of the city. For a couple of hours, she just wandered around, window shopping, figuring she’d do the real touristy stuff tomorrow. She was hungry and went to one of the restaurants that Patrick had suggested-an excellent Thai place on Andrew Street. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel at all awkward or self-conscious sitting at a table alone and she didn’t miss Jim at all. She had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and got a little drunk. When she left the restaurant, she passed a cyber café and decided to just get it the hell over with already. She logged onto her e-mail account and wrote Jim a note.