Tana French - Faithful Place

“Yeah,” I said. “I would. I would lie to the police and the Pope and the president of the world till I was blue in the face, if that was what you needed. It would be the wrong thing to do, but I’d do it just the same.”

Holly startled the hell out of me by leaning forward between the seats, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her cheek against mine. I hugged her tight enough that I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, quick and light as a little wild animal’s. There were a million things I needed to say to her, every one of them crucial, but none of them would come out of my mouth.

Finally Holly sighed, an enormous shaky sigh, and disentangled herself. She climbed out of the car and hoisted her schoolbag onto her back. “If I have to talk to that Stephen guy,” she said. “Could it be not on Wednesday? Because I want to go play at Emily’s.”

“That’s absolutely fine, sweetie. Whatever day suits you. Go on ahead, now. I’ll be in to you in a bit; I’ve just got to make a phone call.”

Holly nodded. There was an exhausted sag to her shoulders, but as she went up the path she gave her head a little shake and braced herself. By the time Liv answered the door with her arms open, that narrow back was straight and strong as steel.

I stayed where I was, lit a smoke and sucked down about half of it in one drag. When I was sure I could keep my voice steady, I phoned Stephen.

He was somewhere with crappy reception, presumably deep in the warren of Murder rooms in Dublin Castle. I said, “It’s me. How’s it going?”

“Not too bad. Like you said, he’s denying everything, and that’s when he bothers answering me at all; mostly he won’t talk, except to ask me what your hole tastes like.”

“He’s a charmer. It runs in the family. Don’t let him get to you.”

Stephen laughed. “Ah, God, I’m not bothered. He can say whatever he likes; at the end of the day, I’m the one going home when we finish up. Tell us, though: what’ve you got? Anything that might get him feeling a bit chattier?”

He was all charged up and ready to keep going for as long as it took, and his voice was bursting with brand-new confidence. He was trying to sound tactfully subdued, but deep down, the kid was having the time of his life.

I gave him everything I had and how I had got it, down to the last rancid stinking detail: info is ammo, and Stephen didn’t need any blanks in his stockpile. At the end I said, “He’s fond of our sisters, especially Carmel, and of my daughter, Holly. As far as I know, that’s it. He hates my guts, he hated Kevin’s but he doesn’t like admitting that, and he hates his life. He’s viciously jealous of anyone who doesn’t, almost definitely including you. And, as you’ve probably figured out what with one thing and another, he’s got a temper.”

“OK,” Stephen said, almost to himself; his mind was going flat out. “OK, yeah. I can use that.”

The kid was turning into a man after my own heart. “Yeah, you can. One more thing, Stephen: up until this evening, he thought he was inches away from getting out. He thought he was about to buy the bike shop where he works, dump our da in a home, move out, and finally get his shot at a life worth having. A few hours ago, the world was this guy’s oyster.”

Silence, and for a second there I wondered if Stephen had taken that as an invitation to get his compassion on. Then he said, “If I can’t get him talking with that, I don’t deserve to get him talking at all.”

“That’d be my general feeling. Go for it, kid. Keep me posted.”

Stephen said, “Do you remember,” and then the reception went nuts and he turned into a bunch of disjointed scraping noises. I heard, “… all they’ve got…” before the line cut out and there was nothing left but pointless beeping.

I rolled down my window and had another smoke. The Christmas decorations were coming out here too-wreaths on doors, a “SANTA PLEASE STOP HERE” sign stuck lopsided in a garden-and the night air had turned cold and glassy enough that it finally felt like winter. I threw my cigarette butt away and took a deep breath. Then I went up to Olivia’s door and rang the bell.

Liv answered in her slippers, with her face washed ready for bed. I said, “I told Holly I’d come in and say good night.”

“Holly’s asleep, Frank. She’s been in bed for ages.”

“Ah. OK.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “How long was I out there?”

“Long enough that I’m amazed Mrs. Fitzhugh didn’t ring the Guards. These days she’s seeing stalkers everywhere.”

She was smiling, though, and the fact that she wasn’t annoyed at me for being there gave me a ridiculous little flash of warmth. “That woman always was a fruitcake. Remember the time we-” I saw the retreat in Liv’s eyes and caught myself before it was too late. “Listen, is it OK if I come in for a few minutes anyway? Grab a cup of coffee, clear my head before I drive home, maybe have a quick chat about how Holly’s doing? I promise not to overstay my welcome.”

Clearly I looked like I felt, or at least enough like I felt to push Liv’s pity buttons. After a moment she nodded and held the door wide.

She took me into the conservatory-there was frost starting in the corners of the windowpanes, but the heating was on and the room was snug and warm-and went back to the kitchen to make the coffee. The lights were low; I took off Shay’s baseball cap and shoved it into my jacket pocket. It smelled of blood.

Liv brought out the coffee on a tray, with the good cups and even a little jug of cream. She said, settling into her chair, “You look like you’ve had quite a weekend.”

I couldn’t make myself do it. “Family,” I said. “How about you? How’s Dermo?”

There was a silence, while Olivia stirred her coffee and decided how to answer that. Finally she sighed, a tiny sound I wasn’t meant to hear. She said, “I told him I didn’t think we should see each other any more.”

“Ah,” I said. The quick sweet shot of happiness, straight through all the dark layers that were wrapped tight around my mind, took me by surprise. “Any particular reason?”

Elegant little shrug. “I didn’t think we were well suited.”

“And did Dermo agree with that?”

“He would have, soon enough. If we’d been on a few more dates. I just got there a bit faster.”

“As usual,” I said. I wasn’t being bitchy, and Liv smiled a little, down at her cup. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Ah, well. You win some… What about you? Have you been seeing anyone?”

“Not recently. Not so you’d notice.” Olivia dumping Dermot was the best present life had given me in a while-small, but perfectly formed; you take what you can get-and I knew if I pushed my luck I would probably smash it to pieces, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Some evening, maybe, if you’re free and we can get a babysitter, would you fancy going for dinner? I’m not sure I can swing the Coterie, but I can probably find somewhere better than Burger King.”

Liv’s eyebrows went up and her face turned towards me. “Do you mean… What do you mean? As in, a date?”

“Well,” I said. “Yeah, I guess so. Very much as in a date.”

A long silence, while things moved behind her eyes. I said, “I did listen to what you said the other night, you know. About people wrecking each other’s heads. I still don’t know if I agree with you, but I’m trying to act like you’re right. I’m trying bloody hard, Olivia.”

Liv leaned her head back and watched the moon moving past the windows. “The first time you took Holly for the weekend,” she said, “I was terrified. I didn’t sleep a wink the whole time she was gone. I know you thought I’d been fighting you for the weekends out of sheer spite, but it had nothing to do with that. I was positive you were going to take her and get on a plane, and I’d never see either one of you again.”