Brady smiled back.
‘Jack? What are you doing here? If I’d known I would have asked you to join us for dinner,’ O’Donnell greeted.
He came up to Brady and warmly embraced him.
‘You know me, sir, I don’t do formal dinners,’ Brady replied.
‘I know, I know and I daresay you never will,’ O’Donnell replied as he smiled at him paternally.
Brady felt a pang of regret as he looked at O’Donnell. He was still a huge bear of a man with enough presence to scare most people. But he was getting old. His black curly hair was more silver than black and his heavily-lined green eyes looked watery and tired. Brady knew the word was out that he would be retiring soon, but Brady wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, even if O’Donnell looked more than ready to step down.
Brady watched as they were joined by another man dressed in the same formal attire as O’Donnell.
‘Jack Brady, Mayor Macmillan,’ O’Donnell said as he introduced Brady to his dinner companion.
But Brady didn’t need any introduction. He knew Macmillan well enough.
Macmillan shot him a slick, oily smile as he bared his perfectly whitened and straightened teeth at Brady. It was a politician’s smile; soulless.
Macmillan was a slender five feet ten, in his early forties with sharp, penetrating blue eyes. This, coupled with his blond hair and smooth, tanned skin were his charm arsenal. The public and the press couldn’t get enough of him. But to Brady, Macmillan’s handsome face lacked compassion and empathy. And there was always a coldness in his eyes, even when he was smiling directly at you.
‘Good to finally meet you, DI Brady,’ Macmillan said as he offered his hand.
Brady reluctantly accepted his overly firm grip. Word had clearly got back to Macmillan that Brady wasn’t his biggest supporter.
‘And congratulations are in order I hear? Well done!’ he said, as he gave Brady an insincere smile. ‘Bill here has only the highest praise for you,’ he added as he playfully thumped O’Donnell on the back.
Brady didn’t reply. He had a feeling that Macmillan was being disingenuous. Add to that the fact he was feeling very uncomfortable about the relationship between O’Donnell and Macmillan. It seemed that they were very familiar with one another; too familiar. Brady tried to ignore what Matthews had said to him earlier about O’Donnell being in Macmillan’s pocket.
Brady looked at O’Donnell and couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The man had too much integrity, surely? He couldn’t be bought. Not by a sleaze bag like Macmillan.
‘What’s it to be then, Bill?’ Macmillan asked as the bartender dutifully waited on them.
‘The usual,’ answered O’Donnell. ‘Jack? Another?’ he asked.
Brady shook his head.
‘Sorry, can’t stay. I need to go back to the office.’
‘Surely you’re done for the night?’ O’Donnell asked, disappointed.
‘You know me,’ Brady answered apologetically.
He caught Macmillan’s eye. It was a cold, penetrating look that told him he was making the right decision to leave.
Brady turned and swiftly downed what was left of his malt. He decided it was better to leave before he ended up saying something to Macmillan and jeopardising not only his job, but his friendship with O’Donnell.
He had intended to go back to the station, but instead found himself outside Madley’s nightclub – The Blue Lagoon. Running into O’Donnell and Macmillan had really screwed with his head and the last place he wanted to be was sat in his office. His mobile rang as he stood outside debating whether to go in.
‘Yeah?’ Brady abruptly answered.
‘Jack?’
‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’ he asked when he realised it was Kate.
‘No … no. I just wanted to talk …’
Brady sighed, relieved.
‘Sure, but I’m still caught up with something right now …’
‘Oh … OK …’ Kate said hesitating. ‘Jack, is it true? The news has reported that it was her teacher?’
He slowly breathed out.
‘Yeah … The news is right, we’ve just charged him with her murder.’
‘Oh God! I… I never would have thought he was capable of doing something like that. Are you definitely sure?’
‘Yeah, we’re certain.’
‘I can tell Evie that it’s over with then?’
‘Yeah, I think that would be a good idea,’ answered Brady.
‘Jack? You haven’t heard from Jimmy have you?’
‘No … I’m sorry, Kate, but I’ve heard nothing from him.’
‘Oh … Just … it’s just that I feel like I’m going mad … I need … I need someone to talk to … you know? What with Jimmy still gone and … and … Jack? I really need you right now… could you …’ she faltered.
Brady was sure she was crying.
‘Give me an hour, then I’ll come back. Yeah?’ Brady offered.
#x2018;Promise?’
‘You’ve got my word,’ assured Brady before cutting the call.
He quickly shook off any concerns he had about Kate when he looked back up at the nightclub. He was certain he could see Madley’s figure silhouetted in the first-floor office window expecting him.
He attempted to limp past the two meatheads guarding the door.
‘Oi, mate! We’re not open till eleven,’ a fat, thuggish, bald man grunted.
Brady looked at him aware that it was well after eleven. He was dressed in the required black suit and bow tie. His fat fingers were covered in chunky gold rings. Brady presumed they came in handy when he had to throw a few punches. He fixed his dark brown eyes on the bouncer’s threatening glare.
‘I’m here to see Madley,’ Brady gruffly replied. He knew there was no point in being polite; these thugs were bred for violence, it was the only language they understood.
‘He’s not here,’ the bald man gutturally said. ‘So piss off.’
‘I’ll wait until he shows then,’ Brady asserted.
‘Are you thick or what? I said piss off!’ The bouncer grunted as he started to flex his fat, porky fingers.
Brady knew he didn’t stand a chance. He pulled out his wallet and showed his ID.
The bouncer glared at Brady in disgust before jerking his head for him to go through the doors.
Brady limped in. The place stank of stale sweat and sweet, sticky alcohol. Music was pulsating throughout, too loud and too crap for Brady’s liking. He made his way towards the bar where the staff were setting up for the night.
‘I need to speak to Madley,’ Brady shouted to a young girl behind the bar.
He didn’t recognise her and presumed she was new.
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What’s it about?’
‘I’ll tell him when I see him,’ Brady answered.
She reluctantly sighed. ‘Name?’
‘Detective Inspector Brady.’
‘I’ll see if he’s around,’ she replied irritably.
She put the mixers in her hand down and walked to the end of the bar. She picked up the phone and dialled.
Brady watched as she spoke to someone, presumably explaining that there was a copper looking for Madley. Brady saw her mouth his name. She then nodded and put the phone down.
She walked back to him.
‘He’s expecting you,’ she said. ‘Through the emergency door there and then up the stairs. First door on the right.’
‘Yeah, I know where,’ Brady answered as he made his way to the door.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake.
Brady allowed himself to be frisked by the same two henchmen from his visit on Friday.
