'Good morning madam,' Minogue replied, the advantage of tea resting him on the high ground of talk. 'I awoke early. I may be entering my dotage.'
'Is it the job?' Kathleen asked.
'No, lovey. The rain woke me, so it did.'
Later, when Daithi and Iseult appeared at the table, Minogue couldn't keep his eyes off them. It occurred to him that he might indeed be going dotty to be scrutinising them like this. Daithi looked up from his cornflakes several times. Finally he raised his hands.
'Honest to God, I didn't do it,' he said.
'What?' Minogue said.
'Whatever it is, I didn't do it. If you're looking at me bloodshot eyes, it's the library to blame.'
As they left Minogue's car outside the university, Minogue managed to kiss both of his children. Iseult blushed and drew away a little, her eyelashes down. Daithi was more than bashful and he tried to ease his father's caprice as well as his own irritation.
'We can't go on meeting like this, darling.'
There might be something in that remark, Minogue thought as he drove off.
Kilmartin was sitting behind a copy of the Irish Independent. It crumpled down as he began his effusive greeting. Greeks bearing gifts, Minogue figured.
'Matt, me old ball and socket,' Kilmartin said. 'How is she cutting?'
'Fair to middling. Nothing to write home about.'
Both sat. This is not like him, Minogue registered. For his part, Kilmartin felt a companion gas pain. Its occurrence marked awkward moments in his life, a constant sentinel these days. He hoped he wouldn't have to fart here in this office. Better hurry it up, Minogue knows there's something in the wind.
'I took the liberty of bringing along Connors' notes of the interview with the Walsh boy's parents. A very sad business to be sure, to be sure. The missus is under sedation. She might have to go into hospital. Do you know, her memory is gone almost completely. She remembers the boy as a youngster and little else.
'An interview? Yesterday?' Minogue said.
'Well, a few words to be exact. Connors just kept his ears open.'
'The Da?' Minogue led.
'Oh he's a very busy man, you might say. Very busy, yes,' Kilmartin said with reluctance.
'Not saying he wasn't a good father at all, don't get me wrong. Let's say he let the wife look after domestic things. And the family sort of fell under that heading. At the moment, Connors said he doesn't know whether he's coming or going really. That's the gist of it,' Kilmartin concluded.
'Thanks. I'll go through it myself later.'
'And the bloody rain has put the kybosh on searching for the murder-site. Isn't that the divil?' Kilmartin said.
'It is,' Minogue allowed.
'And I have to sit in on these meetings to do with the latest stuff in the North. Would you credit it but we're all involved? There's to be some of that crowd from A division up in the North-you know, the joint RUC and Special Branch thing they have up there. They'll be sitting in too. They have the wind up, so they do. I don't mind telling you, Matt, that that particular crowd has hooligans in it, what with the way they treat people in Castlerea…'
And what about our own Heavy Gang here in the South, Minogue mused inwardly. Banana republic. Kilmartin lit a cigarette and inhaled. Minogue glanced over the transcriptions of Connors' notes.
'Not so hot, is it?' Kilmartin offered.
'Best he could do, I suppose,' Minogue replied.
'You're managing O.K. though,' Kilmartin said tentatively. 'Overall, like?'
Minogue studied the desktop. So that was it. Kilmartin wanted to be reassured.
'Fine, thanks. I'm always quiet like this when I'm Sherlocking cases.'
'Right you be, Matt, right you be. Sure didn't I know that when I had you put on the case?'
Kilmartin smiled, affecting contentment. His belly rumbled and the pain burned him again.
'The Commissioner was inquiring after you. Asked to be remembered to you. 'Glad to hear Matt is on this one,' says he. 'The man is out on his own, so he is,' he says. 'And don't I know that myself?' says I. Isn't that the trick, Matt, picking the right people and then getting a pat on the back for the results, hah?'
It was Minogue's turn to smile. Out on his own is right. Did he mean outstanding or remote?
'Oh and he says to tell you that Wexford will wallop Clare when their turn comes,' Kilmartin said with some satisfaction.
Minogue had to hand it to Jimmy Kilmartin. He was making the best of it, trusting Minogue to fill in the lines. Letting Minogue know in a low-key way. A bit of chat about what the patricians were hatching, keep in touch. He liked Kilmartin. He didn't envy Kilmartin's go-betweens, his rank, his obligations. They had known each other for twenty years. Still, Minogue was growing frustrated at waiting for the rest of it.
'So Loftus put a flea in someone's ear?' Minogue asked.
Kilmartin didn't balk.
'Yep. He was on the blower. Nothing direct, you see. Polite enquiry and exchanging pleasantries.'
'And…' Minogue waited.
'Wondering if maybe you were concentrating too much on something. You gave him a bit of heat about a locker the other day?'
'Lucky I didn't run him in for destroying evidence. There might be a drug angle to this so-'
'— and you're the man on the spot, Matt. Tell you the truth, I haven't the time of day for the likes of your man, Loftus. Just to let you know. Now if you need staff to work on this part with you, say the word. We're stretched but, you know.'
'Thanks.'
'Loftus was peeved. The Commissioner got the impression that you might have felt under pressure to produce results and that you were pushing a matter of little consequence.'
'Sounds like Loftus talking,' Minogue said. 'Tell me, was the Commissioner ever in the army himself?'
Kilmartin hesitated.
'Matter of fact, now that you mention it, he was. In the early fifties. Did an unusual thing, changed career. Paid off.'
'The contacts are always there,' Minogue observed delicately.
'Look, Matt. That note-I know about it-is from a crank or some yo-yo who didn't like Walsh. As for his Da's importing fruit and the like, well you can't get much for bananas on the drug market here. Walsh wouldn't know one end of a reefer from the other. Neither would the young lad, God be good to him. It's just a student thing. You know how the papers would lap up any stuff like that though. That's Loftus' peeve, I'm sure.'
'One of the boy's professors told me he had an interest in the effects of various drugs,' Minogue said.
'Ah,' Kilmartin sighed. 'Well, that's how I tend to think about it meself. He probably wanted to have something ready to say to his pals if they were poking fun at him for not smoking up. A debate maybe. He was well able to talk, by all accounts.'
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
'Be that as it may, though,' Minogue said quietly, 'Loftus won't be the one to determine whether police work should or shouldn't pursue something, no matter how far up the bog it might look.'
'Absolutely,' Kilmartin said. 'But listen. Maybe you did rub Loftus the wrong way, maybe a personality thing. The Commissioner is wondering if maybe your own views on things aren't squeezing in on things a bit.'
'You mean Loftus and where he works? The old school tie stuff and the gentry beyond in Trinity? No.'
'It's been a rough year for you, Matt, more than a lot of people could take. Wouldn't you prefer to work on another angle? Look, I can get Connors to do the legwork for you. He's a smart lad. He has his wits about him.'
'No thanks,' Minogue said, in the quietness which seemed to fill the room after Kilmartin's remarks.
Kilmartin turned back to the pleasantries. He did not want to leave any friction in his wake. He suffered for his understanding, however, with the knifing pain in his bowel as well as with the knowledge that Minogue read his strategies.
