it.”
“Did Brian Kelly ever belong to a different rank than Associate?” Minogue asked, rafting in on the pleasantries.
Drumm cleared his throat before answering. “Matter of fact Brian stayed in this residence for several years.”
“Why did he leave?”
“He felt ready for a move,” Heher replied easily. “Nobody is shackled here.”
“Same rank here, then, as when he left?”
“I was coming to that,” said Drumm. He was working to maintain the genial air. “Brian was experiencing difficulties with his calling as a Numerary member. He had demonstrated great effectiveness and faith, but all of us have our clouded days. We all strive to renew our faith and commitment. It would be a poor and unreflective member who didn’t experience the anxiety which the deepest and most sincere self-examination can bring.”
Drumm looked hopefully into Kilmartin’s face.
Heher looked down at the grain on the bare table-top and nodded his head several times. “We’re out in the world, you see,” he joined in. “We’re mortal and fallible, all of us. We meet with the stress of modern living like anyone else. Our apostolic work brings us into tough situations and it’s no surprise that we should feel the pressures sometimes, the same as any other thinking men, thinking Christian men. We don’t hide in foxholes, metaphorical or otherwise. We don’t shun the world. Finbar here is a successful doctor, for example.”
Drumm smiled shyly and Minogue thought he saw the first genuine emotion in the group. Praise, nothing more, nothing less: a little praise was the hook when it should always be a pillow. Minogue made a mental note to praise his children to the eyeballs the next time he saw them.
“The other brothers in this house include a solicitor and a town-planner. If you came here at tea-time you’d see plenty of cars parked outside in the driveway. What kind of car does Pierce drive now, Finbar?”
“A Saab,” Drumm smiled. An inside joke, Minogue realized.
“There’s even a television in nearly everyone’s room here. Not to speak of fancy clothes,” Heher went on, smiling indulgently at the two policemen.
Minogue felt his unease turn to distaste. “So ye’re not Martians, I take it,” he said.
“Precisely,” said Heher, showing his teeth again.
“Any of the membership work in Radio Telifis Eireann, Father Heher?” Minogue asked quickly, his gaze holding Heher’s and watching Heher’s smile falter.
“An interesting question that. Not here, I think, is there, Finbar?”
“No, er, Inspector. We can’t boast such glitterati here, I’m afraid.”
“Any work on the buses then?” said Kilmartin, trying to ease the sudden tension. “Cause if they are, they’re not at work today, the rascals. Ha ha.”
Undeterred, Minogue went on. “How would I find out if there are any Opus Dei members in, say, advertising companies or factories? Or in the Army, say?”
“Well, you’d ask an Opus Dei member where he or she worked, I suppose,” said Heher.
“From the top down, I mean. Working from a membership list.”
“Well now, you have me there now. I expect you’d have to apply to our President and see if he’d be willing to discuss it.”
“The man in Spain, is it?”
“Good for you. In Rome, actually. Our office is in Rome, yes.”
Drumm was sitting very still. Heher’s smile was a frozen ruin.
“Nobody here in Ireland?”
“The authority to give out the names of members must come from Rome,” said Heher.
“Has such been asked of you before, Father?”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Heher evenly.
“If the civil authorities thought it a matter of great urgency…?”
“I must confess that I’ve no experience in this. I’d really need to seek guidance myself if it were a matter of such urgency.”
“How about a court order, Father Heher?”
Heher shrugged and worked on the smile again. “If my writing would speed things up, I’ll certainly try. But may I ask you then if you’ll be candid about why you’d want such information?”
“You certainly may,” said Minogue, feeling more vindictive now that Heher’s unctuousness stood out so freakishly in an atmosphere unmistakably tense. “We’ll be investigating the possibility that Brian Kelly’s death is connected to his membership of Opus Dei.”
Heher’s expression changed for an instant and Minogue thought he saw a moment of hostility shimmer in his eyes. In the few seconds of strained silence that followed, Minogue berated himself for dancing so easily to Kilmartin’s tune. Here was Minogue, leaping on command. Was he that addicted to his dislike of Heher and what Heher represented?
“You’ll be aware that nothing like this has happened before,” Heher said coolly. “And I note that you are saying in effect that Brian Kelly may have been a victim of foul play. Not that despondency got the better of him and he took his own life, but that one of our fraternity may know something about the death of his brother?”
“Former brother, I believe,” said Minogue.
“Well, now,” Kilmartin intervened, scaping his heels on the floor. “Before we go into details about Mr. Kelly’s tenure here and what ye knew of the deceased, I’d like ye to listen to this little tape which myself and Inspector Minogue have with us. The wonders of science. Would ye listen carefully and consider separately whether ye recognize this person’s voice?”
Kilmartin pushed Play and sat back in his chair. His eyes flickered to Minogue once. Looking to the intent Heher who seemed like he might be praying, Minogue believed that Heher had seen Kilmartin’s glance.
“Great,” said Kilmartin acidly. “Fuckin‘ great. You’re always dragging me in here. Sooner or later God Almighty or an Assistant Comm will be here and he’ll see us and want to know why we’re not at work. Where’ll we be then, I’d like to know?”
Minogue took the change from the cashier.
“It certainly is,” he replied to her. “Me and me boss here are going to mitch off work for the afternoon and go up to the Phoenix Park. Frighten the deer.”
“Don’t be waiting on the bus,” said the girl dryly. She knew Minogue both as a Garda and a large white coffee with a sticky bun, no butter. Minogue grinned. She might even know that he was referring to Garda headquarters in the Park, not the hundreds of acres of parkland where deer ran free.
“Where will we be then?” Kilmartin repeated.
“In good company, if they’re here too, I suppose,” Minogue replied. “What’s it to our legion superiors where we do our thinking, here or back in the squadroom? Anyway, you owe me.”
“I owe you a kick in the arse if I owe you anything,” said Kilmartin.
“You owe me for upping my blood pressure with those two moonies back up on Churchtown Road. You knew I’d see red with the likes of Heher.”
Kilmartin had no reply ready. He began shovelling brown sugar into his coffee and looked around at the motley crowd which made up Minogue’s congregation in this, his favourite branch of Bewley’s Oriental Cafe.
“See that little shite over there in the corner pretending to be invisible?” said Kilmartin moodily.
Minogue looked toward the corner and picked out a small middle-aged man with the features of a wary cat.
“Yes, him. I shopped him first nigh on twenty years ago. Never forget a face. He was forever breaking into church poor-boxes. As well as that, the bugger could climb anything. A shagging fly, he was. I wonder is he the same now. Take the eye out of your head, he would. Right from under your nose too.”
“All God’s chillun got wings, Jimmy. That’s what I like about this place.”
“All God’s children, my royal Irish arse. They’ll phone God Almighty’s office, you know. That Heher fella… bad news if he’s vexed, I’d say.”
“Do I care, though?” Minogue murmured, an image of Heher’s face still lingering.
Kilmartin lit a cigarette, shook his head and fell to stroking his nose. A tall woman with her hair cut severely, a single sharp-looking earring dangling from her ear over Kilmartin’s head, appeared at their table. “This is non-
