With a shy smile the Guard turned tail and went through a door behind the counter. Two Guards ambled in the door, laughing, from the yard.
“How’s Alo?” asked the older one. He had ginger hair and pale, tired eyes still full of humour after the joke he had been exchanging with his mate.
“I’ve been better,” said Crossan.
Ginger-hair smiled at Hoey.
“Did Alo do that to you?”
A Guard in the lighter blue tunic of a Superintendent came through the door into the public office. For several moments, Minogue could not grasp what was going on. The Superintendent’s eyes had been on Minogue’s from the moment he had appeared around the door. The two Guards in from patrol stopped abruptly, straightened and looked from the Superintendent to Sergeant Ahearne following. Behind Ahearne came the desk-officer who dared a look toward Minogue before looking away. Minogue’s thinking still lagged behind his awareness that he had walked into an ambush.
Superintendent Thomas Russell of the County Clare Division of the Garda Siochana was fifty-three years on earth. He retained a full head of crinkly hair which flowed back from a heavily lined forehead. The hair reminded Minogue of a child’s drawing of ocean waves. Two unfashionable patches of sideburn hair high on Russell’s cheeks hinted at an inflexibility. Vanity, Minogue guessed. Look at me, I am fierce. I can grow hair right up under my eyes. Thick eyebrows couldn’t deliver any softer, owlish aspects to this warrior’s face. Minogue wondered if Russell’s wide face with the thrusting tufts and the incongruously small features looked this impassive as a matter of course.
“Gentlemen,” said Russell. “Will you step into this room here?”
The trio were ushered in ahead of Ahearne and Russell. Ahearne, an athlete run to fat after resting on laurels probably twenty years old, but soft on his feet yet, pulled out chairs. Russell nodded as introductions were made. Then he opened with a weak facsimile of humour.
“Well. To find Jim Kilmartin’s boys here in Ennis. Who’d have imagined our good fortune?”
Minogue did not mistake the tone. He wondered what Russell being here had to do with the Mercedes bearing CD plates outside.
“I’m acting for the deceased,” said Crossan. “I met the Inspector socially and I called him for advice. He was acquainted with Bourke.”
Russell gave Crossan a blank look.
“Half the county was well acquainted with Jamesy Bourke, I believe,” said Russell.
Minogue looked into the flat face and the tiny eyes which hardly moved.
“This man Spillner shot him the once?” Minogue asked.
“The once, yes,” Ahearne replied. “But with two barrels.”
“And killed him outright?”
“Very much so,” said Ahearne. He shifted slightly in his chair, drawing a squeak from the vinyl as he issued a sympathetic nod.
“How far away from Bourke was he when he-”
Russell raised his hand.
“Inspector. You appear to be launching an investigation here. Sergeant Ahearne is, in point of fact, the investigating officer. He is already in possession of sufficient material to pursue the case to its conclusion.”
Minogue looked at Ahearne. The sergeant blinked and rubbed his hands together once.
“That’s great,” said Minogue.
“We’d like to talk to this Spillner man,” said Crossan.
“Ah, Mr Crossan,” Russell said with exaggerated civility. “In what capacity, now?”
“As counsel for Jamesy Bourke.”
“He retained you, did he?”
“As a friend, then.”
“A friend? With all due respect now, Mr Crossan,” said Russell, leaning in slightly, “this is a delicate enough matter. There’s a foreign national involved. There’s the possibility of hob-lawyers-no aspirations on your profession, now-trying to make something of this business. The issue of land, I mean. Now, I don’t see how you can help the investigation by interviewing Mr Spillner-”
“ Herr Spillner,” said Crossan.
Russell fixed a stare on the barrister before resuming.
“I don’t see how you can help us by interviewing this man. All the expertise and training, well, we have them at hand. The Inspector here can assure you of that, of the professionalism and training we have here on the Force.”
Russell paused to raise his eyebrows as he looked at Minogue.
“The County Coroner has provided us with a very clear picture of what happened, and what Mr Spillner has told us accords very closely with that report. It’s a tragic event. But the atmosphere in parts of the county, what with hooligans with guns and their heads full of slogans, well… I would tend to lay some of the blame at the feet of those people for helping to make things so strained.”
He turned to Minogue.
“Are you up on the tensions we are having here in Clare, Inspector? There are people now from fine families getting caught up in this nonsense.”
So Russell knew that he was related to Eoin, Minogue thought. He returned Russell’s look. The Superintendent continued with a poor pretence at being guileless.
“Now, I don’t know if it’s widely known in Dublin, but we might have a repeat of the Land War on our hands here. Whiteboys and Rapparees they’re not. These characters have machine guns, etcetera.”
“If he was so close to Bourke, why did he kill him?” Crossan demanded.
Russell jumped on the question.
“This Mr Spillner has a great command of English, am I right, Sean?”
Ahearne nodded.
“Very good indeed. Very precise account of everything, right down to the times. He was out to the house with us twice and we re-enacted the whole thing several times. It’s all consistent with what the PM shows.”
“‘Suggests,’ you mean,” said Crossan. “Why did he kill Bourke?”
“It was night,” said Ahearne. “He didn’t know Bourke from Adam. And he thought Bourke had a gun in his fist-”
“A gun?” Crossan echoed.
Ahearne shrugged. “We have an ashplant from beside the house. Spillner says he was certain that Bourke was pointing a rifle at him. So he let fly with the shotgun.”
“His defence is that he was in fear of his life?” Crossan spoke with a sharp tone of incredulity.
“It’s not for us to be deciding or guessing at what Spillner will or will not claim in his defence,” Russell retorted. “But I imagine that will be brought up at an inquest.”
“Inquest?” asked Crossan. “Don’t you mean trial?”
Russell’s expression didn’t change but he spoke more softly now.
“You hardly need me to explain the procedures to you, now, Mr Crossan. We give our reports to the authorities.”
Russell paused to let his listeners reflect on the way he said “authorities.”
“They’ll decide how to proceed on behalf of the State. We have plenty on our plates here in Clare, but we’ll proceed in good order.”
His eyes left Crossan and they settled again on Minogue. Russell’s expression had now changed but faintly. The edges of his mouth rose, in what ordinary citizens might believe was a smile.
“Remember me to Jimmy, won’t you, when you go back to Dublin.” The Superintendent rose from the table. “But tell him that Mayo should stick to the football. Leave the hurling to experts.”
Minogue was surprised to find Russell’s hand extended across the table. He shook hands with the Superintendent.
“Such as?” Minogue tried.
“Such as Waterford.”
Close, Minogue thought. He had guessed Russell’s accent as high-hat gloss on Kilkenny.
