what recourse to alcohol in a big way did, Minogue wondered, then maybe there was something to be said for it. But no. Something about Naughton put the Inspector in mind of a bull elephant, a creature who might go suddenly, felled by a massive stroke, crashing to the ground.
“From Ennis, you say now,” said Naughton. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, a massive hand clasped around the knuckles of the other.
“Yes.”
Minogue tried to put on a friendly face, but he continued to be distracted by details. The soapy smell from a face meticulously shaved, the faint smell of shoe polish, the razor nick by Naughton’s ear, the outline of the braces that the retired Guard still attached to his trousers. A life of habit, a man who liked and needed routines.
“But yiz are not Ennis.”
“We work in Dublin.”
“God help yiz, so.”
Minogue tried again to smile.
“It’s gone desperate in Dublin, I believe,” said Naughton. “Not safe to walk the streets, they say.”
“I suppose,” said Minogue. “But sure troubles can come anywhere. The divil has his own guide, as they say.”
“Tis true for you. Tell me, are you a Sergeant?”
“I’m an Inspector, in actual fact. They kicked me upstairs to be rid of me.”
Naughton issued a sceptical, knowing wink.
“I came down on a visit to my relations this little while back,” Minogue said. “And I, er, ran into a man above in Ennis. He told me a few things about events back, now, a good number of years back…”
“Who?”
“Aloysious Crossan.”
Naughton scratched the back of his head.
“I knew him,” he muttered. “He’s a big name in the law. Is he still at it?”
Minogue nodded. “To great effect too, I believe.”
“Hah,” scoffed Naughton. “He was mighty sharp with his mouth as I recall. But he had the name of being good for them that needed it.”
He sniffed and gave Minogue a grin with no warmth in it.
“You know yourself,” he said.
Minogue raised his eyebrows.
“His clients,” said Naughton, his hands working over one another. “He hires himself out to scuts.”
“I’ve heard that said,” said Minogue.
“If and he was a woman, he’d be a prostitute,” Naughton added. He glanced down at his own hands. Like a boxer listening to a pep talk, Minogue thought, a horse of a man. “But sure you wouldn’t know these days, with the homos and what have you, would you? Anything goes, nowadays.”
The blue eyes which came up from the stilled hands had a glaze of satisfied amusement. Minogue’s eyes were drawn to the wiry white hairs, like pigs’ bristles standing out by Naughton’s collar.
“He is a Protestant, all right,” said Minogue. “But you probably knew that.”
“Prostitute, I said.”
Minogue feigned relief. “Oh. That’s not so bad. I thought you said Protestant.”
With no movement that Minogue could detect, the face had become blank and hard.
“What do yiz want?” he said.
Minogue thought about the house afire in his dream, himself weirdly aerial over the blaze, with the sea black under the stars and the porpoises racing out to the sea.
“How much did you have to drink the night of the fire?”
“What fire? What are you talking about?”
“Jane Clark. Jamesy Bourke. Dan Howard. You.”
“Fuck off. Inspector or no inspector, you’re nothing to me. Get out of here.”
“Or you’ll call the police?”
“Fuck off outa my house.”
“Where was she when you got to the house?”
Naughton’s hands reached for the armrests.
“Where was she?”
Naughton propelled himself up. Hoey also stood. The Inspector raised a hand toward Hoey.
“Take yourself up and outa my house this minute.”
“Phone. Go ahead,” said Minogue, and concentrated on the sunlit window.
He wondered if Naughton would take a swipe at him. He leaned slightly to his left, away from the giant. Naughton clumped by him and walked down the hall. Hoey cleared his throat and rattled his cigarette box in his pocket.
“Are you sure you want to go at him like this?”
“Head first, Shea,” Minogue whispered. “No other way at this stage. If he’s a drinker, got to shake him. And Eilo McInerny got it hard from Naughton too. Man’s a bully, Shea. We’re going after him.”
“We could get run out of the place and get nothing,” said Hoey. “Except maybe a thick ear.”
Minogue reconsidered his strategy for a moment. Shock treatment for a drinker might backfire. Who would Naughton phone? A minute passed. Hoey shrugged, took out his cigarettes and lit one. He made a half-hearted survey of the room for an ashtray. Minogue watched him all the while, listening for Naughton’s voice.
“You’re in the pink, anyway,” Minogue murmured. “Excepting for those lungs of yours.”
Hoey took the cigarette out of his mouth and eyed Minogue, the fag poised in his hand.
“It’s the excitement. Never a dull-”
Minogue knew immediately that it was glass, and he was first out the parlour door. The door to the back room was closed. He opened it and looked down to the tiny kitchen where Naughton was stooping. The rest of the room was taken up with a table, television and dresser. A red-faced Naughton stood up. The smell of whiskey reached Minogue and he looked down at the shattered bottle, the pool by Naughton’s feet.
“Get to hell out of this house,” said Naughton in a growl, “or I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”
“Who will you be responsible to?”
“Fucking smart-arse. Get out to hell!”
“You can’t hide in a bottle, Guard,” said Minogue.
“Who the hell are you to be coming around here, without a by-your-leave? You come marching in here, without any notice-”
“What do you need notice of?”
“If you had’ve phoned or let a man know there was an inquiry…”
Hoey’s smoke stung Minogue’s eyes.
“You march in here with accusations… By God, I’m going to have you drummed out. You’ll be in court over this, so help me.” Naughton’s hands turned into fists.
“Easy does it, now,” murmured Hoey.
“Who are you, you pasty-faced iijit? No wonder you have two black eyes. I’ll have you thrown out of your job too, so I will.”
Minogue looked at the chairs tucked in under the table.
“Why don’t we just sit down like civilised human beings for a few minutes? And discuss the matter in a calm, gentlemanly manner.”
“Ye’re not in that category,” Naughton called out. “By Christ, I’m glad I never had to meet the likes of yiz on the force. We were above board and dacent in my time.”
He reached out suddenly and pointed at Minogue. Hoey stepped back.
“We didn’t take our orders from maggots like Alo Crossan. The shitehawk. Hah, look at ye! Hook, line and sinker, bejases! He’s got you codded. It’s sorry for you I should be.”
“You said in testimony that Jamesy Bourke was falling-down drunk when you got to the cottage. That the whole place was an inferno.”
