He retraced his steps back around the abutment. Not an accessible part of the waterway for the aimless stroller. He stopped at the foot of the steps. The rot by the canal banks had a sharper tang to it here. If Byrne was on the level, whoever he had heard that night must have been shouting. The same Joe Byrne was at the top of the steps. Byrne was gnawing on the inside of his cheek, one hand a fist by his side. Not a happy man to be caught out. Night vision was the first to go in most people, wasn’t it? He must get Byrne’s prescription.
“Are we right?” asked Byrne. Minogue didn’t answer. He took the steps slowly.
“Tell me again what you saw.”
Byrne shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Look now,” said Byrne. “If only I knew what Mary was jabbering on about, I’d know where to start and set you straight. She runs on and on and makes a big deal out of nothing.”
Minogue held up his hand.
“Listen, Mr. Byrne. You saw us working up and down the canal here the other day. Do you have any idea how much work is involved in searching both banks here, up and down, all day long?”
Byrne poked at his glasses.
“You don’t. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s too much, that’s how much. It’s dirty and it’s hard and it’s discouraging. It’s the kind of place that makes us want to give up. But we do it. It’s all we can do.”
“But lookit,” said Byrne. “If yous had’ve listened to ordinary people like me and Mary and cleaned up the place here and put Guards on the beat here, then this wouldn’t be going on.”
Minogue narrowed his glance.
“Doesn’t wash,” he said to Byrne. “Ordinary people are what count. What good’s a uniform on its own? You should have phoned me. You should have told me the other day when I bumped into you. That spot down there might be useless to us by now.”
“Well, I mean to say. I didn’t think there was anything out of the ordinary, did I? There’s a hell of a lot of this class of thing going on here these years. There does be people down there. Up to no good, like. Don’t ask me what, now-the trade, I suppose. And every night of the week too, I’m telling you. ”
“Every night?”
Byrne folded his arms.
“I don’t be out every night of the week if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”
“All right, all right. Tell me again.”
Byrne took a deep breath.
“Well, now. The lights down there are useless. I been at the Corpo years to do something about them. Bits of that bloody place are pitch black, so they are. Well, maybe not totally black like-I mean, years ago, you’d be able to see the swans there, how they’d go in there for the night and tuck in their heads like. But then there’s the water itself. You know what I’m saying? Sure, that gives off the queerest reflections by times. Especially if there’s a breeze. I was over here by the steps-”
“Wait. Were you on your way down the steps?”
“Are you joking me? I wouldn’t go down there in the dark for all the tea in China, man!”
“You heard voices.”
“Yes. A woman’s voice. Only the one-and she was cursing. I told you-”
“What words?”
Byrne’s nose wrinkled. He fingered the arm of his glasses.
“The exact words?”
“The exact words, Mr. Byrne.”
“You mean I have to…?”
Minogue nodded slowly. He looked around Byrne’s face. The tight lips, the frown: prowling around here at night, then probably going to early Mass every Sunday. He was very close indeed to calling for a car to take Byrne down to Harcourt Square.
“Well. ‘You!’ That was what I heard for starters. A shout, like.”
“Like she knew who it was?”
“I suppose. I didn’t hear every word what was spoken. Shouted, I mean.”
Minogue looked at the water. Sic Kilmartin on him, he thought. He turned back. Byrne seemed to have picked up on his mood.
“The, er, F-word,” said Byrne. “A lot of that.”
“Fuck, you mean.”
“Yes. Like I was telling you. No names now. ‘That effin’ b.,’ she said.”
Minogue looked back and met Byrne’s eyes.
“B for bastard? B for bollocks? B for bitch-”
“Bastard. Yes.”
“Not ‘You effin’ bastard’?”
Byrne’s lips flickered again.
“No. ‘That effin’ bastard.’ ”
“ That effin’ bastard?”
“That’s right.”
“No other voices? No one arguing with this woman? Protesting? Name calling?”
“I didn’t hear anyone, no.”
“You’re certain you didn’t hear sounds of a row? People moving about down there?”
“No.”
“How long were you standing here listening to that?”
“I never said I was standing there listening to this-”
“Slowed, then. Paused. Lingered.”
“Ten seconds maybe.”
“And how were you able to see anything at all down there, Mr. Byrne? I was down there and you could barely hear me. You certainly didn’t see me.”
Byrne blinked. The Inspector’s stare became more intense.
“I know, I know,” said Byrne. “Didn’t I tell you that the place is out of sight of the path?”
“Well then? You told me that you didn’t go down the steps at all.”
“That’s right.”
“So how’d you do it? How’d you see anything at all?”
Byrne shifted on his feet.
“Well, I saw in bits, didn’t I? You know. I sort of, well, I sort of like hopped up once or twice.”
Byrne looked down at his shoes. Minogue saw more colour welling in behind the pink skin on his forehead. Here was something to offer Jim Kilmartin, a quirk, a vision of human behaviour which would set the Chief Inspector laughing in derision for the day.
“You hopped? You’re seventy-six years of age, Mr. Byrne.”
Byrne looked up sideways at him.
“Doesn’t mean I’m an antique, does it? I just don’t want you or your crowd getting the wrong idea.”
“What is the wrong idea?”
“That I’m one of those, you know, gawkers. Perverts. Personally now, speaking for myself like, I’m nothing but disgusted by the goings-on in this city. Dublin’s gone to hell. There. And that’s a Dublinman telling you. You can quote me on that.”
“You thought then that what you saw was a swan. You said that to your wife.”
“That’s right. What I’m saying is there used to be. Years ago. Before things started… Ah, sure…”
“Go on.”
“Go on with what?”
He plucked his glasses off and thrust them at the Inspector.
“You try them-go on. Amn’t I trying to tell you it’s no use? And didn’t I tell that wife of mine the self-same thing?”
Minogue held the glasses up close. The trees swam far-off, the buildings floated as though underwater. Byrne was rubbing his eyes.
