Egans’ hands either. And I can’t watch him every day, can I? Jases, such a mess! Those fucking- excuse me. Am I screwing everything up?”
Minogue didn’t want to answer. He met Kilmartin’s mocking eyes across the room. Molly Malone screws up big time. The Dub’s a dud: told you so.
“I swear to God,” Malone went on. “If I’d a thought Terry was going to go ape-shit, I mightn’t have been so bloody keen to apply for the posting on the Squad and everything. But now here’s Terry going around like an unexploded bomb. And he’s taking me and my career down with him. The Egans know that too, I know they do. The bastards!”
Minogue bit back any words of consolation. Malone remained silent.
“Don’t be getting ideas about the Egans, now. You have to cool off.”
“Okay.”
Minogue replaced the receiver and looked down into the yard. No Iseult sitting in the passenger seat waiting for him. He couldn’t tell her how much he liked having her at home again. Kilmartin was standing behind him.
“What’s with Molly?”
Minogue didn’t answer him.
“It’s the brother, isn’t it? Trouble, right? Didn’t I tell you? The genes, man.”
Minogue turned and opened the file on Jack Mullen.
“So it is the brother,” said Kilmartin. Minogue glared at him.
“Amongst other things, Jim, yes.”
EIGHTEEN
Minogue poured more coffee and turned over the Victory Club papers again. Jack Mullen had brought them to his first interview and used them by way of telling his life story. The stuff reminded Minogue of the twelve steps from Alcoholics Anonymous, but loaded with a heavier dose of God. It was also peppered with terms that he, Minogue, had grown queasily averse to. Denial-in denial; empower; self-esteem; grieving; relationships; homecoming; breaking the cycle-something which would have many puzzled Irish men looking for a puncture-repair kit or a set of bike-spanners? No. Unfair, he thought. Irish males-even Irish policemen, middle-aged Irish policemen, middle-aged Irish policemen from the west of Ireland-were not ignorant of the wider world. There had, after all, been a Time magazine spread several years ago on men, film stars included, going into the woods in America to share their feelings with other men. Mullen had said several times that he wanted his life back, that he wanted his family back. He wanted to start fresh. The wife obviously hadn’t been impressed with fresh starts and she still didn’t want anything to do with him, sober or not. And if Mary hadn’t wanted anything to do with him? Didn’t want to be ‘recovered’?
Minogue was beginning a second reread of today’s update of the forensic findings from the State Lab when the phone went. He watched Eilis’s expression as she put the phone to her ear. She slowly sat upright and stared at her monitor for several moments. He sat forward in the chair, placed his hand on the extension and waited. Is that him, he mouthed. Her eyes came back to focus on his. She nodded. He picked up the receiver and pushed for the call.
“Matt Minogue speaking, hello?”
He listened for street noise on the other end. Someone breathed.
“You’re a cop, right?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you a cop, I said!”
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you, a sergeant?”
“Inspector. I’m-”
“Well, I know you’re not the only one on this. So don’t try to lie to me!”
Minogue said nothing. Kilmartin had emerged from his office.
“Did you hear me?”
“Go ahead there now. Liam, is it?”
“Fuck you and your ‘Liam’ stuff! Shut up and listen! I didn’t do nothing. You’re chasing an innocent man. Totally innocent! Yous’re too stupid to go after Bobby Egan and them! Or yous’re too chicken. That’s what I’m telling you!”
Minogue listened to the sharp intakes of breath. Leo Hickey was holding his hand around the mouthpiece. Kilmartin was tiptoeing toward him. Eilis, he noticed, had a line ready for the call from Communications.
“Hey! Are you listening?”
“I am indeed. I thought you wanted-”
“You think I’m going to take this shit lying down, man? I been framed! So get that!”
Minogue tugged at his eyebrows. Kilmartin was staring at him. The phone hadn’t been sourced yet. How long did it take them, for God’s sake? Weren’t they talking about fifteen seconds from the reverse directory computer now?
“I hear what you’re saying there. If you’d just-”
“I’d never harm a hair on Mary’s head, so I wouldn’t! Did you get that? I don’t know what crap yous’ve been told but you can’t believe it.”
“Well, why not meet me and we can have a chat-”
“Shut up! I knew yous’d try that!”
High, Minogue wondered, but the voice was clear.
“Oh, yeah, sure! I come in and yous nail me. Oh, very smart. Yous stick me in a cell somewhere ’cause you don’t like what I’m saying. Right? And what happens then? I get it from the Egans! Even if I get remand, they can get in. No way, man! That’s a death warrant!”
“We can protect you, Liam.”
“Like hell you can! I walk back out on the street and it’s worse even, ’cause you’d put it out that I’m a stoolie or something! Yous do it all the time!”
Kilmartin was waving. He began jabbing his forefinger into the desk-top.
“Listen, Liam, you’re upset-”
“You’re bleeding right I’m upset! Here, I’m jacking this in!”
“Just a second. Please! Give us where you were that night. We can check it. If it’s sound, what have you to worry about?”
“Are you deaf or something? The Egans! Everyone thinks I done for Mary too!”
“Do you know what an alibi is, Liam? Give me an alibi I can check. We’re not interested in any other stuff you’re into.”
Minogue heard a horn from Hickey’s end.
“Alibi? What if I don’t have one?”
“Well, try me.”
Minogue tried to read into the few seconds’ silence.
“I fucking can’t!” Hickey blurted out at last.
“Look, Liam. We’re not going to come on heavy on any minor stuff you’re into. Come on, now, put yourself in the clear.”
“I was out that night.”
“Who with?”
“On me own-aw, fuck, this is stupid, I’m-”
“Just give us a chance, Liam.”
“I was doing cars! Don’t you get it? That’s why I don’t have a fucking alibi!”
“Where then?”
“Yous’d only use it on me anyway…”
The voice trailed off.
