“Thanks, Tommy. Anyway. The blurry stuff there are clothes, I am told by our imaging experts here. Thrown off rather precipitously I imagine. This was in a place called the Cave. There’s no name on the door now. Do you know it?”
Kenny’s expression didn’t change. Minogue sat back and stretched.
“I bet you’re wondering how it’s done, aren’t you? The actual photography, I mean. Not the actual, well, you know what I mean. The recreation there.”
“Not really.”
“You aren’t? Well, my goodness, I was, I can tell you. I thought of the old Hollywood stuff, of course. The one-way glass masquerading as a mirror and all that. But, sure, fool that I am, I’d look straightaway for something like that. If I were interested in that class of an encounter, I mean. The way I was reared, I suppose. Here, Tommy, what about you?”
“Definitely,” said Malone. “First thing I’d check. Yeah. Be a fool not to.”
“Did you check, Mr. Kenny?”
“What?” snapped Kenny. “I’ve never been to this Cave place in my life.”
“Ah. You know the place then?”
Kenny turned away. Minogue sat up and leaned on the table.
“To make a long story longer now… Those Japanese wizards. Miniaturising everything, I’m told. They’ll soon be making them so small that you won’t even see them. The camera is wrapped in a piece of sponge, slipped in behind a small mirror and hung on the wall. The pictures are all taken remotely. Hardly a peep out of it.”
Kenny didn’t look over. He kept up his study of a corner of the ceiling.
“Don’t know what the colour is like,” Minogue went on. “Very grainy without the flash, I’d say. But sure, who needs colour? Oh, by the way, do you know this fella here in the picture? Just on the off chance, now?”
Kenny didn’t answer.
“No? We don’t either. Yet. We’ve been having a kind of a lottery in the office there since we got hold of these pictures. I have fifty pence on this man here being a Tipperary dairy farmer. No?”
Kenny turned his head. There was a vague suggestion of pity on his face. He looked from Minogue to Malone and back.
“Up for the mart here, I decided. The Spring Show maybe. The wife out shopping in Grafton Street, most likely. Your man had enough of the tractors etcetera early on in the day. He even has the look of a heifer about him. A bullock maybe, though.”
“It’s a good story,” said Kenny. “At another time.”
Minogue put on a startled expression and turned to Malone.
“As a matter of fact-no, it couldn’t be. Could it, Tommy?”
“What?” asked Kenny.
Minogue dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.
“Couldn’t be. Ah, no! It just struck me that this man bears a passing resemblance to a man we work with… Well, Tommy, what do you think?”
Malone didn’t crack a smile. He half stood and examined the picture.
“Well, the build, maybe…”
“No, couldn’t be,” Minogue declared. “He’s Mayo. I’m forgetting the basics here. It’s the married men are the meat and potatoes of operations like this, Mr. Kenny. If I can use that expression. But you’re not married, so what harm.”
A glaze had fallen over Kenny’s eyes.
“That’s just about enough,” he said. “If you want to talk to me again, phone my solicitor. I’ve sat here long enough. Do you know what my time is worth? I charge-ah, what’s the use. Here I am, doing my best to co-operate with the Guards and what do I get-”
“Twenty years, Mr. Kenny. Probably.”
Kenny’s head tilted to one side. Minogue sat forward in his chair and joined his hands.
“Pardon? What did you just say?”
“You asked me what you could get,” replied Minogue. “Average it out at about twenty years. Depends a bit on the demeanour of the defendant, of course. The posture he takes as regards co-operating with the police.”
Minogue watched the changing expressions cross over Kenny’s face. His jaw began to go from side to side again. When Kenny spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“You know, I’d heard rumours that this was how the Guards worked. Sometimes. When they were stuck. When they were desperate to get someone, anyone, so they could claim they were getting on with a case. I tell you, I used to discount this kind of blatant intimidation. That was probably because I had some faith in cops. I mean, maybe the Guards knew more about the clientele, the background, than the man in the street, like. One thing for sure, though: I never expected that a Guard would try this crap on the likes of me. Some illiterate with a record maybe, someone who didn’t know his rights-sure. But I never imagined that this day would come-”
“ Carpe diem, Mr. Kenny.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Loosely translated, ‘Let’s get going.’ Sort of a way of saying-”
“I know what it means. I want to know what this latest installment of weird and unbelievable-”
Minogue turned to Malone again.
“Tommy. Do you think Eddsy has the pictures?” Malone continued his scrutiny of Kenny’s face.
“Hard to say,” he said. “Not hard to get though.”
“Oh? Mr. Kenny here does not appear to be unduly alarmed,” Minogue went on. “So presumably he is of the opinion that Eddsy Egan-”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“ ‘The hell?’ Mr. Kenny?”
“Cut the crap. You can delay things here a bit, but it won’t stop me phoning my solicitor.”
“God between us and all harm,” said Minogue.
“Do you think you can get away with this?”
“With what?”
“Your colleague here is a witness. Unless he wishes to perjure himself.”
“No, thanks,” said Malone.
“Your tape of this conversation is also evidence. You’ve presumably logged in here for the use of this room. Need I say more?”
Minogue loosened his collar. Water the garden tonight, even if he had to do it in the dark. A big tin of very cold beer in the fridge. Like America at home, by God. He stood up and faced Kenny.
“You need say nothing at all that you believe could be used-”
“Aha! So I am under arrest!”
Kenny’s eyes had narrowed. His lips tightened in ironic satisfaction,
“You seem well-versed as regards your rights,” said Minogue. “Not to speak, my God, of the most mundane procedures here in Harcourt Square. Logging in for the use of this room. How did you know that?”
Kenny said nothing. He began tapping his fingers on the chair-back. Malone had eased himself up now. He leaned against the wall by the door.
“You’ll naturally be aware then, Mr. Kenny, that the State does not proceed with posthumous convictions. Sort of obvious, isn’t it?”
“What’s going on here? Come on!”
“You want me to charge you, arrest you? Do you, Mr. Kenny?”
“I dare you.”
Minogue tugged at his earlobe.
“I’ll have to turn you down on that one, Mr. Kenny. Yes, indeed. The edge, no doubt. You’re a gambler and a risk-taker, so you are. No. You can go back out there and take your chances.”
“Unreal,” said Kenny. He shook his head. “I’d never have believed it. That real cops, Guards, would act like this, talk like this.”
“Act, Mr. Kenny? We’re not doing auditions here.” The Inspector turned and nodded toward Malone. The detective’s expression wavered between amusement and contempt. “No make-up, no special effects. The
