“You’re different anyway,” said Egan. “About time I had a new one.”
“If it’s you, Eddsy, I’ll have you,” said Minogue. Egan’s face seemed to have gone slack.
“So you came by to tell me that. A freebie.”
Minogue nodded.
“What if I send the tape of this performance to your big chief, what’s his name, Tynan.”
Minogue glanced up into the corner. The video camera lens was small.
“As long as the colour’s good and the light’s right, fire away.”
“What’s your job when you’re working?”
“Point two, Eddsy. Your sidekick here. Terry Malone. Give him the sack.”
Egan’s face cracked into a smile. Malone laughed.
“A customer? You want me to put him out of the shop?”
“That’s right.”
“Where’s the law? Show me the rule-book on that one.”
“Yeah,” said Malone. He wasn’t smiling now. “Just what kind of fucking harassment are yous trying to get up to now? Huh? You and this other fucking bogman here?”
“Long day before a gutty like you could do a day’s work in a bog, pal,” said Kilmartin.
“Take a running fucking jump at yourself,” said Malone.
“Wreaking havoc on families is nothing new to you and your outfit,” said Minogue. “But this one’s off-limits. You with me now?”
Egan’s face grew suddenly flushed. His knuckles turned white on the counter.
“Is that so? You and this overgrown fucking chimp waltz in here to lecture me about family? After yous’ve been chipping away at friends of mine, trying to get them to lie about me?”
Minogue took a step toward Terry Malone. He studied the face, the bruises. Malone frowned back into the Inspector’s stare. His breath was coming faster. He bit his lip.
“You’re high, aren’t you?”
Malone was faster than Minogue had imagined he could be. He barely had his hands up when Malone’s nose was inches from his own. Sour beery breath fanned over his face. Kilmartin’s arm clamped around Malone’s neck. All this Minogue took in with little surprise. He knew that Malone could have floored him. Malone’s eyes were wide now but he was laughing. He had made no attempt to get out from Kilmartin’s choke-hold.
“Don’t be a patsy for the Egans,” said Minogue. “They’ll throw you on the scrap-heap.” Kilmartin pushed Malone off. Egan seemed to be bored by the commotion.
“What’s the name there, sheriff? Credits on the video, you know.”
Minogue gestured to Kilmartin.
“I’ll be seeing you, Eddsy.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll know the name of your dog even in a half-hour.”
“Christ, what a worm. A slimy, creeping Jesus of a worm.”
“Kind of unnerving all right, Jim.”
“Unnerving? Didn’t I tell you it’s in the genes, man? Twins. Ugghhh.”
Minogue shrugged. Kilmartin gave him an elbow.
“Here,” he said. “Does it occur to you there are regulations we have to adhere to?”
Minogue looked across the street. His Citroen was intact.
“You’re the boss, Jim. Everybody knows that.”
“Everybody except you. I should’ve let him give you that puck in the snot.”
“I couldn’t have stopped him, James.”
“Well, I could have.”
Minogue looked at Kilmartin as he stepped onto the road.
“I’ll tell you how,” Kilmartin went on. “I could have hit you myself before we ever came out to this kip! Saved him the bother. Jesus Christ, man, why didn’t you tell me you were going to take that line?”
Minogue helloed at the detectives.
“Well?” said Heffernan.
“Nobody broke down and confessed,” said Minogue. He leaned on the roof and looked back at the shop. “No. No glory here. It’s back to just working for a living.”
“Did you get what you came for, you know?”
Heffernan looked across the street at the shop and sighed.
“He thinks he’s safe, you know. Eddsy. Bobby too. That we’ll never nail them.”
“Let him think what he wants. You file to who?”
“Serious Crimes.”
“You wouldn’t be sort of, well, be saving anything now? In a different file?”
Heffernan gave him a glazed look. A smile began to creep across his face.
“Oh, sure, we want him first. But no. There’s too much depending on co-ordinating everything. Sure it’s damn near political at this stage.”
Minogue continued to give him the eye.
“No one slipped into the shop there this last while, while the lads in the van were changing tapes or the like?”
Heffernan spoke with a haughtiness that brought a smile to Minogue’s face.
“God, no,” he said. “Ah, no. Really. It’s as boring now… This is symbolic half the time. Who’d go to Eddsy’s shop for dirty work knowing we sit out here day in, day out?”
Minogue looked over at Kilmartin. The Chief Inspector was pacing up and down the footpath, smoking. J. Kilmartin would give him a right bollocking all the way back to the office, no doubt.
“Only me, apparently,” he muttered under his breath.
The ache he had in his right arm flared every now and then. He’d had to stop several times when it had turned to pain. A hell of a lot of good it did for that bleeding doctor to be telling him that there was nothing broken. Shaking his head and looking down at him, with those X-rays in his hand. Like he was looking down at a lower form of life.
The coin slipped in his fingers as he pressed it toward the slot on the phone. He heard it bounce off the ground but he couldn’t turn fast enough. The pain in his side was too much now and he straightened up. Bruising- what had the doctor called it? Confusion? The doctor didn’t look any older than himself; probably drove a BM-where the hell was the twenty pence?
He suddenly felt as if everything was draining down to his toes. He straightened up, steadied himself against the wall and waited for the little starbursts to stop exploding around him. Rush hour, nearly. Maybe he shouldn’t have had those few pints. To kill the pain, he had thought, to keep off the streets. They hadn’t helped him think any clearer about the plan. He squinted and glanced up at the tops of the buildings. Christ, clouds for the first time in days. Weeks? A woman walking down the path eyed him and crossed the street. He watched her hurry along. He wanted to call out after her that even if he wanted to try and rob her bloody handbag he didn’t have the energy. His mouth was still full of sticky spit.
He still had no appetite. He thought back to the hospital. Christ, he could get a job as an actor any day. And they thought they had him! That cop last night, the one he’d been on the phone to. Minogue. Playing good cop: let’s have a chat there, Liam. Oh, yeah, your life story. Trying to come the heavy then with that crap about running out of friends or running out of places to hide. Daring him to prove he still had mates. But all the time he’d been planning. The questions he’d been asking, even. Christ, he’d learned a hell of a lot more from that cop talking than what the cop had learned from him! He hadn’t been asking him about Jammy Tierney just to pass the time.
Lying there in the bed he hadn’t been sure, but as soon as he’d made up his mind he knew he could do it. His clothes were a total mess. He looked like a knacker, probably smelled like one too. At least he didn’t have to run down the street in a bloody hospital gown! That dopey cop that was supposed to be guarding him, sneaking out to the jacks… He’d be up the creek for that too. Great! The stars had gone but his head still felt light. When he moved his neck it felt like it creaked. He watched the traffic for several moments. Maybe it was a stupid place to be, a place where he could be spotted too handy. A car braked next to him. He was suddenly alert, ready to run, ready to
