Minogue sat back.
“That associate is Billy O’Riordan. Hotelier, horseman, and bon vivant.”
Minogue recalled newspaper photos of a broadly smiling, chubby man holding the bridles of winning horses; cutting ribbons for new buildings. Shaking hands with public figures; Cancer Society; visiting sheiks; stud farms; helicopter rides to remote islands: the whole bit.
“He’d had calls from Shaughnessy’s mother too. She divorced the father twenty years ago. She had custody afterward. She’d been trying to get in touch with the son but couldn’t. O’Riordan wanted to help in any way he could.”
More offers of help, thought Minogue. Wasn’t that great.
“I hear you. What I mean is ‘we here in the squad hear you.’ ”
Tynan folded his arms.
“You know who Shaughnessy’s father is?”
“A Mr. Shaughnessy. Shaw-nessy.”
Tynan shook his head
“The mother went back to her maiden name. Something to do with the fact she got an annulment.”
“That’s the pope saying you were never really married, as I recall.”
“That’s it. The son came with her and he had his name changed to hers.”
“At her wish, or the son’s?”
“I don’t know,” said Tynan. “But she used to be Leyne. Yes, your case, well, his father is John Leyne.”
Minogue’s wandering thoughts, his cresting irritation disappeared.
“Well now I know,” he managed.
“Leyne’s Foods,” Tynan said. “As in probably billionaire by now. Irish emigrant makes good. Boston.”
Minogue stared at the patterns in the stained-glass window.
“Okay,” he said finally “We’ll be in the spotlight.”
Tynan nodded.
“Amicable,” Minogue muttered “Is that the word they use for a good divorce?”
Tynan paused before answering
“ ‘Happy families are all the same…’ ”
“ ‘Are all alike,’ you mean,” Minogue said.
Tynan almost smiled.
“You mucker,” he said. “And you from God-knows-where, the back of beyond in West Clare. Go after a bit of promotion, can’t you.”
Minogue was surprised at how fast his irritation returned.
“Leave me alone to do my job.”
“Is that about Leyne?”
“That too. He’ll take a number, like anyone else.”
“Did I suggest differently?”
“Well don’t poke me about promotion either. I don’t want to end up like Lawlor.”
Minogue tried to remember if he’d seen a photo of Leyne recently in the papers. Some acquisition or other, a takeover. As tough as any of the homegrown billionaires over there. He looked back at Tynan. The commissioner’s eyes had glazed a little.
“Here you are quoting Chekhov — ”
“- Tolstoy. And I didn’t quote him. It was you started it.”
“But you know it don’t you,” said Tynan. “The follow-up too probably.”
“ ‘Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’ ”
“Well thanks,” said Tynan. “Chances are, I wouldn’t be hearing secondhand about your damn views from the bar of the Garda Club spouting off about who had a hand in the fate of a washed-up criminal warlord, or capital punishment, would I, now?”
Minogue looked down into his cup. No divinations from milky coffee froth.
“James uses the term to refer to his long service as a hardworking Garda officer in the city of Dublin.”
Tynan pursed his lips.
“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Another thing about our friend Shaughnessy, or Leyne. O’Riordan left broad enough hints. ‘Some acrimony,’ he says. The mother kept young Shaughnessy away from the dad for a few years earlier on.”
Sudden sunlight flooded through the windows, caught glass, and dazzled Minogue. His sneeze erupted with barely a moment’s warning. He opened his eyes to see O’Leary watching him fumbling for a hanky.
“No effort spared,” said Tynan. “All resources necessary.”
Minogue wiped his nose slowly. No effort spared. A tycoon’s son. Sounded like a messed-up son. He crumpled the hanky into a ball and placed it on the saucer. No: a waitress shouldn’t have to deal with that. He dropped it into his pocket.
“When’s the PM?” Tynan asked.
“Early afternoon, I believe. Pierce Donavan freed himself up.”
“You’ll attend?”
“I’d better, I suppose.”
Tynan arranged his cup and saucer on his plate and stood.
“Phone me direct if you have any hitch in seconding staff.”
Tynan handed him a card.
“A new cell phone number for Tony O’Leary,” Tynan said. “You still have mine?”
Minogue took it. O’Leary was on the move already. He returned the limp wave.
“I’m going to check if it was Tolstoy, you chancer.”
Tynan’s eyebrows inched up, stayed. As close as he’d get to a smile, Minogue knew.
CHAPTER 4
Elis put down her cup. She placed her cigarettes and lighter in the drawer under her keyboard and she looked around the squad room. Like she’d just landed from Jupiter, Minogue thought. Eleven years they’d worked together. The “clerical” didn’t mean anything: she ran the place, not Kilmartin. Her gaze settled on Minogue. Kilmartin had phoned, she told him.
“That’s nice,” Minogue said. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
She resumed her survey of the squad room. Minogue squinted at the power level on the cell phone. Was it faulty, or did it just drop to zero all of a sudden?
“On the head of that rira at the airport, says he.”
He looked up from the keypad. There was something extra in her voice now.
“And wants you to phone back.”
He nodded. She didn’t look away this time.
“Couldn’t reach you, he says. With that cell phone you have in your hand.”
Minogue cocked an eye at her.
“Says to remind you to think about the on/off switch on the phone. That it’ll make a big difference.”
“Thank you, Eilis.”
She turned away and picked up the phone. Was that a sigh he had heard out of her? A lot of herbal teas lately, shorter hair, fewer smokes. Kilmartin had heard that Eilis was going out with a civil servant, high up in Finance, a Euro-boy.
“Fergal Sheehy’s on holidays,” she said.
“You checked already, did you.”
“But Farrell’s in.”
Minogue knew that the officers he wanted drafted in from the pool had been on the move recently. Fergal Sheehy had been transferred to Stolen Vehicles. They were swamped and there had been a dander in the papers
