Minogue watched Cortina Byrne disentangle himself from one of the women leaning over the railing. She leaned back into the crowd, her hands over her face. Byrne spotted Daly and then the two detectives. His eyebrows went up.
“Just me?” Daly asked.
“For now, yes.”
“Why, what about?”
“It’s too noisy here. There’s a quiet spot over there behind the pub. An employee lounge.”
Daly turned away. He waved at a thickset man in a suede jacket by the door. The cheering was broken up now. The chanting was getting louder. Cleaners and restaurant staff were in the crowd now. Minogue watched Daly shaking his head as he spoke into the suede jacket’s ear. Byrne had grabbed his girlfriend again. He was laughing and waving. He stopped by Daly and listened in. The girlfriend looked at Minogue. The inspector nodded. Wasn’t she that actress one? Maybe not. Byrne was eyeing Malone now. He resumed his journey. Malone held up his notebook. Byrne hugged his girlfriend tighter. She looked like she hadn’t slept. There was a tiny jewel in her nostril.
“I know you,” said Byrne. Malone nodded and held out his notebook.
“This for the ma again?”
“Yeah.”
Byrne let go of the girl and took Malone’s Biro. The scribble and the droopy one-eyed smile up at Malone was almost a leer. Minogue looked at the girlfriend’s face again. A flash went off behind Minogue.
“You’re the fella with the sister’s blouse thing.” He threw his arms around her shoulders.
“These are Guards, love,” he said to her. “Our police, yeah? This one here has a part-time job, a nixer. He’s a comedian.”
Minogue couldn’t make out a K in the scribble but the F and the U were unmistakable.
“Is this like a slap on the wrist maybe?” Daly asked. “No. Why?”
“You think I dissed you the last time? When we were trying to get our flight?”
Minogue glanced at Malone.
“Disrespected,” said Malone. “Dissed, like?”
Minogue frowned.
“Because I made some calls,” Daly added.
“God, no,” said Minogue. “The head of the MCC, the fella in charge of the response, the Mobile Communications Centre, well he was annoyed. But that’s history now, as they say.”
“Okay,” said Daly. “Well, should I be sitting here being polite or picking up a phone?”
“Your choice, Mr. Daly.”
“If I knew what you seem to think is so bloody important that you can’t wait until I get the lads on the road out of here.”
The lads, thought Minogue. The chanting had stayed in some recess of his brain. In the few-chur. One of their anthems now.
“Oh, it’s just that we were out here anyway,” said Minogue. “We heard ye were coming in. So we thought, just a few minutes, you see.”
“Go ahead then,” said Daly. “Number one: what’s this all about?”
Minogue let the pause last
“We found a body here. The day you left.”
Daly nodded and looked from Malone to Minogue.
“I heard later, yes.”
“So we’re trying to find out who did it,” said Malone. “And catch them, like?”
The dry tone didn’t seem to register with Daly.
“What,” he said, “but why me? You want to question me?”
Minogue uncrossed his legs. So what if Daly noticed the rip in his trousers.
“Photographs have come to light, Mr. Daly. The murder victim appears in them, as do members of your band and yourself.”
Daly frowned. He looked down at his cell phone. Malone wouldn’t stop tapping the end of his Biro on his notebook. Minogue wanted to shout at him.
“You’re nuts,” said Daly “The both of you. You’re fucking nuts.”
The tightness across his chest suddenly alarmed Minogue. He’d forgotten about the bloody gun again. He shifted in his seat and tried to ease the pinch of the strap under his arm.
“Go ahead and phone all you want,” he said to Daly. “If you think you need to, like.”
“I’ll go one better,” said Daly. “I’ll get myself and my stuff and get to hell out of here.”
“So you heard of the murder.”
“I heard someone had been found, yes. I’m in touch two or three times a day with the office. They told me a bit about it. An American, I heard. Right?”
Minogue nodded.
“He appears to have had an in with your lads. The photo — ”
“Wait there now. ‘My lads’? This kind of dig, or innuendo, is this P1 of the manual: ‘provoke and annoy the shite out of someone’?”
“I’m asking you if you know this man.”
Minogue slid the photocopy across the table.
“Is this the fella that was murdered?” Daly asked.
“Have you seen him before?”
“No. Or if I did, it didn’t register.”
“You attended an art exhibit,” Minogue went on. “Oisin Hogan’s, a fortnight ago. Along with Cortina Byrne and others.”
“Sure I did. Oisin’s one of the lads grew up around the corner from Cortina. They’re pals. Yes, I went. Why?”
Minogue glanced at Malone. His colleague was now hopping his pen on his upper teeth. He seemed to be studying the top of Daly’s head.
“Do you recall this person at all? Talking to you? Talking to members of the band?”
“No, I don’t. Do you know how many people claim to be personal friends of the lads in the band? Long-lost cousins, friends of the family? Half-brothers?”
Minogue looked down at the phone. You could use these ones on the continent now. Seamless service, was that the term?
“I don’t know what they told you,” said Daly, “but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
He raised his hands.
“I know yous have your job to do and all and fair play to you, but someone’s been selling you a line. Sorry.”
“I see,” said Minogue. “We’re being codded, is it.”
“I think you have,” said Daly. “And maybe it’s someone just starting rumors or trouble making. Sour grapes, you know?”
“Oh, like people who’d not be pleased with your success?”
“Exactly,” said Daly, with that light inflection Minogue remembered of impatient teachers. “Now you’ve got it. Begrudgers. The old story here.”
Daly was looking from Minogue to Malone and back now. Lesson over, Minogue thought, even for the dunces who were slow to catch on. Plodders.
“Okay?” Daly asked. “I’m off, all right? Here, take this card.”
He waited for Minogue to say something.
“Sorry now,” Daly went on when he saw that neither detective seemed to have more to say. “I don’t mean to come across too heavy on this but I’ve nothing for you. If you’re really serious here, phone and I’ll be happy to sit down with you. ”
Minogue smacked the tabletop lightly with his hands. Daly made to stand.
“You’re headed for the States now in what, three days?”
