Maplethorpe bent over the table and played his shot. He blinked several times as if he was having trouble focusing his eyes, but then he hit the white hard and a ball cannoned into a corner pocket. ‘You play, Jamie?’ he asked.
‘I used to, but I’m probably a bit rusty,’ said Shepherd.
Maplethorpe potted the black and Elaine patted him on the back. ‘It’d be nice if you let me win from time to time,’ she said. ‘Go on, Jamie, give him a game.’
Elaine watched as they played. Shepherd was a reasonable player, but Maplethorpe was much better and within three minutes he was potting the black again. ‘You’re good,’ said Shepherd.
‘A misspent youth,’ Maplethorpe told him. ‘Rack ’em up again and we’ll have another game.’
They played pool until just after eleven. Then Elaine said she was going home and asked Shepherd if he was driving. ‘I knew I’d be drinking so I left the car at home,’ he said.
She grinned. ‘I knew I wouldn’t so my car’s outside. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’
They left the bar, walking through a group of smokers huddled round the doorway. ‘How do you know so many policemen?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Didn’t I tell you? I was married to one.’
‘What happened?’
‘He died,’ said Elaine.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Shepherd. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it was a long time ago.’
‘John’s a good guy.’
‘He used to work with Robbie, my husband.’
‘What does he do with the police?’
‘He’s a detective superintendent.’
‘That’s high up, isn’t it?’
‘He’s an important guy, right enough, but he’s handed in his notice. He’s not happy with the way the job’s going.’
‘Bit young to retire, isn’t he?’
‘He’ll find something. There’s a lot of private security companies and the like setting up here now.’
A figure stepped in front of them, a man in his late twenties, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his forehead. ‘Got a cigarette?’ he asked.
Elaine stopped and reached into her bag. ‘Sure,’ she said.
Two more men rushed up behind them, trainers slapping on the pavement, hoods up. The first man pulled a revolver from his pocket. ‘Give me your wallet,’ he hissed at Shepherd.
Shepherd stepped in front of Elaine, putting himself between her and the gun. ‘Stay cool,’ he said quietly.
Elaine screamed as another man pulled a flick-knife and pressed the chrome stud to eject the blade. He held it to her throat. ‘Yer feckin’ money,’ he shouted.
Shepherd took out his wallet and gave it to the man with the gun. ‘Just stay cool,’ he said. ‘No one’s going to give you any hassle. Take the money and go.’
‘Your phone,’ said the man, putting the wallet into the pocket of his jeans.
‘You don’t want my phone,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s a piece of shit and it’s password-protected.’
Elaine was panting, her eyes wide with fear.
‘Yer fuckin’ phone,’ said the man with the gun. He pointed the revolver at Shepherd’s face but his hands were shaking.
‘Okay,’ said Shepherd. He took the phone slowly from his jacket pocket and handed it over.
The man holding a knife to Elaine’s throat nodded at her bag. ‘Her money too. And her phone.’
The third grabbed the bag and rooted through it until he found what he wanted. He threw the bag into the road, then jumped away, still brandishing the knife.
‘You say anything to the peelers and you’re dead!’ shouted the man with the gun. ‘We’re with the Provos.’ He ran, with the other two after him.
Shepherd put his arms around Elaine. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Bastards.’
Shepherd took a deep breath. ‘The important thing is that we’re okay.’
‘Scrotes like that make me sick,’ said Elaine. ‘They’ve all come out of the woodwork since the Troubles ended. In the bad old days the paramilitaries kept them under control. Muggers, housebreakers and joyriders got one warning and then a kneecapping.’
‘You sound like you think that was a good thing,’ said Shepherd. He retrieved her bag from the road, dusted it down and gave it to her.
‘We’ve just been robbed at gun and knifepoint. Damn right I think it was a good thing,’ she said. She pointed down the road. ‘My car’s there. At least we weren’t carjacked.’
They walked together to the Golf and she drove them home. As she pulled up in her driveway, she offered Shepherd a nightcap. She unlocked the front door and the burglar alarm beeped. He stood behind her as she tapped in the four-digit code to deactivate it. He didn’t have to make a conscious effort to remember the number. His photographic memory worked effortlessly. Whatever he saw, whatever he heard, he never forgot. Shepherd had seen a television documentary once in which a psychologist had explained that the human brain recorded everything, but not everyone could recall what was stored in it. Most were only able to remember a fraction of the information in their brain, but Shepherd had had total recall since he was a toddler.
‘We should call the police,’ said Elaine. ‘They probably won’t catch them but at least we should make a report.’
‘There’s no point,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’ll have taken the money and ditched the wallet and purse by now. We should just count ourselves lucky we weren’t hurt.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Elaine. ‘But I’m going to block my phone and stop my credit cards right away.’
Shepherd followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table as she switched on the kettle.
‘I’ve got to use the loo,’ she said.
‘More information than I needed,’ said Shepherd.
She laughed and went upstairs. Over by the fridge there was a metal box with a stencilled picture of a bunch of keys on the front. Shepherd went over to it and opened it. Half a dozen different keys hung on hooks inside. He ran his finger along them. There was a car key on a VW key fob and a rusting steel key that looked as if it belonged to the shed at the bottom of the garden. One was a brass key which looked as if it fitted the kitchen door. A ring with two keys looked like a spare set for the front door. He took them off the hook. One was a Yale, the other for a deadlock. Taking them was a gamble but, assuming they were a spare set, there was a good chance that Elaine wouldn’t notice they were missing. He slipped them into his pocket, closed the box and sat down again.
When Elaine came back he was smoking. He held up the cigarette. ‘Hope you don’t mind.’
‘Go ahead,’ said Elaine. ‘That’s one of the pains about going out these days – you can’t smoke anywhere.’
‘They’ll be fining you for smoking in your own home before long,’ said Shepherd. His stomach was turning somersaults. She had welcomed him as a neighbour, invited him into her social circle, brought him into her home, and the first thing he had done was steal her keys. There were times when he hated what he did for a living, and this was one of those times.
As soon as he got home, Shepherd retrieved his personal mobile from the bedside table and phoned Charlotte Button. ‘Are you okay?’ asked Button. ‘We were listening in on your phone and we heard what happened. It was over so quickly we didn’t have time to do anything.’
‘It put the wind up Elaine but it was okay. Just muggers.’
‘With a gun?’
‘One had a gun, the other a knife. Said they were Provos but that was bollocks. Do you have a fix on the phone?’
‘A house in a street off the Falls Road,’ said Button. ‘Do you want us to send the local cops around and pick them up?’
‘I don’t want to raise red flags,’ said Shepherd. ‘The cops might wonder how you got the location, and then
