shake. He stepped out of the Jeep and looked at the empty space around him.
D.I. O’Connor sat at his desk with a row of files open in front of him. Everything he read was irritating him. There were six members in the Drug Squad and it was clear that nothing they had done over the previous year had amounted to anything. He knew this already, but reading it now – in one sitting – for the first time in months made him wonder. Since he had left them, where did it all go wrong?
‘Uh-ohhh,’ said Duke. ‘Who’s showed up late for the party?’ Joe’s heart sank.
The call didn’t sound like it was being made outdoors. Joe looked around, but the car park was empty – no cars, no people.
‘You can’t just—’
‘I can do what I like, buddy,’ said Duke. ‘I’m the one with the little froggie here. She’s cute too. Ribbit. Ribbit.’
Joe was at a loss. ‘I…c’mon, man. I’ll give you whatever you want.’ He paced up and down in front of the car.
‘I wanted you to be here at three-thirty.’
‘It’s just three-thirty-five.’
‘Uh-huh, which is why I’m telling you YOU ARE LATE FOR THE PARTY. You shouldn’t have stopped for the girl, you fuckin’ sucker.’ He hung up.
Joe tried hard to slow his breathing. He focused on the view. From high on the cliff above the harbour he could see just a small part of the village. And the road to Shore’s Rock was invisible after the first curve it took out of town. Joe frowned. From where he stood, it was impossible to see the place where he had stopped for the girl. All Rawlins could have seen was Joe’s car driving toward Danaher’s, but he wouldn’t have been able to make out a passenger. Unless Duke had never intended to bring Anna here and was watching him from an entirely different location. Joe jumped into the Jeep and drove out of the village, stopping at intervals along the route he had taken. He ran along the trees that bordered the road, looking for any sign that Duke Rawlins had been there. He didn’t want to think that Anna could have been metres away from him all this time. But he couldn’t see how. He took the turn into Shore’s Rock and drove cautiously up the lane. When he got into the house, he dialled the station.
‘Hi, Frank? It’s Joe. I was just checking in with you, wondering if that young girl got to the hospital all right.’
Silence.
‘Frank?’
‘What girl?’
‘The one I left outside Danaher’s. With the stab wound. I told her to go into you. She, she needed an ambulance. I had to – Jesus, I hope she didn’t collapse…’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe. I’ve been here all morning, no-one has been in and no-one has collapsed outside Danaher’s. I think I’d have heard about it. Are you OK? Joe?’
Joe pictured the girl lying on the pavement bleeding out. Then he imagined Frank standing at the counter in the station thinking he was out of his mind. And then it hit him.
‘Gotta go,’ said Joe.
He ran to the den, grabbed the Harris’ Hawk book, scanned the index, then flipped to the page he was looking for. His finger moved under the words as he read; ‘
‘Sorry about earlier,’ said Joe. ‘Total confusion. Just wondering…you know your missing girl from Tipperary? She’s on your bulletin board? Big girl?’
‘Yes,’ said Frank. ‘Uh, Siobhan Fallon.’
‘That’s the one. Can you check the photo and give me the distinguishing features bit?’
‘Well, we have large mole on left shoulder, pierced navel, three gold hoops in right ear.’
Joe felt a surge of heat to his face. Nausea swept over him. Then anger. Then rage.
He managed to thank Frank and hang up before he asked any questions.
Frank turned to Richie. ‘I’ve just had the strangest phone call. Joe Lucchesi wanting to know the distinguishing features on that Fallon girl.’ He pointed to the missing person poster. He frowned. ‘Can you explain that?’
Shaun came home for lunch and didn’t want to go back to school. He was hoping Anna would be there but the house was empty and cold. He sat in the kitchen, too numb to fix something to eat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. There was no way he could answer it. He was under orders. It rang again. Then someone knocked loudly on the door.
‘Mrs Lucchesi?’ He spoke in a thick Dublin accent and was pronouncing the name Le Chessy. Shaun moved towards the voice, debating what to do. He could see a man standing at the glass by the front door. He was waving a clipboard and pointing at it. Shaun almost laughed. There was no way this chubby delivery man was anything other than harmless.
Shaun slid open the door. ‘I’m here with your balloons,’ said the man.
Shaun looked shocked.
‘Jaysus,’ said the man, looking at his clipboard. ‘You’re not the bloke the surprise is for, are you?’ He read his sheet. ‘Oh no, you’re not.’ He glanced at Shaun. ‘You definitely don’t look forty to me.’ He laughed.
‘Uh yeah, it’s my dad. They’re for him.’
‘I hope you’re not going to look that miserable when you’re giving them to him.’ The man laughed and Shaun thought again how strange it was that life for everyone else goes on, no matter what is happening in yours.
‘Are these paid for?’ he managed to ask.
‘Luckily for you they are,’ said the man, ‘judging by the panic on your face there. Don’t worry, your mother covered it.’
‘Is she here?’ asked Shaun, excited. He craned his neck around the porch to look down the lane.
The man frowned. ‘Eh, no. It was by credit card, over the phone.’
‘Today?’ asked Shaun, his eyes wide.
‘No,’ said the man. ‘Last week.’
‘Oh,’ said Shaun.
‘You must be very close,’ said the man, frowning. He nodded to the van. ‘Where do you want them?’
Shaun looked around as if he’d find his answer in the trees.
‘The lighthouse over there,’ he pointed.
The man contemplated the walk. ‘Eh, I think you can handle it yourself, bud. There aren’t that many.’ He went out to the van and grabbed three clear plastic covers, tied in a knot at the bottom, each one covering a bunch of five helium balloons. They were weighted down with a small navy balloon filled with sand.
‘Thanks,’ said Shaun.
‘Hey?’ said the guy as he walked away. ‘Cheer up!’
‘Your wife lied to me,’ said Duke. Joe could hear a loud slap down the phone line. ‘So I taught her a lesson.’ Slap. ‘Your wife tried to tell me she was leaving you, so’s I wouldn’t hurt little Shaun.’ Slap. ‘Your wife insulted my intelligence.’ A final slap.
Joe’s tone plunged ice-cold. ‘Enough about
TWENTY-EIGHT
