A Terrible Beauty

'Well, your people can count then, can they? That's one mercy.'

'We don't have any suspects yet. It depends very largely on the way they died, and when.'

'So-as usual-you'll be depending on me to crack your case for you.'

'You're a great pathologist, Dr. Reidy.'

'And you, Detective Superintendent, should be home minding your kids.'

Katie looked out of the car window as they were driven down the long hill toward Kinsale Roundabout, andCork . She could have said all kinds of things, in answer to that. She could have been dismissive, or bitter, or told him how she had gone to feed Seamus on that chilly January morning and found him dead, not breathing.

Instead, she said, 'We've booked you your usual room, up at the Arbutus Lodge. I'll have to warn you, though?it's changed hands since you were here last, and the food's not what it used to be.'

'I'll take my chances with that, Inspector.'

They drove into the city, and dropped Katie off inAnglesea Street . Dr. Reidy said, 'I'll be letting you know my findings as soon as I can. I'm aiming to get at least two days' golf in, after all.'

Katie said nothing, but closed the car door and watched him being driven off, his car bouncing and swaying over the potholes. She crossed the road and walked back into the Garda headquarters, her head bowed, and when Garda Maureen Dennehy said, 'Chief Superintendent O'Driscoll has been looking for you, ma'am,' she didn't look up, not once.

Eamonn 'Foxy' Collins was already waiting for her when she walked into Dan Lowery's pub inMacCurtain Street . It was a small pub, its walls crowded with bottles and mirrors advertising Murphy's Stout and souvenirs and vases of dried flowers. Eamonn Collins liked it partly because of its theatrical connections (it was right next door to theEverymanPalace theater) but mainly because of its gloomy stained-glass window, which had originally come from a church in Killarney, and which made it impossible for anybody to see into the pub from the pavement outside.

He was sitting in the small back room where he could watch both the front door and the stairs which led up to the toilets. Opposite him sat a big silent man with a blue-shaved head and protruding ears and python tattoos crawling out of the neck of his sweatshirt. Eamonn himself was lean and dapper, with russet brushed-back hair that was beginning to turn white in the front and which had earned him his nickname. He wore a beautifully tailored two-piece suit in mottled gray tweed, a black waistcoat and very shiny black oxfords.

Katie sat down opposite him, deliberately obscuring his view of the front door.

'Will I buy you a drink?' he asked her. They didn't need to exchange any pleasantries. His eyes were like two gray stones lying on a beach in winter.

'A glass of water will do.'

'Jerry,' said Eamonn, and the big silent man stood up and went to the bar.

'You've been taking it very easy lately,' said Katie. 'Five days' fishing in Sligo?two weeks' golf inSouth Carolina .'

'It's good to know that I'm missed.'

'I miss you like a dose of hepatitis A.'

'You're the light of my life, Detective Superintendent. But a little more live-and-let-live would go a long way.'

'I don't think that drugs have anything much to do with letting people live, do you?'

Eamonn gave a one-shouldered shrug. 'What I always say is, you shouldn't let nefarious activities fall into the wrong hands; you have to keep crime clean.'

'Is that what happened up at Meagher's Farm? Somebody was keeping crime clean?'

'I don't know what happened up at Meagher's Farm, I'm sorry to say. Things have been very peaceful here inCork in the past few months; that's why I went off on two weeks' holliers. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that it wasn't anything to do with me, or with anybody else that I know of.'

Eamonn was the only man she knew who actually pronounced his semi-colons, sticking out the tip of his tongue and making a soft little clicking sound. She had always found his fastidiousness to be the most alarming thing about him. He ran one of the most profitable drug rackets in the city, and he had been personally responsible for the brutal murders of at least five people. Yet all his clothes were handmade inDublin and he was always quoting from Yeats and Moore.

There weren't many ofCork 's criminals who actually gave her that bristling-down-the-back-of-the neck feeling, but 'Foxy' Collins did.

'Have you eaten at all?' he asked her. 'I know that you detectives are often too busy to eat, and the beef sandwiches here are particularly good. Or the Kinsale fish chowder.'

'I've had lunch already, thank you,' Katie lied. 'What I need to know from you is who's gone missing in the past six months. Eleven people, that's a lot of bodies. If they'reyourbodies, I'm sure that you'll be anxious to have your revenge. If they're not, then I'm sure you'll be equally anxious to make sure that one of your competitors gets what's coming to him.'

'But what ifI'mresponsible?' asked Eamonn. 'I wouldn't tell you that, now would I?'

'I don't think youareresponsible. You're more flamboyant than that. When you deal with somebody, you like the whole world to know about it. Like that time you set fire to Jacky O'Malley in the middle ofPatrick Street .'

Eamonn came close to smiling. He took a sip of his Power's whiskey and fixed her over the rim of his glass with those stones for eyes. 'You know what it looks like to me, this massacre of yours? It looks like the work of knackers. There's been some bad blood feuds between some of the families, and if I were you I'd be looking to talk