A Terrible Beauty

'That's right.'

A long, tense pause stretched out between them. 'Caitlin thinks you've changed. She feels that you're frustrated at work. That's why you can't keep your temper.'

'I have my own feelings about things, Katie. But this is my private life you're talking about here, and what happens between me and Caitlin is frankly none of your business.'

'You assaulted her, Liam.'

'At least I didn't crucify her.'

Katie didn't answer. It was quite clear, the position she was in. She carried the phone over to the sideboard and opened the vodka bottle one-handed, and poured herself a large measure in one of her heavy cut-crystal glasses.

'Any news of Siobhan Buckley?' she asked.

'Not much. Three eyewitnesses saw a white Lexus being driven erratically along the Lower Glanmire Road about five past nine in the morning. That was only shortly after Siobhan Buckley is supposed to have accepted a lift in a white Japanese-type saloon. There was a man and a girl in the Lexus, and the woman in the car behind them got the impression that they were struggling. The car was swerving from side to side. It struck the nearside curb and almost drove head-on into the oncoming traffic.'

'Any sight of it after that?'

'None.'

'I see. I think I need to talk to Tomas O Conaill again.'

Liam said, 'Listen, Katie?however things are between us, you need some rest. I can talk to O Conaill tomorrow. I can also coordinate the search for Siobhan Buckley. You've just suffered a really traumatic experience, and you've got Paul to think of, too.'

'Very compassionate of you, Liam. I just wish you'd show the same compassion to Caitlin. She's my friend, remember.'

'Katie-'

'I'll be in tomorrow at nine. I want a report on today's accident on my desk waiting for me. I want an assessment of Dave MacSweeny's family and his remaining gang-who they are, where they live, and whether you think they're still likely to be dangerous.'

'You're the boss.'

Katie switched off her cell phone and put it down on the sideboard. Sergeant roved around her, snuffling and whining. 'It's all right, boy. You'll have to do your business in the garden tonight. I don't think I've got the strength for a walk.'

She took her drink upstairs to bed. She was too tired even for a shower. She undressed, put on her large blue-and-white-striped nightshirt, and climbed under the thick, chilly duvet. She fell asleep almost at once, with all the lights still on.

?   ?   ?

She had the Gray-Dolly nightmare again. She was walking across a wet, gritty yard toward the door of a factory building. High above the factory roof, black smoke was rolling out of tall brick chimneys, and she could hear the clanking of chains and heavy machinery, and despairing screams.

'Paul?'she said, stepping inside the door. 'Paul, where are you? '

Around the corner, she heard the shriek of band saws, cutting through bone. She made her way around a huge heap of bloodied sacking, and then she saw the slaughter men in their bloodstained aprons and their strange muslin hats, cutting up lumps of dark maroon meat-legs and arms and partially dismembered torsos.

'Watch out for the Gray-Dolly Man!' somebody whispered, close to her ear. But she continued to walk toward the nearest of the slaughter men, even though she was chilly with fear. 'Watch out for the Gray-Gray-Dolly Man!' The slaughter man was sawing up what looked like a woman's leg-Katie could even see the dimples in her knee-and tossing the bloody pieces into a sack.

Katie came right up behind him. 'Armed garda,' she tried to shout out, but her voice came out distorted and unintelligible, like the voice of somebody profoundly deaf. 'Armed garda, you're under arrest.'

The slaughter man didn't show any sign that he had heard her, so she cautiously reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened. Then he laid down his butcher's saw and turned around. His face was invisible behind his muslin veil. Her heart stopped, and thumped, and then stopped, and thumped. She felt fear hurrying down her back like wood lice.

Slowly, finger by finger, he tugged off his thick leather glove. He reached up and lifted the veil away from his face.Oh God, she tried to say, but she couldn't.

It was Dave MacSweeny, dead, with his eyes as white as a boiled cod's, his face gray, and filthy brown river water pouring out of the sides of his mouth.

She yelled,'No! Get away from me!'Downstairs, Sergeant heard her and let out a sharp bark. She opened her eyes and for a split second she didn't know where she was. But gradually her bedroom resolved itself, and the bedside lamp was still shining, and the alarm clock said 3:43, and a photograph of Paul was still smiling at her from the side of her dressing table. One eye looking in a slightly different direction, as if he could see something over her shoulder.

She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She drank two glasses of water and then she went back to bed, switching off the lights. It took her another twenty minutes to fall asleep, but this time she dreamed only of running along a deserted seashore, running and running, hoping to run so fast that her footprints couldn't keep up with her.

42