A Terrible Beauty

'Nice soft day,' the driver remarked, as they drove away. He was a gray-haired garda called Patrick Logan: friendly, reliable, unambitious, and close to retirement.

'Damn it,' said Katie.

'What is it? Forgotten something? Want me to go back?'

'No?I meant to leave the keys of my husband's car under one of the flowerpots. I was going to call the garage this morning to come and take a look at it.'

'That Pajero? What's wrong with it?'

'Won't start, that's all. It was only serviced about a month ago, and it was running all right until yesterday morning.'

'My son could take a look at that for you. He runs a mobile breakdown service. He'd charge you a lot less than your garage.'

'That would be great, if he could. That's my husband's pride and joy, that thing.'

'How is your husband, by the way?'

'Still unconscious. I'm just praying that there isn't any permanent brain damage.'

'Please God,' said Patrick Logan. Then, after driving in silence for a while, 'And how areyou?'

'Okay,' said Katie. 'I'm okay, thanks for asking.'

'You're not going to take a couple of days' rest?'

'Why should I?'

'Well, if you don't mind me being frank-'

'For God's sake, be frank.'

'There's some of your fellow officers who think that perhaps you push yourself a little too hard. Because you're a woman, d'you know, and you seem to think you have to prove yourself.'

'I see. Some of my fellow officers thinkthat, do they?'

'I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't want to speak out of turn. But sometimes it's better to know what's going on behind your back before you get stabbed in it.'

'As a matter of fact, Patrick, I'm quite aware that most of my colleagues think I push myself too hard. Even more to the point, they think that I pushthemtoo hard. But I wasn't promoted to detective superintendent because I hung around in the back bar at Counihan's all day, pretending that I was keeping my ear to the ground. I work hard because it's necessary and not because I feel the need to prove myself to my fellow officers or anybody else.'

'No, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.'

'That's all right, Patrick. I know it was meant well. Look-I shall be home by half past one. If your son can come around then, I'd be very grateful indeed.'

'Not a problem, ma'am.'

There was a message waiting for her from Gerard O'Brien. He had called yesterday evening at 5:00P.M., as she had asked him to, but of course she had been at the Regional Hospital by then. He said, 'Hallo? Katie? Gerard. I know you've made an arrest already, but this new research material I've got from Germany is very, very exciting. I definitely think it could help us to solve this Knocknadeenly business. I could come round to Anglesea Street if you like. Better still, why don't I buy you some lunch?'

Katie had a moment's thought and then she called Lucy at Jury's Inn. The phone rang for a long time before Lucy answered, and she sounded groggy.

'Lucy? It's Katie Maguire.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't sleep very well last night. Night terrors.'

'You weren't the only one. Listen-I just wanted to let you know that Paul's still unconscious but he seems to be reasonably stable. As long as there's no brain damage, the doctor says that he's got a very fair chance.'

'That's good news.'

'Also, I wanted to ask if you were free for lunch today? There's somebody I'd like you to meet-Professor Gerard O'Brien from Cork University. He's been helping us look into the 1915 killings, and he says he has some exciting new research material from Germany.Hiswords, I hasten to add, but he's done well for us so far.'

'I don't know, Katie?I don't usually like to tread on another academic's toes.'

'You wouldn't be. And who knows, the two of you together might come up with something that really cracks this whole case wide open.'

'I'm not sure.'

'Lucy, I'd really like to see you-mainly to thank you for yesterday, but I also want to hear more about this Jack Callwood character. Besides, you'd be doing me a personal favor. To put it diplomatically, Gerard O'Brien is a little sweet on me.'

'I see. You need a bodyguard.'

'I was thinking of 'chaperone,' but bodyguard will do. Why don't you meet us at Isaac's in MacCurtain Street at about one o'clock?'