“Anyway, there are no officers here at the moment who can help you, I’m afraid… So, if you don’t mind… I know this is a difficult time, but…”
“You want me to go?”
Karen smiles her confirmation and utters a small ‘sorry’ when Nuala retreats to the car. Falling back into the driver’s seat, Nuala ‘shushes’ the wains as they all start bombarding her with questions. Turning on the ignition, she reverses out of the drive and makes a start for home. Their new home. Whether they like it or not.
Chapter Fifteen:
He might’ve only had a few beers, but with only two measly slices of pizza for dinner, he’s already feeling tipsy. Pulling open the fridge and grabbing last night’s casserole dish with leftover pasta bake, he’d never been able to measure out realistic amounts, McNally plops a generous portion on a plate before bustling it into the microwave. Filling a pint glass with water, he slugs half of it whilst he waits for his dinner to reheat. A jingle in his pocket tells him someone is calling. It’s gone 11, who could be ringing this late? Thoughts of his mum or dad in trouble disperse as he sees Dawson’s name on the home screen. Bringing the phone to his ear, a smile on his face, McNally answers.
“Alright, boss?”
“Stop calling me that, McNally.”
“Well stop calling me McNally then, Donald.”
Dawson chuckles over the phone as the microwave beeps.
“I don’t like it when you call me Donald. Sounds like I’m in trouble.”
“Sounds bloody weird to me,” McNally snorts as he presses his phone against his shoulder and lifts out the piping hot plate with a tea towel.
As he escorts it to the small table in front of his single leather armchair, he groans when he realises he’s forgotten a fork.
“What’s on the menu tonight, anyway, Liam,” Dawson shouts over the clattering of cutlery.
“Left over pasta bake,” McNally says as he flops back into the chair, ignoring Dawson’s retches.
“You need a good woman to wait on you hand and foot when you get home from a long day, not clogging your arteries with that pre-made shite.”
“It’s homemade shite actually,” McNally teases, blowing on a stray bit of chicken and popping it in his mouth, “and we can’t all be tended to like you with Helen. It is 2019, you know?”
“No matter what year it is, my Helen would do anything for anyone,” Dawson clicks his teeth, “bit late to be only getting a bite now, isn’t it? Must be near midnight back there.”
“And bit late for an ol’ man like yourself to be up past his bedtime, it’s definitely past midnight over there.”
“Oh, ha-ha. Just back from the bar there, actually.”
“Where even are you now?”
“In a beautiful little city called Lucena.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You need to get out of the house more, but honestly, what has you eating dinner at this time?”
McNally catches his old boss up with the evening’s events as he scoops pasta onto his fork.
“Wow… Wouldn’t like to be landed with that within my first two weeks through the door. What you gonna do?”
“Well, I have to wait to hear back from forensics tomorrow to make sure that it definitely is Parker. Then I want to speak to this Quigley fella. With a turnaround rate like his… Something must be up.”
“You think he’s bent?”
“I don’t know… I wouldn’t mark it off just yet… They all seem to idolise him in the station. But who is to say he didn’t take a bribe from one of the big organisations? Or blackmailed. Either way, I have pretty big shoes to fill.”
“True… Though you should be used to that, you had to do the same in Rong Valley.”
“Oh, yeah. Good thing it wasn’t a hat because I’d never be able to fit into it after being on your big head.”
The two laugh. It’s like old times.
“Anyway, what about that girl? Niamh, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, she’s lovely.”
“Go for it, lad. You’re not getting any younger.”
“Piss off,” McNally tries to inject a sense of humour to his defence, although he knows he’s right, “should probably stay away from shitting on my own doorstep, right enough.”
“Speaking of… How is the new pad? Bachelor heaven?”
McNally gazes around his empty living room, only a stone throw away from the bar he had just left. He had found this on PropertyPal relatively quickly, and was able to move in right away. The only way of decoration is the dead flowers in the pint glass in the corner of the room the station had given him on his first day. The darkened pedals curling on the floor.
“Needs a lick of paint.”
His phone buzzes in his hand, and he brings it away to see a text with a link to the Londonderry Letter’s website from Ferguson. This can’t be good.
“Look, boss, I’ll need to call you back. Thanks for ringing. We’ll get a proper catch up next time.”
“Stop calling me boss. You’re the boss now. And keep at it. Proud of you, son.”
McNally smiles.
“Thanks, speak soon.”
Hanging up and clicking on the link, McNally moans as he clunks his fork back on the plate.
‘Has local politician Aaron Parker’s remains been found in the rubble of his old home?’
Chapter Sixteen:
Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, Danielle hears the creak of the stairs. Someone’s up. Falling out of bed, she drapes herself in her dressing gown and shuffles into her slippers before trudging down to the kitchen, where she can hear the kettle boiling. As she opens the door, she sees Ritchie’s back as he stretches for a mug. He turns and they stare at each other for a second. They haven’t seen eye to eye ever since Danielle started seeing Chris, who was once one of his friends. In the end, they just stopped talking about it… And then, with him going to uni, they stopped talking altogether. Even now, when she’s no longer with Chris, they
