The Rising The Rising (Inspector Devlin #4)

by Brian McGilloway

  ‘Speaking of whom,’ I said, nodding towards the man and child walking in through the doorway.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Vincent Morrison,’ I said, quietly.

  ‘You let him come here?’

  ‘His son wanted to see Penny. Maybe he might get through to her.’

  Caroline looked me in the eyes, held my gaze and smiled lightly. ‘That’s unusually reasonable of you, Inspector Devlin.’

  Morrison approached us warily. I introduced him to Caroline who, after a moment excused herself and left. Morrison and his son accompanied me in the elevator back up to the ward, though we did not speak until we reached Penny’s room. Debbie stood and hugged him.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Morrison blushed heavily. ‘John wanted to see how she was doing.’

  The boy looked from Debbie to me and then to where Penny lay. He moved up and stood at the head of the bed and looked down at her. Any doubts I had about the sincerity of his affection for her were dispelled when, of a sudden, he began to shudder with tears. He put his hand on top of hers, an apology spluttering on his lips.

  ‘You’re all right, son,’ Vincent Morrison said, clearly embarrassed. ‘She’s going to do all right. She’s going to pull through.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the boy repeated, this time to Debbie who was now starting to well up herself.

  ‘It’s OK, John,’ I said, moving over towards where he stood. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘It’s not my daddy’s fault either,’ he said, his face smeared with tears. ‘Please don’t put my daddy in jail again.’

  I looked from the boy to his father. Vincent Morrison coughed lightly, put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

  ‘Time for us to go, wee man,’ he said. He turned to Debbie. ‘I hope Penny pulls through soon, Mrs Devlin,’ he said.

  He led the boy, still in tears, out of the room. As their footfalls echoed along the hospital corridor I could hear Morrison’s voice, low and urgent, encouraging his son to stop crying.

  I looked at Debbie who had taken her seat by Penny again, raised my eyebrows and released the breath I realized I had been holding since the boy spoke.

  ‘He’s a very nice man,’ Debbie said.

  ‘He may be involved in trafficking drugs,’ I said.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Ben,’ Debbie snapped. ‘When are you going to stop?’ She glared at me for a second, then turned her attention to the unmoving figure of our daughter.

  Friday, 16 February

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  After spending the night on the armchair by Penny’s bed, I went down to the dawn Mass in the hospital chapel and asked the priest to pray for her recovery. When Debbie arrived soon after and took her seat by the bed, I headed back home, showered and breakfasted, then brought Shane up with me to see his sister. He had been asking why she wasn’t coming home. We had told him that she was in a very deep sleep, that she needed her rest for her brain to get better. That there was nothing to worry about.

  When we arrived back in the ward, Shane carrying a bunch of flowers he had insisted on buying for his big sister, Harry Patterson was sitting in the room with Debbie. He offered his sympathies to me when I came in, then looked down at Shane who stared up at him openly.

  ‘Do you think this was connected with . . .?’ he trailed off.

  ‘Apparently not,’ I said. ‘How did things end with Kielty? Did Nicell come clean?’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Patterson said, in a manner which made me immediately suspicious.

  ‘He did come clean, didn’t he? I mean we had his van at Kielty’s house,’ I persisted.

  Patterson cleared his throat, glanced at Debbie.

  ‘Let’s go down and buy some sweets, Shane,’ she said, leading Shane out of the room and closing the door behind her.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  ‘One or two things,’ Patterson said. ‘I thought you should know that Simon Williams has made a statement. He wants to press charges. He arrived yesterday morning at the station. Obviously, we’ll not worry about it until all this . . . unpleasantness is over.’

  I had expected Williams to do something at some stage, though the timing couldn’t have been worse.

  ‘What about Kielty and Nicell?’

  Patterson tugged at his ear, sniffing loudly as he focused on Penny.

  ‘The Assistant Commissioner wants it dropped,’ Patterson said quietly.

  ‘What?’ I said, leaning forward in my chair, as if I had misheard.

  ‘After all this shit with The Rising people getting a beating, it’s been open season on the Guards in the local rags. The AC is concerned how it would look nationally if one of the inspectors of the National Drugs Unit was implicated in a series of murders.’

  ‘He can’t do that,’ I protested. ‘Nicell has to answer for this.’

  ‘And he already has,’ said Patterson, and I realized that it had already been dealt with. ‘He’s resigned as of yesterday. Kielty was one of Nicell’s touts, apparently; that was how they met. It was decided that he would be more useful outside, telling us what was going on.’

  ‘Do you agree with this, Harry?’ I asked. Patterson may have been difficult, but he was relatively solid.

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether I do or not, Devlin,’ he said, his gaze shifting from my face to the window behind me. ‘An order is an order.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t agree to this, Harry,’ I said. ‘I can’t just drop it.’

  Patterson stood up, went to the window and looked out.

  ‘Well, speaking of dropping things,’ he began. ‘It mightn’t be surprising if Williams were to drop these battery charges he’s placed. I’m sure he could be convinced. You could take a few weeks’ paid leave while you wait for this wee woman to waken.’

  ‘You’d convince Williams to drop the charges just to keep me quiet?’ I asked.

  ‘We are to avoid any bad press about the force,’ he said. ‘Orders from the top.’

  ‘What about Joe McCready?’ I asked. ‘He sat in on the interview; he knows what happened, what was said.’

  ‘You wanted him in Lifford, from what I remember,’ Patterson began. ‘It’s amazing how easily some of these new boys can get onto the ladder. He’s getting married, isn’t he?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘He’ll need every cent he can get his hands on,’ Patterson said. ‘We might be able to find a detective posting around the border.’

  ‘It’s not right, Harry,’ I said, standing myself and approaching him. ‘Kielty needs to pay for what he did.’

  ‘Jesus, man,’ Patterson hissed. ‘He’s lost his own woman; do you not think he’s suffered enough?’

  ‘Caroline Williams will want something more. Kielty’s just going free?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it free,’ Patterson said.

  ‘What would you call it?’

  ‘He’ll be monitored, limited in the amount he can shift.’

  ‘He’s going to keep selling?’ I said, my voice high with incredulity.

  ‘He’s more useful to us in the game than out.’

  ‘It’s not a fucking game,’ I snapped.

  ‘Of course it is. And everyone wins in this one. The AC has agreed that Simon Williams will be convinced to drop any charges if you agree to this. McCready gets his promotion to Lifford, giving you a bit of support, keeping the station going. Nicell is out of the picture, Kielty is controlled by us, An Garda keeps its name out of the shit for another few days.’

  ‘And if I don’t agree?’

  Patterson placed his hand on my shoulder, lowered his head to look me in the eye. ‘You’re not listening, Devlin,’ he said calmly. ‘Nicell has already resigned. It’s already happened, whether you agree or not. Your girl’s sick, God bless her, she needs you off to look after her. The AC has already agreed to your having a month compassionate leave, fully paid, to help get yourself and your family back on your feet.’

  He
stood, kneading my shoulder lightly. ‘You’re in all our thoughts, Ben,’ he said. ‘Give Debbie my best wishes when she comes back.’

  He moved out of the room quietly, despite his bulk. I sat down again, for a moment in silence, staring at nothing, allowing all he had said to sink in. Gradually I became aware of the fact that I was looking at Penny. Her face looked impossibly young, her features small and neat.

  I took her hand in mine, laid my head on the pillow beside her. Her breathing was shallow, her skin warm and supple as I placed a kiss against her cheek.

  ‘You have to wake up, honey,’ I said. ‘I need you to wake up. I miss you. Shane and Mummy miss you so much too. We want you to come home.’

  If I had expected any reaction, I was disappointed. Her eyes did not move beneath their lids, her mouth did not open any further under the mask she wore.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry for not being better. I’m sorry for not being better.’

  I repeated the mantra over and over, in hope that she might hear me, until my words grew indistinct among the first tears I had allowed myself to cry for my lost child.

  I settled myself, as Debbie led Shane back into the room a few moments later. She looked at my face, the damp impression on the pillow where my head had been laid, and smiled sadly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Debs,’ I said.

  ‘Shussh,’ she whispered, glancing down at Shane. ‘We’re all together now. Penny will have to wake up if she knows we’re all here, isn’t that right, pet?’ She ruffled Shane’s hair and he beamed up at her.

  ‘I brought her some sweets,’ he said, laying the chocolate bar on the bed within reach of her hand. ‘In case she wakes up hungry.’

  I moved over to them and put my arms around Debbie who cried into the crook of my neck while Shane held his sister’s hand and told her all the things she was missing.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Caroline Williams called again early that evening. I had dreaded seeing her following my conversation with Patterson.

  She and Debbie chatted lightly, and she played with Shane. His grandparents were due to visit to see Penny and take him home and, having spent the day around the hospital, he was getting bored as well as tired.

  When they arrived, around seven, Caroline made her excuses and left. I offered to walk her down to her car, if only to free up some chairs.

  Once we were outside I lit a cigarette.

  ‘Things seem better today,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m glad you and Debbie have sorted yourselves out a bit.’

  I smiled at her. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I spent a lifetime hiding a strained marriage,’ she said. ‘I know when people aren’t getting on. Plus, she told me the last day that she was blaming herself for what happened and you weren’t disagreeing.’

  I felt the need to defend myself, but couldn’t truthfully do it.

  ‘I was surprised at you,’ she continued. ‘Especially after all that happened with Simon. I thought you of all people would’ve known better.’

  I coughed to cover my embarrassment.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m glad you’ve sorted it all out. Things happen, Ben, that are no one’s fault. And you can’t do anything about them.’

  I drew deeply on my smoke, found myself flicking my cigarette so much the tip eventually fell with a hiss to the ground and I had to relight it.

  ‘I have some bad news,’ I began. ‘About what happened with Peter.’

  The benign smile on her face shrank into a tight line.

  ‘Patterson called this morning. The AC has ordered him to drop the charges against Kielty and Nicell.’

  ‘What?’ Caroline’s face, already drained of colour, seemed even paler under the street lamps.

  ‘He’s afraid of the bad press the force will take if it comes out that one of the Drugs Unit was involved. Nicell has resigned. Kielty is being kept on a leash.’

  ‘Are they not charging him with anything?’

  I flipped the butt of my smoke into the nearby bushes. ‘Nothing. He’s being forced into informing full time. Apparently he did some for Nicell anyway.’

  ‘What about Morrison and Cunningham?’

  I shook my head bitterly. ‘There’s nothing to connect them now. Unless Kielty can provide something the DPP wants to use. But it won’t be on this – they couldn’t charge them without revealing what happened with Kielty.’

  ‘So that’s it?’

  I nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Caroline. There’s nothing I can do about it. It was all arranged while I was here with Penny. They’re putting me off for a month – compassionate leave. By the time I get back, it’ll all be forgotten.’

  Caroline stopped at her car, searching through her bag for her keys. Eventually, flustered, she swore softly.

  ‘You’re holding them, Caroline,’ I said.

  She looked blankly at her hand, then flickered a smile.

  ‘Stupid me,’ she said.

  I took her hand in mine. ‘I am sorry, Caroline. I tried my best.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, her nose red with cold, her eyes beginning to water. ‘Me with all my big talk about blame. I need to practise what I preach.’

  ‘I understand how you feel, Caroline. You’ve a right to be angry.’

  ‘Not with you, sir,’ she said. ‘Never with you.’

  She stood lightly on her tiptoes, brought her face close to mine and hugged me tightly. I could feel the heat of her breath, the coldness of the tip of her nose against my cheek.

  We stepped apart and she smiled at me, seemingly resolved to something.

  ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said. ‘I meant it when I said I was glad you two sorted things out.’

  She pressed her keys and the indicator lights flickered alive as the locks shunted open. She climbed into the car without another word and waved out to me as she reversed from the space and drove away.

  Saturday, 17 February

  Chapter Forty

  I slept at home that night. Just before nine the following morning, as I waited for Debbie’s parents to arrive for Shane, the phone rang. I rushed for my mobile.

  ‘Is that you, sir?’ a male voice said. ‘It’s Joe McCready.’

  ‘Yes, Joe,’ I said. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘I’ve just heard on the radio and thought you’d want to know. Martin Kielty has been shot.’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ he replied. ‘It’s only just come through. I’m on my way to his house now.’

  I called Debbie from the car to find out how Penny was and to explain that I had been called away urgently.

  ‘I need a shower,’ she hissed after telling me that there was no change to Penny’s condition. ‘I need a break.’

  ‘I’ll be up as soon as I can be,’ I promised.

  ‘I thought you were given time off,’ she snapped. ‘I need you here.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ I said.

  ‘Ask my parents to come down here with Shane,’ she said grudgingly.

  ‘I love you, Debs,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied.

  I reached Sligo around ten fifteen and drove straight to Rossanure. Outside Kielty’s house, a number of squad cars were parked.

  I nodded to the officer at the gate, explained who I was.

  ‘Is he dead?’ I asked, nodding towards the house.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ the man replied, smiling. ‘A dealer.’

  I grunted non-committally as I made my way past him, up the path and in through Kielty’s front door. Boiler-suited Scene of Crime Officers were trudging up and down the stairs. As I mounted the staircase I was aware of a mewing sound from the living room and glanced down. A female Garda officer sat perched at the edge of a sofa, Elena McEvoy’s baby daughter squirming slightly in her arms.

  At the top of the stairs I went straight to Kielty’s bedroom. On the floor, beside the child’s empty Moses basket, Martin Kielty’s body lay foetally curled. He wo
re only a pair of stained boxer shorts. He had been shot twice, once in the head, once in the chest, about half a foot below the puckered scar tissue from the incident a few days earlier.

  Several SOCOs were working the room silently. One was taking photographs of the body and of the blood-spatter patterns which flecked the side of the basket.

  He moved back to let me see the body more clearly. Kielty’s arms had been tied behind his back, his wrists bound with piano wire. There were livid red scars like cigarette burns on his forearms, and his face was bruised on one side, the eye partially shut, the skin ballooning purple around the socket.

  ‘How long are you here?’

  I turned to see Harry Patterson standing in the doorway.

  ‘I just arrived,’ I said.

  ‘This is handy,’ he said, nodding towards the body as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Ties up loose ends.’

  ‘Any ideas who did it?’

  ‘None,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘These druggies take one another out; what can you do?’

  I stared down at Kielty’s body, the arms tense behind his back.

  ‘The piano wire,’ I said, pointing down at him. ‘The same as Lorcan Hutton.’

  Patterson considered what I had said for a second, puckered his lips as if he had tasted something bitter and unpalatable.

  ‘How’s Penny?’

  ‘She’s fine, sir,’ I said.

  ‘You’re on leave,’ he continued. ‘Go home, Inspector. Spend some time with your family.’

  ‘Is there nothing for me to do here?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘That Garda McCready is downstairs, too, I see. The two of you have worked hard – you both deserve a break. Go home.’

  His avuncular tone made it impossible to find offence in his closing me out of the conclusion of my own case.

  I went downstairs to where McCready sat in the living room with the female Garda I had seen earlier with the child. She was shushing her to sleep in her arms.

  ‘What’s going to happen to her?’ I asked.

  ‘Social services are on their way,’ the woman officer said. ‘They’ll take her into care.’