Dove said nothing.
“Apparently, right before he nearly joined the choir immortal, you started asking the interviewee questions about an individual that my officer had never even heard of. You expect our cooperation but you leave us in the dark.”
Agent Dove reached into her bag and produced a copy of that day’s Herald. She held it up to show the headline: “Wicklow Body is FBI Agent.”
“The problem we have, Detective Superintendent, is that you are captain of a very leaky boat.”
Burns’s unseen stress ball let out a dying wail and went mysteriously silent. Wilson leaned back in his chair as far as he could go. On an instinctive level, every fibre of his body was telling him that now was a good time to run.
“You want to come in here and criticise us, after the day you’ve had? Right, that’s it. Wilson, drop Agent Dove to Dublin Airport and sit there until she gets on the first available flight to America.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Can’t I? You watch me. Have fun explaining to your bosses why you got booted out of the country. Don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out.”
Dove gave one of those slow blinks. An iguana! That was it! She knew the woman reminded her of something, and it had finally popped into her head. She’d seen them when she’d brought her nephews to Dublin Zoo last month.
“I apologise,” said Dove. “That was out of line.”
“D’ye reckon?”
“I am sorry. Clearly, we have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I appreciate all of the assistance and I should have been more forthcoming regarding the nature of our investigation. How about we start afresh?”
“OK,” said Burns. “Who is Simone Delamere?”
Agent Dove’s left eye started to twitch and wink rapidly. She opened her mouth and closed it again.
DSI Burns turned to Wilson. “Keep your receipts for the parking at the airport, it can be expensive. Wave the badge, I want you to walk her all the way to the gate and onto the plane.”
“I…”
“And ask one of the stewardesses if you can get one of those tiny packets of peanuts for me, I bloody love those.”
“Ehm, yes, boss.”
“Alright.” The tone of Dove’s voice suddenly changed, as if something had finally cracked. “But it doesn’t leave this room.”
Burns looked back at Wilson. “And one of those tiny cans of Coke they have. I think they remind me of going on holidays.”
“Fine.” Dove threw the newspaper she had been holding into her bag and then uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “Simone Delamere is wanted for the murder of Alex Woolstencroft, a former partner of Agent Zayas, in New York back in 1998.”
“And what makes you think she was in Ireland? I’ve already run the name; she doesn’t appear on any database.”
“Zayas was here. We assume he came looking for her.”
“If he was here on an investigation, then—”
“He wasn’t.” Agent Dove shifted nervously. “We believe he was out for revenge. He had no interest in bringing Miss Delamere to justice. You can appreciate how agents turning vigilante isn’t an optic the Bureau’s wild about.”
“And you think this Delamere woman killed Zayas and the other unidentified body we found?”
“We don’t know,” said Dove. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”
As the silence stretched out between them, Dove’s left eye twitched out a staccato rhythm – and then she did another iguana blink. Burns wondered if she was trying to send secret Morse code messages. It might be her face begging for help to get out from under the make-up.
“Any and all information you have from here on out…”
“You’ll be the first to know,” said Dove.
“And for the love of God, try not to kill anybody.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brigit shook the rain off her umbrella and pushed open the door of O’Hagan’s pub. For a Wednesday night, it was reasonably busy. A screen on the back wall was showing some football match or other. From Brigit’s limited experience, there was always football on.
As she walked in, she caught the eye of Tara Flynn, the owner, who raised her eyebrows and nodded her over.
“Brigit, right?”
“You’ve a great memory.”
Tara smiled. “Ah, trick of the trade. The punters love it when you remember their names. Makes ’em think they’re drinking in Cheers or something. One sec.” Tara topped up a pint of Guinness that had been settling and walked it down the bar to a man in an ill-fitting grey suit. “There you go, Patrick. Four euros ninety-five, please.”
The man smiled at her and handed over a five-euro note. “Cheers. Keep the change.”
“Much obliged.” Tara moved back down the bar towards Brigit and rang it up in the register, flipping the five-cent coin neatly into the tip jar beside the till. “At this rate, I’ll be able to afford that dream holiday by 2045.”
Brigit smiled back. “So, have you seen Bunny?”
Tara nodded. “I have. He’s in his office.” Tara noticed Brigit’s confused expression. “By which I mean the snug in the back bar.”
“Brilliant, thanks.”
Tara raised her hand to stop Brigit from walking away. “Is he… alright?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well he’s… he’s not been himself.”
Brigit could see the worry on Tara’s face. “How so?”
Tara leaned in. “Well, look, I wouldn’t say anything normally, but what with you working together and all and that business last year…”
O’Hagan’s had been the last place Bunny had been seen before he’d been knocked out and kidnapped. To be fair, Brigit guessed O’Hagan’s was the last place Bunny had been before almost everything happened to him. He appeared to be rather keen on the place.
“It’s just…” Tara paused, trying to find the right words. “He’s been really jumpy, if you know what I mean.”
“Has this just been recently?”
“Mainly, yeah. Between you and me, I’ve known him a long time, and since the thing last year – and God knows that would’ve killed most men – he’s been a bit… different. I mean, you wouldn’t know it unless you knew him well. He’s still bigger than life and twice as bad, but I think it’s more for show. It’s like he’s doing what’s expected.”
“Right.” Brigit felt awkward, not least because she once again realised that for all they’d been through, she didn’t know that much about Bunny.
“Everyone has their ups and downs,” continued Tara. “I remember back when I’d only started here, around the time his partner died, that was tough.”
Brigit nodded. She didn’t want to admit that she had no idea what Tara was talking about.
“It’s just that now, well…” She looked pained, like she was crossing some line she didn’t want to cross. “He’s, y’know… talking to himself a bit. Maybe just talking out loud. I mean, I do that too, it’s not a big deal, only…”
A man in a leather jacket walked up to the bar, waiting expectantly.
Tara stopped, seemingly running out of road. “Ahh, d’ye know what, don’t mind me. I’m probably overreacting.”
“No. Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up. Is it around this way?”
Tara nodded. “Yep.” She moved off to serve the man in the leather jacket and Brigit made her way around the bar. On the other side, about a dozen high tables with similarly high stools were dotted around, mostly occupied. At the back of the room, boisterous laughter erupted from a group of seven or so men in suits.
Brigit looked around; she couldn’t see Bunny anywhere. There were a few booths over by the wall and she glanced into them: a canoodling couple; three lads playing a board game; no Bunny.
“Are you alright there, darling?”
Brigit glanced briefly at the man with the goatee who had addressed her. “I’m fine, just looking for someone.”
“You’re in luck, s
o am I!”
Brigit gave him a tight smile. The corner booth appeared to be empty, save for a couple of dead pint glasses. She turned to head back the way she’d come.
“C’mon, let me buy you a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
The goatee bounced into her path, a smile on his face. “I won’t take no for answer.”
“Yes, ye feckin’ will!”
Brigit turned at the voice. There at the door of the gents’ stood Bunny, still in the process of doing up his fly.
“What business is it of yours?”
Brigit moved quickly to intercept Bunny, putting her hands out. “Bunny, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
He looked over her shoulder. “That gobshite bothering you, Conroy?”
She gave a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Behind her, a voice made a remark that sounded a lot like “Mad old fucker”.
“What was that?!” Bunny asked in a tone of voice that was very keen for an answer.
Brigit moved directly in front of him. “Don’t mind those eejits. You go sit down, I’ll grab us a drink.”
She gave him a smile and a gentle push back towards the corner booth. “Go on, I’ll be over in a second.”
With a grumble, Bunny turned and started walking away. Brigit turned back to the bar, giving the group of suits a dirty look as she did so. She noticed Tara had now moved around to this side of the bar, her eyes flickering between the group and Brigit.
Brigit gave her an “everything is fine” smile as she walked over. “Can I get a white wine, please, and Bunny’s usual.”
“No problem.”
Tara disappeared to go and get the drinks.
“If ye like, you can buy me a drink.”
Brigit glanced up to see the goatee standing beside her, grinning.
“I’ll pass.”
“Bit tight, are ye?”
“If you like, I’ll see if they have mints.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Brigit could see the wattage on the grin being turned down considerably. “Alright, just having a bit of banter. No need to be a bitch about it.”
Brigit turned at him and smiled. “OK, dipshit, here’s the thing. First time was fine, nobody minds that, but if a woman doesn’t respond to your first attempt at ‘banter’ then leave it alone as it means she is not interested.”
The goatee went to speak.
“No, shut up and listen. I do not want to talk to you, I’ve made that pretty clear. Yet here you are, while your gormless mates look on, getting in my personal space again, and now you just referred to me as a bitch. I’m not one, but I can be, so listen to me very carefully: either turn around and piss off back over there right now or we’re going to have a problem. Believe me when I say I would be more than happy to deal with you, but the thing is, if I do that, it’ll escalate. You remember that gentleman I’m with? You’re probably thinking he’s some old duffer, and you’d be right. He’s a lovely, sweet man, albeit one with a spectacular penchant for violence and an incredibly low tolerance for people being rude. So, if I dealt with you, he’d get involved, even though I wouldn’t want him to. Then, you and the rest of the accounts department over there are suddenly in the kind of situation you’re not prepared for. You might think you’re handy, maybe you’ve been in a couple of fights before. Believe me, that’s like thinking that having lifted a couple of rocks will prepare you for being right in the centre of a meteor shower. You’ll spend the next few months trying to figure out what happened. It’ll haunt your thoughts. It’ll give you nightmares. So, for your sake, don’t speak, don’t even look in my direction again, just turn around and piss off like a good lad. Alright?“
He went to speak.
“Shush.”
She waved him away. With an expression on his face like he’d just been given an unexpected rectal exam, the goatee departed.
Brigit turned back to the bar, surprised to see Tara standing there. “Well, you just earned these on the house.”
Brigit walked towards the snug, trying not to notice that Bunny seemed to be talking to someone who wasn’t there. She placed the drinks down on the table, plonked her bag down and started taking off her coat.
“Here we are.”
“Everything alright, Conroy?”
“Yeah, course,” she replied with a smile. “You know me, Bunny, well able to take care of myself.” She sat down and picked up her glass. “Cheers.”
Bunny clinked his against hers in response and they both took a sip. While doing so, she had the chance to take a proper look at him. He looked old. Old in a way he hadn’t before. It wasn’t like he’d ever been a picture of rude health, but this was something else. As long as she’d known him, Bunny McGarry had always been overflowing with life. Suddenly, he was starting to look like a bad reproduction of himself.
Brigit put her glass down. “So how’ve you been?”
“Grand.”
“You sleeping OK?”
Bunny shrugged. “Y’know, as well as ever. Man of my age, I have to pee at odd hours.”
“Ah, that’s just God’s way of getting you some exercise.”
They smiled awkwardly at each other.
“I’ve been trying to ring you.”
“Ah, yeah,” Bunny ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that, not been paying much attention to the phone.” Bunny looked over her shoulder. “D’ye see that bloke in the leather jacket?”
Brigit turned around to see the man Tara had been serving at the far side of the bar. “Yes.”
“He’s been following me.”
“Has he?”
“Yeah, he’s one of them. I clocked him this morning, only he had shorter hair and a beard.”
Brigit turned to look back at Bunny. “Shorter hair?”
Bunny nodded, still watching the man as he took a seat facing away from them and pulled out a book.
“Maybe you’re mistaken. He looks like he’s just looking for somewhere quiet to read his book away from the interminable soccer.”
“Ha, right, yeah. That’s what they want you to think.”
Brigit looked back at Bunny. There was an edginess to him that she didn’t recognise. Bunny was a lot of things, but never edgy. He was the person that made other people nervous.
“Are you… are you alright in yourself, Bunny?”
He turned his eyes to her again. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just with the thing that happened last week.”
Bunny gave her a panicky look. “What about it?”
“We’re in a spot of trouble. Jacob Harrison is suing us.”
Bunny’s expression turned to one of genuine confusion.
“Jacob Harrison? You dangled him off a balcony?”
“Oh, that prick. I was just teaching him a lesson.”
“Well, I’m afraid he’s suing us, and it’s not great, to be honest.”
Bunny’s eyes lit up. “Is that this thing?”
He rummaged around in the pocket of his ever-present long black sheepskin coat, which was bundled up on the seat beside him, and produced a crumpled letter. He handed it to Brigit. “Is this to do with that?”
She flattened it out on the table. It was essentially the same summons the company had received but addressed personally to Bunny. “Oh, for God’s sake, Bunny, yes. Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”
“Ah sure, it’s only a load of old bollocks.”
“It’s not, Bunny, it really isn’t. We’re in the shit here. This could take down the whole company.”
Brigit instantly felt bad for the harshness of her tone. Bunny looked down at the table, suddenly seeming smaller and older. “Sorry. I didn’t think. I was… y’know. A lot going on.”
Brigit placed her hand on top of his. “It’s OK. The thing is, you’ve got to be careful now. I had a meeting with Nora Stokes about it. She reckons the Kelleher brothers might try and follow you, get evidence of you having, well, a tendency to be vio
lent.”
“Right.”
“Look, we’ll sort it out. Harrison is full of crap and we’ll get proof. I just need you to lay low. Can you stay home for a couple of days?”
“I’m not staying there. They’ve been there. It’s not safe.”
Bunny again looked past her into the bar. He was really starting to freak her out. “Who are they?”
Bunny looked back at her. “Never mind, Conroy. ’Tis all ancient history.”
“You seem really stressed, Bunny. Maybe you should have a chat with someone.”
Bunny barked a humourless laugh. “Oh, believe me, I’ve plenty of people to talk to. Too many, in fact.”
As his eyes were drawn once again to the bar behind her, Brigit moved her head to get into his field of vision. “Hey there, Bunny. This is me, remember. We’ve been through a lot together. I’ll…” She stopped talking for a moment as a wave of emotion welled up inside her. She took a deep breath. “I’ll always remember, you and me, in that room. That nightmare of a room. I was there for a few minutes, you were there for ten days. Nobody could come out of that unscarred, Bunny. There’s no shame in admitting it.”
Bunny pulled his hand away from under hers. He seemed agitated now. “Leave it, Conroy. I’m alright. It’s just… I’m having a bad week. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay away from you, don’t worry.”
“No, I didn’t mean that, Bunny. I just meant lay low while we sort this Harrison thing out.”
“Right, right. Yeah, good, yeah.”
Bunny grabbed his coat. As he went to leave, Brigit stood up.
“Jesus, Bunny. Sit down and talk to me, would ye? Whatever’s wrong, whatever problem you have, you know I’ll always be there for you. We’ve been through a lot. Let me help you.”
Bunny quickly put his coat on then placed his hands on Brigit’s shoulders. “Conroy, you’re a great girl. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything, Bunny. You know that.”
“You and Paul, take care of each other and stay well away from me, alright?”
“Don’t be—”
“Please, Conroy. It’s the only thing I ask. Whatever happens, just know, I had good reasons and I did what I thought was right.”
Last Orders (The Dublin Trilogy Book 4) Page 17