“Right now?”
“That’s right.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve!”
“Sure don’t I know. I’ve to go visit an old friend, tell him he’s on the naughty list.”
Before Nora could think of anything else to say, he was out the door. She reached the top of the stairs just in time to see the front door close.
She leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. “Merry bloody Christmas!”
Chapter Forty-Three
“I don’t understand,” said Agent Dove, looking between DSI Burns and Detective Wilson. “Why can’t we bring this man in for questioning?”
“Because,” said Burns, “this isn’t the first time Bunny McGarry’s fingerprints have mysteriously appeared on a key piece of evidence in a murder investigation, and frankly this whole thing stinks to high heaven.”
“It’s déjà vu all over again,” said Wilson, to nobody in particular.
“So, you’re going to do nothing?”
“No,” replied Burns. “We – and I emphasise the ‘we’ here – are going to do nothing until Wednesday.”
“That’s in three days’ time!”
“I can’t fault your maths, Agent Dove. On Wednesday, I will ring my boss, who will ring his boss, and there will be some discussions, because this is a bloody minefield. There are only so many times you can announce someone as being public enemy number one and be wrong. I like my job, Agent Dove, and I intend to still have it by New Year’s.”
“Two people are dead!”
“Yes, and they’ve been so for eighteen years. Three days either way isn’t going to make that big a difference. To be clear, nobody is saying this lead will not be followed up, but it’ll be done carefully and by the book. Please pass that on to your bosses when you ring them to lodge your latest complaint. And by the way, I happen to know the commissioner takes a very dim view of anyone disturbing her Christmas. You should remember that when you start trying to shake this particular tree.”
“And what are we going to do in the meantime?”
“Honestly, Dove, that’s up to you. Personally, I’m already late for a party where I have to arrive wearing a hideous Christmas jumper, as otherwise I will be labelled as someone who is ‘no craic’. It’s hard to explain to a foreigner the social stigma attached to that label. Now, I would like to storm out, but seeing as we’re in my office and I need to lock it, could the two of you please bugger off and, y’know, have yourselves a merry little Christmas. I’ll see you both on Wednesday.”
Wilson shifted nervously. “Ehm, guv, I’m actually on leave until Sunday. Me and a few of the guys…”
He stopped talking when he noticed his boss’s facial expression.
“I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Jacob Harrison stood at the bar, trying to not look impatient as he waited to be served. They only seemed to have two staff on, which was nowhere near enough to keep the drink flowing for this amount of customers.
Jacob’s date was already ten minutes late. He glanced in the direction of the door again while trying not to look like he was looking. The problem with something that seemed too good to be true was that it often was.
At the bar beside him, a woman with long red hair had her phone strapped to her ear and a face like thunder.
She spoke in an urgent whisper. “For Christ’s sake, Brian, where the fuck are you? You’re over thirty minutes late. You said you were coming. You said you’d made your choice.”
Harrison got caught looking at her and diverted his gaze quickly. When he looked back again, the redhead was off the phone, but she shot him a dirty look. Then she raised her hand with her empty wine glass in it. “Cheryl, same again, please, sweetheart.”
She was an attractive woman, Harrison thought – for her age, that was. He’d never been one to be attracted to the older woman. At a guess, she was four or five years older than him, but then, most women her age weren’t quite so well maintained. Even allowing for the kind of sucking in and propping up that seemed to be the mainstays of the older woman’s wardrobe, she was in very good shape. She had an arse you could bounce coins off, although the scowl on her face said she’d not give you change for a tenner.
Shit. She turned to catch him looking again.
She was opening her mouth to say something when Rebecca appeared beside her. “Hi, Jacob – or should I say Cyrano.” She giggled. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a totes mare.”
Damn. She was even fitter in person than her pictures had suggested. Jacob had learned to take twenty-five per cent off the hotness score, as everyone’s online pics were some form of lie. Not Rebecca.
“No problem, hon. Lovely to meet you in person, finally. I’ve reserved us a booth just back there.” He casually waved behind him. “If you like, you can head back and I’ll get some drinks in?”
“Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“Anything bubbly.”
“Champagne it is.”
Rebecca giggled and walked by, giving his arm a little squeeze on her way past.
Harrison turned back to the bar. The redhead threw him a disgusted glance and then picked up the large glass of white wine that had just arrived.
Harrison turned to watch Rebecca make her way back to the booth. Yes! Get in! This was going to be a big night, he could feel it. Merry Christmas!
Chapter Forty-Five
“Ahem!”
Brigit looked up guiltily from her phone to see Anto standing behind the kitchen counter looking pointedly at her.
“Oh God, sorry, I was being rude.”
“Yes, yes you were. The man who is currently cooking you dinner – coq au vin, no less – was telling a hilarious story about his friend’s stag do and a duck, and you entirely failed to politely laugh at the supposed punchline.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m a bit distracted.” She shoved her phone back into her bag.
“Well, it’s your own loss. You’ll never know what happened now, and I’ll be honest, I have been saving my A-grade material especially for tonight.”
“I’m a tough crowd. Think of me as a challenge.”
He gave her a big smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Ms Conroy, I already do.”
She smiled and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Your place is very nice.”
And it was. Unusually for a guy living on his own, it actually felt like he’d put a lot of thought into the decor, beyond “I need to get chairs”. It was simply decorated, but there were some nice pictures of skylines from around the world on the walls. New York, London, Dublin, Sydney and what she guessed was San Francisco.
“Thank you very much. I have spent many a lonely night on that sofa watching property porn, so I’ve figured out a few tricks: warm earthy tones, throw cushions, somewhere to hide your PlayStation for when company drops around.”
“Impressive.”
“Speaking of which,” he said, indicating the barely touched glass of white in front of her. “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve actually got more than one bottle of wine in the joint.”
“I’m sure, but I’m pacing myself. I’m driving and all, so…”
“Of course.” Anto took a lid off a pot and poked something with a fork, before turning a dial down on the hob. “Well, as you can see, I have an exceptionally comfortable sofa, so you are more than welcome to stay over.”
He said it casually. When he looked up, he saw Brigit with her phone in her hand again. “Right, that is it. Me and my exquisitely prepared coq are now officially offended. Are you expecting a booty call or something?”
“Sorry, sorry. Alright, well… look, I didn’t want to say anything, but fingers crossed, we might have found a way out of our Harrison problem.”
“Really?” Anto came around and leaned against the near side of the kitchen counter, snatching up his own wineglass. “How so?”
“Well, Phil has been keeping me in the loop. Do you know
Phil? Phil Nellis?”
Anto shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Sorry. That’s classic country girl that, assuming everyone from Dublin knows each other. He’s Paul’s oldest mate, sort of works for us now. He’s a nice lad, but a bit, well… I don’t want to say dim, that’s unfair. Odd? He has a very odd sense of logic to him but he’s a lovely fella. Has an incredible memory. Never forgets a face.”
“That’d be handy for an investigator, I suppose.”
“Anyway, long story short, Paul had a brainwave and he found the website Harrison was using. Like, the dating website.”
“Don’t tell me the horny cretin is still on it?”
Brigit nodded. “Apparently so. He’s out on a date right now with a girl Paul hired.”
“Really? Oh, that’s brilliant.”
“Hopefully. If they can get him saying stuff that indicates his ‘fear of sex’ might be cured.”
“Genius. Absolute genius.”
Brigit shrugged. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I mean, your brothers must be keeping an eye on Harrison. So the chances of this little ruse working…”
“Oh, you never know. Fingers crossed they’ve taken Christmas Eve off from being arseholes.”
“Hopefully. I sat down with our accountant again today. Between legal fees and the complaint Harrison put in to the Private Security Authority, trying to get our licence suspended, and how much that’s going to cost to fight, it’s looking like MCM Investigations might not be opening up again after Christmas.”
“Christ, it can’t really be that bad?”
Brigit nodded. “It really is. I feel like I’m captaining a sinking ship, where everybody else jumped overboard ages ago.”
“So, if this plan has to work, it’ll work. It’s Christmas. Miracles always happen at Christmas!”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I always am. Right you, come over here.”
Brigit stood up.
“I am just going to nip to the little boy’s room and I need you to keep an eye on my coq for a minute.”
Brigit shook her head and smiled. “Did you pick this menu entirely so you could make that joke all night?”
“I’m not going to lie, that was a big part of it, yes.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Phil and Paul sat in the van, looking at Phil’s laptop screen, which was perched on the dash in front of them. The only movement on it was the graphic rendering of the sound wave as it recorded the conversation between Tina and Harrison. They were parked up around the corner in a loading bay on Hatch Street, opposite Cafe Sol. Near enough if needed, but far enough out of sight that Harrison wouldn’t see the van unless he really went looking for it.
“Have you ever been to St Tropez?” they heard Harrison ask.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Oh my God, you simply must go.”
“I’m waiting for someone to take me.” Tina, aka Rebecca, giggled.
“Say no more. What are you doing for New Year’s?”
“Christ,” said Paul, “how many different ways in the last twenty-five minutes has this plank found to point out he’s got money?”
“Ah, at least a dozen. I wouldn’t mind if he actually did, but he’s unemployed and suing us. There’s no justice in the world.”
“No justice.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I just repeated what you said.”
“Well, when you’re right, you’re right.”
“Excuse me a sec, J, I’m going to go powder my nose,” said Tina.
“Hurry right back, I’ll be waiting.”
“You’d better be.” She giggled again.
“Ah Christ, Paulie!”
“What?”
“We can’t listen to the girl go to the toilet, that wouldn’t be decent.”
“Relax.” Paul leaned forward and turned the volume down a couple of notches. “So how’s the missus?”
“Ready to pop. She’s due in four days. I just hope she doesn’t have it tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Have you ever met somebody whose birthday is on Christmas Day? They’re always bitter about it. Only one present.”
“Well, it worked out alright for Jesus.”
“Did it? Going around turning water into wine all the time, dude clearly had a problem.”
“He only did that the once.”
“How come they’re always banging on about it then?”
Paul looked out the window as two blotto men in suits passed by, attempting to carry each other home. They were of an age to know better. One was singing, the other was crying.
“I think it was his first big miracle, wasn’t it? That and the loaves and fishes thing. The lad should’ve gone into catering. He would’ve cleaned up.”
“Loaves and fishes,” said Phil. “Is that not just basically fish fingers?”
On the laptop, they could hear a murmur of background conversation and what sounded like a stall door being closed.
“I’ve always wondered what goes on in the ladies’ toilets,” said Paul.
“Well you’re not finding out now, ye pervert.” Phil leaned forward and turned the sound down a couple more notches. “Do you think we’ve enough so far?”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it. I’m only guessing, but I think we need to get him specifically saying stuff about shagging. Offers and what not.”
“On a first date? Jesus. Who are these people?”
“Well, Phil, not everyone meets their missus over the Internet like you did.”
Phil pointed at the laptop. “These two met over the Internet.”
“Very different area of the Internet though. You were on the nicer end.”
Paul felt the phone in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and looked at the unknown number.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” Paul answered the call. “Hello?”
“Paul. Merry Christmas. Kevin Kelleher here, I just wanted to pass on season’s greetings to you and yours.”
“Ah, Kevin,” Paul said, while looking at Phil pointedly. “Lovely to hear from you. I hope you’re not bearing a grudge from my dog ripping the arse out of one of your lovely suits when she ran you off.”
“Oh not at all, Paul. I’ve got plenty of suits. In fact, I’ve a lovely new one on now. If you look out the right-hand window of your shitheap of a van, you can see for yourself.”
Paul looked over. There on the far side of the road stood Kevin Kelleher, a wide grin on his lips. He waved. “It was a nice try and all, but did you really expect this to work?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ha, sure you don’t. So when I go into La Rochelle around the corner, I won’t find our friend Mr Harrison with some floozy you’ve paid to throw herself at him. You were clever to find him through that website though, I’ll give you that.”
“How do you know that?”
“Lucky guess. Anyway, I’ve got old Jacob and his wandering libido on this tracking app I installed on his phone. He can’t go missing from me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve to go inside and break up the happy couple.”
Having polished off the champagne, Jacob Harrison had moved on to the cognac, always his tipple of choice. He looked around the bar. The crowd had started to thin out as people drifted off home for the festivities. The redhead still sat at the bar, staring at her phone. Poor bitch. Looked like she was destined to be alone at Christmas.
He watched Rebecca walking towards him, smiling as she sashayed around the tables. He noticed eyes following her. Who could blame them; she was stunning. He was going to have a very merry Christmas indeed.
She slid back into their booth, moving herself closer to him.
“So,” Jacob said, with a playful waggle of his eyebrows, “I have had a very naughty idea.”
“Yeah,” said a male voice, “I bleedin’ bet you have.”
Jacob whipped his he
ad around. Kevin Kelleher was standing beside them. “Christ, Kevin. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” He turned to Rebecca. “The game’s up, love, grab your stuff and fuck off.”
“Excuse me?” said Rebecca.
“Jesus, Kevin, that was uncalled for.”
“Uncalled for? You fucking idiot.” Kelleher pointed an accusing finger at Rebecca. “You’ve been set up, you moron. She works for MCM. Didn’t I tell you that we’d be fine as long as you kept it in your pants for a few weeks? You weak little—”
“Jacob, I don’t know what he’s talking about. Who is this guy?”
“Drop the act, love. To be fair, as whores go, you’re a cute one, but that’s all you are.”
“What did you call me, ye knob gobbler? I’ll shove your teeth down your throat, ye shiny-faced bag of shite.”
Jacob looked at Rebecca in shock as her accent suddenly changed.
“Charming,” said Kelleher. “C’mon.” He reached across to grab her arm but stopped as the phone in his hand started to vibrate. “Ah, speak of the Devil.” He thumbed the answer button and raised the phone to his ear. “Mr Mulchrone, what can I do for you?”
“Before you put a finger on that girl, do yourself a favour and ask her who her auntie is.”
Kelleher stopped and looked at the girl.
“Why would I give two shits who her auntie is?”
“Because it’s Jacinta Phelan,” said Paul.
Kelleher withdrew his hand as if “Rebecca” were on fire. He looked at her for a long second. “OK. No harm done. Off you pop.”
Rebecca glared at him and then slowly slid back out of the booth and headed straight for the door.
“What the hell, dude?” said Harrison, in full-on huff mode.
Kelleher hung up the phone. “Relax, Jacob. Seeing as we’re here, let’s have a drink. Looks like you’ve suddenly got some free time.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Brigit groaned appreciatively.
Last Orders (The Dublin Trilogy Book 4) Page 24