The Kindness of Psychopaths

by Alan Gorevan

  “So it was a lottery?” Cunningham said. “And we didn’t get Wall.”

  She adjusted her hearing aid. Joe could understand how badly she wanted to catch Wall after him blowing her halfway to hell in the bomb blast at his house.

  O’Carroll paced across the front of the room. “Unfortunately, the motorcycle we were able to follow was not our primary suspect. Barry Wall is still out there, as is one other accomplice, who also got away. I’ve spoken to the superintendent and he’s agreed that we need to escalate our response.”

  “What about the victims at the two houses?” Joe said. “Have we confirmed who they are?”

  O’Carroll nodded. “As you may recall, Roberts was the judge who directed the acquittal of Aidan Donnelly. He’s dead. Very dead.” O’Carroll let that sink in before he continued. Many detectives knew Roberts. Despite the Donnelly acquittal, Roberts was generally tough on crime, and that attitude went down well in the station. “Many of you will also be familiar with barrister Martin Costello, the second victim today. His death was also extremely violent. Clearly, Barry Wall is on the warpath. Now, I’ve just got some overtime pay approved. We are going to be working flat out until Wall is recaptured. Call your wives, husbands, drinking buddies. Let them know.”

  “What’s the plan?” Joe asked.

  “Surveillance.” O’Carroll glanced around the room, looking every officer in the eyes. “Wall is out for revenge. So, as of this moment, the key targets are going to be under 24/7 surveillance. Teams of one or two watching at all times, depending on who I have free.”

  Joe felt his stomach sink.

  “Who are the key targets?”

  O’Carroll frowned. “You identified them yourself already, Joe. There are two targets left. Aidan Donnelly is one.”

  A cold sweat broke out on Joe’s upper lip.

  “And the second?” he asked.

  “Yourself, of course.”

  All eyes turned to Joe. He wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand. But he could feel more trickling down his sides, from the armpits.

  The timing couldn’t have been worse. Joe couldn’t afford to be watched. Not when he had a body to dispose of somehow.

  “I don’t—”

  “No need to worry, Joe. You will continue to work on this case, along with everyone else. You will just happen to be under surveillance. And Aidan Donnelly will be under surveillance the whole time too. But just to be clear, Joe, given your history with Donnelly, you will not go anywhere near him and you will not be part of any surveillance team on him.”

  “Sure.”

  “And I promise you, Joe, that you will be perfectly safe too. We’re going to make sure you’re not alone for a second until Barry Wall is caught.”

  A team of detectives watching every move he made, every second of the day, would make it impossible for Joe to get rid of Kavanagh’s body.

  “The surveillance on me is not necessary. I can take care of myself,” Joe said.

  O’Carroll shook his head. “It’s not just about whether you can take care of yourself. It’s also about catching Wall when he tries to get to you, whether that’s at your home in the middle of the night, or out and about during the day.” O’Carroll smiled grimly. “You are now officially bait.”

  Chapter 58

  Barry Wall had arrived back at the house first. Ken followed a few minutes later. They’d got away without any problem, but there was no sign of Dinky. They waited for him in the kitchen, Ken checking the news on his phone.

  It reminded Wall of his father’s bank-robbing days. His father, and whoever was doing the job with him, held post-robbery meetings in the garage attached to the Wall family house, because the property was isolated. The activity had peaked when Wall was in his early teens. Despite being afraid of what would happen if he was caught, Wall was compelled to hang around outside the garage and eavesdrop. Sometimes there was jubilation in the men’s voices after a job. Sometimes fear, hate, rage. Always excitement. Until the day his father didn’t come home. Neither did his ‘friends’. They’d taken two thousand euro from a credit union in Raheny, and on the way home had plunged their car into a school bus at 140 kmh. They’d all died on impact.

  Wall had always told himself, and anyone who would listen, that he was nothing like his father. That he was not a violent man. But here he was, with blood on his hands, and his father’s voice ringing in his ears.

  I’m gonna roll you down the hill, Barry…

  “Here’s something,” Ken said.

  There was an article about a traffic disturbance in the city centre. Ken kept refreshing the screen, waiting for more details. After half an hour, the phrases “shots fired” and “motorcycle rider” appeared in the updated article.

  “They’ve killed him,” Wall said.

  “Damn,” Ken said, still staring at his phone. “I think you’re right.”

  Only the two brothers remained.

  “I doubt Dinky had a chance to tell them anything,” Wall said. “Not if he was shot on the street. All the same, it will be better if we move to a different location.”

  Ken nodded. “It says here they’re looking for two motorcyclists. They’re appealing to the public.”

  “Some of the neighbours might have seen us,” Wall said.

  “We should go to my place.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Ken’s phone rang.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  Wall watched him.

  “Okay,” Ken said and hung up.

  “What is it?”

  “Our contact says they’re putting surveillance on Aidan Donnelly and Joe Byrne. They know your plan.”

  “Shit.”

  “We’ll find a way to get them. Don’t worry. Our contact will help. But for now, we should move.”

  Wall took a frustrated breath, nodded. He looked out the kitchen window. Into the infinite sky.

  I promise I’ll find you, Valentina. I’ll do whatever has to be done. Whatever it takes.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  It didn’t take long for them to clear out. Wall took the dart board Dinky had hung in the kitchen, with the photos of Judge Roberts, Joe Byrne and Aidan Donnelly pinned to it, and threw it in a holdall.

  When Wall had collected everything, he went outside to find that Ken had already loaded the motorbikes into the back of the Ford Transit. Wall helped throw the makeshift wooden ramp into the back of the van too. Then they shut the doors and got in the front.

  Wall didn’t see any neighbour watching, but you never knew. In any case, the licence plate on the van couldn’t be traced back to Ken.

  As Wall got into the passenger seat, Ken’s phone rang again. He listened for half a minute, then ended the call. He smiled.

  “What is it?” Wall asked. “Was that your contact again?”

  “Yes. He said he found out that Aidan Donnelly is not under surveillance yet because they haven’t been able to find him.”

  Wall’s eyes lit up.

  “Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ken smiled. “But our contact has an idea.”

  *

  Lisa jumped when she heard a key slide into the lock. Graham pushed open the door, two grease-stained paper bags in his hands.

  “Hey, babe.”

  He came into the kitchen and kissed Lisa on the cheek.

  She’d been leaning against the washing machine, her glass of Chardonnay untouched on the kitchen table. She’d fallen into a daze and lost track of time.

  “You were a long time gone,” Lisa said, straightening up.

  “Sorry. There was a queue in the chip shop.”

  Lisa opened the cupboard and took out three plates. Even if they were going to eat a take-away, she wanted to have a bit of decorum about it. She wasn’t going to eat from the bag.

  She called up the stairs to Christopher while Graham ripped open one of the bags. Chips spilled out onto the tabletop, releasing the sharp smell of vinegar. Lisa sighed and gathered up
the fallen chips. She got a bowl and poured them into it.

  Tell him, she thought. Tell him right now that he’s out of here. Screw him and his chips.

  Instead she sat down in her usual place at the table. She’d never been good at break-ups. She wasn’t even able to dump Joe, except by not talking to him. And that had nearly killed her.

  Christopher came down the stairs. He grabbed a soft drink and sat down in his usual place. They began to eat.

  Tell him, she kept thinking. Just tell him.

  Instead she ate. Graham babbled on, but she had no idea what he said. When they’d finished eating, and Christopher had disappeared back upstairs, she finally worked up the courage.

  “Graham,” she said, at the same time as he said, “I have some news.”

  Lisa laughed nervously. “You go first.”

  “No, you.”

  “You,” Lisa insisted.

  “Good news. I called my landlord,” Graham said.

  “What for?”

  “I gave him my notice. Since we’ve been spending so much time together, I think it makes sense that I move in. You know, I practically live here anyway.”

  “You gave up your house?”

  “It’s a needless expense,” Graham said. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” Lisa said blankly.

  “Good. Now we’ll be able to spend more time together.”

  She forced a smile. “Great.”

  Graham said, “What did you want to tell me?”

  Lisa was wondering what to say when the doorbell rang.

  Chapter 59

  Bait. The word echoed in Joe’s mind as he drove to Lisa’s house. The evening was milder than Joe would have liked, and though the rain had stopped falling, everything was wet. Damp and warm – ideal conditions for bacteria.

  It was impossible to forget even for a second that John Kavanagh’s body lay behind him in the boot of the car. It had been there since Herbert Park. Even as Joe chased Wall’s accomplice through the city, the body had been there. Even as Joe sat in the station, working on the Wall case, it had been there.

  And it would have to stay there for the moment. Because Dunne’s silver Lexus was right behind him. His security detail. First shift.

  Joe arrived at Lisa’s place, pressed the doorbell. The hedge circling the garden looked like it had been cut by a blind man on a rollercoaster. Lisa opened the door an inch.

  “Hello Joe.”

  “I didn’t get to speak to the principal today. I’m sorry.”

  Lisa looked distracted, haggard even. Or maybe Joe was picking up on how disappointed she was at him for letting her down again. It had happened so often, she must have become tired.

  Joe said, “I’ll do it tomorrow. Or did you do it yourself?”

  “No, it was too late.”

  “How did Christopher get on today? I’d like to have a word with him.”

  Lisa said, “He’s tired.”

  “Tired?”

  “He needs to rest.”

  “Why does he need to rest?”

  She sighed. “Joe, he just does. I don’t have time to explain everything to you.”

  “Explain what?”

  “That he had a long day at school, and he’s tired. He’s upstairs playing a computer game.”

  “It sounds like he’s alert enough for a quick conversation with his father.”

  Lisa scoffed, “Father?”

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “Never mind.” She opened the door a little wider and stepped aside. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said, stepping into the hall. Two huge pieces of luggage sat just inside the door. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Graham appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Joe? You’re interrupting an important conversation. Not that I mind, but Lisa might not be so—”

  Ignoring him, Joe turned to Lisa. “Is this asshole here all the time?”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Graham said.

  Lisa really did look tired.

  She said, “Play nice, Joe.”

  He made his way up the stairs and knocked on Christopher’s door. The KEEP OUT sign stared back at him. From the other side of the door, he could hear the engine sound from a racing game.

  He opened the door.

  Christopher was sitting on his bed, propped up by a pile of pillows, holding a controller in his hands and staring at the huge TV screen mounted to the wall.

  “Alright, Christopher?”

  The boy’s face looked puffy and pink, and a bruise was developing around one eye.

  “Hi,” Christopher said in a small voice.

  “Can I sit down?”

  “Alright.” He paused the game.

  “How was school?”

  “Fine.” Christopher shrugged. He began to play with his fingers, pulling at a loose piece of skin next to the nail on his thumb.

  “You didn’t have any problems?”

  “Not really.”

  “I planned to go and see your principal today, but I got held up at work.” Christopher nodded like this was not news. “I actually did go to your school, but it was a little late when I arrived. You’d already left. But I saw you walking home.”

  Christopher looked up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I saw you heading into Herbert Park. Is that right?”

  “Well, that’s the way I usually go.”

  “I thought so. It’s got to be the quickest route.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were with another boy. Is that right?”

  Christopher’s face clouded over. “Um…”

  Just then, Lisa appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

  “I was telling Christopher how I went to meet him earlier. I saw him heading into the park with another boy.”

  “I wasn’t, like, with anyone. There – there may have been another boy in the park.”

  Joe nodded. “Alright. Who was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Christopher said.

  He was a terrible liar.

  “Tell me who it was.”

  Lisa said, “Who cares who it was?”

  “I’m just trying to build up a picture.”

  “Of what?”

  Joe didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and put a hand on Christopher’s leg. “Tell me what happened this afternoon.”

  Lisa crossed her arms. “Joe, I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I’ve had just about enough of it.”

  “This is important.”

  “What’s important is that Christopher goes to bed now. Tomorrow is a school day.”

  “It’s not late yet.”

  “Not for you, maybe. Christopher, turn the PlayStation off.”

  Joe lowered his voice and leaned over so he could speak directly into Christopher’s ear. “Did something happen in the park?” Joe asked. “Who did that to your face?”

  His son’s eyes darted about the room.

  “I – I fell,” Christopher stammered.

  Lisa said, “Alright, Joe, that’s more than enough. It’s time you left.”

  Joe kept his eyes on Christopher.

  He said, “What happened?”

  “I – I – I…”

  Lisa raised her voice. “Joe! Have you gone mad? I want you to leave. Go now.”

  “What happened in the park, Christopher? Tell me.”

  “Graham? Joe is leaving. Can you show him out?”

  Joe heard Graham coming. He straightened up as Graham entered the room.

  “Alright, Joe, time to go home,” he said. “Don’t make me use force.”

  “Try it, dickhead.”

  “If you’re going to be rambunctious, I’ll call the Gardaí and ask them to remove you.”

  Joe decided he wouldn’t be able to get anything out of Christopher with Lisa and Graham standing there. He’d have to leave it for now, and try again later.

  He trudged downstairs, with
Graham two steps behind him. Graham said nothing as Joe opened the door. But when he paused on the doorstep, Graham gave him a shove. Joe lurched off the step and staggered a couple of paces down the driveway. The door closed before he could retaliate.

  What a day.

  Joe trudged to the end of the driveway, where Dunne was sitting in her Lexus, watching him.

  Chapter 60

  On his way home, Detective Sergeant Kevin Boyle stopped off at a pub just down the road from his flat. He only wanted a pint, to take the edge off. He hoped Babe wouldn’t make another mess on his rug before he arrived home.

  Just one drink, he had thought.

  Here he was, finishing his third.

  The place had an old-time feel to it. There was a bar on one side of the premises and a lounge on the other. Boyle sat in the bar. It was darker, which suited his mood. There was no live music to annoy him.

  Boyle punctuated his drinks by stepping outside and smoking a cigarette after he drained each glass. Here he was lighting cigarette number three. He looked around wearily with every inhalation. When he’d finished it, and flicked the butt into the street, he went back inside and ordered his fourth pint.

  While the Guinness was settling, he went to the toilets. Empty, thank goodness. The urinals here had bullseyes painted inside them. Made it more fun, Boyle supposed.

  He was finishing up when the door to the bar opened. Boyle looked around, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  Someone grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face against the wall.

  Boyle was dazed.

  The man pulled him back.

  Boyle brought his hands up in front of him in time to prevent a second impact. That just provoked the man, and he punched Boyle in the side. Hard.

  Boyle turned, piss flying all over the place. The blond man in front of him had a scar running from below his left eye down to the corner of his mouth. Boyle had never learnt his name, though he had met him a few times when meeting with Ger Barrett. The scarred man pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Boyle said holding his hands up.

  The scarred man said, “You fucked us.”

  “No. Ger knows I would never do that to him.”