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‘And they’re saying…………what?’

‘The psycho is practically telling you, a tag team……….he’s not on his own, he’s got a

partner.’

Like I’d said from the fookin beginning.

‘You need anything, give me a call.’

I read his card

………………………Serg. L. Boxer

………………………..computer Crimes.

And a choice of three numbers.

I said

‘Thank you.’

‘No big thing.’

‘NOT ALL POTATOES ARE RIGHT FOR ALL DISHES.’

HESTON BLUMEENTHAL ON THE HUMBLE SPUD.

I got back to ER, saw The Lieut. Heading for me. I thought

‘Uh….oh.’

He had a deep gravely voice, the one’s ex-smokers have and aren’t no chickens on the

whole damn planet more self righteous than ex-smokers. He sneered

‘Get your fix, did you?’

‘Yes, Thank you.’

He moved close, way too near, asked

‘Is that a tone sonny, cos, you don’t want to have no fucking tone with me kid.’

Ah sweet Jesus and His Mother, a hard arse, a fookin Nazi of procedure, and they leave

you but two ways to go.

a………….shoot the fooker right away.

b…………………let him rant, shoot him later when you have your gun.

He pulled out a battered notebook, the prick’s always have them, usually spiraled, said

‘Thomas Ryan, late of The Garda Siochana, I got it right so far?’

He raised up on that last letter like a hyena eating a lion’s leftovers, and the guy would

always be eating from the doggy bag.

I nodded, without my gun………see above, B.

He leered

‘That’s like…..Rent a Cop, without arms, am I right?

I was tired, fighting on so many fronts and this bollix with a badge was starting to piss

me off, I know, know I should have said nowt but……………

I said

‘You’re right, as I’m sure you always are. Right?’

Oddest thing, when I’m right on the precipice of confrontation these past few years, I

smell Irish stew. It makes me…………..reckless.

He reeled back a second, not expecting an answer of that kind, so soon, then right in my

face, his breath reeking of garlic and sweet wine.

I added

‘Tip to the wise partner, lay off the garlic, guy with your blood pressure, you’ll never see

forty.’

Apoplexy……………what a great word, does what it say’s on the package.

Learned it from me Readers Digest Condensed edition of……’A Word a Day.’

Hadn’t expected to view it up close and Technicolor,

He grabbed my shirt, tearing off the buttons, spittle in my face and suddenly, Judy was

Pulling him away, going

‘What on God’s earth, that’s my husband’s friend, you should be ashamed of yourself

Lieu tent!’

He looked round, the whole of the ER staring at him, he tried

‘I….am……….sorry Madam, the heat of a fellow officer down, you know?’

Shona was on him

‘And what, you think you can abuse people’s civil rights because you are upset?’

He had nothing.

Me, I had the front seat.

He backed away, throwing the evil eye at me, I added kerosene and to gain brownie

points with the ladies, said

‘I forgive you Sergeant.’

Thus demoting the fook and putting the boot in.

Would he let that shite go?

Would he fook?

Least next time, I’d be expecting him.

I said to Shona

“Thank you.’

She smiled, maybe I wasn’t completely in the shitter and then a thought hit me, fook, I

asked

‘The flowers, the roses, you remember any address, I mean, where they were sent from?’

Shot in the dark, usually these outlet’s delivered, they got in some promo too.

She said

‘Sure.’

Jesus.

Waited.

‘Blooms, on Fifth Avenue, who could forget? they’re like the most exclusive florists in

Manhattan.’

I hugged her, said

‘Alanna, gotta go, you did brilliant.

I was running out of there and by just moments, caught Serge Boxer as he was putting his

car in gear, he rolled down the window, asked

‘Merrick’s Ok?’

‘Yes, I mean, I think so, sorry I gave you a fright but you said………if there was

anything?’

‘I meant it.’

I had a pen, thank fook, jotted down Shona’s name, address, asked

‘She got roses from Blooms, on Fifth Avenue, maybe paid for by credit card, could you

take a look?

He smiled, said

‘Sure, only dope dealers pay by cash anymore so chance’s are?’’

I said

“ I owe you.’

‘Wait till we see if I get a hit,….. and your number?’

Gave it to him, he asked

‘No cell phone?’

‘Am……….no.’

‘No wonder you had to go private.’

‘THE HOTTEST PLACES IN HELL ARE RESERVED FOR THOSE WHO IN TIMES

OF GREAT MORAL CRISES MAINTAIN THEIR NEUTRALITY.

DANTE ALIGHIERI.

(AUTHOR OF, THE DIVINE COMEDY.)

The large man was seriously pissed. Jesus H. Christ, had he to cover every angle, every

damn hole himself?

Rang the psycho, and his fingers jabbing the cell with anger.

Heard

‘Hello?’

Jesus, the guy sounded normal, he launched

‘You’ve really fucked up, shut the fuck up, we’re going to give them the other guy.’

He heard the astonishment

‘What other guy?’

‘The investigation by those two freaking amateurs turned up two probable, LISTEN,

don’t interrupt unless you want to spend the next forty years on Rikers, whatever piece

you used on Merrick, I need it, they’ll pull the slug out of his miserable hide and I want it

to match the gun they find on our guy. So you keep real low, don’t do anything without

consulting me and maybe, I can make this go away, they’ll have their prep and we can go

back to business as usual, yeah, and oh, I’ll need paying, cover up isn’t cheap so bring a

serious wedge with the gun.’

He cut the connection.

If………..big if………….he could manage this, and the dust settled, he’d go one final

payment with the shithead, promise him, twin boys or such, then put the bastard in The

East River, let him be with his boys

Permanently.

…………………….CLOUD DANCER.

I was back at work. Much as I wished to be pursuing the investigation, I had to have cash.

I felt deep in my soul, something had broken and we were right on the verge of cracking

it. But I couldn’t yet find the answer. It was there, niggling at the edges of my mind.

And, something had been said at the hospital, fook it what? Something that was of major

significance but I couldn’t access it…………….yet.

Crow, my foreman, brother of Shona gave me a knowing smile, said

‘Big job today my friend, we have to put…………

He pointed

The gaping vacancy at the top of the ninety story building,

‘A full two floors on today. It’s delicate and risky but I have my nephew, Cloud, with

you, he is an artist.’

I nearly laughed, asked

“I’m to call him Cloud?’