“Tommy. What the hell is this? It’s six o’clock in the morning. I hit the sack at three. I’m far from happy about this.”
“Have you heard of mobile phones?”
“They keep you at work twenty-four hours a day. Those things?”
“I was going to leave a message.”
“Make it a good one, will you. I have a message ready for you here. But I’ll wait until I hear yours.”
“Take a powder there, boss,” said Malone. “You had three hours that I didn’t have. Here’s what I do have: Murph, you know about. If it’s Murph, that is. The bit of toast they found in the boot of his car up in the Pine Forest. So you won’t be talking to Murph.”
“Got that. Move on.”
“Listen to you. I’m doing your work for you here. I expect a cut of that paycheque of yours, you know.”
“Settle for a wedding present — but only if you lift the ban, and let me go to the wedding.”
“That’s another matter. Here’s the goods then: I got this message from a woman the name of Brid O Connor. It was waiting on me when I checked in the office late. Trying to get in touch with me yesterday, but had a bit of an issue tracking me down.”
“I don’t know the name.”
“Wife of one Dermot Fanning. Now you know her?”
“Your ticket to stardom, okay. But what’s this about?”
“Listen, I’m telling you. You know the routine in our place, about routing calls and that. If we’re out on a job, stuff just has to wait its turn. No interruptions. There’s a gatekeeper, Alec Dowling, a Sergeant. He handles stuff, decides if we get a contact. Anyway. That’s why I only picked this up late, I should say early this morning. She’s in a state. Husband did a bunk, and she can’t get ahold of him.”
“Okay. Look, Tommy, I haven’t done a jigsaw puzzle since I was a child.”
“Did they have them then?”
“Proceed. I’ll save my bad words for when I meet you in person.”
“She and the hubby had a big row the other night. Out he walks, and she hasn’t seen him since.”
“Unusual?”
“Yep. According to her. Oh sure, the artsy-fartsy lifestyle and all, but she’s a teacher. Says she to me, ‘We’re a very normal couple, I want you to know.’”
“The point, Tommy, the point. I’m on a low battery here, man.”
“Point is he’s missing, and she says he had been doing some odd things before he, um, took his leave of her.”
“Odd. Isn’t that what filmy, artisty people do?”
“She says he came home with a cut on his leg, and he was manky, and out of it.”
“Like I said about that crowd?”
“Will you stop hopping the ball on me for a minute there? Fanning was doing research on gangs here in Dublin. Hanging out with them.”
“Got fond of it maybe?”
“She says she thinks he was stoned the other night. That that’s the only way she can account for him losing his rag with her. Mild-mannered, wouldn’t hurt a fly, says she.”
Minogue broke his gaze on the rings of the new cooker.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m getting it, sorry. It’s Murph he was hanging out with.”
“Good. You saved me shouting at you there. Now I haven’t got to the real story here. She left a message, said that Fanning had tried to call her that night — that morning actually. But she didn’t answer the phone. She knew it was him, she said, and she was mad at him. He leaves a message on their machine, but it gets cut off. She doesn’t know why, but she remembers him talking about getting a new mobile, or something about a battery. So she thinks the phone died on him.”
“Okay. But why am I here?”
Malone went on undeterred.
“What she tells me in this message is that he, Fanning that is to say, mentioned something about a thing that happened down the quays. That he wants to talk to her about it, but he has to think it over some more.”
“The quays. That’s all?”
“‘The back of the Custom House Quay’ she says. ‘Something happened,’ says he. ‘Something I’m not proud of.’”
“Did she save the message?”
“I don’t know, do I. But by Jesus, I am sitting here outside her house — I know from her phone call that they have a little one, and she was crying — and I’m going to knock on her door right now and find out.”
“Where is this?”
“According to my GPS,” said Malone, grandly, “5.3 kilometres from your place. Off Bird Avenue.”
Chapter 46
The car was a newish Honda Civic, with a Dublin registration. It was a sensible, reliable safe car, Fanning thought wistfully, a real teacher’s car. Cully had been watching him in the mirror from the time he had turned the corner. There was no sign of his sidekick. There were no lights on at the house, and the Golf hadn’t moved. Fanning looked up at the window of Aisling’s room — a box-room it should be called.
His legs were still rubbery. He wondered if his fear showed on his face. He wished he had that Swiss Army knife again, the one that had gone missing on him after Christmas. But what use would that be? He wasn’t thinking straight at all.
Cully looked tired and drawn, with dark patches under his eyes. This surprised Fanning, and for a moment he felt some weird sympathy.
Cully rolled down his window.
“You didn’t knock, did you?” Fanning asked. “Right?”
Cully shook his head.
“Let’s go somewhere to talk,” Fanning said. “Brid might be awake. I don’t want her seeing us.”
Cully seemed in no humour to dispute anything.
“Get in,” he murmured. He parked by the shops. He and Fanning waited until a long articulated lorry went by, and the road was empty again.
“Hanging up on people is bad manners,” said Cully.
“I switched it off actually.”
Cully looked up from his hands.
“You know, you’re getting cheekier and cheekier. Talking back? Snappy answer for everything?”
“Just stating a fact, that’s all.”
Neither man said anything for several moments. Fanning did his best to swallow without making any sound.
“So,” he said then. “What are we going to do?”
Cully stopped tapping his fingers on the wheel. “You’re asking me?”
“We should do something.”
“Like…?”
“Work something out.”
“What are you talking about here, ‘work something out’?”
“An agreement, I suppose.”
“Go on.”
“To go our separate ways, I suppose.”
Cully threw back his head and laughed.
“That a script you’re writing? ‘To go our separate ways.’”
“We decide on what to do, and stick to it.”
“Oh, bossy now.”
“You asked me for a suggestion. I’m giving it. Remember, I don’t have any experience in this sort of stuff.”
Cully glanced over, but resumed his slow tapping on the wheel.
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he said. “I’ll grant you that.”
“Look, you take over then. I’m in no fit mind right now probably.”
“You mean it? I take over?”
“I’m not thinking straight. I’m tired.”
“Oh. You like the ‘up’ part, but you’re not so keen on the afterwards bit.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“That little bit of white powder you took a liking to?”
“I didn’t. And it didn’t work for me, didn’t work much anyway.”
“Tell that to the bloke back there, the one you put the boots to.”
“Me? You mean yourself. It wasn’t me did that.”
“Really. That’s what you’re going to say to them?”
A chill grabbed at Fanning.
“I’m not telling anyone. Didn’t I say that?”
Cully shook his head.
“Well don’t get that idea,” said Fanning quickly. “There’s no way I’d want to tell anyone about that, ever.”
Cully said nothing.
“Ever,” Cully added.
“Never, ever, ever,” Cully murmured.
“Why would I want to do something so stupid as that? Like tell them to throw me in jail or something?”
“They wouldn’t throw you in jail. They’d probably give you a medal.”