‘Excuse me, Mr Norton,’ she says, extending a hand. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt, but my name is Gina. I’m one of Noel’s sisters.’
‘My dear,’ Norton says, shaking her hand vigorously, ‘my dear. Of course. Gina. How are you? I’m very sorry. You have my deepest sympathies.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How are you?’
People keep asking her this – how are you? – as if they really want to know, but it’s just a formula.
‘I’m fine.’ She pauses. ‘I suppose.’
‘Of course. It’s… it’s very hard on all of you.’
She nods. Norton is holding a glass of whiskey. As he speaks, he looks into it and swirls the whiskey around. Up close, he is quite portly, but his tailored charcoal grey suit does a lot to disguise this. He has chubby manicured hands and beads of sweat on his upper lip. His eyes are blue and very intense.
‘How well did you know my brother?’
Here she goes.
‘Not very well, I’m afraid. We liaised, of course, on the project.’
‘On Richmond Plaza?’
‘Yes. Which, incidentally, you know, will be a tremendous tribute to your brother when it’s finished.’
‘I’m sure it will, yes.’ She pauses. ‘But you didn’t know him socially.’
‘Not really, no.’ Norton takes a sip of whiskey from his glass.
‘Because, I was just wondering -’ she half turns here, vaguely indicating behind her, ‘you see, I was talking a minute ago to a Detective Superintendent… Merrigan I think it was, and he says that you had a drink with Noel on Monday night. Is that correct?’
She doesn’t mean this to sound quite so inquisitorial. But she’s very tired and it’s weird standing here. It’s almost surreal. She’s aware of the government minister a few feet away from her, and the rugby captain, and she’s just spotted – over Norton’s shoulder – the presenter of a popular new reality TV show.
‘Well, yes,’ Norton says. ‘There’s social, I suppose, and social. If a quick drink after work to go over some notes qualifies as social, then yes.’
What she really wants to ask him is the question she asked Terry Stack, only in reverse – because it seems to her, on reflection, that Stack was lying. But she has to build up to it.
‘I see,’ she says, ‘and what… notes were these?’
‘Just, you know… work-related stuff.’
‘Right.’ She nods. ‘When I saw Noel later he did seem fairly stressed all right.’
‘Stressed?’
‘Yes, very, in fact, I’d say. About work.’
She keeps glancing over his shoulder. How does she phrase this without putting him off the way she put Terry Stack off?
‘What did he say?’
‘What did he say?’ She looks at him now, directly. ‘Um, he…’ She goes on staring into his eyes, as she struggles to recall what Noel said, to summon up his words – even though she’s tired, even though time seems elastic… but eventually something comes to her. ‘He mentioned the situation… he said it was an unholy mess.’
Norton nods. ‘I see.’ He continues nodding, and Gina feels compelled to nod along with him. She also feels that the wine she’s been drinking has kicked in and that she needs to be a little more focused here.
‘I see,’ Norton says again.
Maybe she should start by asking him out straight if he knows who Terry Stack is. Take it from there.
‘Mr Norton, do -’
‘Look, Gina -’
Just then the government minister appears behind Norton and slaps him on the back.
‘I’ve got to be pushing on, Paddy,’ Bolger says. He smiles at Gina, and then, as if remembering he’s a politician, stretches out his hand. ‘Larry Bolger,’ he says. ‘Deepest sympathies. Your brother was a fine man.’
‘Thank you,’ Gina says, shaking his hand. ‘You knew him?’
‘Oh indeed, quite well. Noel beat me at poker on more than one occasion – humiliated me, you might say.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes. He was a quite serious card player, your brother.’
Gina wants to pursue this, but just then a tall woman in a navy suit appears and Bolger takes a couple of steps back. The woman says to Norton, ‘Sweetheart, we should be leaving, too.’ She reaches out to take the glass from his hand.
Norton, who looks a little pale now, lets her.
Gina sees her chance slipping away here. But Norton leans towards her and whispers, ‘We should talk about this again.’
She can smell the whiskey on his breath.
‘Yes,’ she says.
Someone with an empty tray is passing, and the woman in the navy suit puts Norton’s glass onto it.
‘Phone my office in Baggot Street,’ Norton says, handing her a business card, ‘and we can arrange to meet, or… if you could just come there?’
‘Yes,’ Gina says, nodding. ‘The funeral’s tomorrow, so – I don’t know – Monday?’
‘Yes, fine. Absolutely.’
‘Er…’
‘Ten o’clock?’
She nods again. ‘OK.’
The woman in the navy suit, Norton’s wife presumably, tugs at his sleeve and leads him away.
Larry Bolger moves away as well. The captain of the Ireland team and the two solicitors – or fund managers, or whatever they are – continue talking by the fire.
Gina turns and walks back across the room to the bay window. She glances at Norton’s business card and then slips it into her pocket. What just happened there? She’s not quite sure. He seemed eager to meet – which might mean something, or it might not. At least in the privacy of an office, and when she’s not so tired, she’ll have a better chance of assessing what Norton has to say – and she’ll ask him then, out straight, if he or anyone in his organisation has links with Terry Stack.
Once a couple of people have left, others start leaving as well, and the room quickly thins out.
After a while, Gina gathers her strength and goes over to have a few words with Jenny.
4
‘You drive.’
‘What?’
‘You drive. I don’t feel well.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Paddy. Give me the keys.’
Norton hands Miriam the keys and goes around to the passenger side. He gets in and immediately fumbles in his jacket pocket for his silver pillbox. As Miriam is putting on her seatbelt she looks at what he’s doing and says, ‘You’re not still taking those, are you?’
He pops two of the tablets into his mouth and turns to her. ‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, Paddy. On top of… what were you drinking in there, whiskey?’
‘Just drive, would you? Jesus.’
Norton swallows the pills. He can still see those eyes, staring at him accusingly. He’s assuming accusingly. The thing he can’t believe is that Noel Rafferty blabbered about this to his kid sister. But how much did he tell her? How much does she know? Maybe he should have stayed and had it out with her, but he felt weak standing there, like he was going to faint. He needed to get away and was glad when Bolger and Miriam appeared.
His mind is racing. He goes back over the conversation. First she wouldn’t look him in the eye and then she wouldn’t look away, taking ages over it, going for maximum effect – the situation… he mentioned the situation…
Jesus Christ.
And what was that about a detective superintendent knowing where he was on Monday night?