Gina gives her head a quick shake, as if to say, Don’t worry about it.
‘I’m sorry,’ Norton says, ‘I’m sorry. Larry’s a good friend of mine, I’ve known him for twenty-five years. It’s just that, well, impulse control wouldn’t be his strongest suit.’
Gina nods along.
‘But he’s on the straight and narrow these days. He really is. He’s doing well. He’s sober and… whatever. Why are we talking about Larry Bolger?’
Gina doesn’t know. She shakes her head.
Norton glances at his watch. ‘Listen, I’ve got a meeting with some letting agents, so…’
‘Of course,’ Gina says.
He starts to move.
But she can feel another opportunity slipping away here. If she’s going to persist in this, she needs to be more focused, more direct.
‘Er… Paddy,’ she says, ‘you worked with Noel, you knew him, or at least talked with him, right?’
Norton stops, tensing a little, and turns back. ‘Yes.’
Gina takes a deep breath. ‘Did he ever mention… our nephew?’
Norton puts on a pained expression. ‘Look, Gina -’
‘Or Terry Stack, or…’
‘No, he didn’t.’
There is a shift in his tone here.
‘Well,’ Gina says, pushing on, ‘I don’t know, can you think of a reason, any reason at all, why -’
Norton throws his eyes up. ‘Why what?’
‘- why anyone might want to kill him?’
‘Gina,’ Norton says, openly impatient now, ‘for God’s sake, no one wanted to kill your brother, and no one did kill him. It was an accident.’
Gina swallows. ‘I’m afraid I just don’t accept that.’
Norton takes a couple of steps towards her. ‘Well, you’re going to have to accept it. People die on our roads every day of the week.’
When he’s standing directly in front of her, he reaches out and takes a firm grip on her arm. He stares into her eyes. Gina isn’t comfortable with this and would like to move. But it’s awkward. She’d have to pull away and step around him.
Because she can’t very well step backwards.
He tightens his grip. ‘Do you hear me?’
Gina meets his stare.
Up close like this, there’s something a little unsettling about the way Norton looks. She’s only noticing it now. His fleshy face has a pale, almost greyish, complexion. The pupils of his eyes are like pins, and seem to be dilating. She is also surprised – despite the cold – to see a bead of sweat on his upper lip.
And she can smell him.
It’s a pungent mixture, though of what she’s not sure – cologne anyway, cigar smoke probably… and something else, mouthwash possibly, or mints.
‘Gina?’
She nods. ‘Yes, I hear you, but I don’t – I can’t – accept it.’
‘Jesus,’ Norton says, close to shouting now, ‘why does everything have to be a bloody conspiracy these days? The man was drunk, behind the wheel of his car. Isn’t that enough?’
Gina stares at him.
Enough for what?
Her arm is starting to hurt.
She can feel the barrier pressing against the back of her legs.
Another couple of seconds pass and then Norton steps away suddenly, pulling her towards him. ‘It’s dangerous there,’ he says, releasing her roughly. ‘You were too close to the barrier.’
He turns and walks off.
Gina looks over her shoulder, heart pounding, and catches a glimpse of the city below. The view is shifting, almost kaleidoscopic, and it makes her feel a little dizzy. For the first time up here she can actually imagine losing her balance.
When she looks back, Norton is already halfway to the service elevator at the other end.
She follows him.
On the way down neither of them says a word.
Gina closes her eyes.
What is it, she wonders… with Norton, with her sisters? Everyone seems to be pissed off at her. Yvonne and Michelle she can understand, in a way – they’re not ready to face this yet, and that’s fine. But Norton? What’s he afraid of? Some perceived threat to his precious business interests? The negative publicity that a possible link with a gangland killing might generate?
As the elevator comes to a halt, Gina opens her eyes.
But what if her suspicion – or theory, or whatever she wants to call it – is confirmed?
What if there is a link?
They walk in silence through the atrium and out of the building.
But then again, what if there isn’t?
They go back to the prefab office, where they hand in their hard hats and protective jackets.
Out on the street, Gina does her best to ignore the shift in mood and thanks Norton for the tour of the building.
He grunts something in reply.
When they get to his car, he asks – staring at the pavement – if he can drop her off anywhere, but she says she’s OK. She lives on the quays, up towards town, and will walk.
Norton hesitates. ‘I’m sorry about before,’ he says. ‘It’s just… this is all very upsetting.’
‘I know. I know.’
‘I just… I think the man should be allowed to rest in peace.’
‘I know.’
He then nods at her and gets into his car. Gina watches as he speeds off towards the East Link toll bridge.
She bites her lower lip.
People die on our roads every day of the week.
So is that it? Is he right after all?
Maybe.
She crosses to the other side of the street and heads up the quays. She holds her jacket closed against the wind.
But maybe – and just to see it through – she should have one more little chat with Terry Stack.
Even though the prospect doesn’t exactly appeal to her.
As she walks along, Gina glances every now and again to the left, into the dark-flowing Liffey – but this only adds to her anxiety. It’s as though the river might somehow have a surprise in store, as though it wouldn’t be at all inconceivable for the murky water itself to rise up suddenly and reach out from between the stone banks in a great whoosh to engulf her.
Soon after he gets across the East Link toll bridge, Norton pulls in at the side of the road. He puts a hand up to his chest and takes a few deep breaths.
‘Oh my God,’ he says out loud.
He fumbles in his jacket pocket for his pillbox. When he finally gets it out, he knocks back two Narolet tablets.
‘Oh my God.’
He cannot believe how close he came to pushing that girl over the barrier, to giving her a quick shove and…
He shakes his head.
He has never committed an act of violence in his life, not directly… but Jesus…
It would have been so easy.
And, of course, for a variety of reasons, insane. Because someone would have seen him doing it, one of the construction workers behind them, or one of the crane operators maybe. And in the unlikely event of no one seeing it, there’d be the sheer coincidence of another death in the same family, and the awkward questions that would raise. Not to mention the negative impact of all the publicity.
But apart from anything else, it was the feeling – for the two or three seconds he was holding her by the arm – the feeling, the urge to do it.
Like electricity in his veins.
Jesus.
Talk about fucking impulse control.
Norton’s hands are shaking.
He had no real intention of doing it, clearly, it would have been madness, it’s just that… she was being so stubborn.