Darkhouse (28 page)

He shrugged.

‘It won’t go away,’ she said.

‘Can’t you give me anything for now?’

‘You’re forgetting. I see dead people.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He smiled.

‘Bet you haven’t been doing a lot of that lately,’ she said.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Here,’ she said, bending over the desk, scribbling on a notepad. ‘Here’s the name of a specialist in the Eye and Ear Hospital, Dr Morley. She should sort you out. We went to college together. She stole my boyfriend.’

‘And what? Sending me in is your revenge?’

‘Good point,’ said Lara with a smirk. ‘Give me that back.’ She crossed out the name and wrote another one. ‘Here. Go with this guy. He’s not a big fan of surgery.’ She smiled.

He thanked her and left. Lara walked out the door to her assistant.

‘Gill?’ she said. ‘You know my forceps?’

Gill nodded.

‘Well, if I could remove one thing with them right now, it would be the platinum band on the fourth digit of that man’s left hand.’

‘Platinum,’ said Gill, ‘says it all.’

‘I can’t believe I nearly sent him to that cow in the Eye and Ear.’ She sighed. ‘On a more serious note, I need you to get me a file.’

‘But you
were
being serious about him.’

‘True.’

John Miller was sitting at the bar holding a pint and playing with a shot glass of whisky. Ed stood watching him for a few minutes, then suddenly leaned across the counter and spoke firmly into his ear.

‘I’m going to tell you something,’ he said, ‘and I hope you’re listening.’

‘What?’ said John.

‘You’re not an alcoholic.’

John put his pint down gently.

‘What I’m saying to you, Miller, is that your
body is not addicted to alcohol. You’re just addicted to being out of your mind so you can forget. You could stop in the morning without help and I think you know that yourself. But in six months’ time, it might be a different story.’

‘Jesus, I just came in for a couple of drinks,’ said John. Ed slammed his fist down on the bar. Then he turned around and grabbed one of the photos from the wall. It was the Munster rugby team, 1979. Ed slapped it down on the counter and pointed angrily to the back row where John Miller stood, young and healthy, with a wide, friendly smile.

‘You were a winner!’ said Ed.

‘Ah, it’s all a load of bollocks in the end,’ said John.

Ed almost shouted at him, ‘Stop being so bloody difficult, for the love of God! I have enough customers that one less isn’t going to matter a flying fiddler’s. I’ve listened to you shite on about your wife and kids every day for over a month now. What I’m telling you is stop your moaning and do something about it. If your wife didn’t want the nice guy back, she definitely won’t want the waster you’ve turned into.’

Victor Nicotero was about to make a call when he saw the flashing red light on his machine. He hit play.

‘Hi, Nic, it’s Joe. Texas trip’s off. I’m not sure, I…What can I say? Everything and nothing’s
adding up. My head’s all screwed up. But thanks anyway.’

Anna was tired and pale when she arrived at the supermarket. She moved quickly through the short aisles, trying to ignore the looks being directed her way. Her face was growing hot, her hands clammy. The basket almost slipped from her grip and when she bent to keep it under control she saw two fishermen’s boots on the ground in front of her. She looked up.

‘I’m not happy with what Shaun did,’ said Mick Harrington. He had prepared for this, but he was clearly embarrassed.

‘What do you mean?’ said Anna.

‘You know, he got Robert to cover his tracks. He got him to go to Seascapes and turn out the light after he was in the place with Katie. Robert could have been arrested.’

‘I didn’t know that Shaun had done that,’ said Anna. ‘But I know it wasn’t right. I cannot say much to you, Mick. Shaun is very upset. I had no idea any of this was going on. I would have done something about it.’

‘You and Joe seem to be in the dark a fair bit, don’t you?’ said Mick. ‘Or is it denial you’re in?’

Anna couldn’t speak.

‘Robert won’t be around again,’ said Mick.

Anna was alone in the aisle. She held back tears as she walked to the checkout. As she stood in
line, she heard someone call out her name. She didn’t want to look around.

‘Anna,’ came the voice again, this time with a tap on the shoulder. ‘How are you?’

She turned to face Nora Deegan who was smiling warmly.

‘It must be just awful what you’re going through. Awful.’ Her voice was loud and firm.

She squeezed Anna’s arm. The woman at the till stared.

‘Anyway, we won’t dwell on that,’ said Nora. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come over for coffee this afternoon.’

‘Sure,’ said Anna. ‘That would be great.’

Barry Shanley came to his front door, dabbing a bloody spot on his shaved head. He took a deep breath when he saw who was outside.

‘Hello, Barry. Can I come in?’ said Frank. He glanced at Barry’s combats and his black T-shirt stamped with
Leave No Man Behind
.

‘Yeah, sure.’ Barry stepped back.

‘Is your father here?’

Barry’s father worked on the ferries out of Rosslare. He was rarely home.

‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Is your mother?’

Barry nodded. ‘Do you want me to get them? I’m in the middle of my homework.’ He grabbed on to the banister.

‘I need to speak with you too,’ said Frank.

‘Oh. OK.’

Mr and Mrs Shanley led Frank into the living room and sat on the sofa warily. Barry slouched by the door. Frank pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded the email, handing it to Mr Shanley.

‘What’s this?’ he said.

‘Well, in the old days, we’d call it a poison pen letter. But these days, you can do it by email. It was sent to Shaun Lucchesi and I believe it came from Barry.’ His parents looked at him.

‘I’ve never seen that before in my life,’ he said. His parents nodded.

‘Come on now, Barry,’ said Frank. ‘On my way home from work yesterday, I paid a visit to Mr Russell, the computer teacher at the school and he was able to trace it back to you.’

‘There must be some kind of mistake,’ said Mrs Shanley. ‘This is terrible. An awful thing to send, no matter what Shaun Lucchesi has done.’

‘What do you think Shaun Lucchesi has done?’ said Frank.

Mrs Shanley blushed.

‘Yes, it is an awful thing to send,’ said Frank. ‘And I’m afraid that Barry is the person who sent it.’ He turned to him. ‘Mr Russell is an expert and he would swear to it in court if he had to.’

Barry’s eyes widened. ‘I have to go to court?’ He started to tremble.

‘This is your fault,’ said Mrs Shanley to her husband. Everyone turned to her.

‘Well, it is,’ she said. ‘You’re never here to discipline the child.’

Frank focused on Barry. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you won’t have to go to court. But I think you owe the Lucchesis an apology.’

Barry started to cry.

Danny Markey hung over the back of his sofa at six a.m. and grabbed the phone.

‘You just do not know who’s spitting into your hamburger these days,’ he said.

‘Danny. What’s up? Why are
you
up?’

‘It’s another sofa night in the Markey household. I spoke with Kane. Flipping burgers right here in New York, so thanks for bringing the mountain to Mohammed. And I mean mountain. Huge guy, yet strangely cuddly. Bit of a comedian. Can’t put him with his rap sheet though. Torture, mutilation…he gouged a guy’s eye out – with a crutch – for whistling. Psycho motherfucker.’

‘So, what about Rawlins?’

‘Nothing major, I’m afraid. Here we go: nuts, Kane spelt that out for me too, like
he
can talk, obsessed with Harris’ Hawks, which would back up the first claim, he lost it when Riggs got killed, but also thought he was right to blow up the mother and daughter, that you make good on your
promises. That was pretty much it. You didn’t get a mention, buddy.’

‘I didn’t think I would. I just, I don’t know…’ The words felt scrambled together in his head, climbing over each other to get out.

‘You really need to chill about all this, Joe. You don’t sound yourself. Is everything all right? What time is it over there? Have you been on the beer?’

‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Just the pain.’ Nothing was coming out right. He started to panic.

‘Look,’ said Danny, ‘it’ll all be over and some local whack job will be locked up for it.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said Joe.

‘Man, you sound like you need to get some sleep.’

Joe snorted. ‘Sleep. Great.’ He rubbed his eyes.

‘Well, take a shower then. I’m the one calling in the middle of the night, remember.’ He laughed. He got no response.

‘Jesus, I’m forgetting to tell you the weirdest thing,’ said Danny, ‘what he said about the ransom money…I did a bit of checking and it looks like he’s right. I’m gonna FedEx you over the Hayley Gray file.’

Anna had never been to the Deegans’ house before. It was down a small side street in Mountcannon, but on the opposite side to the station, so it didn’t have a sea view. It was beautifully painted, with a newly thatched roof and
traditional green window frames and door. There was no bell, so Anna tapped gently with the brass knocker.

‘Well, the sergeant’s wife isn’t going to invite the mother of a murderer into her home, now, is she?’ said Nora as she let her in.

Nora’s directness could be shocking, but Anna managed a laugh.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘This is very kind.’

‘My pleasure. Well, actually, it’s also a bit selfish of me, really,’ said Nora. ‘I was hoping to pick your brain while you’re here.’

‘Sure. About what?’

‘The gallery. The interior, more specifically. I want it to be perfect, but I haven’t got the budget, you know.’

‘I’d love to help,’ said Anna. ‘But are you sure? I don’t want to make things difficult for you. I know what people are like.’

Nora rolled her eyes. ‘I need an expert and that’s that. Don’t mind them and their nonsense.’

‘I’m not really an expert,’ said Anna. ‘I’m new to this.’

‘But you’re working for one of the top interior mags in the world.’

‘It was luck and contacts,’ said Anna. ‘They didn’t come to me. I was only starting really, just four years a designer. I went to
them…
with a proposal I was hoping they couldn’t say no to. My teacher at interior design school gave me good
grades. When I told her my idea, she sent me to her friend in the magazine who likes to take risks.’

‘Well, then you deserve it. This is an expensive risk. I mean to say, they wouldn’t have given it to you if they didn’t think you could handle it.’

‘Joe would say I’m not very good with budgets.’

Shaun pulled his suitcase from the closet and laid it open on the bed. He was taking a pile of fresh clothes from the dresser when Joe walked down the stairs to his room.

‘What’s going on?’ he said.

Shaun spun around. ‘Couldn’t you knock?’

‘I did knock. You didn’t answer. What are you doing?’

‘Packing.’

‘Come on, Shaun, less of the attitude. Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Home. Back to New York.’

‘What?’

Shaun looked down. ‘Granddad sent me a ticket.’ He pointed to the desk. Joe snatched up a slim travel wallet.

‘Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘And you can put that suitcase away,’ he called back. ‘After I speak with your grandfather, I’m going for a walk, then I’m going to Danaher’s. You better be here when I get back.’

‘They probably won’t serve you,’ Shaun called after him. ‘Everyone hates us.’

Nora slid a pile of books, magazines and papers off a desk in the corner and brought them over to the kitchen table. She flipped the books open to pages she had marked with index cards, showing Anna the artists whose paintings she was hoping to exhibit. She went through newspaper cuttings from cultural sections, magazine articles on art and faxes from contacts in other small galleries around the country.

‘I think I might have something at home you might like to see,’ said Anna. ‘An idea I started working on before, but didn’t get a chance to finish.’

‘Brilliant,’ said Nora, sorting through more documents.

‘Who’s this guy?’ said Anna, pointing to the top half of a solemn face, hidden by the pages on top. ‘An artist?’

Nora reached for the fax, flustered, but Anna had already pulled it free and knew that what she was staring at was a mug shot. She raised her hand to her mouth.

‘That’s Frank’s,’ said Nora. ‘I must have taken it with my own stuff.’

Anna’s face was pale. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Who is he?’ She turned to Nora.

‘Who is he? Why does Frank have his photo?’

Her hand was shaking. Nora said nothing. Anna looked back at the page and noticed a scribble, five letters cut off at the edge of the page, ‘chesi’. ‘Does this have something to do with Joe?’ she asked, her voice trembling.

‘You’ll have to ask him,’ said Nora. ‘I’m sorry. This is my fault.’

‘No it’s not,’ said Anna. ‘But I’m going to have to go. I have to talk to Joe.’

Joe punched the numbers into the phone and was pacing across the kitchen before Giulio even picked up.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ said Joe.

‘I presume you’re talking about the plane tickets. I was helping my grandson out.’

‘Playing the big shot. He doesn’t need your help.’

‘The kid’s been through too much. He needs a break.’

‘That’s not up to you. Are you crazy? Coming in, trying to drag him back to New York? Do you think that’ll look good to everyone around here?’

‘He called me, looking for help. So I’m helping him.’

‘To run away. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. I can’t believe Shaun even called you.’

‘I don’t think you fully appreciate what’s been going on in his head,’ said Giulio.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘He feels like a criminal. He’s only sixteen—’

‘And what the hell would you know about sixteen-year-olds?’

‘And then there’s you, running around trying to get involved, embarrassing the poor kid.’

Joe was taken aback. ‘None of this is any of your business,’ he snapped.