“Or you’ll call the police?”
“Fuck off outa my house.”
“Where was she when you got to the house?”
Naughton’s hands reached for the armrests.
“Where was she?”
Naughton propelled himself up. Hoey also stood. The Inspector raised a hand toward Hoey.
“Take yourself up and outa my house this minute.”
“Phone. Go ahead,” said Minogue, and concentrated on the sunlit window.
He wondered if Naughton would take a swipe at him. He leaned slightly to his left, away from the giant. Naughton clumped by him and walked down the hall. Hoey cleared his throat and rattled his cigarette box in his pocket.
“Are you sure you want to go at him like this?”
“Head first, Shea,” Minogue whispered. “No other way at this stage. If he’s a drinker, got to shake him. And Eilo McInerny got it hard from Naughton too. Man’s a bully, Shea. We’re going after him.”
“We could get run out of the place and get nothing,” said Hoey. “Except maybe a thick ear.”
Minogue reconsidered his strategy for a moment. Shock treatment for a drinker might backfire. Who would Naughton phone? A minute passed. Hoey shrugged, took out his cigarettes and lit one. He made a half-hearted survey of the room for an ashtray. Minogue watched him all the while, listening for Naughton’s voice.
“You’re in the pink, anyway,” Minogue murmured. “Excepting for those lungs of yours.”
Hoey took the cigarette out of his mouth and eyed Minogue, the fag poised in his hand.
“It’s the excitement. Never a dull-”
Minogue knew immediately that it was glass, and he was first out the parlour door. The door to the back room was closed. He opened it and looked down to the tiny kitchen where Naughton was stooping. The rest of the room was taken up with a table, television and dresser. A red-faced Naughton stood up. The smell of whiskey reached Minogue and he looked down at the shattered bottle, the pool by Naughton’s feet.
“Get to hell out of this house,” said Naughton in a growl, “or I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”
“Who will you be responsible to?”
“Fucking smart-arse. Get out to hell!”
“You can’t hide in a bottle, Guard,” said Minogue.
“Who the hell are you to be coming around here, without a by-your-leave? You come marching in here, without any notice-”
“What do you need notice of?”
“If you had’ve phoned or let a man know there was an inquiry…”
Hoey’s smoke stung Minogue’s eyes.
“You march in here with accusations… By God, I’m going to have you drummed out. You’ll be in court over this, so help me.” Naughton’s hands turned into fists.
“Easy does it, now,” murmured Hoey.
“Who are you, you pasty-faced iijit? No wonder you have two black eyes. I’ll have you thrown out of your job too, so I will.”
Minogue looked at the chairs tucked in under the table.
“Why don’t we just sit down like civilised human beings for a few minutes? And discuss the matter in a calm, gentlemanly manner.”
“Ye’re not in that category,” Naughton called out. “By Christ, I’m glad I never had to meet the likes of yiz on the force. We were above board and dacent in my time.”
He reached out suddenly and pointed at Minogue. Hoey stepped back.
“We didn’t take our orders from maggots like Alo Crossan. The shitehawk. Hah, look at ye! Hook, line and sinker, bejases! He’s got you codded. It’s sorry for you I should be.”
“You said in testimony that Jamesy Bourke was falling-down drunk when you got to the cottage. That the whole place was an inferno.”
“Do you know what a thatched roof is?” Naughton sneered.
“But you were there when the fire was put out. And you were the first policeman in the door.”
“What if I was?”
“Where did you find her?”
“What difference does it make to you where she was?” Naughton’s voice rose. “She was gone to glory by then.”
“You were drinking that night, weren’t you, like the way you did and the way you still do,” said Minogue.
Naughton pushed away from the sink with his backside and came at Minogue. Hoey had anticipated it, but Naughton took him in his rush toward the Inspector. The three fell across the table and Minogue felt Naughton’s boozy breath rush out over his face. Hoey wriggled to the side, extricated himself and rolled off the edge of the table. Naughton was trying to clamber up on the table fully. His hand found Minogue’s throat and squeezed. Minogue yelped and tried to raise his arm but Naughton pinned it with his own. Hoey shouted at Naughton and grabbed him by the shoulders. Naughton kicked at Hoey who groaned as he tottered away, falling over a chair. Minogue’s eyes began to bulge and the grip on his throat turned to a stabbing pain. Naughton was wheezing and muttering under his breath. Minogue tried with his arm again but all he could do was thump Naughton on the head. Dimly he heard Hoey scrambling to get up. Naughton’s feral eyes darted over to Hoey and Minogue took his chance. He chopped with his free hand down inside Naughton’s elbow. Before the giant could straighten his arm again, Minogue’s head shot up and butted him. Naughton reared back with a grunt and fell groaning from the table. Minogue elbowed up slowly, the crack still resonating in his head.
“Jesus,” he heard Hoey say. He watched his colleague pull himself up crookedly, holding his crotch. Minogue gulped in air and rubbed his throat.
“Are you all right?” he said to Hoey.
“He kicked me in the nuts!” Hoey wheezed. “Me. A Guard did that to me!”
“Retired Guard,” said Minogue, still trying to catch his breath. He looked down at Naughton who was holding his head and muttering. Hoey suddenly kicked at Naughton.
“Shea!”
Hoey glared back at the Inspector. “If and he gets up and tries that on me again, I’ll give him what-ho!” said Hoey. “A fuckin’ oul’ hooligan.”
“Get outa my house,” Naughton whispered hoarsely from below. The stench of whiskey nauseated Minogue now. He beckoned to Hoey.
“Come on,” he said.
“This is only the start, whatever your name is,” said Naughton sitting up. “Yiz don’t know the trouble yiz are in.”
Minogue inclined an arm and Naughton took it.
“Sit yourself down now, Guard,” said Minogue. “We’ve had our spat and handed out our clouts.”
“You’ve more coming to you,” snapped Naughton. “The fat’s in the fire on you now. And you the big knob down from Dublin with your gutty moves like that!”
“What do you call kicking a Guard in the balls?”
“I was attacked!” shouted Naughton, but then grimaced and held his head. “And then your man here pulls that low stunt like that. The Ringsend kiss, by Christ!”
“Trying to choke the life out of me isn’t a great way to tell me what happened to Jane Clark,” said Minogue. Naughton groaned again and closed his eyes with a pain.
“There’s nothing to tell, you gobshite. Ask the man who killed her.”
Hoey still looked angry. Minogue nodded to a chair. Hoey sat with a delicate motion.
“I’m only sorry I didn’t get the chance to do exactly that,” said Minogue.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Jamesy Bourke got killed the other night. That’s what it means.”
Naughton looked up in pained disbelief. Hoey was almost hovering over the seat. Wheezing, Naughton clawed his way up off his knees, righted a chair and sat into it. Minogue plugged in the kettle and stepped back over the glass on the floor.
“Go ’way. You’re trying to cod me. Jamesy Bourke?”
“He was shot dead the other night. Yes, he was,” Minogue replied. “A German who thought he was shooting an IRA man with a gun in his fist. We haven’t been driving all over the west of Ireland here for the sole purpose of trying to cod you. What about some tea or something and a proper civilised conversation?”
“Fuck the tea so and give me something proper,” said Naughton.
“So. Who called the station that night?”