He remembered coming over the bog roads from the ferry, the boot-lid rising and falling, snapping against the string which had slackened. The River Shannon had been silver as the ferry nosed out into the estuary toward Clare. He remembered the salmon light from the west reaching out to cover the water too, and he had looked for the fins and backs on the water. Ten minutes of strained searching over the water had yielded nothing more than disappointment. The two cups of coffee in Tralee had kept him going until they drove up the ramp on the Clare shore. Minogue was perplexed by the strange fusion of relief and foreboding he felt as they hit the back road toward Ennis.
A half-dozen cars trailed an articulated lorry driving against them. Their lights burned into Minogue’s gritty eyes. Hoey blew out a cloud of smoke. He seemed little concerned with concealing his sarcasm.
“Any more dispatches from HQ?”
“No,” replied Minogue. “He said he’d locate the Howards for us. I’ll phone in the morning to find out from him.”
“You didn’t go into any detail about how we’re getting on, though?”
“No. I don’t know how we’re getting on, that’s why.”
“And being the man he is, he’s waiting to see what comes of it,” said Hoey. “At a safe distance, of course.”
Minogue detoured around by Market Street, drove by the Friary and parked outside the Garda Station.
“Let’s check if there are any, em, breakthroughs here,” Minogue said to Hoey’s unspoken question. Hoey followed the Inspector through the towering gate pillars.
“Whoa,” said Minogue, slowing, “Look at them.”
Two vans with Dublin registrations were parked on a tarred island in front of the station door. Orange glare from quartz lights over the avenue fell on a car which Minogue and Hoey recognised.
Ahearne, the sergeant, came through the doorway behind the counter and said hello to Minogue. He was in civvies, brown corduroy jeans and a hand-knit beige jumper over his blue uniform shirt.
“And how are ye?” he whispered.
“A bit on the tired side.”
“Aha.” Ahearne’s eyes went from Minogue to Hoey and back.
“We were passing so we just dropped in to see what headway there was with this incident last night,” said Minogue. “Over at the Howards.”
“Oh, that business,” said Ahearne. Now Minogue was sure that Ahearne was buying time.
“Yes. The shooting thing,” Minogue repeated.
“Terrible, to be sure, wasn’t it?” said Ahearne. “Well, I’m not very well up on that at all, being as I’m-”
Through the doorway at speed came Superintendent Russell. His eyes were on Minogue’s the moment his head appeared around the swinging door. Minogue felt his throat constrict. The light in the room seemed to become a little dimmer. Russell came to an abrupt stop by the counter in front of Minogue.
“Thanks, D.J.,” said Russell.
Ahearne had to work his way around the now firmly planted Superintendent. Minogue sheltered in a slow official monotone.
“We came in to find out if there was progress in the investigation of last night’s shooting at the Howards’ house.”
The door to the public office had stopped swinging but Minogue believed that someone was right behind the door, listening.
“I was in touch with the Commissioner some hours ago,” said Russell. He paused to press his tongue against his front teeth. “And I tried to impress upon him that you two should be hauled back to Dublin and put in front of a Disciplinary Tribunal.”
“ Quam celerime?” asked Minogue.
The sarcasm from Russell was laboured. “I beg your pardon?”
“How soon would you like us to go?”
Russell drew a finger up from his side with a motion that reminded Minogue of a cowboy drawing a gun. He jabbed his finger in the direction of Minogue’s heart.
“Yesterday. That would have left Tom Naughton alive.”
Hoey shuffled his feet. Minogue wanted to tell him to stop.
“I don’t know what yous fellas learn by way of technique in your line of work,” Russell continued, his finger still aimed at Minogue’s chest. “I heard ye could be rough enough if the job had to get done. But, by Jesus”- he directed the finger up to Minogue’s shoulders now-“harassing a retired Guard to the point of doing what he did, or what you say he did-”
“Where did he get the pistol?”
“Shut up, Guard,” Russell snapped and he leaned over the counter. “Dirty work, bucko, that’s what that was. Very dirty work. I can tell you that if I had the full authority, I’d have you two in a cell here or in Tralee or somewhere and then kicked off back up to Dublin to face the music. That way, you’d cause no more havoc here!”
Minogue studied the red-faced Superintendent. The corrugated, wiry hair stayed in place. Like steel wool, he thought, stapled to his head. The furrowed brow like someone had scraped across it with their nails many years ago, the eyes set back in his head, tiny and fierce. Minogue’s eyes moved purposely and impudently down from the Superintendent’s face. Four-button cardigan bought in a shop, a sports shirt which cost a lot.
“Where did Naughton get the gun?” he asked.
Russell slapped his hand on the counter-top. “We’ll find out in due course-not that it’s any damn concern of yours! You’re bloody lucky he didn’t turn the thing on you.”
He began waving his finger in an indeterminate pattern which Minogue believed could be an ellipse.
“If and when I find out how you pressured him into doing what he did-if indeed he did it and you’re to be believed about it-I’ll personally see to it that you two go to the wall for it. Pension and all, by God.”
“No word on the shooting at the Howards’?” asked Minogue.
“No, there isn’t any word of the shooting at the Howards’ last night,” Russell mimicked. The front door opening behind Minogue left Russell’s lips shaped with what he was ready to hurl at the duo. Minogue turned to see the four men filing in. Guards, detectives, they returned Minogue’s nod. Russell took a deep breath and waved at the swing door behind him.
“Go on ahead in, lads,” he said between his teeth.
More detectives, Minogue thought. Russell here after hours, called in from his home-for what? Were they expecting an operation tonight? Russell looked down his shoulder as the last of the foursome went through the doorway. Then he looked, back at Minogue.
“I’m told ye’re not conducting an investigation but merely ‘an inquiry.’”
Sounds like Tynan’s sophistry, Minogue thought. It had probably enraged Russell. The Superintendent’s finger went back to its wavering survey of Minogue’s chest.
“I’ve let it be known that if ye two get in our way here, I won’t be responsible for you.” His finger swivelled across to Hoey but the eyes stayed on Minogue’s.
“Here’s my advice: get to hell out of here. I mean Ennis, Clare and the west of Ireland in general. If you have any legitimate reasons for being here with your ‘inquiries,’ then they have to wait. We have work to do that’s a damn sight more important. Got that?”
Minogue took a step back and put his hands in his coat pockets. Strategic withdrawal as opposed to retreat. He watched Russell pitch a peppermint into his mouth from a considerable distance. Some trick, he thought. Big mouth?
“And another thing,” Russell called out. “I’m going to find out what you did. Then I’m coming after you. This is exactly the kind of fiasco I’ve spent years trying to persuade three Commissioners-soon it’ll be four-that we need to avoid. Dublin doesn’t rule the roost, mister. You tell ’em that up there: Those days are long gone. And tell Kilmartin too.”