Extract
from novel in progress....
It was the case I'd been waiting for. Right
from when I was a kid sinceeven then I knew I was cut out to be a detective.
Ironside was my favouritetelly programme. After each episode I'd climb
into the wheelbarrow and mysisters would shove me along and we'd follow
a trail of clue be a golfer like he was, Mum wanted me to be a doctor likeher
sister. My sisters wanted me back in the wheelbalrow so they could dumpme
in the flowerbed again. But I was having none of that. My path was setstraight
and true.
One day Fr Bully Beef the Civics teacher asked
us all what we were goingto do after we'd moved on to greener fields and
I told him I wanted to bea policeman.
"That's lovely," he said, "but you wouldn't
think that youmight have a vocation."
"I don'nisfoot back, "the mysterious case
of the root up the hole."
But I stuck with it. Unspectacularly out of
school and off to Templemore.I played on the Gaelic football tearn. Bogball
I used to call it and thatwent down well with my team mates. But they needed
me to take the frees.Most coppers can't kick a ball off the ground. You
find that out when you'rea kid and your ball rolls out in front of one
of the fuckers and next thing,it's flicked up into the hand, Hello there
little laddie and ratch and eventhe odd training session, all bright and
beautiful. Old Louise was a bogballfiend. Sometimes I'd have to restrain
myself from running off the pitchand diving on top of her, what a mess
that would have been, all the boysbeating the shit out of each other trying
to get their first arrest. Louiseprefered the more rugged player but I
was prepared to wait and work slowly.But then disaster struck.
Some clown gave me a hospial pass and these
two savages creamed me, andit was all very funny for evY'd be amazed how
tempting it is to cause a crash when you're on trafficduty. Anything to
relieve the monotony. Just keep waving them in until there'sa twenty car
pile-up and then you can raise your hands and say, Don't lookat me, folks.
I'm only here as a guideline.
But one day I didn't need to help. A bright
yellow Fiesta straight pastme and crunch into some clown's Jag, an absolute
beauty. The driver wasabout my age with a mop of brown curls.
"Just my luck" she said. "I could be g n
of a traffic officer. Absolute baloney of course but how washe to know?
I looked at the girl with the brown curls. I thought how itmight be a nice
gesture of professional courtesy to check how she was ina few days.
The third time I called she stood on the
doorstep and said. "Youagain! If you're going to keep calling you might
as well ask me out."
"Oh no," I stammered. "That wasn't the..."
"Jesus Christ, you're pathetic. Be back here
at eight and we'll gointohikedLiam Brady but said that Graeme Souness was
a big ponce, she didn't carehow tough evelyone said he was. I didn't care
much for Graeme Souness butI was arguing his corner just in case we ran
out of conversation but I needn'thave worried because we were away over
the first furlong and nothing wasgoing to stop us now. The last bus took
off without us. Then just beforethe barman threw us out I was still talking
but she put a stop to that andreached across and kissed me. I thought my
head was going to lift'lls.I couldn't even smell my own fear like books
say you can since his rancidbreath was warm against my face. The gun was
warm too from being down histrousers as he ran.
"Let's put the gun down reeeel slow," I said.
Like fuck I did. I wet my trousers and he
booted me twice in the head andtook off again. For a time I fantasised
about disarming the bold Bobby andblowing his head off. Then after a while
I'd let him beg for his life. ThenI dreamed of repaying those boots in
the head. But I didd back to TheInternational Bar or maybe to Neary's or
Kehoe's and drink until we wereready to fill over. Sometimes I'd be on
night duty so I'd call to her housewhen she wasn't there and play snooker
with her younger brother. But thebest days were the sunny ones in St Annes
Park just walking. I'd lie withthe back of my head on her stomach, using
her as a pillow. I was lying thereone aftemoon when she said, "I was thinking.
You want to find somewhereto live together?"
"Well I'm not sure nowell he wanted as long
as he waslending us the downpayment which he was. We'd wander around the
second-handfurniture places and once just after we'd bought a nest of tables
she turnedand kissed me.
"Do you love me?" she wanted to know.
"Maybe," I told her.
"Do you love me as much as you love football?"
"I love you as much as I love Graeme Souness."
Then the sales assistant came back wanting
to know about delivery arrangementsbut I wasn't listening to antive Paul
Griffin with a chin you could sit on andan accusation in his eyes, as though
we were the ones who'd rifled his place.He tilted his conk forward and
peered upwards.
"We only popped out for strawberries," he
said. Next to him, hiswife was busy gulping back monster sized tears. The
living room had beenturned over, a nice clean job, and from behind these
two the theme fromGunsmoke filled the air. Who'd turned on the Gunsmoke?
that's what I wantedto know. Next to me Griffin looked downware
That killed us.
No going back from there. Two minutes later
Griffin was still sprawled acrossthe couch, holding his stomach, his face
contorted, laughing so hard thatI thought he was going to choke. I knelt
on all fours slapping out a counton the floor. George had called the station
and was holding the phone outso the Super could hear the hooting in the
background. George's wife, juststood by the door, arms folded, shaking
her head.
"Well," she said, "I don't think I've seen
anything worse than this . Not in all my born days."
"Stop it, Missus," Griffin cried. "You'll
be the death of me."
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