A June of Ordinary Murders by Conor Brady Read Free Book Online Page A

to be ill-founded. Swallow knew that his handling of the case had not been the high point of his career.
    His face registered the surge of irritation. Sweeney shot a warning look at his colleague.
    â€˜Leave it alone, Irving,’ he hissed, jabbing his pencil towards Swallow.
    â€˜It does sound as if you’ve got nothing much to go on at this stage, Sergeant,’ Sweeney said sharply. ‘Why would anyone shoot a man and a child? Isn’t that most unusual? Maybe it was a robbery?’
    Swallow seemed to hesitate, as if considering something that had just occurred to him.
    â€˜Every murder case is unusual, Mr Sweeney. And no, I don’t have any idea about motive at this stage. It would be helpful if any of your valued readers were aware of a man and a young boy gone missing. If that were to be so, the detective office at Exchange Court would be glad to hear from them.’
    Sweeney sighed with irritation.
    â€˜Is that all we get for being out here at this hour of the morning?’
    â€˜I didn’t ask you to be here at all, Mr Sweeney,’ Swallow snapped. ‘And I’ve been here myself from an even earlier hour.’
    He forced himself to what he hoped was a smile. ‘Now, gentlemen, if you don’t mind, I have my work to do and I imagine that you have printing deadlines to meet.’
    Half an hour later, when the pressmen had departed, the ambulance crew went into the copse with two canvas stretchers and took the bodies to Lafeyre’s morgue at Marlborough Street.
    A constable from Kilmainham had taken the plaster casts from the wheel-marks and hoof-marks on the dirt track and would bring them to the detective office. The police photographer had already departed.
    Doolan’s parties of constables, under Detectives Mick Feore and Tom Swift, were continuing their door-to-door inquiries.
    Swallow knew there was little more that could be done to further the investigation on the site. Two constables would remain on duty at the copse to deter sightseers and to preserve the scene in case further examination might prove necessary once Harry Lafeyre’s examination had been concluded.
    He walked back to Pat Mossop, who was finishing his notes in the murder book.
    â€˜Set up a crime conference for 11 o’clock in the morning at Exchange Court. And notify the City Coroner that we have two deaths by misadventure, an unknown man and a male child. Advise him that when we have causes of death confirmed by Dr Lafeyre we’ll be asking him to set up an inquest.’
    He queried Lafeyre.
    â€˜When can I expect to have the post-mortem reports?’
    â€˜I’ve got patients at Harcourt Street until about 5 o’clock, but I’ll try to get working on them this evening. I’ll have something by tomorrow morning. Say 9 o’clock. Once I’ve got that completed you’ll be able to notify the City Coroner to get a jury together for the inquest.’
    Almost a full day would be gone, Swallow reckoned. The bureaucracy of violent death moved at its own pace. But there was little point in protesting. Harry Lafeyre had a practice to look after. He had to earn a living too.
    Mossop read Swallow’s mind.
    The Book Man tried to be positive, as was his wont, in the guise of humour.
    â€˜Ah, I know what you’re thinking, Boss. But sure, jam tomorrow is better than no jam at all?’

FOUR
    When Swallow reached Exchange Court the parade room was empty. All available G-men were engaged on crime investigation or on surveillance, monitoring individuals around the city who might be intent on mischief in the days leading up to the Jubilee.
    Two young men hurried out of the detective office as he arrived. They brushed past him, talking in loud, angry tones. Swallow caught the whiff of alcohol.
    An overzealous constable had taken them into custody outside a public house on Nassau Street, where he heard them attempt a drunken rendition of The Minstrel Boy. They might