Bleed a River Deep by Brian McGilloway Read Free Book Online Page A

turning and wading upstream. One or two of the others, watching him, gathered their things and began to move too, until he turned and glared at them as if warning them to keep away.
    ‘That fish is probably the most valuable thing anyone’s found since we got here,’ McCann said, drawing my attention back to him. ‘I’ll give it another week, I think. Then I’m packing it in.’
    Wishing him good fortune, I headed on to Orcas, and a meeting with seemingly the only man to really profit from Ireland’s gold rush.
    Weston suggested we walk to the site where a group from the museum were lifting the bog body from the ground and transporting it to Dublin. He walked with his suit jacket slung over his arm, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I faced twin reflections of myself in his sunglasses as we discussed the discovery of the body, which, to Weston’s mind, could only be good for business.
    ‘We’re perfectly happy to stall production for a few days, helping the museum services to process this discovery. Far from trampling on tradition, we’re helping to preserve it,’ he said in a manner that made me believe the spiel had been scripted.
    I couldn’t help but suspect that Weston worked hard to get me to like him – though I didn’t flatter myself to believe it was particular to me. He seemed to need people’s approbation; or perhaps he was so used to being criticized that he was now automatically politic in his conversation, arguing his defence before an attack had even been made.
    ‘Of course,’ he added, ‘I might ask them to sell the body back to us; put it on display in the reception area.’
    I looked at him and he laughed, though, with his sunglasses shielding his eyes, I couldn’t assess the sincerity of the emotion.
    ‘Maybe just a loan then, eh, Ben?’
    We reached the site slightly out of breath. Linda Campbell was there, though no longer in charge. I noticed that her paper suit from the previous day had hidden a slight frame.
    ‘Back again, Inspector?’
    ‘Can’t keep away,’ I said. ‘Even if I wanted to.’
    ‘Ben Devlin!’ a voice boomed, and I turned to see a man my age and size struggle his way out of the pit. ‘Jesus Christ, Ben Devlin in the Guards!’
    He stood before me. His face was jowly, his eyes narrowed by the pudginess of his cheeks. His hair was receding, though still naturally black. He held out his arms, as if to give me a hug, and I instinctively stepped back.
    ‘Jesus,’ he said, turning to Linda Campbell and lowering his arms. ‘Four years together at college and the blackguard pretends not to know me.’
    And then it struck me. ‘Fearghal Bradley,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Good to see you.’
    ‘Benny,’ he said, smiling broadly, clasping me to him in a bear hug. I patted his upper arms lightly in return and extricated myself from his embrace.
    ‘Fearghal, what brings you to Donegal?’
    ‘Kate, of course.’
    I smiled a little uncertainly and looked at Linda. ‘Kate?’
    ‘Kate Moss,’ he explained, laughing at his own joke. I vaguely remembered that a body found several years ago in a bog had been named Peat Moss by some wag in the press. It hadn’t taken a massive leap to christen this new find.
    ‘Except she’d need to lose a few pounds to look like the real thing,’ I added.
    Fearghal guffawed loudly. ‘Ben Devlin,’ he repeated, as if for the benefit of those standing around, who looked as bemused as I felt.
    ‘Are you in the museum now?’ I asked.
    ‘Professor Bradley is the museum,’ Linda Campbell said.
    ‘Listen to her,’ Fearghal laughed. I wondered for a second if there was something going on between them.
    ‘So, what happens with her next?’ I asked, nodding towards ‘Kate’.
    ‘Full forensics, Benny,’ Fearghal said. ‘Same as you’d do yourself. We’ll find out when she lived, how she died, maybe even why she died. It’s the discovery of a lifetime.’
    ‘I see,’ I said.
    ‘Ben Devlin in the Guards!’ Fearghal