Death at Christy Burke's by Anne Emery Read Free Book Online Page B

let them go.”
    “There’s something in that, for sure. When I was a lad we — the Catholics — stayed well inside when the Orangemen were on the march. We were told to keep our doors and windows locked when the parades wound through the city. I remember it all too well.”
    “Ah, yes. You’d want to be far from all that, so.”
    “But the Catholics weren’t angels either. A gentleman of my acquaintance was among those who painted one of the rooms in the Admiral Beatty Hotel green from floor to ceiling on St. Patrick’s Day!”
    “I suspect there was drink taken,” Nugent replied with a smile.
    Might as well get the investigation under way, Brennan decided. But O’Flaherty got there ahead of him. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all; O’Flaherty needed no urging to relieve Brennan of the task.
    “Do you work nights as well, Sean, or just the day shift?”
    “I do both. Nighttime’s a lot livelier.”
    “I can well imagine!” Michael said. “A busy place in the evenings, I’m sure. Better earnings behind the bar. But you’ll want to watch yourself on the way out at night. You don’t want someone getting in your face with a can of spray paint! Finn has told us about the vandalism. A nasty business, by the sound of things.”
    “Sure I’m not worried about being here at night. I’d be well able for him if I found him at it. But he must have come in the dead of night because nobody ever caught a glimpse of him.”
    “What time do you open in the morning?”
    “Half-ten.”
    “And Finn leaves . . .”
    “Last orders are at half-twelve, with thirty minutes’ drink-up time. So he wouldn’t get away before one in the morning.”
    “That leaves a span of around nine hours for the fellow to creep up on the place and do his dirty work.”
    “On some days, not even that, Michael. Kevin, our cleaner, would be in well before opening time. But he didn’t come in every day.”
    “Kevin? Who would that be now?”
    “Kevin McDonough. Used to give the place a complete mop-up a couple of times a week. But he called in yesterday to say he’s giving up the cleaning job. He’s in line for bigger and better things, is Kevin. His band was brilliant at the Tivoli, and they’re booked for two more gigs. Tonight and tomorrow. They’ll hit the big time, no question about it.”
    “Good for him! What kind of band does he play in?”
    “Rock band. Call themselves the Irish Problem.”
    “Maybe we’ll buy a ticket, eh, Brennan?”
    “Sure.”
    “Enjoy rock music, do you, Father?”
    “I’m a fan,” Michael claimed. “You, Brennan?”
    “Me too.” In his case it was the truth.
    Michael
    The investigation was on! Brennan told Michael that Finn had requested his assistance in the Christy Burke’s graffiti case, had asked him to keep his eyes and ears open. And now Brennan had asked Michael and Monty to do the same. Of course he chided Michael for muscling in on the first interrogation. But Brennan was obviously just taking the mickey out of him; Michael’s initiative had not hurt his chances of promotion. Brennan had a warning, though: “Now you know Finn wants this kept sub rosa . . .”
    “Don’t be worrying about that, now. I’ll be discreet.”
    “Carry on then, lads.”
    “Does that mean you’ve deputized us, Brennan, me and Sergeant O’Flaherty?” Monty asked.
    “Just don’t tart yourselves up in police gear, all right? No little tin badges, gadgets hanging off your belts, none of that. Do I make myself clear?”
    “We’re undercover, you’re saying.”
    “Well, plainclothes at least. And for tonight, that means no Roman collar.”
    They were standing in Brennan’s digs in the working-class area of Dublin known as the Liberties. The area was a little rough, and the two-storey brick building where he was staying needed some major repairs, but none of that seemed to bother Brennan. They had just met his cousin Ciaran, who lived in the building with a couple of other Augustinian priests.