crucifixion and asked him to check into the family of Nora Mitchell, anything he could get me.
He was quiet for a moment, then, 'You'll be
wanting photos, rap sheets, if any, that sort of thing?'
'Exactly.'
'Have you a fax?'
I'd prepared for this, arranged with the local printers to receive and gave him the number.
He asked, 'What's in this for me, boyo?'
'My deep appreciation?'
'Fuck that, send me a case of Jameson.'
His parting words were, 'You're crucifying them now?'
What could I do but agree. He rang off with, 'You Catholics, you find a gig that works, you stick to it.'
Short of saying We had it nailed , I wished him luck. He said, 'Carry a Sig Sauer, luck won't matter.'
I paced my small room, all sorts of possibilities up for grabs. I wanted to make coffee but was too preoccupied to take the time to even boil a kettle.
Ridge rang to say that Mr King was a respected businessman who exported canned delicacies. He'd never been in trouble and was in every sense an upstanding citizen.
I asked, 'Fond of dogs, is he?'
She paused.
'What sort of silly question is that?'
'That's exactly what I intend to find out.'
I hung up on her protests.
The phone had exhausted me. When your hearing is wonky, it's a real strain and I felt knackered. Checked my calendar and, wouldn't you know, it was my day to get fitted with the hearing aid.
I might not be able to see the full picture, but I'd certainly soon be able to hear the machinations behind it.
Told meself, I'd almost the makings of a Zen quote right there.
17
'At the moment of commitment,
the universe conspires to assist you.'
Goethe
The girl was planning to go to the funeral of the girl she'd burned.
Her father had cautioned against it, saying, 'They'll be right on this now. It can't be long till they figure it out.'
The girl wondered if he was losing his commitment. He was starting to look old and was always moaning about pains in his chest.
What the fuck did he expect? They were killing people, did he expect to be uplifted? And her brother was a loser, whining as if he was born to it. Doing what he did best – like most men, sulking.
She said, 'We wanted them to suffer. What's the bloody point if we don't see it?'
Jesus, what was wrong with them?
Her brother said, 'I think we should keep a low profile.'
The girl stepped in, said in a cold measured tone, 'Rory, remember him?' She paused, making sure she had their full attention, then said, 'The one who mowed Mum down like an animal, who fled the scene, left her to die in agony by the side of the road. Are we going to let him dance away?'
They were suitably abashed.
Then her brother said, 'He won't come back, he'd be mad to.'
'His whole family have been wiped out.
Even a pig like him will have to show.'
I got fitted with my hearing aid. It was smaller than I'd expected, less obtrusive, but still made me feel odd.
I asked the specialist, 'Does it show?'
He smiled.
'Depends on what you're looking for.'
A philosopher to boot.
I snapped, 'I don't want to seem like . . . you know, feeble.'
He laughed. 'I don't really think you can blame the hearing aid.'
Ireland, everyone feels they can speak freely, just lay it out. The fuckers never lie at the most crucial times. Save that for when you really need the truth.
I stared at him. He had a full head of hair so I asked, 'That a jig?'
He was horrified, tried, 'I'm not sure what you mean.'
'Sure you do. A jig . . . rhymes with wig.'
He touched his hair and said, 'It's my own hair.'
On my way out I said, 'Most people would believe you.'
When I saw the bill, I was very sorry about my flippancy.
The bandages were off my hands but you could see welts, bruises on the knuckles, and they hurt, but that was a familiar feeling. Ridge had given me some more info on King, the warehouse guy, and I put on my best charity-shop suit, added a white shirt and dark tie and I was good to go.
Though good is probably not the right term.
More like antsy. I'd made up
He was quiet for a moment, then, 'You'll be
wanting photos, rap sheets, if any, that sort of thing?'
'Exactly.'
'Have you a fax?'
I'd prepared for this, arranged with the local printers to receive and gave him the number.
He asked, 'What's in this for me, boyo?'
'My deep appreciation?'
'Fuck that, send me a case of Jameson.'
His parting words were, 'You're crucifying them now?'
What could I do but agree. He rang off with, 'You Catholics, you find a gig that works, you stick to it.'
Short of saying We had it nailed , I wished him luck. He said, 'Carry a Sig Sauer, luck won't matter.'
I paced my small room, all sorts of possibilities up for grabs. I wanted to make coffee but was too preoccupied to take the time to even boil a kettle.
Ridge rang to say that Mr King was a respected businessman who exported canned delicacies. He'd never been in trouble and was in every sense an upstanding citizen.
I asked, 'Fond of dogs, is he?'
She paused.
'What sort of silly question is that?'
'That's exactly what I intend to find out.'
I hung up on her protests.
The phone had exhausted me. When your hearing is wonky, it's a real strain and I felt knackered. Checked my calendar and, wouldn't you know, it was my day to get fitted with the hearing aid.
I might not be able to see the full picture, but I'd certainly soon be able to hear the machinations behind it.
Told meself, I'd almost the makings of a Zen quote right there.
17
'At the moment of commitment,
the universe conspires to assist you.'
Goethe
The girl was planning to go to the funeral of the girl she'd burned.
Her father had cautioned against it, saying, 'They'll be right on this now. It can't be long till they figure it out.'
The girl wondered if he was losing his commitment. He was starting to look old and was always moaning about pains in his chest.
What the fuck did he expect? They were killing people, did he expect to be uplifted? And her brother was a loser, whining as if he was born to it. Doing what he did best – like most men, sulking.
She said, 'We wanted them to suffer. What's the bloody point if we don't see it?'
Jesus, what was wrong with them?
Her brother said, 'I think we should keep a low profile.'
The girl stepped in, said in a cold measured tone, 'Rory, remember him?' She paused, making sure she had their full attention, then said, 'The one who mowed Mum down like an animal, who fled the scene, left her to die in agony by the side of the road. Are we going to let him dance away?'
They were suitably abashed.
Then her brother said, 'He won't come back, he'd be mad to.'
'His whole family have been wiped out.
Even a pig like him will have to show.'
I got fitted with my hearing aid. It was smaller than I'd expected, less obtrusive, but still made me feel odd.
I asked the specialist, 'Does it show?'
He smiled.
'Depends on what you're looking for.'
A philosopher to boot.
I snapped, 'I don't want to seem like . . . you know, feeble.'
He laughed. 'I don't really think you can blame the hearing aid.'
Ireland, everyone feels they can speak freely, just lay it out. The fuckers never lie at the most crucial times. Save that for when you really need the truth.
I stared at him. He had a full head of hair so I asked, 'That a jig?'
He was horrified, tried, 'I'm not sure what you mean.'
'Sure you do. A jig . . . rhymes with wig.'
He touched his hair and said, 'It's my own hair.'
On my way out I said, 'Most people would believe you.'
When I saw the bill, I was very sorry about my flippancy.
The bandages were off my hands but you could see welts, bruises on the knuckles, and they hurt, but that was a familiar feeling. Ridge had given me some more info on King, the warehouse guy, and I put on my best charity-shop suit, added a white shirt and dark tie and I was good to go.
Though good is probably not the right term.
More like antsy. I'd made up
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