Merrick by Ken Bruen

of Irish whiskeys. Of course Ryan hadn’t described it
    thus, he’d said
    ‘It’s the bollocks!’
    That shit cost.
    A lot.
    He got to Charlie’s and yup, there was the man, working the place, glad-handing and
    schmoozing like he’d won the lottery. That helped Merrick to get into character.
    Charlie saw him smile broadened, approached, asked
    ‘Bro, to what do we owe the pleasure so soon?’
    Merrick’s paranoia but was there just a slight edge on the …… so soon?
    He thought
    ‘Never no fucking mind, I’ll put that edge into orbit …. bro.’
    He handed over the Black and Charlie whistled, went
    ‘Wow, are we celebrating?’
    Merrick let a slightly confused look appear, said
    ‘We should be, I need your cop instinct’s a minute.’
    Charlie was all eagerness to help.
    But first
    ……………….sit

    Chill
    …………………………….break the seal on the Bush mills.
    Did.
    Got behind a shot or two of that amber gold then Charlie asked
    ‘What’s breaking buddy?’
    Merrick told him the case had been solved , and Charlie, raising his glass in anticipatory
    toast, asked
    ‘But that’s good, right?’
    Merrick explained in detail about the roses, the credit card, Mr.’s Trent, took a moment,
    said
    ‘Ryan I are going to take a trip to Queen’s tomorrow, check it out.’
    Charlie put his glass, untouched on the table, asked
    ‘Is that wise, I mean, why not hand the whole crap shoot to the cops?’
    Merrick smiled, said
    ‘My sentiments exactly but Ryan, you know, he’s got his idea the accountant might be
    the real killer.’
    Charlie said
    ‘Yeah, I can see where’s he coming from, so , tomorrow then.’
    Merrick said
    ‘I’d have gone today but the kid, he’s tied up so we go tomorrow.’
    Charlie raised his glass now, said
    ‘Good luck with that buddy.’
    And ten minutes later, said
    ‘Oh crap, I got to go bro, a damn delivery held up in The Bronx, you believe that shit?’
    They said warm goodbye’s and Charlie said
    ‘And thanks for the bottle, sure appreciate that.’
    Merrick sat for a while, contemplating another drink. But he couldn’t. Then something
    struck him. Way back, when Charlie had been setting up his joint, he’d been searching
    for a good chef. Figuring a dinner menu was the real goal mine, drinks sure but the food
    was the real goldmine.
    He’d asked Merrick who knew a guy from his Synagogue. The fuck was his name?
    Jacob……………..Jacob……yes, Hoffer. They’d used to kid him about Jimmy Hoffa,
    saying the feds should check his Ravioli for Hoffa. Jacob had said to Merrick
    ‘ A kosher joke, ok but Hoffa, I mean, do I look like a Wop?’
    No.
    Charlie had left the Bush Mills on the table. Some hurry. Irish guy to leave that. He
    grabbed the bottle, headed for the kitchen. No one stopped him, a guy who the boss
    regularly drank with?
    Get outa here.
    The kitchen was closing down, rush hour done .Save for a dish washing guy
    and………..bingo…….Jacob. It’s an unfortunate cliché that chef’s are drunks. Jacob just
    liked to drink while he was working and so he worked a lot.
    Not so much Kitchen Confidential as Kitchen homicidal.
    Merrick went
    ‘Shalom.’
    Jacob turned, his chefs hat, askew, which could be good news as it meant he was half in
    the bag, not so good if he was past that stage. Jacob had a temper. He shouted
    ‘Merrick, you very bad Jew.’
    Promising.
    That from anyone else, Merrick would have handed them their teeth.
    Merrick plopped the bottle on the counter, said
    ‘ For you Rabbi.’
    Jacob, immediately noticed the bottle had a few belts out if it, asked
    ‘You bring me seconds,
    Looked to the heavens, continued
    ‘This guy!’
    And hugged Merrick.
    Merrick tried not to look at his watch, he didn’t want to leave Ryan hanging with two bad
    guys. Poured a lethal wallop and handed it to Jacob who exclaimed
    ‘You trying to get me drunk?’
    Merrick held up the palms of his hands, went
    ‘As if.’
    Jacob raised his