suggest that I should follow him.
I waited until our drinks were poured, took them back to our table, and then excused myself for a moment. Hendry waved me away as he swallowed the first third of his fresh pint.
Patsy McCann was standing by the cigarette machine when I went out. He had aged in the year since I had seen him, his dark curly hair thinning now, the white of his scalp noticeable through the curls.
‘You need to get him out of here before someone arrives,’ Patsy said.
‘Do you know this man?’ I countered, handing him the image of Kielty.
He glanced at the picture then gestured with his chin that I should put it away.
‘He used to drink here sometimes.’
‘Used to?’
‘He’s dead, ain’t he?’
‘How did you know?’
‘It’s all over the news for fuck’s sake.’
‘His missus tells us he was threatened in here one night a month or two back. You wouldn’t know anything about that?’
‘Is this for you or him?’ he asked, pointing in towards Hendry.
‘Me. He’s off duty,’ I said. ‘He’s only here for the drink.’
‘He’s a brave man coming here.’
‘So he told me.’
Patsy glanced at the picture again. ‘Martin Kielty. He was in here about six weeks ago, dealing from the bogs.’
‘Is that allowed here?’
‘Jesus, look around you, Ben. What do you think?’
‘So what happened?’
‘Three boyos came in. Gave him a kicking in the cubicle. Told him he’d be killed if he came in here again.’
‘Who were they?’
‘Jesus, Ben: I’ll be shot myself.’
I took fifty euros from my pocket and placed it on top of the cigarette machine. ‘For your ciggies.’
Patsy licked his lips quickly as he lifted the money, folding the note over on itself several times, as if in making it smaller, he was somehow diminishing the significance of what he was about to say.
‘Jimmy Irvine and his crew. They beat fuck out of him.’
‘Would you come into the station and make a statement about that?’
‘Would I fuck!’
‘His crew? Armstrong and Cunningham?’
Patsy nodded, peeling the cellophane off his cigarette packet.
‘Thanks, Patsy,’ I said, turning away.
‘I– I thought it was lousy,’ Patsy said. ‘Not on Kielty, like – he deserved it, selling his shit. But there were plenty of others selling too, but they only went for him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You think people in there are pissed about your cop friend being here for political reasons? Half of them are dealers looking to do some trade. New times, Ben.’
‘I was just telling him that,’ I said. ‘Irvine didn’t touch any of the other dealers?’
Patsy shook his head. ‘I’m going out for a smoke,’ he said. ‘Have a safe journey home.’
I told Hendry what McCann had said when I went back to my seat. ‘They want us out of here,’ I said, drinking down half my glass of Coke and lifting my coat.
‘Did I hear that wee girl Williams’s kid died?’ Hendry asked, having seemingly not heard me.
I nodded. ‘Fell off a cliff out camping.’
‘Christ, that’s rough. Anything sinister?’
Typical cop, I thought. Focusing on the death, not the victim.
‘Nothing. Pathologist suggested he might have jumped. She couldn’t find any evidence that he tried to stop his fall.’
‘How’s Williams? I’m sure she must be in pieces.’
‘Not good. Her husband’s back on the scene too – he’s a first-class prick.’
‘Jealousy, Inspector?’ Hendry laughed.
‘Statement of fact. He treated her like shit.’
‘I always thought you two would – you know . . .’
I shook my head. ‘I’m a happily married man, Jim,’ I said.
‘She’s a lovely girl. Nice looking. I think she had a wee thing for you too, if I remember rightly.’
‘I’m a happily married man,’ I repeated.
‘Which is why you’re sitting in the pub with me, pretending to drink, instead of going home to your wife,’ he replied. ‘You’ll be getting me a bad reputation with the boys, sitting
I waited until our drinks were poured, took them back to our table, and then excused myself for a moment. Hendry waved me away as he swallowed the first third of his fresh pint.
Patsy McCann was standing by the cigarette machine when I went out. He had aged in the year since I had seen him, his dark curly hair thinning now, the white of his scalp noticeable through the curls.
‘You need to get him out of here before someone arrives,’ Patsy said.
‘Do you know this man?’ I countered, handing him the image of Kielty.
He glanced at the picture then gestured with his chin that I should put it away.
‘He used to drink here sometimes.’
‘Used to?’
‘He’s dead, ain’t he?’
‘How did you know?’
‘It’s all over the news for fuck’s sake.’
‘His missus tells us he was threatened in here one night a month or two back. You wouldn’t know anything about that?’
‘Is this for you or him?’ he asked, pointing in towards Hendry.
‘Me. He’s off duty,’ I said. ‘He’s only here for the drink.’
‘He’s a brave man coming here.’
‘So he told me.’
Patsy glanced at the picture again. ‘Martin Kielty. He was in here about six weeks ago, dealing from the bogs.’
‘Is that allowed here?’
‘Jesus, look around you, Ben. What do you think?’
‘So what happened?’
‘Three boyos came in. Gave him a kicking in the cubicle. Told him he’d be killed if he came in here again.’
‘Who were they?’
‘Jesus, Ben: I’ll be shot myself.’
I took fifty euros from my pocket and placed it on top of the cigarette machine. ‘For your ciggies.’
Patsy licked his lips quickly as he lifted the money, folding the note over on itself several times, as if in making it smaller, he was somehow diminishing the significance of what he was about to say.
‘Jimmy Irvine and his crew. They beat fuck out of him.’
‘Would you come into the station and make a statement about that?’
‘Would I fuck!’
‘His crew? Armstrong and Cunningham?’
Patsy nodded, peeling the cellophane off his cigarette packet.
‘Thanks, Patsy,’ I said, turning away.
‘I– I thought it was lousy,’ Patsy said. ‘Not on Kielty, like – he deserved it, selling his shit. But there were plenty of others selling too, but they only went for him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You think people in there are pissed about your cop friend being here for political reasons? Half of them are dealers looking to do some trade. New times, Ben.’
‘I was just telling him that,’ I said. ‘Irvine didn’t touch any of the other dealers?’
Patsy shook his head. ‘I’m going out for a smoke,’ he said. ‘Have a safe journey home.’
I told Hendry what McCann had said when I went back to my seat. ‘They want us out of here,’ I said, drinking down half my glass of Coke and lifting my coat.
‘Did I hear that wee girl Williams’s kid died?’ Hendry asked, having seemingly not heard me.
I nodded. ‘Fell off a cliff out camping.’
‘Christ, that’s rough. Anything sinister?’
Typical cop, I thought. Focusing on the death, not the victim.
‘Nothing. Pathologist suggested he might have jumped. She couldn’t find any evidence that he tried to stop his fall.’
‘How’s Williams? I’m sure she must be in pieces.’
‘Not good. Her husband’s back on the scene too – he’s a first-class prick.’
‘Jealousy, Inspector?’ Hendry laughed.
‘Statement of fact. He treated her like shit.’
‘I always thought you two would – you know . . .’
I shook my head. ‘I’m a happily married man, Jim,’ I said.
‘She’s a lovely girl. Nice looking. I think she had a wee thing for you too, if I remember rightly.’
‘I’m a happily married man,’ I repeated.
‘Which is why you’re sitting in the pub with me, pretending to drink, instead of going home to your wife,’ he replied. ‘You’ll be getting me a bad reputation with the boys, sitting
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