Black Irish by Stephan Talty

Author:Stephan Talty
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345538871
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2013-02-25T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

ABBIE CONSOLED HERSELF WITH A SUPER MIGHTY FROM THE MIGHTY TACO drive-thru and brought it back to headquarters. Z was at his desk as she sat down.

“Eating healthy, I see.”

“Word of advice. Don’t start with me today.”

“What happened?”

“Collins’s family clammed up. Wouldn’t even let me in the door. They’re taking the issue to the United Retard Irish Council, or whoever they expect to solve this thing. Damned voodoo Micks.”

Z shook his head.

“You’re going to tell me, ‘I told you so.’ ”

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

“What do you want me to do? Leave them to sort out their own dead, is that it?”

“Hell no. I’m just as frustrated as you are. I just think you’ve got to realize who you’re dealing with.”

“And who’s that?”

“Damned voodoo Micks. They don’t change.”

She sat back in her chair, pulled the burrito out of the bag and stared at it.

“You’ll never guess who’s guarding the widow Collins.”

Z looked up at her.

“Billy Carney.”

“No!” Z seemed genuinely shocked. “You thought he was dead for sure.”

Abbie took a bite of the burrito and nodded as she chewed. She could feel the nutrients pumping into her bloodstream, calming the rage. She really needed to eat better—and more often.

“He’s been reincarnated. As protection.”

Z shook his head. “Amateur bodyguards. Short life spans.”

Abbie nodded again.

Z got up and pulled on his heavy winter coat.

“I’m off.”

Abbie, lost in thought, nodded.

“Hold on,” she said.

Z turned.

“You’re right. We need to go around the County instead of hitting a brick wall there every time.”

Z spread his hands, saying What have I been telling you?

“Can you drop by Circuit Court for me? See who Marty Collins represented in the past, say, twenty years. Look for drug dealers, gang members, East Siders who look sketchy. Also, look for any County types he represented, anyone with a connection to the Gaelic Club. Maybe the link between our three victims is through a court case.”

“Should I pack a suitcase?”

“From what I remember in Miami, the court clerk can do a computer search by lawyer.”

“They do that in Miami? How nice. Here the records are probably six feet high and turning yellow.”

Abbie smiled. “Next time, lunch is on me, goombah.”

Z waved a hand and headed for the glass doors that led to the elevator.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, set the burrito to the side, and whipped out her phone.

“Kearney.”

“It’s Dr. Reinholdt.”

“Yes, Doctor. What were you able to find out?”

“Well, it’s a pretty murky picture. There are quite a few possibilities. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather discuss this face-to-face?”

She rolled her eyes at Z’s empty cubicle.

“I’d love to, but I can’t.”

He sighed. “All right, then. The Clan na Gael is part of the IRA. There are no real distinctions in the context we’re discussing. The IRA laid its arms down in 1998 after the agreement with the British government. Many of its prisoners were released; its guns were turned in; its mission was effectively over. But of course 1921 repeated itself.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, my knowledge of Irish history isn’t quite as sharp as yours.

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