Dead Men Whistling by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton [Masterton, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781784976422
Google: d2aNDgAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 34805514
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2017-12-22T06:00:00+00:00

25

They both woke early, while it was still dark. Outside the bedroom window, it was raining hard. Conor held Katie tightly in his arms and kissed her, and then he said, ‘This is it, then. This is the day of reckoning.’

‘I’ll help you all I can, Con. I know a very good solicitor, Garret Delaney.’

‘I’m guilty of manslaughter, Katie. The only thing you can do for me is visit me in prison now and again.’

They had mugs of coffee together in the kitchen, and Katie ate half a slice of toast and marmalade, although Conor had no appetite at all. At seven-thirty there was a ring at the doorbell, and it was Katie’s neighbour, Jenny Tierney, in a hooded raincoat, looking like the good witch Biddy Early from the fairy stories. She had come to take Foltchain for her morning walk, and she was overjoyed to see Barney.

‘You can’t take him too far, I’m afraid,’ said Katie, ‘and he’ll have to wear his waterproof to keep his bandages dry. But he’s in good spirits, and he and Foltchain have been getting along like a house on fire.’

She suddenly realized what she had said, and turned to Conor and mouthed ‘Sorry’.

After Jenny had taken the dogs out into the rain, Katie and Conor stood in the hallway and held each other for almost a minute without saying anything. Then Conor kissed Katie on her forehead and said, ‘Slán mo ghrá. Goodbye, my love.’

*

She had only just hung up her raincoat when Detective Scanlan came into her office.

‘Good morning, ma’am. Holy Saint Joseph, it’s spilling out, isn’t it? You can hardly put your nose out the door. But I’ve just received the names now from Justice McGuigan’s office, along with what they’ll be giving evidence about. His secretary apologized for the delay but she said they had to clear it with the whistle-blowers’ lawyers.’

Katie sat down at her desk and Detective Scanlan handed her a sheet of notepaper with three names on it, as well as their addresses and their phone numbers.

Sergeant Dolan MacAuley, scheduled to present evidence about penalty points removed from licences in exchange for bribes.

Garda Yasir Wassan, scheduled to present evidence about persistent bullying and racism at his local Garda station, which led to him taking indefinite sick leave.

Garda Eamon Ó Grádaigh, scheduled to present evidence about fellow officers accepting bribes not to arrest 1P-LSD pedlars in Cork nightclubs.

‘Thanks, Padragain,’ she said, and stood up again. She told Moirin to wait before she brought her cappuccino, and she went downstairs to see Superintendent Pearse. She found him standing in front of his mirror, the tip of his tongue between his teeth, carefully combing what was left of his hair.

She handed him the list and he read it while he was still combing. ‘MacAuley and Ó Grádaigh I know well,’ he said. ‘Wassan – well, I heard about all his complaints, but I don’t know if anything was ever done about them. None of them live more than a stone’s throw from the city centre, so they won’t be too hard to protect, like, even if they stay at home.

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