Echoland (Joe Joyce) by Joe Joyce

Author:Joe Joyce
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-07-31T23:00:00+00:00

Nine

Duggan made his way through the lanes behind Merrion Square, to avoid passing in front of Harbusch’s building, back to Sinéad’s office and asked to use the phone. She directed him into the empty boardroom and he called McClure and told him briefly what had happened.

‘Call me back in half an hour.’ McClure hung up.

Sinéad was walking out of the reception area when he emerged from the boardroom. ‘I was just going to make the tea. Do you want to wait and bring some up to Petey?’

He followed her into the kitchen and watched while she plugged in the electric kettle and prepared the tray. ‘You’re looking a bit better,’ she glanced at him. ‘Got a little colour back in your cheeks.’

He offered her a mint and she shook her head. ‘I don’t want people to think I’ve been drinking on duty too,’ she said.

‘Do I still stink of whiskey?’

‘You stink of mints and whiskey now. Which means that you’re not too drunk because if you were really drunk you wouldn’t care about stinking of whiskey.’ She gave him a wan smile.

‘See?’ he said. ‘I was never drunk at all.’

‘Just drunk enough to know you shouldn’t be drinking.’

‘Just concerned with appearances,’ he agreed.

‘Falling off your bike.’ She shook her head in disbelief as the kettle boiled and she poured the water into the teapot.

‘What? You don’t believe me?’

‘Do you fall off it a lot?’

‘No. It was the cross tracks at O’Connell Bridge. I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘Daydreaming.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Sweet dreams?’ She flashed him a quizzical smile and gave the tea a vigorous stir with a soup spoon.

‘Yeah. I was down the country at the weekend. It was lovely weather.’

‘Thought you were cycling down the boreen, two hands in your pockets.’ She poured out two cups of tea, added milk and sugars. ‘Whistling with the birds.’

‘Something like that,’ he laughed.

‘You don’t like the city?’

‘I don’t know yet. What about you?’

‘Give me the city every time. Couldn’t wait to get out of the country. It’s boring.’

She opened a press and took out a packet of Kimberley biscuits and put four on a plate.

‘Kimberleys?’ he said with surprise.

‘We’re celebrating.’ She handed him the tray and pushed him gently backwards out of the kitchen.

‘What are we celebrating?’

‘That there wasn’t a tram coming when you fell over the tracks.’

He climbed the stairs slowly, wondering if he should tell Gifford about the woman. He should really, after all Gifford had done for him. But he didn’t want the guards to get control of the case, if this was a breakthrough.

Gifford’s eyes widened when he saw the biscuits. ‘First a bandage. Then fancy biscuits. What next?’

Duggan put the tray on the floor and they lifted a cup each, ignoring the saucers.

‘I think you are trying to usurp my position,’ Gifford looked at him over the rim of his cup. ‘I may have to hit myself in the face to keep up with you. Maybe shoot myself in the foot to get one up.’

Duggan tore the cellophane off his new packet of Aftons and got out a cigarette and flicked his lighter to it.

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