Murder Beyond the Pale by Wendy Church

Author:Wendy Church [Church, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781957957500
Publisher: Polis Books

Seventeen

Since our rental car was now a burned-out wreck, the Gallaghers had let Sam borrow their car, and we left the hospital. On the way to the garda station, I filled Sam in on fuel laundering.

Once we were at the station, I checked in with O’Fenton, who was apparently the only person in the place who qualified for reception duty. His chilly tone signaled that I was still on his shit list.

This time it wasn’t long before a uniformed garda opened the door to the back and gestured me in. “Dr. O’Hara? Could you come with me, please?” The state of my face didn’t seem to faze him.

I left Sam to wait and followed the officer. As he led me toward the back, I passed him. “I know where I’m going.”

I walked into to the same small room I’d been in before. This time there was just one man sitting at the small table, and he motioned me toward the seat across from him. The officer who had escorted me left the room and closed the door. The guy at the table was older than the other detectives I’d seen and looked tired. He didn’t have a notebook in front of him, just a thin manila folder.

“Dr. O’Hara, I’m Chief Superintendent Murphy.”

“Murphy? What’s your first name?”

He frowned slightly. “Sean. Now, can you tell me—?”

“Isn’t the other guy here Sean Murphy too?”

“Uh, yes, Detective Sergeant Sean Murphy.”

“Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“Em, no, not really.”

Maybe they went by Older Sean Murphy and Younger Sean Murphy. But more importantly, how many Murphys were there in this fucking country? But this one was a chief superintendent, which was good. I was working my way up the garda food chain. Maybe this guy would actually do something. Friendly Nice Jesse would need to make an appearance.

Smiling regularly wasn’t in my nature and never had been. When I was a kid, my mom had adopted a shorthand to tell me when I needed to smile, even when I didn’t feel like it, usually during family picture taking sessions. She called it Good Attitude. Good Attitude meant I needed to plaster a smile on my face regardless of how I was feeling. This resulted more often than not in a toothy grimace that was unflattering at best but apparently good enough for family photos.

I nodded politely to Chief Superintendent Murphy and added in some Good Attitude. He winced at the effort. Or maybe at my face, which even without the Good Attitude was pretty frightening at the moment.

“How long have you been in Ireland, Dr. O’Hara? Three, four days?”

“Four.”

“Four. Yes, well, it’s been a busy four days for you.”

I started to respond, but he held up his hand to stop me. He pulled on a pair of reading glasses and opened the folder, then lifted out a piece of paper and held it in front of him by the edges. Reading from it, he said, “In four days you’ve managed to get thrown out of my station, be

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