The Devil's House (Detective Jack Brody Book 1) by J.M. O'Rourke

The Devil's House (Detective Jack Brody Book 1) by J.M. O'Rourke

Author:J.M. O'Rourke [O'Rourke, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2022-10-29T16:00:00+00:00


It began with the slow, bored drawl of Wallace. ‘Meadowstown Gardai,’ it said. No answer came right away. Nothing but a deep sigh from Wallace as he waited for whoever it was to speak.

Then the caller did, ‘Yup, your man, what’s his name, the fella sent down from Dublin ’cause ye bunch of wankers can’t do yer jobs, what’s his name…?’

‘Go on, fella, keep talkin’, you think you can talk to me like that, ya little shit…’

‘Yup, can do. Shut up, ya wanker. Put me through to him. I have information.’

‘Shut up, you say.’ Wallace’s voice alive, all the sarcasm and boredom gone, pulsing now, alive with undiluted rage. ‘I’ll get you. We’ll get you, ya bastard. We have ways, you know. I’ll get you, ya…’

But then he fell silent. ‘No, no, sorry, sir,’ he said, his voice suddenly mellow. ‘I shouldn’t be so hasty. Sorry, sir. Yes, of course. Let me think. OK, you want to speak to him? You can. Certainly, sir, you can. Information, you say. Fine. His name’s Detective Sergeant Jack Brody. Yes, he can deal with this.’ There was a sound like a low grunting noise on the line. Brody recognised it as a muffled chuckle from Wallace. ‘Yes, he can deal with this. Hang on, I’ll connect you immediately. Thank you for ringing Meadowstown Gardai, now, fuc–’ A couple of clicking noises followed, cutting Wallace off before he’d said the word that he would regret if this call was ever played back on a courtesy complaint. Brody listened to what he knew was the state phone ringing in the unmarked, followed by the voice of Kinsella: ‘Hello.’

‘I want to speak to Brody. Jesus, what do I have to do?’

The conversation Brody and the caller had followed. After it, he began to listen back again, pressing pause at ‘Would you like to come out and play?’ The words had an almost childlike resonance to them. He pressed play again, listening carefully, the voice husky and lustful: ‘She’s nice. You know who. Her. With you. I’d like to put my cock into her, I can tell you. Yup, I would. Or maybe something else.’

And then the line went dead. Brody played it back one more time and asked himself the question: Was this the voice of a killer? Or merely a stick in the spokes of the investigation by an attention-seeker?

He logged onto Pulse, and after a half dozen failed attempts, he gave up on trying to copy and transfer the call to the system. But he knew there had to be a way. He rang the dedicated twenty-four-hour IT hotline and explained his dilemma to the technician. Brody was not a techie, yet his expectations of technology usually far exceeded what was possible.

The technician asked him if he had a cable. ‘A cable?’ … ‘Yes, a cable, that dangly thing, you know; it can be either long or short.’ … ‘Oh, one of those.’ … ‘Yes, one of those, what you need to do is physically hook them both up.



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