‘Correction. You’re on duty. I’m helping you out, remember?’
‘You’re all heart, Freddie.’ But Walsh was already staring at the woman being whipped.
The guy Lynch wanted to talk to wasn’t due in for a quarter of an hour. He wondered if he’d be able to put up with this freak show until then, but figured it was as good a time as any to get his other mission out of the way. As he placed their drinks on the table, Walsh said, ‘It’s something else, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, a real eye-opener.’
‘Have you read Fifty Shades?’
‘What? Me? No. I don’t go in for that shit. You?’
‘The wife’s read it, all three books.’
‘Spice up your sex life, did it?’
‘There was fuck-all to begin with but, yeah, it got her horny. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.’
‘Too much information, Fred.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I’ve enough on my plate with this bloody investigation.’
‘I’d have thought this was right up your street, high profile and all that. That Rick Shevlin fella, he was into this shit, wasn’t he?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I hear they found ropes at the scene, and the guy’s arse had been lashed with a whip.’ Walsh was practically drooling.
‘It’s not that that’s bothering me.’
‘No? What is it, then?’
‘I have O’Connor to deal with.’
‘He’s all right.’
‘Do you think? He’s a bit of an arsehole, if you ask me.’
Walsh took his eyes off the sideshow for the first time. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Him and Dr Kate Pearson.’
‘She’s a looker, isn’t she?’
‘It seems O’Connor shares your taste in women, Freddie.’
‘You mean the two of them are doing it?’
‘That’s what I heard, but I wouldn’t be one for spreading rumours.’ He took a sip from his bottle of non-alcoholic beer. ‘The chief super’s only gone and sent them to Paris together.’
‘Fucking Paris?’
‘And Rome.’
‘And Rome?’
‘What are you, Freddie? A feckin’ parrot?’
‘Keep your hair on.’
He decided not to comment on Freddie’s hair remark, saying instead, ‘The guy is only back from suspension, and the boss is treating him like the prodigal son.’ He paused. ‘He has a kid, you know.’
‘Sure everyone in the unit knows that.’
‘I don’t think they’re getting along. He didn’t make contact with him for years. That doesn’t sound like something a decent guy would do.’
‘You’re probably right. Ignoring your kid like that, Mark, that’s shite, that’s what that is.’
‘I think the boss is playing with fire.’
‘Because he doesn’t know about O’Connor and your woman?’
‘It doesn’t look good, sending a guy who’s just back from suspension on a strategic leg of an investigation.’ Lynch could practically see Walsh’s few brain cells ticking over.
‘It’s messy, all right.’
‘If the papers got wind of it, they’d have a field day. I can see the headline now: “Suspended detective gets key role in Shevlin murder inquiry”. They’d be talking about cutbacks, not enough trained personnel to do the job, not to mention if there was any horseplay going on, not that I know for sure there is. Only telling you what I heard, Freddie.’
‘Fucking Paris? He wouldn’t be able to resist, would he?’
‘He’s broken the rules before, covering up evidence. That says something.’
‘Yeah, I hear you.’
‘Fancy another pint, Freddie?’ He glanced at the bar. ‘The gentleman I want to talk to has just arrived.’
‘Do you need a hand?’
‘You’re all right. I’ll bring your pint down to you, but remember you’re here to watch my back, not the show. I don’t trust those trannies over there.’
‘Fucking weirdoes.’ Walsh lifted his pint, finishing it in one go, as if one of the tranny weirdoes might take it from him. Then he turned his attention back to the naked boobs, and the sound of skin being lashed.
Lynch smiled all the way to the bar. It wouldn’t take Freddie Walsh long to be chatting to his journalist buddies. It didn’t matter if he mentioned O’Connor and Kate Pearson: all Lynch needed was a bit of light shone on things, and sure wasn’t that what lamps were for?
Lynch figured Simon Reynolds knew he was a detective from the moment he’d stood up from where he’d been sitting with Walsh. Reynolds was renowned on the Irish fetish scene. It wasn’t only the Grey Door club: it was the website, the retail outlets and the private parties. None of it caused Lynch too much concern. If people wanted to have a bit of fun, he wasn’t going to make trouble when it was legal, even if it was hard to get the sound of skin being lashed out of his mind.