The Doll's House

‘What’s your theory on why the killer chose the canal? He could have drowned the bastard in a bath – no witnesses. It would have saved him a whole lot of bother.’


‘I’ve been thinking about that. People, events, they’re not straightforward, as well you know. There could be any number of reasons for the canal being chosen. Ease of distance from where the killer lived. Maybe he doesn’t live alone, eliminating his place as a location for murder. The canal waters are significant, but so is the choice of drowning. He wanted Keith Jenkins to die in that way. Perhaps the icy waters meant something to the killer and the victim. And there’s also the timing. The lack of people on the streets. It all made sense to the killer. Right now that’s all we can be sure of.’

‘I’m planning a trip to the Caldine Club on Kildare Street, the one where Keith Jenkins was last seen being friendly. I have the glossy brochure in front of me. It says it embodies the heart of the city.’

‘Do I detect a note of disbelief, O’Connor?’

‘If people want to see the heart of the city, they can take a lift in one of our squad cars on a Friday or Saturday night.’

‘I don’t think you’d get too many volunteers.’

‘Probably not, Kate. Somehow I think the queue for the Caldine could be longer.’

‘Selective membership, I assume.’

‘From what I hear there are only three ways of gaining access.’

‘And what are they?’

‘If you’re God Almighty, if you’re rich and famous …’ O’Connor paused for effect ‘… or if you strike gold and become part of the team investigating the murder of an ex-member.’

‘You got lucky.’

‘We got lucky. Things have been crazy here today, but I’ll be paying them a surprise visit in the morning. It might be a good idea if you’re with me.’

‘I hear you’re also looking for my preliminary report.’

‘You know the score, Kate. Everything is needed yesterday. Are you able to meet me tomorrow or not?’

‘Fine. I’ll let you know if there’s any problem.’

And with that the line went dead.





Parnell Road


My pent-up, fucked-up anger seems to have taken a vacation for now. But it will come back. It always does. ‘Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.’ I repeat the mantra below my breath, over and over again. It helps my mind to remain centred on the task in hand, to be clear and without hesitation.

Yesterday I passed the reporters and squad cars at Leeson Street Bridge. That place is behind me now. There’s a chill blowing in off the canal. The kind that should make me feel more alive, but instead, despite Jenkins’s blood being washed away, I feel sullied. Some stains are not for shifting.

I think of Clodagh, shrouded in her veil of ignorance and, for the moment, safe. She is part of all of this, the most important part. But Clodagh isn’t going anywhere. You don’t run unless you know you’re in danger. And right now she doesn’t know the game plan. Or even that one exists. It will all be finished business soon enough.

I see the two old lads up ahead – partners in crime. Desperate times dictate desperate bedfellows. I have no plans to make my move now. I’ll wait until the two boys settle down for the night, with their charity sleeping-bags, and curled-up memories of what it was like to have a warm bed. If it doesn’t happen tonight, I can wait for another.

I have become a man of the streets too. When you’re out walking, no one asks the hard questions. You’d think killing someone would change things. It doesn’t, not really, ‘Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.’





Clodagh


I’ve tried to reach Ruby a number of times and got the usual ‘The person you are calling is not available at the moment. Please try again later.’ No doubt her battery is dead, or her phone hidden under a pile of dirty laundry. Perhaps she’s switched it off. There’s no landline in her bedsit. At least the place is close to college. Ruby says she loves the buzz of town, away from the boring smugness of suburbia. I thought that too. God, I hate her being on that bloody stuff. She says the coke isn’t a problem for her. I’ve to get off her case. I used the same lines, neither of us fooling anyone.

I switch on the television in the kitchen. The news is full of the murder of that celebrity, Keith Jenkins. I’ve never watched Real People, Real Lives. My life is real enough. But there’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. It could be Martin’s investment business. He’s had dealings with people in RTé. Martin’s always been good with other people’s money. But there’s something else, I’m sure of it.