The Doll's House

He had wondered if their new trust would mean getting more intimately acquainted. But he wasn’t on her radar. Nor was he about to start meddling with the bag of candy that might furnish him with a good pay-off. If the situation had been different, he would have given her one for sure.

Stevie had thought long and hard, waiting for his mark to arrive. The guy had had plenty of accusations levelled against him – suspected fraud, corruption, back-handers – but nothing had stuck, and the recent spate of government tribunals hadn’t bothered him either. Everything could be easily forgiven if not forgotten. Most people turned a blind eye if it suited them. But messing with someone as young as Ruby McKay was something else entirely, especially when your socialite wife was chasing one bleeding good cause after another, opening gala events all over the damn city.

Stevie had underestimated his opponent. The two heavies who had come along with him for the ‘welcome meeting’ had certainly made their point. Normally, getting the shit kicked out of him wouldn’t have made any odds to Stevie. But the heavies were ex-Provos. They were a whole different ballgame.

He wasn’t sure how far he could push things with those bleeding fanatical heavies in tow. He had no real desire to spill the beans on the fucker either, but you couldn’t blame a guy for wanting to make some money out of it. Even the fat, smarmy bastard could see that.

None of this was about making waves. Once both parties knew they were talking the same language, it should have made things easier – that was, once Stevie agreed to play ball.

He’d get his money all right, but first he had to earn it. It was all part of the same old fucking game. Stevie would need to get his fingers dirty, gain back the guy’s trust, as if he had been the one to fuck things up in the first place. ‘Insurance’ was what the slimy fucker had called it. He would get half his money now, the other half later. Stevie wasn’t particularly keen, but considering everything, he had no plans to mess about with that fucking crowd. Not unless he wanted to end up dead.

He needed to rest for a while, get himself on the mend. Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, he put on the television. With all his visits over the last couple of days, he hadn’t seen much of the news. He didn’t feel a whole lot better when he saw Jimmy Gahan had taken a swim in the canal. His gut told him it was linked. His head told him not to ask too many questions. Sometimes in life the less you knew, the better, and the safer it would be for everyone, especially Stevie.





27 Benton Avenue, Ranelagh


If either Kate or O’Connor had had any illusions that they were about to meet Jimmy Gahan’s grieving sibling, they would have been disappointed. Deborah Gahan was one well-groomed lady, with the kind of grooming that didn’t happen in a couple of hours. Her face was locked with so much Botox that her heavy makeup gave the impression of holding up something that should have collapsed a long time ago. But behind the forced facial fa?ade, there was no denying that this unnatural blonde had once been a very attractive woman.

Kate and O’Connor took their seats opposite the late Jimmy Gahan’s sister, in her opulent living room with its original Victorian features and an overdose of cream and gold. Behind her scarlet lipstick and powder pink skin, Deborah Gahan looked more than ready for them.

The contrast between how Jimmy Gahan must have lived and the lifestyle his sister obviously enjoyed was nearly as blatant as the distance Deborah Gahan wanted to put between her and her latest visitors.

‘I fail to see how I can be of any use to you, Detective Inspector O’Connor. Jimmy and I were not close. We lived completely different lives, and I’m not going to pretend any belated sorrow at his loss.’

‘Fair enough.’ O’Connor was sitting on the edge of the antique sofa. ‘I appreciate your honesty, Ms Gahan, but there are a few things you might be able to help us with.’ His use of ‘us’ caused Deborah Gahan to look directly at Kate, sitting to O’Connor’s left. As if picking up on the question in the woman’s mind, O’Connor continued, ‘My apologies, Ms Gahan, this is Dr Kate Pearson. Her field is forensic psychology.’ Kate rose to shake Deborah Gahan’s hand and although she returned the handshake, it wasn’t with enthusiasm.

‘Two men have been murdered, including your late brother, and I understand you knew both of them.’

‘A lot of people knew Keith Jenkins, Detective Inspector.’

‘I’m aware of that, Ms Gahan, but I understand your brother had been friends with him since college.’

‘Keith was a few years younger than Jimmy.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘They met in Jimmy’s final year, and I wouldn’t exactly call them friends. But, yes, Detective Inspector, I did know of him, and of their acquaintance with each other.’

‘And Adrian Hamilton, you knew him too?’

‘Yes. As far as I remember, he was in the same year as Jimmy.’

‘He died in a boating accident, Ms Gahan.’