“Did you beat her? Is she afraid of you?”
“I never laid a finger on her and don’t say ‘that’s where you went wrong’ or anything glib and Eastern European like that.”
Before Yavarov could say anything Hector came down the stairs with the cot filled with books. The cot was enormous and made of cedar, so Hector must have been stronger than he looked.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, taking one end of the cot.
“I too will help!” Yavarov said.
Hector saw Yavarov and me in our matching pyjamas and gave us a withering look.
A lesser man might have felt the need to explain Yavarov’s presence and started babbling about missed trains and bomb scares but I didn’t feel the need to explain anything to Hector Macdonald.
I took one end of the cot and we walked out to the Jaguar. The boot was only big enough for a set of golf clubs so we put everything in the back seat instead.
I closed the back door and looked at Hector.
“Emma needs to be burped twice after the midnight feed,” I said. “Beth’s not usually up for that one.”
“I’ll tell Jane,” he said curtly.
“Oh, and you should remind her to study for her tutorial on Monday. It’s Dr Byrne and he’s a taskmaster.”
Hector sniffed. “I don’t know about that. We’ve been talking about having her switch to business administration. Literature’s a bit useless isn’t it? In life, I mean.”
Beth had two older brothers but one was a site manager in Chicago and the other was running a mine in South Africa. Neither could be relied upon to take over Macdonald Construction when the old man finally called it quits. Was Beth being groomed now? Was that the plan?
“That’s right, books are rubbish, aren’t they?” was all I said, trying to keep the sarcasm level down to a 3 or 4.
“Some good reading in the paper though these days isn’t there? I read about your latest case. Page two of the Belfast Telegraph.”
I opened the car door. “Safe home, Hector.”
He nodded, got into the Jag, closed the door and drove away.
“I do not like this man, you are lucky to escape from such a family connection,” Yavarov said.
“Hmmm. Come on, get dressed and I’ll drive you to the train station.”
I finished the coffee, dressed, took a hit on my asthma inhaler, packed the emergency inhaler, looked under the Beemer for bombs and drove Yavarov to Carrick train station. I saw him to the ticket booth where he got a through ticket to Dublin. We shook hands and I gave him my card. I went across the road to the Railway Tavern which opened at 10 o’clock on Saturday mornings for the football crowd.
I ordered a pint of Guinness and a double whisky chaser. I thought about Dr Havercamp. How many fucking units is this, you bastard?
I gave the barman a fiver and asked if he had any crisps. Crisps and Guinness for breakfast: it was like my single days.
The Railway Tavern was a hardcore UVF bar that didn’t look kindly on strangers but I was wearing my black drainpipes, my DM boots and a blood-stained Undertones T-shirt under my black leather jacket. To complete the picture of a possibly unhinged psycho I hadn’t shaved and I had a I-would-fucking-love-you-to-say-something look in my eyes.
I finished the Guinness, looked under the Beemer for bombs and drove to the station.
The angry walk up the stairs to the Incident Room left me breathless and I took a discreet pull on the emergency inhaler. It worked like a miracle and my breathing calmed down immediately. I automatically reached for a cigarette, but realising the paradox instead crunched the packet and threw it in the bin just outside the Incident Room door.
Crabbie heard the bin rattle and opened the door. He was smiling, which made me immediately suspicious.
“It’s not the End of Days, is it? Jesus is back and he’s declared the Presbyterians as the only true believers?”
“What?”
“Nothing. You look pleased. What’s going on?”
“A break in the case. DAADD haven’t claimed responsibility for the killing but intel spotted this story in Republican News and faxed it to us:
Direct Action Against Drug Dealers may have executed a pedlar of heroin and other filth to our children, one Francis Deauville, on Thursday morning. Sources indicate that DAADD also attempted the execution of a drug dealer in Larne on Tuesday night. Francis Deauville of Sunnylands Estate in Carrickfergus was a smuggler and supplier of heroin. Sunnylands Estate lies in the domain of Loyalist crime lords who were doing nothing to prevent Deauville carrying out his activities. Our sources indicate that brave volunteers from DAADD stepped up to the breach and executed Deauville. He had no children or dependants but the children of Ireland will be saved from the scourge of heroin by the removal of this human scum. DAADD have frequently put all drug dealers on notice to leave Ireland now before it is too late. DAADD will not tolerate your activities and will find you anywhere! Our day will come.