Authors: Ruth Dudley Edwards

Tags: #Suspense, #FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General

Anglo-Irish Murders (21 page)

‘And besides, it was another easy one. And it appealed to my puritan soul that he would be punished for his sexual as well as his other sins. I knew he’d go to her at night—or she’d go to him, which would have been even better. I spent some of those ludicrous sessions thinking of a suitable accident.

‘I had a lot of luck. Late Saturday night I was able to pinch half-a-dozen empty bottles from a bin in the bar and early on Sunday evening my major problem was resolved when a bulb went in my bedroom. It felt like a divine omen.

‘So when I got back from the pub on Sunday night I lurked, saw him leave his turret and go to hers and had it all set up before you returned. And magnificently successful it was too.

‘Now, Kelly-Mae, as you know—oh, sorry, for those of you who don’t, Okinawa’s film spotted me dropping sleeping tablets into her Diet Coke. Kelly-Mae was straightforward too.’

McNulty interrupted. ‘Hold on. What about Laochraí?’

‘Sorry, Inspector. Laochraí? Nothing to do with me guv. Billy, yes. The egregious priest certainly. And I did my best to despatch Kelly-Mae, who was so typical of those dreadful Irish-Americans who are happy to encourage young idiots three thousand miles away to kill and die. And she was, as well, fearfully irritating.’

He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘I’m afraid that when you begin to murder and it goes well and you don’t care whether you’re caught or not, the grounds on which you do it become slimmer and slimmer. Had Kelly-Mae not been Irish-American I might still have been tempted to get rid of her because she was stupid, as well as really annoying about food. Corruption happens quickly.’

‘But you didn’t smother her?’ asked McNulty.

‘No.’

‘Nor blow up Laochraí?’

‘No.’

He chewed his moustache a bit more. ‘Any idea who did?’

‘Possibly, Inspector, possibly. As you might imagine, I’ve been giving this a rather considerable amount of thought. I can see it’s a bit unorthodox to be discussing the identity of the second murderer with the first murderer, but…’

‘Listen, Mr Gibson, I’d sup with the devil if he’d get me out of this feckin’ mess and this feckin’ place.’

‘Very straightforward, I think. Unless there’s another murderer who knocks people off for pretty arbitrary reasons, what you’ve got here is internecine warfare in the republican movement. I don’t think this collection of fine intellects has to expend too much effort on identifying the likely perpetrator.’

‘Liam MacPhrait.’

‘Precisely, Inspector. My guess is that he’s actually a dissident, and that in addition to being a mole within the IRA he’s taking revenge for what happened to his brothers. It may be that Laochraí had something to do with their betrayal. I’m absolutely sure she was still active in the IRA.’

‘And Kelly-Mae?’

‘Probably saw or heard something she shouldn’t. Or maybe got involved disastrously in MOPE politics.’

‘I’m expecting to hear from the FBI any time now,’ said McNulty. ‘In the meantime, Mr Gibson, I’m afraid I have to charge you with murder.’

‘Be my guest, Inspector. At least this will give you the opportunity to rub the nose of Maloney in the dirt. And I won’t even have to stand trial.’

The baroness stood up. ‘Inspector, there’s something I should explain. I’ve gathered that you believe that behaviour is frequently determined by the place of origin?’

McNulty nodded.

‘There are a few lines that have come to my mind that might go some way to explain what happened with Simon. I admit the first two lines may not immediately strike you as reminiscent of him, but I think the verse as a whole will be helpful.’

‘Go ahead, mam.’

‘Kipling is speaking of the English. “Their psychology is bovine, their outlook crude and raw. / They abandon vital matters to be tickled with a straw.”’ She paused and looked across at Gibson. ‘“But the straw that they were tickled with—the chaff that they were fed with—/ They convert into a weaver’s beam to break their foeman’s head with.”’

Gibson bowed. ‘I’ll try to take that as a compliment, Jack.’

McNulty stood up. ‘Isn’t it a pity, mam, that there aren’t more in that mould? Now can you all leave Mr Gibson with the sergeant and meself. We have business.’

Epilogue

Three Weeks Later

‘It’s wonderful to be back in Ireland,’ cried the baroness, as she drove out of the airport. ‘We’re on the road to Dublin,’ she sang. ‘We’re Dublin bound.’

‘We’ll be off it soon, if you don’t slow down.’

‘More and more, Robert, you resemble a nagging wife.’

‘Like most nagging wives, I’ve a lot to nag about.’

‘No, there is much to celebrate.’

‘How can you be so callous? Doesn’t Simon’s death bother you at all?’

‘Could he have died at a better time? Elegant denunciation published widely. Two governments in a frenzy of self-justification. He went out on a high point. And here are we at last about to be reunited with the delectable Aisling and Siobhán.’

The Sailor’s Hornpipe sounded. ‘Hello…Inspector McNulty. Yes…Yes…Good God…Yes…No, really?…When? Are they sure?…Did she?…Him too?…It’s hard to take it all in…What’s the official line?…But of course…It would be…Yes…Thanks very much for letting me know. Good luck.’

The baroness was bouncing with impatience. ‘What? Tell me. Tell me.’

‘My hairdresser changing an appointment.’

‘Do you want me to hit you?’

‘I’ll tell you if you stop the car. I’m not telling you anything interesting while you’re driving like that. We’d go straight into the oncoming traffic.’

She bullied her way into the inside lane and drove on to the pavement in a squeal of brakes. ‘Go on. Go on.’

‘There is some justice. Even if McNulty couldn’t make anything stick, Liam paid for what he did. Shot in the back of the head at home in Belfast. Republican sources say it was retaliation for Laochraí. And the FBI say he was in America last year and that Kelly-Mae may well have met him. She was definitely one of those conservative Catholic Irish-Americans who couldn’t understand the new secular, political thrust of republicanism. And she definitely met Mickey Murphy there too.’

‘Who?’

‘The Slievenamná fellow. He hadn’t moved on either.’

‘So why was she killed?’

‘McNulty thinks she was in Liam’s confidence and probably knew or guessed he murdered Laochraí. Whether she shopped him or he feared she might we may never know.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Well, well.’

She switched on the engine. ‘It reminds me of something. Did you ever talk to McNulty’s side-kick, Sergeant whoever?’

‘Not really.’

‘He made an observation to me apropos what I can’t quite remember.’

‘Yes?’

‘“If you lie down with dogs what will you get up with but fleas?”’

She switched on the engine, put the car into gear and slammed her foot down hard on the accelerator.

Notes

*
The Fenians were a nineteenth-century revolutionary organization: ‘Fenian’ is a term of abuse for republicans, which they wear as a badge of pride.

*
Gaelic