Cross - Ken Bruen [11]
She gave a small shudder as she said this, then added, 'They allow make-up, did you know that? As long as it's not red lipstick or blatant. Our hair has to be a certain length. There's a bitch, my sergeant, she measures my hair, so I started to wear a ponytail and she said it had to go under my cap.'
It was like she'd never really allowed herself to examine the details of her job and I wondered where this was going. She wasn't finished.
'We're supposed to take turns in the patrol car and that's always in pairs. On the beat, you're often on your own. You know how many times I've got to ride in the car?'
I had to say something so tried, 'Not often, I'd guess.'
'Never. Is that fair? But what am I saying? Fair isn't the deal. I get stuck in the station a lot. I hate that, it's like being in an office, people looking for driving licences, passports or reporting thefts. It's so boring. Then they bring in a drunk, a lot of drunks . . .'
She eyed me. I was obviously in that category.
I was tempted to mock, Ah, poor little Ridge, they won't let you ride in the big car.
But I held back and she went on, 'The thing is, I love being a Guard, but if I don't get promoted soon, I'll have to consider resigning.'
Her face as she said this was a tragedy in miniature. Sleep was trying to claim me and I wanted her to fuck off, so I said, 'Do whatever you have to do to get the promotion.'
She looked right at me and I realized we'd come to the whole point of the visit.
She said, 'I'm very worried about a health problem and I don't know who to tell.'
Sometimes simplicity is the only route, so I said, 'Tell me.'
She took a deep breath.
'I found a lump on my breast. It might be just tissue, but –'
I didn't hesitate.
'You have to get it checked.'
She was lost for a moment, imagining, who knows, what horrible implications.
I pressed on. 'Ridge, promise me you'll make an appointment.'
She re-focused.
'OK, I will, but there is something else.'
I waited. She asked, 'You know about the crucifixion?'
I nodded, even though I knew precious little.
She said, 'He was eighteen years of age, John Willis, they nailed him to the cross and mounted the thing on the hill above the city dump. We thought maybe it was a drug deal, a warning to others, or maybe even political. It isn't. He comes from a respectable family, was due to start college and has no record.'
She waited for my input.
I was stunned, shocked, sickened. Visions of Cody were in my head and I thought I might throw up. Took me a solid five minutes before I could gasp, 'Any leads?'
She composed herself, curbing the excitement the case stirred in her. 'We have nothing – no leads, nothing to go on, it's dead in the water. But if a person were able to shed any light on it, it would be a career-maker.'
It took me a moment to grasp.
'Ah no, you want me to nose around. You're the one always telling me to get out of this whole sordid game, that it will destroy me.'
She at least had the grace to seem ashamed, then said, 'I don't want you to do anything dangerous, but you have an uncanny knack for finding threads.'
Before I could refuse – and refuse I intended – she took out a sheet of paper and said, 'Here's the name, he lived in Claddagh, I'll leave it here. Just think about it, OK? That's all I ask, Jack.'
Jack.
She never used my first name. It was a measure of her desperation.
As she was heading for the door she said, 'You look beat, get some rest.'
With all the sarcasm I could muster, I said, 'I'm touched by your concern. The next time I see you, I want to hear you've been for that check-up.' I tried to keep my tone light, not show how worried I was.
She was in the hall, a ray of light catching the gold buttons on her tunic. Looking almost impressive and vulnerable, she said, 'I'm not concerned, I was just trying to be polite.'
I shouted after her, 'Try harder.'
I slammed the door, letting the neighbours know I was