Cross - Ken Bruen [52]
She said, 'That's where the girl was burned to death.'
He never looked, said, 'Yeah?'
Like he could give a fuck.
He tipped the driver from a wallet laden with cash and it crossed her mind that she might take it later, after she was done with him. As the cab pulled off he said, 'You want money, ask, don't try to take it.'
And then he was heading towards the water.
She giggled, blamed the tequila, said to herself, 'I'm in love.'
They sat and talked for about two hours. He was telling her how the sea washed away everything and then was quiet. She couldn't believe he never made one move on her.
She said, 'In your wallet, I saw a girl. She your wife?'
He shook his head, stood up, said, 'Come on, I'll take you home.'
And took her hand. His touch was electric. She was astounded at herself, letting him do all the running.
He hailed another cab, got the driver to drop her at her address, and as she got out of the cab he said, 'You want to see me again, I'll be at the beach, Friday night, round eleven. I'll bring some booze, some other stuff.'
And she was standing on the footpath, wanting to ask him in.
She asked, 'What's your name?'
He gave her a look of amusement, said, 'Don't get hung up on labels. Seek the essence . . . what lies beneath.'
23
'All those who consider external things
important
are stupid within.'
Chuang-Tzu
It was early morning. The postman had come, bringing an official-looking letter. I'd made strong coffee, toast but had no appetite, tore open the letter. It was from the estate agent.
I read it in amazement, crunched on a slice of hard toast, tasting nothing. There'd been three offers to buy. The figures were ridiculous. I couldn't actually take in that such amounts of money were available. Galway was reputed to be the most expensive area in the country and the price of houses was beyond insane. All I had to do was say yes to the highest offer and I'd be rich . . . and homeless. The latter was familiar, but the former – how would that feel?
A knock on the door and I put the letter aside, figuring Ridge.
It was Stewart, dressed like civility: smart overcoat, silk scarf loosely tied around the collar, dark stylish pants. His shoes were dazzling in their spit polish.
I asked, 'How did you know where I live?'
His eyes were alight with dark energy.
'Don't be stupid, Jack.'
I moved aside to wave him in. He gave the apartment intensive scrutiny, then spotted the estate agent's heading.
'Selling up?'
I closed the door, said, 'Well, selling out is what I do.'
He sat on the hard chair and I asked if he'd like anything, saying I'd, alas, no herbal tea.
He declined, looked at me, said, 'I found her.'
'Gail?'
'We're dating.'
He had to be fucking joking, though humour was one of the traits he'd left in jail.
I asked, 'You're joking?'
He gave me that odd look, as if he still wasn't quite sure when I was serious.
'In all our odd and colourful history, Jack, you ever knew me to be a kidder?'
A slight edge leaked over his words and I wondered anew what he'd had to shut down, to cut off, to survive in prison. Whatever it was, it wasn't returning.
I shook my head, said, 'Tell me.'
He gave a slight smile. This was the Jack Taylor he was most comfortable with.
'There's the Guard in you still remains. I told you I have contacts, and though I don't deal drugs any more, I know the network and that means knowing where the players hang out. You with me?'
How fucking complicated was it?
I said, 'Gee, I think I can follow it.'
He let that slide.
'So I checked out the clubs, like revisiting my youth, and third strike, I found her. And I have to tell you, Jack, you didn't do her justice.'
I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I was sure I didn't like it. I snapped, 'What do you mean?'
He drew a deep sigh.
'My sister, who was killed – and I'll never forget you got justice for her – she was the best person I ever met, true goodness. I think Gail might have once been a little like her, but after her mother died, after the suicide attempt, she