Dublin Noir - Ken Bruen [15]
Burke waited till the ambulance and the Gardaí arrived and sealed off the house. As it was a crime scene, Marty would stay right where he lay until the state pathologist arrived. The Gardaí took a statement from Burke and he left.
Burke made it back to his apartment by 4:30 a.m. Too wired to sleep, he headed for the whiskey. Half a bottle later, he sank into a deep stupor.
Pia! Pia! Ed Burke agonized about what to do. In days the scandal would break. The Minister’s career would crash. In public. And Pia would crash too. Every tabloid would exploit the story. Exploit her!
Thoughts bounced wildly around his head: I’ve got to do something. Got to protect her. But how? I could leave again. Go back to the States. Take her with me. Start a new life with her.Agh, wishful thinking! It’s too late for us. Pia won’t leave Dublin.It’s the center of her world. All the world comes to Dublin now.So what’s the incentive to leave? Why should I leave again? Got to brave this thing out.
Still, Pia had to be warned. He had to tell her what was coming. Get her to leave the Minister. Get out first. Make the first move. Yes, that’s what she had to do. And he’d help her. Once he had decided, Burke took action. Dialed her mobile. She picked up immediately.
“Edmund, it’s only 9 a.m.”
“Pia, let’s run away together. Now.”
“Oh, Edmund. How I wish.”
“Look, it’s Friday. I’m off today. Let’s go somewhere. Get away from it all. Can you break all your social commitments?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Okay, great. I’ll make the arrangements. Pick you up by noon.”
Murphy met the Minister in Buswells Bar, where all the members of the Dail went for their regular tipple. The Minister asked, “What’ll it be, the usual?” and ordered two Jamesons with water chasers.
No preamble for the Minister, he went right for the jugular: “If he brings me down, you go too.”
Murphy said nothing.
“Did you hear me? You go too.”
“Goddamnit, he’s my friend. Isn’t there any other way? We could persuade him to lay off.”
“Persuade, my ass. Do you realize he’s been fucking Pia since he got back?”
“I hate to say it, but …”
“Yeah, do you think I’m dumb? I know she’s been screwing the world for the past five years. Well, it’s over. She won’t be making a fool of me anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Killing two birds with one stone. That’s what I mean.”
“Jesus, you’re crazy. I want no part of it.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound. You knew that. Do you really want to lose the mansion in Howth, the little hideaway in Shady Lane where you entertain your Caribbean beauties, your yacht and your membership in the Royal Cork … ? Fuck no, you don’t want to lose any of it. And you don’t want a tribunal looking into everything while you rot your arse in Mountjoy.”
Murphy shut up and gulped down his Jameson. Just as quickly another, a double, appeared in front of him. He had to admit to himself that there was no way out. Ed Burke was an investment that he couldn’t afford.
Burke chose well. Get the hell out of Dublin—the first command he issued to himself. Go west, young man, said Horace Greeley in America. And that’s what Burke did. Go west to Galway. He knew exactly where. St. Cleran’s. Once the Galway home of film director John Huston, the place where Angelica spent her childhood. Been turned into a most exclusive guesthouse by another famous Irish-American, Merv Griffin. Just the place for them, away from their Dublin 4 crowd. Time to tell Pia, time to hold her, time to decide.
At St. Cleran’s Ed told Pia about the scandal that would break in the days ahead. He teased out all their options, all their choices. And Pia agreed to leave the Minister as soon as they returned to Dublin. Brave out the turbulence ahead. They retired early, Pia reminding him that they had run away together.
Much later they noticed the bottle of Chablis, sitting invitingly in a crystal cooler. Into their