Eight Ball Boogie - Declan Burke [92]
“And will you?”
“I don’t know.”
“But what else can you do?”
“I don’t know, something’ll come up.” I thought of the feeding frenzy the photos would cause, once the murders hit the airwaves. Even when I subtracted Herbie’s cut, the money would still take up a lot of room in the deposit box of whatever bank I decided to favour with my custom. “I’ll worry about it next week. If I wake up.”
She smiled at that, looked across. I didn’t have the energy to smile back. Her expression grew serious.
“Harry?”
“Don’t, Dee.”
“What you said, Monday night?”
“Jesus, Dee. I’m trying to forget what I did an hour ago.”
“About me having an affair? That you’d kill him and cripple me?”
I didn’t look at her.
“Don’t read too much into it, Dee. He was going to kill me and take Ben.” I looked out the window, watching the thaw charge down the hillsides, coursing through the ditches. I wasn’t sure if she could hear me. I wasn’t even sure who it was I was supposed to be talking to. “Anyway, you’re already a cripple,” I said. “Me too. You’re my crutch. I think that’s the whole idea.”
She didn’t say anything to that. I switched on the stereo, turned away, tried to make myself comfortable, the wound starting to burn again. Closed my eyes but couldn’t stop thinking, about Gonzo, panned out on the pool table and holding the eight ball over the pocket because what else can you do when they want you to play with a crooked cue. I thought about Dutchie, sitting at home, hoping I was dead and hoping I wasn’t and realising, way too late, that you only ever have a choice in hindsight. I thought about Ben, how he’d have to wait another year for his snowman, wondering about who might help him build it. I thought about Denise, and how she might fare out getting someone to take her on with another man’s kid in tow. And I thought too about a dumb blonde answering the door in the middle of the night, shivering, not knowing that the cold was the last thing she would ever feel.
I knew Denise was watching, waiting. I liked that. Not enough to stay, but still.
###
About the Author:
Declan Burke is the author of EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, THE BIG O and CRIME ALWAYS PAYS. He is the editor of DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS: IRISH CRIME WRITING IN THE 21ST CENTURY. He lives in Wicklow, Ireland, with his wife Aileen and daughter Lily. He is not allowed to own a cat.
EIGHTBALL BOOGIE is available in hard copy from Lilliput Press
Contact Declan Burke online:
Blog: Crime Always Pays
Twitter: @declanburke
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