“I told him that you could work the case until my full-time detective returned on Sunday, but after that you’d have to return to regular duty. I can’t afford to pay you to work on a case that another team is now working, can I?”
“But Superintendent Clare asked you to.”
“He did,” the chief inspector said slowly. “And the compromise I have come up with is that you’ll work the case with Sergeant McCrabban until Lawson’s return, and then all three of you will return to regular duty.”
“Uhm, what day is today?”
“Friday.”
“I see.”
“As you said yourself, we’ve already had Duffy’s Last Case, haven’t we? You don’t want to be like Sinatra, do you? A new ‘Farewell Tour’ every year.”
“No, sir. Friday. Well, I suppose we better get cracking, then.”
It took me fifteen minutes to find Crabbie up on the roof with a mug of tea, looking at the lough.
He was clearly avoiding me.
“I brought you some biscuits,” I said.
“Thank you,” he replied politely.
“Whatcha doing up here?”
“Thinking.”
“Good spot. Up on the roof between the rain showers. Nice. Get a wee gander at the lough and Belfast.”
He frowned. “Maybe we should just keep things on a professional level for now on, Sean. Restrict our conversations to police work.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Perhaps that would be for the best. Things were said that were best left unsaid.”
“Things were said that were complete bollocks.”
“So police work only, please? If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
I stood there next to him for a while. He cleared his throat. “Was there anything else?”
“Nope.”
I went downstairs and closed my office door.
Lawson’s office door.
Half an hour later, Crabbie opened it.
I could tell from his expression that he hadn’t come to make up. He was all business.
“What’s happened?”
“We got a phone call from Inspector O’Neill from Dundalk Garda. They’re having a wake for Alan Locke in the bowling club in Dundalk tonight. Apparently, they’ve discovered an old membership card, and the club members want to pay their respects to him.”
“That’s interesting.”