Colm & the Ghost's Revenge (10 page)

Getting lost was also a typical Brute thing to do.

‘I went through all that just to get here. That's a lot to do, right? You wouldn't do that just 'cos you were bored, would ya? You'd have to be serious to do something like that.'

Colm nodded. ‘But I still don't underst–'

‘Ma and Seanie went out for a meal the night before last. I was at home texting a couple of my girlfriends and I fell asleep on the couch. Didn't wake up until the next morning. It was only then I noticed that they hadn't come home. The bed hadn't been slept in or anything.'

Colm had to admit that that didn't sound good. ‘Did you try their mobiles?'

‘No, I never thought of that. I just decided to take a trip to Dublin to ask you if you'd seen them,' The Brute replied. ‘Course I tried them. Loads of times. And you know what my ma is like. Same as yours. She'd answer her phone even if she was at a funeral.'

‘That's true.'

‘It gets worse. When I got to your estate, which is a very confusing place, by the way, someone began to follow me. Someone dressed in black. They were big and scary.'

Uh-oh, Colm thought. This is getting worse by the second. He knew he'd heard something earlier. ‘Do you know why they were following you?'

‘No, so I stopped them and asked.'

‘You didn't, did you?' Colm was astonished.

The Brute rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I didn't. Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it? I ran. I'm fast, y'know. Fastest in the school. I can outsprint the sixth years. Anyway, I doubled back and ran around the estate, then hopped over your back wall, climbed onto the top of your bins and pulled myself onto the kitchen roof. Then I dragged myself through the bathroom window. I thought if I rang the doorbell whoever was following me might come here and I didn't want to put Auntie Mary in any danger.'

Colm was surprised by his cousin's thoughtfulness. He was usually a ‘thinking of number one' kind of fella.

‘You think someone's kidnapped your mam and Seanie, don't you?'

‘Yep. And I think they're coming for us,' said The Brute.

C
olm needed to keep a clear head if he was going to get to the bottom of this. Panic was never a friend in times of crisis. He rang his mother's mobile. No answer. He tried his dad's. Straight to voicemail. That wasn't so bad. He was busy at work so he'd probably switched it off. But his mam should have answered. The Brute was right about that. She always answered her phone.

He went into the kitchen and found his cousin munching his way through another packet of chocolate biscuits he'd managed to liberate from their cupboardly prison. He'd obviously been pacing again because there was a trail of crumbs on the kitchen floor large enough for Hansel and Gretel to follow.

‘I eat when I'm worried about something,' he said. ‘So, what do we do now?'

‘We ring the gardaí,' Colm said.

‘And tell them what? That nearly two years ago we were attacked by a vicious zombie …'

‘Vamumzompire,' Colm said.

‘That's never going to catch on. It takes forever to say it. “Watch out behind you, there's a vamumzom–” You'd be dead meat before I'd finished the sentence. Anyway, stop interrupting. Where was I? Oh yeah, attacked by a vicious … thing that had been brought back to life by a magical key which was wanted by a man who just happened to be the world's most dangerous criminal, but we destroyed them both and now we think someone's after us probably looking for revenge,' The Brute said.

‘No, we won't tell them that because that'd sound stupid. We tell them that your parents have disappeared …'

‘SEANIE'S NOT MY DAD!' The Brute roared. He took a calming breath and said in a more normal tone, ‘I have a dad and he's brilliant. OK?'

‘OK,' Colm nodded. ‘Sorry. We tell them that your mam and
stepfather
have disappeared, we can't get in touch with mine and we're stuck on our own. If they believe us they'll search for them and put us someplace safe. If they don't, then we'll have to look for them ourselves.'

‘You're right. That sounds like a better idea. That's why you've got the brains and I've got the looks.'

‘The looks of an orangutan,' Colm muttered.

He rang directory enquiries and asked for the number of his local garda station. The operator patched him through.

‘It's dialling now,' Colm said.

The Brute gave him the thumbs-up, somehow managing to make the gesture appear threatening.

‘Hello, Whitehall Garda Station,' said a female voice.

The doorbell rang.

‘It'll be your mam. I'll get it,' The Brute said and legged it.

‘No,' Colm shouted after him. ‘My mam has a key. She never forgets it.'

‘That's good to know. Thanks for the information, young man,' said the garda on the other end of the line.

The Brute returned and he wasn't alone. ‘I think you'd better hang up the phone,' he said.

Three men followed him into the kitchen. Although Colm didn't know it yet, they were the same three who had kidnapped Kate Finkle earlier that day.

‘Hang up and don't even think about asking your phone friend for help if you know what's good for you,' the wiry man scowled. He winced as he said it, still troubled by the cracked ribs Kate had given him. He gave a curt nod and Uggo grabbed The Brute and threw him against the wall. The Brute suppressed a yelp of pain.

‘I'll call back later,' Colm said into the phone.

‘Can't wait,' said the garda as she hung up.

The Brute got to his feet a little shakily.

‘What are you doing here? What do you want?' Colm asked, his thoughts whirling around at a million miles an hour.

‘You don't ask the questions, I do,' the wiry man replied.

‘Don't even think about hurting him,' Colm said. It made him sound far braver than he actually felt at that moment. If they did start beating up his cousin he had no idea what he would do. When it came to fighting Colm was more likely to injure himself than anyone else.

‘Hurt him? I hadn't planned on that, but maybe I should,' grinned the wiry man.

‘That's it, Colm. Give 'em ideas,' The Brute said.

‘If you lay one finger on him …' Colm began in a shaky voice.

‘Oh, I won't be doing any of the dirty work. My two employees will take care of that side of things. They'll do whatever I tell them to do,' said the wiry man.

Pretty Boy grunted. It was a grunt that signified ‘no', rather than the slightly deeper one that would have indicated ‘yes'.

‘Definitely not,' Uggo agreed.

‘But I'm in charge,' wailed the wiry man. As soon as he'd said it he realised that being whiny didn't make him sound like he was in charge. It just made him sound weak.

‘Let's sort this out like men,' The Brute said. ‘Three against two just isn't right though, is it? You look like men of honour. I'll take one of you on. Muscle against muscle. Beauty versus The Beast.
Mano a mano
. I win, you apologise and leave.'

‘What if we win?' Uggo asked.

‘Then you do what you have to do.'

Well, that's about the stupidest idea I've ever heard, Colm thought.

Ten minutes earlier Cedric Murphy had been sitting behind the wheel of his car watching the men he'd followed as they in turn had watched a house. Of course it wasn't actually his car. They'd have recognised that in an instant. He'd tried to rent one with his Visa card but the transaction hadn't gone through. He was well over his limit. Luckily, he had a contact in Shannon airport that he'd used before. The man was a big fan of detectives. He thought their lives were hugely exciting compared to his, which was true, and he'd arranged for Cedric to collect this car without paying for it.

‘I'll be sacked if my boss finds out I've given you a loaner, so promise me you won't get a scratch on it,' Mark had said.

‘I promise,' Cedric replied. ‘I'll only be tailing a couple of suspects. I won't be going near them tonight.'

‘OK. But not a scratch. And bring it to my office within forty-eight hours. I'm putting it down as a two-day rental with a drop-off in Shannon, so it has to be on time. I can't emphasise that enough. I'm doing you a big favour, so, you know, next time you're going on a stakeout anywhere near Limerick you've got to let me go along.'

‘You'll be top of my list, Mark. I can't think of anything I'd rather do with my time than sit in a car and tell you all about my life as a detective.'

‘Really? That's very nice of you. Thanks!'

Cedric sighed. Mark didn't get it. Kate Finkle would have understood that he was being sarcastic. In fact, she'd have just said something deeply hurtful in reply. It was at times like this that he really missed her. He had been putting off making the call to tell her he was going to have to let her go from her job. Now that he thought of it though, it was strange that she hadn't rung him. She usually did, just for the company, or to nag him about something he had or hadn't done. Mainly the nagging. Was she OK? Maybe he should swing by her apartment and …

‘So you'll have the car at my office by 7 a.m. on the 1st,' Mark had said, interrupting Cedric's train of thought.

‘I can guarantee it,' Cedric lied.

When he'd collected the car – a nice, comfortable, but not particularly speedy, black saloon – he'd checked the tracking device and followed it until it led him to this place. He had stopped just down the road from the two-bedroom townhouse in a boring suburb the men were parked outside. Cedric couldn't imagine what sort of business they had here. Some sort of stakeout probably. It seemed like a nice enough place to live, he thought. No litter on the ground. Tasteful shrubbery. Hanging baskets. Lawns cut in a uniform fashion. Must have a good residents' association. He couldn't think of anything duller than growing up and becoming a member of a residents' association. One minute you're ten years old and dreaming of playing professional football or becoming a rockstar or an astronaut, the next you're a member of the local residents' association and genuinely worrying about things like the fact that the neighbour hasn't cut their lawn in three weeks and the place looks a bit raggedy. I hope I'm dead before I start thinking like that, he thought.

The car doors opened and three men got out. Heyho, here we go, Cedric said to himself. Now we'll see what you're up to. One of the men was smaller and skinnier than the others and seemed to be talking at a mile a minute. The other two were big bruisers. Professionals by the looks of things. Dangerous. He recognised one of them, the less handsome of the two, as the man who had thrown him down the stairs. They followed the wiry man, who was still talking. The two goons exchanged glances and one of them made a gun sign with his thumb and forefinger aiming it at the back of the skinny guy's head. They both laughed at that.

They reached the door and rang the bell. The two men snapped into pro mode. They drew themselves up to their full height and put on their game faces, determined to intimidate whoever was in the house. Cedric wondered why they were taking this approach – no one going around the back to make sure someone wasn't going to make a run for it. That meant one thing. Whoever they were calling on wasn't expecting trouble. Well, you're just about to get it, you poor sucker, Cedric said to himself.

The door swung open. The guy who answered it was big for his age, but still just a kid. Couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen. He switched on the porch light just as the men shoved him back inside the house. Cedric caught the merest glimpse of his face. He's a bit more orange than I remember, but I know him, he thought. He didn't rush in to save the kid from whatever was happening though. Cedric wasn't a big fan of unnecessary heroism. Especially when there was no one around to appreciate it. Where's the residents' association and the nosy neighbours when you need them, he wondered. When he saw that there were no curtains twitching or anybody running over to check what was going on, he grew restless. He could hear Kate's voice in his head: ‘Get over there and help that young fella, you big, selfish lump.'

He decided to ignore it. He wasn't going to live a very long life if he listened to his conscience. It only ever got him into trouble. He settled back into his seat and turned on the radio. That would pass the time. No, he wasn't going in. Definitely not.

As he was trying to get comfortable he noticed a girl dressed in black racing across the road. Where had she come from? Had she been hiding there all along? He watched, almost in disbelief, as she ran along the narrow drive that led to the house, then leaped over the wrought-iron gate that separated the front garden from the back, before dropping out of sight on the far side.

‘This just got really interesting,' Cedric said to himself.

Was the girl following the men too? Or was she there to help them? Over the next few minutes his conscience reared its ugly head again. A kid? A girl? Against those guys? He sighed. Sometimes he really, really hated his life. Really. Thanks, Kate, he said to himself as he got out of the car. Thanks for five years of service and the way you drip-fed me honesty and morals when they are the very last things a private detective needs.

He was right. But one thing a private detective definitely does need is to be observant and if Cedric had been more observant at that moment he might have noticed the bounty hunter who had also been watching what had unfolded.

‘Busy here tonight,' McGrue said to himself.