First Death In Dublin City (Thomas Bishop Book 1) (21 page)

‘Ok so, like Jewel?’

‘Just like Jewel baby.’

‘Great, so where do I meet you?’ Tommy asked.

‘Between the Morrison Hotel and the Jervis Centre, call me when you get here honey.’

‘Ok, I’m just fifteen minutes away.’ Tommy said.

‘Ok honey, I have big boobs and ass, you will have fun time baby.’

And Tommy clicked off.

‘Drive to the Jervis Centre.’ He said.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Anne asked as they pulled out.

And so Tommy explained.

It took them little more than five minutes to cross the O’Connell Bridge and park near the cramped LUAS stop just off Jervis Street. Anne lit up a cigarette and Tommy got out of the car. On an electric wire a pair of shoddy runners were tied: drugs on sale here.

Tommy rang the number again, and got directed to a large browned steel building, Jervis House ran the sign over its front gate. The voice on the phone told Tommy to hit the buzzer of number 45, and once he had, the heavy door swung inward and behind it an Asian woman was smiling.

‘Hello, come in.’ She said, putting down the phone which had been at her ear.

Tommy followed her as she walked to the elevator.

‘What is your name honey?’ She asked once the elevator doors had closed.

‘John.’ Tommy said, smiling at his own joke.

‘Well I am Ling.’

They were silent then, as she led him from the elevator and out towards her apartment. The door was slightly ajar, and they both slipped in making the least amount of noise possible. She led him along a dark hallway; heavy bedroom doors to the left and the right, till she brought him with her into the fifth room. It was cramped in there, a large double bed taking up most of the space, while fresh cream sheets were folded on the old bed.

‘You want full service?’ She asked.

Tommy nodded.

‘That will be sixty euro half hour, one hundred for full hour.’ Ling said.

Tommy reached into his slacks, but instead of pulling out a wallet like Ling expected, he took out his Sig Sauer. Ling’s eyes widened with fear.

‘Go get your guy.’ Tommy said.

Ling just stared at him wide eyed, not able to take her eyes off the pistol.

‘Go!’ Tommy shouted, but the noise brought the guy anyway. He was a large man, Asian in origin, with rolls of flab seemingly everywhere on his person. His eyes flared when he saw Tommy with the gun, but it didn’t seem to frighten him, as he stepped forward to intercept Tommy.

So Tommy took out his other weapon, the Detective Inspectors badge – and the pimp stopped short.

‘I’m a Garda.’ Tommy said. ‘Look outside if you want, my partners outside.’ And with that Tommy threw the Sig down on the bed.

The Asian man shuffled past Tommy to the window, and he glanced out between the lace curtains, down at Anne smoking in a darkened car. He then shuffled back out, and after a minute Tommy heard him on the phone in the other room, shouting what sounded like Cantonese. Tommy glanced over at the prostitute still in the room, at her low cut top and long tanned legs; then he shivered and looked away.

It took just five minutes for the actual pimp arrived, it made sense that he would live in the same building. This guy, again, was Asian, but he was barely over five foot in height, with greasy hair tied back in a ponytail.

‘Officer, what can I do fo’ you?’ He asked.

‘Just want to talk, is all.’ Tommy said.

The man barked an order and the prostitute left.

‘We have you under investigation.’ Tommy said, and the pimp said ‘oh’.

‘Of course, we’re busy men, so we don’t need to be investigating legitimate businesses such as yours.’ Tommy said.

‘What do you want, money? Pah! A shake down.’ The pimp said.

‘No, of course not, are you suggesting we’re dirty? I resent such accusations. No, see, I said we’re very busy men; very busy men. Men being the operative word.’

‘Ohhhhhhhhh.’ Said the pimp.

‘There’s many a business in this city who give their wares to a Garda for free, sandwiches, chips, the like. Why should you be any different?’ Tommy asked.

‘So if you get to use my girls you’ll leave me alone?’

Tommy nodded.

‘Then use when you like, use when you like.’ He said.

‘You’re very kind, there will be no more survaillence and so long as you guys don’t cause any unnecessary noise or bother, you won’t be disturbed by any police action.’

‘Very good sir. Would you like Ling to come back?’

‘No, I’m good for tonight. I do however want to speak to one of your prostitutes, named Yuan? I need her to identify a client, and if she does that, I’ll be on my way, and you’ll be free to run your business however you want.’

The pimp looked unsure, clearly reticent about breaking his client confidentiality, but Tommy just raised his eyebrow, and he quickly forgot about the all-important confidentiality. Twenty minutes later, the girl named Yuan was before him in a pink dressing gown and slippers.

Tommy took out from his pocket six polaroid’s and placed them on the bed before himself.

‘Which of these have used you before?’ Tommy asked.

Yuan pointed straight away to one photo, and only one.

‘When did he last use you?’ Tommy asked.

‘Last night.’ She said.

The night Tanya was abducted and killed.

His disappointment must have shown, because Yuan put a hand on his shoulder, but all Tommy could notice was the face of David Breen staring at him from a faded photo, an innocent man. He got up and left, not even talking or saying goodbye to the strange scene he had just left behind.

When he reached the stairs, his disgust overcame him, and he debated what he could do, but then he realised, with there being no department to investigate prostitution, for either better or worse. So, really there was nothing to do but leave a report in the system tomorrow morning, and leave the scene as dust on his feet – he had a Ripper to catch and no leads to catch him with.

##

Jennifer was smoking under the white station light.

‘Fags are so unlike you. Give it to me.’ And she did, letting Tommy take a long drag before placing it back into her mouth.

‘How’re you?’ She asked.

‘Exhausted, no sleep last night and probably not a lot tonight either.’

‘I heard, about Tanya.’ Jenny said.

‘It knocked us off the front page anyway.’ Tommy said.

Jennifer chuckled.

‘You know I never really see you laugh like that.’ Tommy said.

‘The whole thing seems slightly absurd.’ She said. ‘Everything has changed in a week. Everything.’

Tommy rolled his eyes. ‘Join the club.’

And so they stood at the edge of the rainy night, on the precipice of the cold.

‘I like you Tommy.’ Jennifer said.

‘I like you too.’ Tommy replied without a second’s hesitation.

‘Fionbar was the one who made the story happen, the journalist works for one of his drinking buddies.’ Jennifer said.

‘Well who’s playing detective.’ Tommy said.

‘Tommy this isn’t funny, he might keep doing shit.’ Jennifer said.

‘Shit like tell the national media he’s been cuckholded? I think he came out worst out of the whole thing.’ Tommy said.

‘He came out worst!?’ Jennifer said.

‘Alright, after you then.’ Tommy said.

‘My fucking career.’ Jennifer said.

‘Your career will be fine, once you stop campaigning to have McGee repealed. That was a bit hypocritical.’ Tommy said.

Jennifer glared, so Tommy kissed her quickly on the lips.

‘What to fucking do?’ Said she.

‘I’m no political aide Jennifer, so I dunno. But honestly I thought you were coming here to close the books.’ Tommy said.

‘Close the books? What? No. Wait.. That’s not what you want is it?’ Jenny said.

‘I haven’t thought about what I want, but no.’ Tommy said.

‘Good, because I’m not having Fionbar ruin another good thing for me. Fucking ass, forgive my French.’ Jenny said.

‘Sorry, but how are you two married again?’ Tommy said.

‘He was the only guy in college who would wait until we were married to sleep together.’ Jenny said.

‘Classic.’ Said Tommy through laughs. ‘Now that is absurd.’

Jennifer suddenly grabbed Tommy’s hand in hers.

‘I want him to find us.’ Jenny said.

‘What?’ Tommy asked.s

‘For him to walk in on us, fucking like animals.’

‘Ehm…’

‘Please?’

‘I’ll think about it. I’ve a killer to catch though, so fetishes are fairly low down on my to do list.’ Tommy said.

‘Of course. The news sources said you might have arrested someone?’ Jenny asked.

‘It was nothing.’

‘So what now?’ Asked Jennifer.

‘We’re off to check up on the guy who gave us the lead.’

Jennifer grabbed his hand. ‘Give up the case Tommy; you’ve been in hell since it started.’

‘What?’ Tommy asked.

‘You were happy before Amy Clancy went missing. But since then you’ve been a wreck.’

‘I’m the best detective there is, the best the Gardaí have.’

‘Modest. But insane you’re no use to them.’

Tommy grabbed hard onto Jennifer’s shoulders.

‘I am going to find him.’

‘Then find him! Tommy I’ve known you for a little over a year and when I first met you, you were the most arrogant man I know. You told me you’d solved every single crime you’d ever been given; they were never added to the long list. And now? What have you become? You think I didn’t see the tracks on your arm the last few times we talked?’

Tommy stepped back, ashamed. ‘You.. You saw?’

‘Yes I fucking saw, and you know what? I couldn’t really care less; but would the old Tommy really have let a missing girl drive him to dope?’

‘It was the last straw.. The last few months I’ve been sliding.’

‘Yeah, well there’s a whole country who wants this thing solved, so you’re gonna have to shit or get off the pot – because I’d rather have Sergeant Tulip on it than you when you’re in this mood.’ Jenny said.

Tommy stood and stared at her, unsure whether he wanted to hit her or hug her. In the end he went for the latter and then ran out into the rain where Anne was waiting in a car for him.

‘I got you your stuff from the shop.’ And she handed over a packet of cigarettes and a can of Red Bull. Tommy glanced down at the smokes, and remembering what Jennifer had said, he threw them out the car window and into the rain.

‘Hey! What was that?’ Asked Anne.

‘I’m quitting.’ And Anne rolled her eyes in response. The Red Bull gave Tommy a hit he needed, as they drove off onto Ballyfermot Station. The traffic was heavy in the rain, and it took them an hour to make it, but they had phoned ahead so Peter Hayes was waiting outside for them.

The battered old station’s graffitied lobby was full, thirty or forty people queuing up to talk to the exhausted Garda behind the desk. GNIB, visa renewal deadline was upon them again.

Peter brought them with him, past the heavy wooden door that required a heavy shoulder to open.

‘Hasn’t been greased in yonks; only three months into the year and the station is already overbudget.’

Peter brought them into the common office which was drowned in paper and sat down in front of them.

‘Well? What’s up? The Ripper case I assume?’ Peter asked.

‘The very same.’ Tommy said.

‘Must be great, being given that size of a budget.’

Tommy huffed. ‘Well, this morning I got told that everyone in the team apart from Anne and me would be handed new casework; which basically means that I have no team anymore.’

‘Yeah, a team of seven nowadays seemed a little too good to be true. So what can I do for you?’ Peter said.

‘We had a tip off from a group of homeless men; turned out not to be true.’

‘First time ever a homeless man has lied to the Gardaí?’

‘Well, they didn’t know that it was the Ripper we were looking for, and even if they figured it out, they specifically pointed out someone as being guilty, who just so happened to be linked to the first victim.’

‘So you wanna check out what motivated them to lie so accurately?’

‘Precisely.’

‘Well, I have had a good bit of liason with them; in fact I’m a bit of an expert, but there are about six to ten thousand homeless in Dublin, and they are particularly difficult to find so unless you have some kind of name or something?’ Peter said.

‘Yeah, the evidence was given by a Mick O’Reilly; remember him? Him and his friends.’ Tommy said.

‘Yeah, beardy fellow; alcoholic?’