Ride On (5 page)

‘What are you talking about?'

‘She'll be along in a minute. What kind of a prick will I look like? Can you not go and stand somewhere else?'

‘Where would you like me to go for fuck sake?'

‘I don't know. Around the other side of the statue or something?'

‘A fiver.'

‘What?'

‘Gimme a fiver and I'll go away.'

‘You can fuck off with yourself!'

‘Then I'm staying put. You make a good windbreaker, big fucker like you.'

‘I'm asking you now as a favour.'

‘Sorry pal. This is where the business is.'

‘There's no business you said a minute ago.'

‘Things have picked up a bit.'

‘Jesus, you're some bollocks. Here's your bloody fiver. Give me another rose.'

‘What? What are you going to do with two of them?'

‘I'll think of something. Now give me the rose and go off away around the other side of the statue. Oh Jesus. Here she is. Quick …'

‘Yer one in the boots? Jaysis, that's a bit of all right, that is. What's her name?'

‘You're looking for a basket up the hole now, is it?'

Norman was finally standing alone next to Molly as Trish walked up.

‘Hi. Sorry I'm late. Bloody buses.'

‘That's okay. Here.'

‘Oh, God, thanks! They're lovely. You shouldn't have. Two?'

‘Eh, yeah. In case you lose one.'

Nice one. Fuckin' eejit.

‘Are you hungry?' he said. ‘We've a good while before the gig. Or maybe a pint? Up to you …'

‘Actually, a pint would be good. I'm not that hungry. I never am when I work nights.'

‘McDaids?'

‘Yeah, great.'

There was a good Friday night crowd in the pub. Norman found one stool at the window just inside the door and helped Trish off with her coat. He just about managed not to bless himself when he saw what was hidden under it. This outfit she had on her now was a different story altogether from the nurse's uniform or the last time they were out. The coat slipped off her shoulders and into his faintly quivering hands to properly reveal the kind of woman that Norman had been fantasising about since he was twelve. Tall, strong, curvy. Not like the little tarts on the telly with nothing to them.

‘You look very … eh … you look very pretty tonight,' he said, folding her coat. He was all red.

‘Thanks,' she smiled. ‘Without the coat, like?'

‘Oh Jesus, no. That's not what I meant. You looked lovely outside too. I just meant …'

She laughed.

‘Only joking Norman. Hey, you look lovely too.' She looked into his face. ‘You're pretty cute when you're flustered, do you know that?'

He shook his head, looking at the floor, and muttered something.

‘What's that?' she said, leaning in.

‘I said I must look like fucking Bambi so, at the moment.'

She kissed him on the cheek with a grin, one hand on his side as she stretched up to him. She wasn't at all shy about personal space, Trish. Probably came from being a nurse. The things they saw and did all day, there was hardly much room for being sensitive about shite like that.

‘That's for the roses,' she said. ‘And hey, let me get you a pint too.'

‘No, no. I'll get the drinks. What are you having?'

She got up on her toes again to try and see the taps at the bar. Her big breasts bounced slightly under her blouse with the sudden movement and he gawked at her without meaning to, a funny noise coming out of his throat on its own.

‘Do they have Murphys here?' she said, turning back to him.

Murphys? His bad leg nearly gave way on him.

*

Norman relaxed over the next hour. She was so natural and easy that he forgot his usual worries about fucking everything up every time he opened his gob. By the time he was holding out her coat for again, he was feeling the glow from three pints and getting a bit excited about seeing the lads on the stage. It turned out that she'd seen The Grove before, years ago, in the Baggot, when she'd just moved to Dublin.

‘I remember the drummer. He was chatting up all the girls at the bar afterwards. Mind you, that's a long time ago. It mightn't even be the same guy they have now.'

Norman said nothing.

They headed around to Thomas Street and saw the queue tail around the corner.

‘Hope it's moving,' said Trish. ‘It's a bit cold to be standing around.'

Norman took a deep breath and her hand in his, closing his eyes for a second and praying that Jimmy had remembered to say something to the doorman.

‘Come on,' he said. ‘We'll be grand.'

They walked up the top of the queue, Norman trying to be nonchalant but convinced that he had a head on him like a tomato.

‘Yes sir?'

Posh accent. Not like they used to be, bouncers.

‘Norman Kelly,' said Norman, swallowing. ‘I think … eh …'

‘Ah yes, Mr. Kelly. Please, would you like to follow me?'

‘Eh … okay … thanks.'

The guy led them into the venue and through a couple of doors until they found themselves in what Norman took to be some kind of member's lounge. Well-dressed people were mingling, the tinkle of ice and hum of poser bullshit hanging in the air. He could feel Trish staring at him, but he didn't want to say anything until he knew what was going on.

‘The VIP room, Mr. Kelly. Please help yourself to refreshments. Will I tell the band that you've arrived?'

‘Ah … eh … no. No. Leave them be. I'll talk to them later, sure.'

‘Very good, sir.' He shook Norman's hand. ‘On behalf of the management here at Vicar Street, I hope you have a great evening.' Then he turned to Trish and gave a small bow. ‘Miss.'

And then he was gone.

Norman finally looked down at Trish, with a small embarrassed smile. She was looking at him like someone had just groped her arse.

‘What the fuck was that?' she said, her Kerry accent on full now and her eyes huge. ‘“Will I tell the band you've arrived?” Who are you? Jesus, is the gardening just a part-time thing with you or what's the story? Should I be ringing the girls?'

‘Sorry,' said Norman. ‘I forgot to tell you. I'm just mates with the band.'

‘Jesus, yer man looked like he'd been waiting all night for you to show up.'

‘Well … eh … I've known the lads for a good while, like …'

‘Look at this place! Oh, is that … look, Norman, there's our taxi man from last week.'

He was standing with a girl at the bar, waving over and giving Norman the thumbs up.

‘Yeah. Jimmy said it was okay if I brought a few people and then I remembered that I'd made that fella a promise, so I called him earlier. Told him to mention my name at the door.'

‘Lucky him. He probably wasn't expecting the VIP treatment.'

‘Yeah. Well Jesus, neither was I, to be honest.'

The taxi man was making his way over. Norman had never seen a grin that big before.

‘The mot thinks I'm bleedin' ice cream,' said the guy, shaking Norman's hand. ‘You could sprinkle nuts on me. If you're ever stuck for a taxi, Norman, you give me a bell, right? Day or night. No problem.'

‘Thanks.'

‘Howarya again,' he said to Trish.

‘Hi.'

He nodded back to Norman.

‘Has this fella got the clamps on you yet?'

‘Maybe I'm the one with the clamps,' said Trish, smiling.

‘Jaysis, I don't think you need them. But he's a good bloke. Fair play to him for giving me a bell today. A lot of blokes wouldn't bother their arse. You could do a lot worse for yourself.'

‘I think you might be right.'

She looked up at Norman and grinned. Norman just fidgeted and looked away.

*

Norman and Trish stayed in Aesop's that night. If Aesop came home at all later they didn't hear him. Norman turned the key and they went straight up the stairs to the spare bedroom. It was nearly as big as the main one and had just been fitted with a king-sized bed. Aesop's sister had spent the previous Wednesday buying all the trimmings and it looked brilliant.

Trish turned on the light and then looked around at Norman.

‘Aren't you full of surprises?'

He gave a small shrug.

‘Sure, it was me that painted it for the bollocks.'

‘Ah, Aesop's great. They both are. God, I can't believe you've all been mates since you were kids.'

Norman nodded and tried to smile. He was a little bit down. After the gig, backstage, Trish and Aesop had gotten on like a house on fire. Norman was trying to be sociable and talking to whoever was around, but he kept hearing her laugh and he'd look over to see Aesop telling her something, all arms and mad expressions the way he was when he was on the pull. The two of them had found a small sofa and she'd probably spent an hour at least being charmed by the fucker and howling her head off with him. Norman knew it was pointless being jealous over someone like Aesop. When it came to women, he couldn't compete with that. It fucking hurt him a bit though. He really liked Trish and the idea that she'd fall for Aesop … and to think that he'd been the one that actually told him to be fucking nice to her!

‘Yeah. I noticed you were talking to Aesop a lot all right. The girls seem to go for him.'

‘I can see why!'

‘Yeah …'

‘What?'

‘Hmm? Nothing.'

‘Is something wrong?'

‘No. No.'

‘Oh God. It's not Aesop, is it?'

‘What? No. Don't be silly. What are you talking about?'

‘Norman, look at me.'

‘What?'

‘Where's Aesop?'

‘Christ only knows.'

‘Right. And where are you?'

‘I'm here.'

‘Yeah. And where am I?'

‘You're here.'

She nodded and put her hand on his face, going up on her toes to kiss him.

‘And what does that tell you? Don't be going and getting all peculiar now on me. I've had a brilliant night.'

‘Ah, I'm sorry Trish. I've just known him for a long time and … he's a great bloke, but …'

She shook her head at him, her eyes closed, and he stopped talking. Then she started to unbutton her top, letting it and her bra fall to the floor. Norman looked down at her, his breath catching.

‘Holy fuck,' he said, unable to help himself.

She started to unbutton his shirt then, and reached up to pull it from his shoulders. She ran her hands down his chest and around by his sides to pull him closer. Something under her fingers caught her attention. She lifted up his arm to look and found the beginning of the twenty-inch scar that ran in jagged angles from his ribs down and then around to the middle of his back. She frowned at him, but he just shrugged at her and sighed.

‘Collapsed lung. When I was younger. They had to operate.'

She ran her finger along the raised flesh again and looked up at him, but his eyes were closed. Okay. If that's the way he wanted it. But she wasn't stupid. Plus, she knew a thing or two about scars. And collapsed lungs for that matter. No surgeon had done that to him.

But that was fine; he didn't want her to know.

‘You should have sued,' she said.

A few weeks later, Jimmy was heading into the studio with a guitar riff going through his head. It wasn't really a Grove thing, but he knew that it would suit Leet for one of their songs. He wasn't interested in getting a writing credit, or even one for performance on the Leet album, but he'd teach it to Eamonn the guitar player the next day. In the meantime he wanted to get the thing recorded with their click tracks before he bloody forgot it. He'd been fucking useless for months and didn't trust himself to hang onto an actual decent piece of music in his head for more than one day at a time any more. He'd only been able to finish out their own album with ‘More Than Me' because he'd started the song months before, when Marco had asked him to be his best man.

He rounded the corner and started making his way up the street to the front door of Sin Bin, not even noticing the cop car that was parked on the kerb right outside.

He opened up the door and stepped into the warmth of the studio with a big sigh of relief, taking off his coat and slapping his hands together to get some blood back into them. Another fucking cracking Irish winter so it was, the stinging wind outside whipping your nipples into points you could use to cut glass.

‘Jesus,' he said, opening the control room door. ‘Poxy cold out there again …'

He stopped. No one was there. He looked through the window into the main room and gasped, feeling something like a smack in his chest. Dónal, Sparky and Aesop were out there with two cops. Aesop. Jimmy hadn't seen him all week. Oh … fuck, no. What was the gobshite after doing? Was he after getting snared with gange? The dopey bastard. I'll fucking kill him. Hang on, Jimmy. Hang on. He's never been caught before. They'll only give him a bollocking. Right? They only gave you a bollocking the first time, didn't they? But … why would they send two cops around to the studio just for that? Didn't sound right. Something was up. Fuck, please let it only have been gange. Please, please, please. Jimmy was pretty sure that Aesop didn't mess around with other stuff, but there were a lot of new people hanging around them these days after gigs and all. Sparky had already given them a pointed and carefully rehearsed speech about it. ‘Keep an eye out for cunts', he'd said.

Jimmy watched his hand go out to the handle of the door and push it open. He heart was hammering like it was about to give out on him.

‘Wh … wha …' he stammered, stepping inside and looking at everyone.

Garda Number One turned around to him. He was a big bloke. Big as Norman and made even bigger by the huge yellow shiny anoraks they have to wear.

‘Who are you?' he said. Culchie.

‘I'm Jimmy. What did he do?' He looked at Aesop. ‘What are you after doing?'

‘Jaysis, Jimmy,' said Aesop, laughing. ‘You're some best friend, you know that? The boys in blue call around … “The man we're holding says that you can attest to his whereabouts yesterday afternoon. Is this true?” “Yes Garda, he was out robbing the post office.”'

‘Jimmy,' said Dónal. ‘I tried calling you earlier but you weren't picking up.'

‘I was at Ma's all morning. I left me phone at home and haven't been back. What's going on?'

‘I'm afraid we have a bit of a problem. The two Gardaí here are helping us out with it.'

‘What did he do?'

‘He didn't do anything. It's okay Jimmy. He's not in trouble. Well, not like that …'

‘What? What's happening then?'

‘Well, we're just trying to find out.'

‘Garda Egan,' said the big one, from behind a moustache he could have used to grow cabbage.

‘I'm Garda Ní Mhurchú,' said his mate, who was a girl copper. Fairly short for a copper, and a bit pudgy. Very short hair and a not a whole lot of soft feminine vibes. A bit of a bulldog head on her. ‘We're just asking Mr. Murray a few questions to help us in connection with an incident that's been reported. You're Jimmy Collins, right? I've seen you guys play. Last October it was, in the Town Hall in Galway. It was a great night.'

‘Oh. Eh … okay. Thanks. And … so … and … what's wrong now?'

Garda Ní Mhurchú turned to the others and raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, it's grand, you can tell him,' said Aesop, waving a hand at her. ‘He probably won't even be surprised.'

‘It seems that Mr. Murray has offended someone to the point where they've been threatening him.'

Jimmy just nodded at her slowly.

‘Told you,' said Aesop, opening a Twix.

‘What kind of threats?'

‘Well … we don't need to go into that just now. Do you mind if I take off this coat? It's very warm in here.'

‘Not at all,' said Dónal. ‘Go mad. Do you want a cup of tea?'

They both nodded.

‘Lovely.'

‘Sparky, would you mind doing the honours?'

When they were all settled around a low coffee table in the lounge area, Garda Ní Mhurchú took out her notebook and started writing in it. Jimmy was just sitting on the edge of his chair, his tea getting cold in front of him.

‘So, first of all, you don't know who's been doing this?' said Garda Ní Mhurchú.

‘No clue,' said Aesop.

‘But it would seem to be a woman, based on what we know?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Okay. And is there one particular woman in your life right now? A girlfriend or partner, or … ?'

‘No. Well, just Jennifer I s'pose.'

‘Jennifer?'

‘Me sister.'

‘And would you say your sister is … estranged at all?'

‘Ah she can be, yeah. Well, she's always talking to her goldfish, y'know? Stuff like that. You'd swear they were … but, nah, not anything this bad. And anyway, I know her. When she's annoyed with me she usually just tells me I'm a fu … fool.'

Jimmy closed his eyes and sighed. He was used to jumping in when Aesop met new people, but he didn't know if he was supposed to do it when he was being interviewed by the police.

‘Okay. And what about other women in your life, Mr. Murray? I mean in a social context. Do you … date for instance? Or are you seeing anyone regularly?'

‘This should be fucking good,' muttered Jimmy under his breath, as he picked up his cup and sat back in his chair for the first time. Sparky suddenly cleared his throat and left to put the kettle on again. Dónal started to fidget on the sofa.

Aesop was finishing the Twix and fingering the wrapper as he thought.

‘Mr. Murray?'

‘Well, Garda Ní Mhurchú … y'see … eh … sorry, would you mind calling me Aesop? I feel like me Da's standing right behind me or something. It's making me nervous.'

‘Of course. Aesop. So … do you see anyone regularly, Aesop?'

‘Well … no. Not any one girl in particular.'

‘But you've been with a number of women recently?'

‘What's recently?'

‘Well, let's say since Christmas.'

‘Yes. A number.'

‘A big number?'

‘Well … medium-sized. I had a bit of a cold there a few weeks ago.'

‘I see. Aesop, maybe if we started with the last woman you … em … wooed.'

‘Okay.'

‘When was that?'

‘Yesterday. No, no … the day before. Tuesday.'

‘You're not sure?'

‘Well I was with a girl yesterday all right, but I wouldn't say I wooed her exactly. But that's grand as well sometimes, y'know?'

‘I'm sorry?'

‘Well, some young ones are just quiet, like. But I definitely wooed the one on Tuesday. We had an hour to kill before “Desperate Housewives” so I thought I might as well take her the scenic route. She wooed a fair bit. I remember it because I don't have much furniture yet, so there's a bit of an echo around the gaff and I was afraid that …'

Everyone was looking at him.

‘What?'

Jimmy looked around at Garda Ní Mhurchú. She had a nice big frosty head on her now. She glared at Aesop for a minute and then tapped her notepad.

‘You said you were with someone last night?'

‘Eh … yeah. Out in Drimnagh somewhere. Had to get a taxi back.'

‘Okay. But these threats started last week. Did you know this girl before last night? Had you met her before?'

‘Eh … not sure. But it's fairly unlikely. I'm not really one for swapping numbers afterwards and being mates and all, y'know?'

‘Mr Murray … Aesop … if we were just to take the last few weeks, since the New Year, how many girls' names would I be able to put in this notebook?'

‘Their names?' Aesop scratched his head. ‘Jaysis … well, you won't have to go looking for your pencil parer.'

‘So … a few, just?'

‘No. More than that.'

‘So then … what's … is it that you can't remember their names?'

Aesop sighed.

‘I don't really like to get attached, Garda. I tend to forget names. You know the way hoors don't like kissing you on the lips? That's me with names. Otherwise it gets all personal and you end up with a head full of women and you're trying to match names with faces and what you said to who and what happened … ah, it makes things very complicated, y'know? If it'll help I'd say there was probably about a dozen of them. God, that makes them all sound like slappers, doesn't it? They weren't though. They were lovely. And one of them was definitely Russian. Or she had that accent anyway. Russian … German … Norwegian … y'know that kind of way? Nice girl. She was wearing this blue yoke.'

Garda Ní Mhurchú had stopped taking notes now. She was just staring at Aesop.

‘And, just out of interest, the last six months?'

Aesop frowned off into the distance and started to try and count in his head, his lips and fingers moving for a couple of minutes.

‘Jimmy, when were we in Japan?' he said eventually.

‘About six months ago Aesop.'

Jimmy was mortified, his head hanging down. Dónal had already gone to help Sparky in the kitchen.

‘Will I include that?' said Aesop to Garda Ní Mhurchú. ‘I was a teacher out there for a bit. It's a deadly way to meet girls, y'know yourself …'

‘No I don't,' she said. She'd put down the pad again and was sitting back against the chair just looking at him.

‘Okay, well, sure I'll add them in too. Right. Now where … ah shite. I'm after losing where I was. Will I use your pad?'

‘Just an estimate is fine. No need to be exact at this point. I'm just trying to get a feel for what we're up against.' She looked at her colleague. ‘I think I'm starting to get an idea.'

‘Okay. Eh … and it's only riding now we're talking about, right? Not birds I just got talking to down the shops or whatever …'

Jimmy couldn't take it any more. He stood up and started walking into the kitchen.

‘I'll … just see if that kettle is boiled yet.'

*

Jimmy showed the Gardaí out. At the door, Garda Ní Mhurchú turned to him.

‘Mr. Collins, I take it you're the … brains of the operation?'

Jimmy shrugged and gave a little nod.

‘There's no reason to panic or anything, but Mr. Murray needs to be vigilant until this is sorted out. I'm not sure he's … on the same page as everyone else.'

‘He's not even in the same library.'

‘Right. Well, here's my number in case he does manage to piece together any of his … encounters. Maybe he'll be able to give us a bit more information.'

‘Thanks Garda.'

‘He mentioned that he used to give your name out to girls? I'm afraid I had to stop listening when he was explaining why.'

‘Yeah. Well he doesn't do it any more. I told him to stop. Anyway, we're both kind of well-known now, so there wouldn't be much point.'

‘Right. Well, just in case, you be a little careful yourself. It's possible that the …' She paused to get the right words. ‘ … utterly demented … girl that has a fixation on him might find her way to you by accident.'

‘Jesus, I never thought of that. I still don't even know what happened.'

‘They can tell you upstairs. But, again, no need to panic. I'm sure we'll be able to deal with this quickly and quietly.'

‘I really appreciate this Garda. Thanks for coming out today.'

‘No problem at all. And best of luck with the new album. I hear it's coming out soon?'

‘Oh yeah. Thanks. Couple of weeks.'

‘I'll be sure to pick up a copy.'

‘Great.'

Jimmy came back up the stairs to find the others all sitting around the coffee table looking at him.

‘So, will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?' said Jimmy.

Dónal picked up the empty cups and started bringing them into the kitchen.

‘It seems that one of the girls this dirty little bastard has been sniffing around didn't appreciate the way she was treated either during or after the liason,' he said.

‘A tenner says it was after,' said Aesop.

‘Aesop, there were two Gardaí in here a minute ago,' said Jimmy. ‘This is not the best time for you to be fucking about.'

‘Yeah. I don't think Garda Ní Mhurchú liked me. The head on him.'

Jimmy frowned at him.

‘What?'

‘What?'

‘Aesop, you do know that Garda Ní Mhurchú was a woman, don't you?'

‘What? Get fucked.'

‘Aesop, she was a girl!'

‘She was not. Why do you think that?'

‘Well, her fucking name for starters.'

‘What are you on about? It's just Mhurchú. Murphy, right?'

‘It's Ní Mhurchú! Ní is what women use in Irish.'

‘Me bollocks! And anyway, why didn't she call herself Ban Garda Ní Mhurchú then, if she's a woman?'

‘Because they don't do that any more. They're all just Garda.'