Ripped (63 page)

As
if
he
hadn't
heard
the
interruption,
Beltane
went
on,
'Think
of
rabbits
and
myxomatosis.'

'Rabbits?'
Murray
asked
despite
himself.

'Healthier
than
ever.
Bounding
about,
the
size
of
terriers
.
So
there's
always
a
worry.
Locomotor ataxia
is
a
terrible
affliction.
Gogarty's
joke
about
the
syphilitic
sprat
with
delusions
of
grandeur
–
thought
it
was
a
salmon.
The
ingenuity
of
the
malevolent
spirochaete
.
And
now
bloody
Aids –
Venus
is
a
fearful
goddess
.
'
They
had
arrived
at
the
summit
of
the
park.
Below,
ahead
of
them,
a
neat
grid
of
bungalows
stretched
to
where
high
flats
like
exclamation
marks
punctuated
the
middle
distance.
The
roof
of
the
bandstand
was
in
process
of
caving
in;
but
as
they
walked
round
it
they
came
on
a
bench
placed
where
a
side
wall
gathered
the
sun's
warmth
.
Seated
on
it,
they
looked
back
the
way
they
had
come,
a
vista
of
chimneys
and
slate
roofs,
among
which
were
deceptively
open
places
that
might
have
been
gardens
but
were
only
the
rubbled
lots
left
behind
when
the
old
tenements
had
been torn
down.

'At
this
distance,
on
a
day
of
clear
light,
it
looks
handsome,'
Beltane
said.
His
breathing
had
settled
and
he
leaned
his
hands
on
his
knees
contemplatively.
'Those
old
masons
who
cut
the
blocks
of
red
sandstone
or
white
were
craftsmen
who
knew
what
they
were
about.'

'If
you
did
give
me
her
address,
that
would
be
it.
Nobody
would know
where
I'd
got
it.'
As
he
said
this,
it
occurred
to
Murray
that
it
wasn't
necessarily
true,
since
the
man
in
the
Crusader
had
seen
them
going
off
together
perhaps
.
It
wasn't
a
thought
he
felt
he
had
to
share
with
Beltane.

'It's
nice
in
the
sun
here.'

'I
can
sit
in
the
sun
anywhere.'

'It
comes
back
to
being
brave
again,
doesn't
it?'
Everything
Beltane
said
in
that
deep
resonant
tone
sounded
well.
'Twenty
years
ago
Mary
O'Bannion
was
Kujavia's
alibi
for
murder.'

One
of
the
things
that
Murray
had
learned
was
that
when
people
broke
certain
silences
about
the
past
it
was
for
their
own
reasons;
the
wrong
question
could
stop
them
in
their
tracks.
He
waited
and
said
nothing.

'He
beat
one
of
his
women
to
death
with
an
iron
bar.
He'd
used
it
on
her
before
–
as
well
as
on
the
others.
But
this
time
he
went
too
far.
When
he
stopped,
she
was
dead.'
He
gave
Murray
a
strange
glance.
It
was
as
if
he
was
ashamed.
'Can
you
conceive
a
man
who
beats
women
with
an
iron
bar?
You'd
think
he
would
kill
everyone
he
touched.
I
can't
imagine
it.
But
they
say
it
was
only
that
one
who
died.'

'She
was
someone
you
knew.'
Murray
offered
it
quietly,
as
if
confirming
something
obvious.

'Can
you
imagine
even
beating
a
woman
with
your
fists?
It'll
be
easier
for
you.
You're
a
violent
man.
I
didn't
have
to
be
told
that
about
you.
I've
always
avoided
violence
,
that's
possible
even
in
this
city.
Yet
for
all
these
years
in
between
I
haven't
been
able
to
help
myself
from
thinking
about
that
iron
bar.
Beating
down,
beating
down
.
..'

'What
happened
to
Kujavia?'

'Nothing.
I
told
you
–
he
had
an
alibi.
He
wasn't
arrested.
He
didn't
even
get
his
name
in
the
papers.
But
the
girl
was
dead.'

'I
don't
see
how
you
can
know
it
was
Kujavia
who
did
it.'
Beltane
stared
blankly,
not
understanding.

'The
girl
was
dead,'
Murray
said.
'Kujavia
was
never
accused.
I
don't
imagine
he
confessed
to
you.
How
do
you
know
he
killed
her?'

'I
waited
for
something
to
happen,'
Beltane
said.
From
beyond
the
trees,
Murray
could
hear
the
chow
yap
itself
into
hysteria
like
a
toy
that
has
been
too
tightly
wound.
'I
couldn't
believe
there
wouldn't
be
justice,
God's
or
man's.
I
waited
for
him
to
go
to
jail
or
be
run
over
by
a
bus.
When
it
was
almost
too
much
for
me,
Billy
Shanks
sat
me
in
a
car
one
day
and
said,
"That's
him".
And
this ugly
little
man
walked
past.
It
didn't
seem
real
–
that
he
was
the
man.
You
read
about
things,
see
them
on
a
screen
.
..
Only
what
you
feel
in
your
own
flesh
is
real.'