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Authors: Frederic Lindsay

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When
it
seemed
as
if
he
wouldn't
speak
again,
Murray
took
the
risk
and
asked,
'She
meant
something
special
to
you?'
It
was
a
question,
but
the
tone
was
so
mild,
almost
uninterested,
that
he
made
it
sound
as
though
the
answer
was
a
knowledge
they
already
shared
.

'I
was
twenty-four
years
old
and
I
had
never
been
to
bed
with
a
woman.
There
were
a
lot
of
us
like
that
back
there
in
pre-history.
I
was
walking
through
the
city
centre

going
home
to
Mother –
and
I
saw
this
girl
standing
under
the
light
of
a
corner.
She
was
too
skinny
for
anybody
to
be
afraid
of
her
.
Even
at
a
distance
she
looked
hungry.
I
knew
what
she
was.
We
went
down
a
flight
of
steps
into
a
basement
area.
She
wanted
me
to
wear
a
sheath

as
if
I
would
have
had
one.
She
said
something
about
the
other
women
letting
her
stand
there.
I
thought,
It's
her
very
first
night!
I
got
it
into
my
head
she'd
run
away
from
home
or
maybe
from
some
kind
of
institution.
The
light
slanted
down
through
the
railings
on
to
her
face
and
there
was
a
bruise
round
her
eye.
I
asked
her
what
had
happened
and
she
said,
A
man
gave
me
it.
Who
else
but
a
man?
She
had
such
a
strange
expression –
a
wince,
a
sneer,
a
poor
sort
of
bravado.
I
took
her
up
against
the
wall.
She
was
so
light
and
thin
but
I
drove
into
her
with
all
my
strength.
I
wanted
to
split
her
in
two.
It
was
the
most
terrible
excitement
of
my
life.'
He
turned
his
head
and
his
eyes
swam
back
from
the
lost
distance
.
'I
know
what
you
must
be
thinking.
How
much
that
must
make
you
despise
me.'

'You're
not
the
first
man
to
get
it
up
against
a
wall,'
Murray said.

'Once
a
policeman,
always
a
policeman
.
I'll
tell
you
something
that
will
make
you
think
worse
of
me
still.
I
saw
her
again.
As
often
as
I
could
find
her.
She
was
an
obsession.
That
went
on
for
a
year
almost
,
until
..
.
'

'Until
she
got
herself
killed.
She
was
the
one
Kujavia
beat
to death.'

'Oh,
no,'
Beltane
said,
as
if
it
should
have
been
obvious.
'She
– the
girl
I
was
obsessed
with

was
Mary
O'Bannion.
The
woman
who
was
killed
was
older.
She
was
quite
different –
she
came
from
Belgium.
She
had
children.
It
was
even
said
the
trouble
might
have
started
over
the
children

Kujavia
interfering
with
one
of
them.
But
they
were
very
young.'

'It
was
Mary
O'Bannion
who
told
you
all
of
this?'

Beltane's
face
contorted.
Later
Murray
would
think
the
face
of
the
girl
in
the
basement
must
have
looked
like
that,
a
wincing
bravado.
If
you
glanced
away
from
him,
however,
the
resonant
hypnotic
note
was
there
just
the
same
as
before.
'I
have
no
doubt
all
whores
hate
their
customers
in
their
hearts.
It's
perfectly
possible,
of
course,
that
some
of
them
don't
realise.
The
golden
hearted
ones.
It
would
be
better
for
them
not
to
realise.'

'You've
known
all
these
years
that
Kujavia
killed
the
girl.
But
if
Mary
O'Bannion
gave
him
an
alibi,
then
Mary
O'Bannion
could
take
it
away.'

'Did
you
know
that
Billy
Shanks
was
a
kind
man?'
Beltane wondered
softly.
'He
came
across
me
while
he
was
checking
up
on
Mary

Mary
O'Bannion.
He
was
starting
out
as
a
reporter,
only
at
the
beginning
of
his
career.
He
wasn't
any
older
than
I
was,
but
he
helped
me
.
I
didn't
understand
things
then.'

'So
you
found
out?'

'About
myself.'
Beltane
stood
up.
He
moved
away
so
quickly
that
Murray
had
to
hurry,
catching
the
first
words
as
they
drifted
back
to
him.
'Now
I
sit
on
my
arse
shuffling
papers
for
the
Region.
All
nonsense.
A
nonsense
life.
As
if
you
bought
a
ticket
for
a
journey
and
boarded
the
wrong
ship
by
mistake.
If
a
young
man
came
to
me,
I'd
tell
him
to
be
a
doctor

or
an
engineer

anything
that
will
stick
your
nose
in
the
world.
Don't
shuffle
papers –
better
than
that,
do
anything.
Bone
a
carcass.
Chine
a
loin
of
lamb.
Get
blood
on
your
elbows.
At
least
you'll
learn
how
a
man
is
made.'

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