Next we’d get to whose fault it was. He asked,

“Know who I blame?”

“No idea.”

“Your Arabs.”

“Oh.”

“They drug the water.”

When we got to Carnmore, I asked,

“Can you wait?”

“Sure. You want me to come inside, grab a tea with you?”

“No.”

As Kiki came through the gate, my heart did a minor chord. Not wild abandon, more a distant relative. She looked gorgeous. Navy jacket, faded blue cords. I said,

“You look gorgeous.”

Put her arms round me, full kiss, said,

“Jack, you’re blushing.”

“That’s mortification.”

Got her bags, and to my relief, they were small. Not planning a long trip. Getting in the cab, I said,

“Don’t mention sport.”

As we pulled out, the driver said,

“There’s been positive dope testing…”

At Hidden Valley, I was carrying Kiki’s bags from the cab when the neighbour passed. He winked, said,

“You yoke.”

The English might say “you rascal”, but it hasn’t the same flavour.

She loved the house. I got some drinks, said,

“Sláinte.”

“Oh, I like that word. I like you. What happened to your nose, your teeth?”

“A misunderstanding.”

“Are you in trouble, Jack?”

“Of course not.”

We went to bed. I wish I could say I delighted her. I didn’t. She said,

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing, I’m just not used to you.”

“Maybe the alcohol, the cocaine, they robbed you.”

“No…Jeez, a few days, I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Neither of us believed it. That evening, I said,

“Come and meet some friends.”

We went to Nestor’s. The sentry ignored us. Jeff was tending bar. I said,

“Jeff, this is Kiki, a friend from London.”

She shot me a look. Jeff shouted for Cathy and asked,

“Can I get you something to say welcome to Ireland?”

“A small Guinness.”

“I’ll have a pint, Jeff.”

Cathy arrived, curiosity writ large. Her pregnancy was very developed, and she and Kiki got into woman talk. We were sitting on stools, Cathy behind the bar with Jeff, when Cathy asked,

“Well, Jack, how come you kept this terrific woman a secret?”

Kiki looked at me, then asked Cathy,

“Jack hasn’t told you?”

“No, nothing.”

“I’m Jack’s wife.”

Even the sentry went,

“What?”

Jeff recovered first, went and got a bottle of champagne. Cathy remained stunned. Kiki said,

“I’m going.”

I followed her outside, said,

“But they’re preparing a celebration.”

“I will need keys, Jack.”

I handed over the spare set I’d been planning to give her later. She asked,

“Where do I ask for?”

I told her and she hailed a cab. I half hoped it was the Olympic guy. Then she was gone. Back in the bar, all stood waiting. I said,

“Better put the champagne on ice.”

The sentry said,

“Their first row.”

Cathy added,

“I doubt it.”

I ordered a large Jameson, took my hard seat. Cathy brought it over, asked,

“Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

I got a cig going, circled my drink. Cathy asked,

“Is whiskey a good idea?”

“Is marriage?”

“Good heavens, Jack, how come you never said?”

“I don’t know. I think I thought it was a London thing. You know, come home, leave the bedsit, all that behind.”

“But God…I mean…did you love her…what?”

“I was a little crazy over there.”

“What a change.”

“Yea, yea, anyway, I thought it would settle me. She has a doctorate in metaphysics.”

“Is that supposed to tell me something? I can’t even pronounce it.”

“It’s the study of being.”

“Gee, Jack, that really clears it up for me.”

“I thought she might see into my soul, see some redemption.”

Cathy stood up, said,

“The baby’s kicking, I’ll have to lie down. You’re going to have to stop the coke, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

A little later, a man came in, spotted me, walked over. He was familiar but that’s all. He said,

“Jack.”

“Yea?”

“I’m Brendan Flood.”

“Of course. I’m not long married; it appears to have rattled me. A drink?”

“A mineral, please.”

Got that squared away. Least he didn’t ask for a straw. He had aged badly. Wearing a donkey jacket with the leather patches. Opened it to reveal a heavy silver cross. I said,

“I’ve a lighter from the same seam.”

He shook his head, said,

“It does you no merit to mock.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not too late for repentance.”

“Would it help if I knew metaphysics?”

“I am speaking of belief, Jack, of faith. Knowledge is the tool of Satan.”

“How did you find me?”

At last a slight easing. He said,

“We were guards, Jack.”

I signalled for another drink, and Brendan said,

“There is indeed a pattern to the deaths of those unfortunate men.”

“Go on.”

“All were found naked; a degree of savagery, mutilation is common to all. And each was in his late twenties, none over thirty.”

“Anything else?”

“The guards have consigned it to family feuding.”

“What do you think, Brendan?”

He sipped at his mineral. If it was giving him any pleasure, he was hiding it, said,

“I think someone is systematically stalking and killing young tinkers.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. You might want to talk to Ronald Bryson.”

“Who’s he?”

“An English social worker with the Simon Community. They have a shelter in the Fair Green. All the bodies were found nearby.”

I put my hand in my pocket, pulled out a wedge, laid it near his drink. He asked,

“What’s that?”

“For your time, your help.”

He considered, then pocketed it, said,

“I’ll give it to the missions.”

“Don’t you have a family?”

“God is my family.”

He stood up, said,

“So. Congratulations are in order.”

“What?”

“You have a wife now.”

“No, that was a rumour masquerading as fact.”

“God mind you well, Jack.”

Later, much later, Jeff said,

“You better go home, Jack.”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here.”

“You have a wife, go home. I think Cathy’s going to have the baby real soon. I need some sleep.”

“Right, call me when the time comes.”

“Sure.”

“Promise.”

“I promise. Now go.”

When I got to my front door, I checked for Tiernans. Nope, no warriors. Staggered inside, said,

“Kiki, you awake?”

Fumbled my way to the kitchen, checked the time. Three thirty in the morning. How did that happen? Thought,

“I’ll do one line of coke, clear my head, then see if Kiki’s up for some serious love-making.”

I was smiling; this was a good plan. Kiki would learn I could be a stud. Just get me started, I could last as long as Sting. A note was propped up against the kettle. Beside it were the bullets from the 9mm. They shone as if they’d been polished. Before the note I decided to coke up a little more. Stashed in the fridge, between the Flora and the low fat yoghurt, keep it chilled. Got the line, a fatter one than planned, and snorted. Knocked me against the wall, felt like it blew a hole in my gut. I went,

“Phew-oh.”

Then,

“Whoops, keep it low, folk trying to sleep.”

My mind focused, I tiptoed to the note…maybe sneak up on it. It read,

Jack,

Not “Dear Jack”. Already it was looking ominous. Read on.

I have checked into a hotel. I am going back to London tomorrow. You bastard, you humiliated me and still I love you. I do not want to see you. I found the weapon when I searched for detergent. You make me so afraid. My present to you I left on our…no…your bed.

Kiki

I said,

“Bummer.”

And slumped on the floor. Late next morning, I came to with paranoia screaming at me. My neck was cramped, I’d been sick on my leather coat and my nose howled. Muttered,

“Could be worse.”