By nine o’clock, Minogue and Wall had A Matthews parcelled on a timeline for the night of the murder. Matthews had turned out to be the smarter of the pair. Where Twomey sweated and argued, Matthews turned inward, his voice often so low that they had to ask him to repeat what he had said. He seemed to want to lose his words, his voice even, in the small goatee — or whatever they called those preposterous half-beard experiments they went for so much now, Minogue reflected sourly — that he kept fingering. A shorter as well as a smarter man than his friend Twomey, Matthews had gotten Minogue’s antennae quivering early on. As subdued as he looked here, this off-again on-again sheet-metal apprentice might well conceal an explosive temper.
The same Matthews was gone very pale now. His bottom lip had gone dry and he made the error of picking at it until it bled. Even when he spoke he spent a lot of time staring at the tabletop.
Minogue was in familiar territory now, and it wasn’t his favourite. He had felt the dip coming, when his belief that these two were the warp on the murder began to slide. It surprised him a little, because he could not recall why he had begun to think this, or rather, to feel this. It left him dispirited but also grimly satisfied that his unease at what looked like good fortune and timing could now have its way.
As the hours went on, and the time was closing on the legal rights of the two men to be left sleep, he wondered now if he’d be taking home his secret with him tonight, that neither Aidan Matthews nor the others had killed Klos. Neither Wall nor Duggan need know his intuition until they too had faced up to the unease they were surely beginning to feel now too. It would take them longer, that was all. More importantly, Minogue could be dead wrong about the two men, and Duggan and Wall should be left to run their minds freely without the undertow of Minogue’s skepticism.
Still, Minogue continued to press Matthews on the times. Twice he had left with Wall and they had had a confab with Duggan in the hall. Duggan was exasperated, but kept good self-control in the interviews. He had roped in a Garda in civvies, a keener, to fill out the interview room, and to do the silent glare routine.
“Okay,” said Wall. Matthews glanced up.
“Let’s run it again. Eight o’clock, you and the two girls and Twomey are down in this car park place, the steps. Is that so?”
“That’s what I told you.”
“Tell me the time you were there with Twomey.”
“Around eight.”
“You were there before the girls.”
“Yep.”
“Nobody else around.”
Matthews sighed.
“No.”
“But you said people knew about this hidey hole.”
“Yeah. But it’s not crowded like. I mean it’s cold at night. The summer, there’d be more people.”
“So you and Twomey are down there and you have your paraphernalia.”
“It’s not paraphernalia.”
“Drugs.”
“A joint? That’s not ‘Drugs.’”
“You and Twomey are there for how long?”
“I don’t know, I told you.”
“Was it ten minutes, quarter of an hour?”
“I don’t know.”
Minogue drew a line through eight-ten and wrote eight-fifteen beside it.
“You’re already high though,” Wall said.
“A buzz. Not high.”
“You smoked up there while you were waiting.”
“No.”
He raised his head to look at Wall.
“That’s what I’m saying. Two joints is all we had. So how is that dealing? Dope is nothing.”
“You left the hard stuff at home, did you?”
“What hard stuff? There’s nothing, I’m telling you.”
“So the search of your house, of your bedroom, is going to show up?”
“It’ll show up nothing, that’s what.”
Wall looked at his watch.
“Well we should know in a little while,” he said.
“What? Now? Don’t you need, like, a search warrant.”
“Of course we do,” Wall said, “but murder investigations tend to be at the top of the list here.”
Matthews shook his head and breathed out hard. He rubbed his face with his right hand and he resumed his slump.
“Twomey is saying that you’re number one,” said Wall.
“You said that already. But I still don’t know what that means.”
“It means you’re the one with the goods, with the contacts. You’re the supplier. Right?”
“That’s rubbish.”
“Well at least you know he’s ready to say anything to get out of this.”
“I never heard him say anything, did I.”
“He’s the kind of fella who is more of a follower. The kind who caves in sooner than later. I think you know that. Don’t you?”
Matthews said nothing. Wall waited and then exchanged a look with Minogue. The inspector nodded toward the clock.
“Okay, it’s half eight,” Wall said.
“Pardon?”
“It’s half eight — that evening I mean. The two girls have showed up. You’re sitting there on those steps. Right?”
Matthews nodded.
“Answer that question there,” Minogue said.
“Yes, I — we are sitting on the steps.”
“And you’re…?”
“You know already,” said Matthews. “I told you twice.”
“What are you doing there on the steps?” Minogue asked sharply.
“I am smoking a joint,” said Matthews.
“I?” said Wall.
“We are smoking a joint.”
“That you provided.”
“That I provided. Sharing. Sharing a joint.”
“And this is ten minutes after the two girls met Mr. Klos.”
“Ten? I don’t know. Like I said, it had just happened. They said, Tara said. It was a laugh, see? This bloke wandering the streets.”
“That’s when you formed a plan then. To go after this man.”
“No way. No.”
“Twomey says you did,” said Wall.
“No he didn’t. That’s because nobody made any plan.”
“The four of you went down the street. You saw him there, he’s lost. It’s dark. There’s no one around.”
Wall paused then and watched Matthews shaking his head in slow, steady motions. Like a fiddle-player following a tune, Minogue thought.
“You know he’s not Dublin,” said Wall. “He’s not even Irish. So: easy mark.”
“You’re making everything up.”
“It’s not hard to figure this out. He probably has money. You don’t. You want to go to a hotel. You and your girlfriends.”
“That is so off the wall. Why am I even listening anymore.”
“Or were you at it in the stairwell? You and your mate. A foursome?”
Minogue watched Wall walk slowly up and down, taking each step as though balancing on a curb.
“You want to go all the way,” Wall persisted. “You’re frustrated. You’re angry. Who was it said it first? Was it you?”
Matthews rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the tiles on the floor. Suddenly he looked up, and found Minogue.
“Is he always like this?” he asked. “This fantasy stuff. He should be in the film business. Lord of — ”
“Just answer the questions,” Minogue snapped.
“Or did he stumble on you,” Wall said, “you and Tara having a wear? Or are you getting it on with a thirteen-year-old child, you and…”
“Would you shut up about that?”
Even Minogue started. Wall had stopped his walk and unfolded his arms. Minogue saw that Matthews’ head was trembling slightly with the effort of staying still as he glared up. His tone was subdued again when he spoke, however.
“You’re all the same. Guards! Yous haven’t a clue. You think you have, but you haven’t. Not a clue.”
His face wrinkled in disgust, and he looked away quickly.
“Tell us then,” said Minogue.
“You don’t care. You won’t believe me. I want my lawyer.”
“Your counsel.”
“Yeah I want him.”
“Tomorrow,” said Minogue. “You’ve had your legal rights respected.”
“Tomorrow? I’ve done nothing. Nothing.”
“You’ve sexually assaulted or exploited a-”
“Shut up, will you?! That is such a load…!”
Temper, temper, Minogue thought.
“Well you tell us then,” said Wall. “What don’t we know?”
“Life. Being young. The scene, you know? Bit of fun? Good times?”
“Tell us about the scene then,” said Minogue.
Matthews slid down further in the chair but then drew himself back up suddenly. He breathed out slowly.
“Girls, they go to you and say anything and yous take that as gospel.”
“What are we talking about?” Wall asked.
“About what you don’t know. Girls. They’re always innocent, it’s the fella who’s always guilty. You can’t imagine a girl doing anything serious. You know?”
“‘Serious’ like a crime?”
“Well, yeah, a crime.”
“What did they do then? What did Tara do?”
“I meant girls in general. You’re not listening to me.”
“You and Twomey got them to lure this man down there, didn’t you?”
“That’s so stupid I won’t even think of answering.”
“It was their idea?” Wall said. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” “I am not. You’re putting words in my mouth. You’re trying to set me up. Now I see it. Yous haven’t a clue who did that fella in, so you just want anyone. Those two lied to you I bet and you gobbled it up like idiots.”
“The girl lied? Tara?”
“I don’t know, do I? I don’t know what they told you, but whatever it is, it’s wrong.”
He grimaced then, and felt for the corner of his mouth where the skin had cracked.
“So it’s all lies. I’m not going to say another word. Yous are taking away my rights.”
“What reason would Tara or her friend have to lie?” Wall asked. “Aren’t you and Tara a couple and all that?”
Matthews said something under his breath.
Minogue got up. He picked up his clipboard and headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him. The uniform, an older veteran with a grey moustache and a smell of cigar smoke, was reading the evening paper.
“Thanks,” said Minogue, “we need a bit of time here.”
The Guard folded his paper and grasped the door handle.
“Troublesome?” he asked.
“No,” said Minogue, “no more than usual.”
Wall came out of the interview room stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Let’s get Mossie here too. We need to shuffle the deck a bit.”
Wall nodded. To Minogue he seemed as fresh and alert as when they first met this afternoon.
“I think we need to talk to those girls again tonight. Shake them up. Minors or not. We need to figure them out better.”
Wall said nothing. Neither man moved. Then Wall tugged at his nose.
“Do you wonder maybe?” he asked Minogue.
“Two girls?” said Minogue.
“Yep. I know Matthews is pushing the line, without actually saying it.”
“Each of them trying to sell the other one up the river,” Minogue said.
“But forensic gives us ‘shoes.’ Leather-soled, hard edges.”
“That’s what they call stomped, isn’t it?” said Wall.
“Big shoes, big heels? Small shoes, small heels?”
Wall lowered his head and looked up under his eyebrows at Minogue.
“Fair enough,” said Minogue, “I’m getting delirious. Let’s check with Mossie. We can all go delirious together.”