The Ghosts of Galway (Jack Taylor)(44)

Me and lovely have rarely inhabited the same sentence. She opened the Black Forest box and swooned.

“These are a wicked temptation.”

She made tea and put the treats on a dainty plate. Then sat, looked right at me, said, “You have a gorgeous daughter.”

Fuck

??Sweet

???Fuck

????Again.

I had come to warn her of the danger of Emily and now what?

“Oh, by the way, my daughter is going to kill you!”

Yeah, that would fly.

Maeve put her cup down, rose and went to the cupboard, took out a heavy large crucifix, said, “Your girl gave me this.”

There was a question lurking in there so I waited as she handed me the cross. She said, “It is a beautiful piece but odd.”

I echoed,

“Odd?”

“Yes, see how the figure of Christ is huddled to the left, leaving a space almost vacant to the right.”

Indeed, the figure seemed to be almost cowering away to the left. I said, “It is certainly …”

Searched for a less threatening description and gave

“Different.”

Maeve had a tiny smile in play, as if she shouldn’t be amused, then,

“Your girl said she wanted to leave room for you on the cross.”

I had to say it, said,

“Please don’t allow that girl …”

Pause.

“Into your home again.”

Maeve was pouring more tea. I was sick of tea and wanted to wallop a large Jameson. Wouldn’t even need the black pint as outrider. She sat down, folded her hands in that quiet manner that nuns learn at nun school, said, “Emily has professed a wish to pursue a vocation.”

Fuck.

I nearly shouted,

“As what, a clerical hit person?”

I said,

“She is seriously disturbed. She needs locking up but not in a convent.”

Another thin smile, then,

“Emily said you would not react well as your love and over-protection would manifest itself.”

I shook my head, stood up, said,

“Just be careful.”

Maeve stood and gave me a tight hug, said,

“I have a sister.”

WTF?

How was this relevant to friggin’ anything?

I said, hard leaking over my tone,

“How nice!”

She tut-tutted, a pretty annoying sound in truth, then,

“She has been living in America and is now coming home.”

Again, like how absolutely fucking fascinating.

I tried,

“Great.”

Maeve still had me in a half hug, said,

“Would you like to meet her?”

Couldn’t help myself, blurted

“Like, a date?”

I swear, she blushed, said,

“It’s not good for you to be alone.”

I said,

“Sure, let’s do that.”

Thinking hell would freeze over many Irish times before that.

As I finally made my escape, she touched my arm, said,

“There are ghosts all over this city, Jack.”

What?

I said,

“What?”

She looked real sad, said,

“You have the air of a haunted man and the ghosts of the past seem to dog your steps. Please look to the light.”

I nearly laughed, asked,

“The light? And where exactly would that be?”

“Oh, Jack, the light is all about you. Just ask for God’s hand.”

I was in Garavans in jig time, double Jay and black before me. I warned the barman, “Don’t even think of talking to me.”

He muttered something like,

“Who the fuck ate your cake?”

I could have said,

“I don’t do cake.”

But I said nothing.

Nothing at all.



“You eat what you kill, Frank,” said Lipsky.

“You never did see it. Where the power is.”

(Nicholas Petrie, The Drifter)



“I didn’t know I had permission to murder and maim.”

(Leonard Cohen, on the release of his new album You Want It Darker)





I went to a little-frequented pub off the docks. Not the one where I go to purchase guns but the one you go for solitude. I had a lot to be solitary about.

Emily’s friend Hayden, the young kid who literally ran me over. I had his address so did I go and punch his ticket?

And when,

Fucking when?

Did I take Emily off the board my own self?

What was it that prevented me from dealing with her? It was as if she was the one friend/enemy/ally who kept me tenuously connected to life.

Makes no sense, Christ above, I know that.

As I downed my first Black pint and Jay chaser, I muttered to myself and, oh, sweet Lord, as if invoking the wrath of the fates, said this, “What does she have to do that finally stirs me to action?”

Be real careful what you mutter. It’s not always the force of light that is listening.

The pub was so far under the radar that you could light a cig and nobody gave a good fuck.

Too, this pub was infamous for its reputation for ghosts.

Yup, ghosts.