The Gamal (41 page)

I shrugged my shoulders.

—I haven’t an absolute clue, Detective Crowley said. Do you think you might have some idea?

—Maybe. Maybe down by the river behind the football pitch.

—Hop in, he said.

He sped off down to the gates of the pitch. He was on the radio again listing roads that needed to be searched. Bohernavar. Gortnascreena. Skewna Cross. Ballygallowen. Rathdowny. Rathnashkee. Coolnagapil. Chapel Lane. Pontoon. Four Crosses road. He gave instruction for some fella called Fitzhenry to co-ordinate the initial search.

—Do you think he’d do anything stupid if he thought she was dead Charlie?

I didn’t answer cos I couldn’t.

—Do you think James could do harm to himself?

I still couldn’t answer.

—Run off down to wherever you think he could go, I’ll follow you down.

I ran down through the second pitch to the river bank leaving him on the car radio giving instructions.

I roared the word James in a way I never ever done before. Sounded like a stranger already. I looked at the water, same as something that the look of would make you sick. I ran down along the bank. Right back to the bridge. I could see people still at the bridge looking down at me shouting. I turned and ran back through the pitch to Detective Crowley. He stopped when he seen me running back and turned around and went back to the car. He’d the passenger door open for me and the engine running. I jumped in and he shouted, ‘Where else?’

—The castle.

—Has he a key?

—It’s open.

—Are you sure.

—Yeah.

He was over the bridge already by the time I said, ‘Yeah.’ He skidded up in front of the house.

—Run to his room. Run, he shouted.

Three stairs at a time I leaped and shouted the word James again. Bedroom empty. Library empty. Bathroom empty. I tried the whole of upstairs while Detective Crowley shouted for James and searched downstairs. No go. We tried the greenhouse and the outhouse and the garden and the woods around the castle but no. We went back to the station then and Detective Crowley told me to come in. Another garda of about the same age as Detective Crowley spoke to him while Detective Crowley was dialling some phone number.

—Jesus Christ Tony are you sure this is necessary?

—No.

—You’ll look like some fool if . . .

—Worth the risk. Hello . . . no sign of him no? Nothing no. OK, bye. Bollicks. Get Gretta on the phone for me there John please. Are you OK, he asked me.

—Yeah.

—And give him a cup of tea John. And me.

—He’s here now Gretta, he wants a word.

—How are we doing? Yeah . . . yeah . . . how many units in all? . . . Not so bad. OK, is young Fitzhenry co-ordinating the road search? OK. I’ll ring him now. Thanks Gretta, bye.

He looked at me then.

—Can you think of anywhere else Charlie?

—No.

—We’ll get a cup of tea into you now, you look pale. An awful business surely . . .

—Unless Pontoon but . . . I dunno.

He walked straight for the door.

—Come on, worth a look, come on. Hold the teas John we’ll have one look down by Pontoon Castle.

He could move fast for such a whale. He asked me why Pontoon Castle in the car and I told him about the walk long ago and some of the other walks since. He radioed back to the fella in the station and told him to make sure someone was keeping an eye on P.J. Halloran’s house in case he’d show up there. Detective Crowley skidded the car on the road right beside Pontoon Castle. We got out and looked in the castle ruin first, the two of us calling the whole time for James. We walked down along the path. Detective Crowley levered himself back to his feet as fast as he’d fallen on his ass. His trousers were destroyed. He trotted on down the path through the woods same as we did long ago, James and me and Dinky running from the Indians with our bows and arrows or our guns. We came to the wooden bridge over the waterfall. You go ahead, he said. I thought he was afraid it wouldn’t take his weight but he wanted to look under it. We came to the water’s edge. The river appeared through the darkness then but we knew it was there. What we wanted was James to appear through the darkness. We looked out and shouted for him and listened and I shouted again but Detective Crowley was after turning and was panting his way back up towards the footbridge doing his best to keep air in his heaving lungs. He asked quietly more to himself,

—Where in God’s name are you gone to James?

I had this feeling though. I can’t really describe it. I had this feeling that things were OK. I was certain that James would be by Sinéad’s bedside in the hospital soon. The image I had was so real that it calmed me no end. He was holding her hand in his telling her everything was OK. Everything was OK now. I just knew it. And sometimes you just know isn’t it?

When we got back to the car he radioed John again.

—Anything John?

—No. No luck there?

—No.

—All units are on the road. Fitzhenry is checking Sinéad’s house every ten minutes himself.

—OK, we’ll be back there now in a few minutes.

Next thing Gretta came through on the radio.

—All units to the Catholic churchyard in Ballyronan. All units to the Catholic churchyard in Ballyronan.

—Bollicks, said Detective Crowley. Gretta? Gretta? Nine one one two Gretta? Bollicks. No bloody reception here. This’ll work.

He grabbed the big lump of a car phone in his hand just as it started to ring. He answered.

—Crowley. Talk to me . . . Oh Jesus . . . Christ . . . Cut him down . . . Yeah . . . Cordon it off . . . no the whole road, yeah . . . I’ll be there in five minutes. OK.

He looked at me for a second, then looked back to the road that he was speeding through same as a rally car.

—I’m sorry Charlie. I’m so sorry . . . James is dead.

He grabbed me by the arm and squeezed it for about two seconds, same as a blind man would.

—I’m going to leave you at the station with John. OK?

He made quick work of leaving me there. He called back to John before leaving,

—Make sure to look after him, check him for shock.

—I will.

John did his best to speak to me and looked at my face like it was a puzzle.

—I’ll get you some tea now with lots of sugar.

He went out the back to make it and I went out the front. I ran up the old back road and hopped the wall by the new graveyard to come into the church grounds from the back through the priest’s house’s garden. I ran down the priest’s lane and hopped the wall behind the church to save me running all the way round. I came out the side of the back door of the church and looked down at the car park but there was no people, just a few police cars and an ordinary blue car. Another police car sped in the gate and parked. Then I saw them below at the copper beech tree. Down in the grass. Ten souls and a body.

Next thing I see James’ father coming walking in the pedestrian entrance with Detective Crowley. Next thing he starts running to where his son lay on the grass. He knelt beside him and he picked him up like he weighed no weight at all. He hugged him, held his face with his hands and spoke some, then hugged him again. Like he was trying to love the life back into him. He struggled to his feet, stumbling around the place trying to get James’ limp body to stand with him. They fell again. James’ torso held aloft by his father who was now on his knees. The pull of the earth was too strong. James’ body understood this. His father’s mind did not. His father took him by the arms now and shook him. If James was alive he’d be sore from it. The next logical step seemed like this father was going to start hitting his dead son.

—No. Jesus Christ James no. What did you do, my darling boy, what did you do my darling young boy? Jesus Christ almighty no.

Next thing another squad car raced down through the churchyard like a learner driver out of control. But it came to a smart sweet halt. Out of it came Father Scully like I never seen him before. Black pants. Black shirt. Bright blue slippers. The hair on his head was wild. I’d never have believed he had so much hair cos it was always greased to the scalp like a grey swimming cap. The gardaí were still like statues. James’ father was still having war with the body of his son. The priest walked through the shell-shocked gardaí. This was his domain. This churchyard. This death. He grabbed James’ father from behind by the shoulders and broke up the fight. He spoke calm. Slow and quiet. Like he knew what he was at. Like he’d done this before. Sure.

—Let him go. Let him go. Let him go Paul. Let him go. Let go. That’s it. Let go. Let go.

His father let him go and watched, unbelieving yet, his son’s dead body find its way to rest again on the grass with the help of two gardaí. Father Scully spoke some words to James’ father that no one else could hear. James’ father nodded slowly. Father Scully looked at Detective Crowley and he said,

—Take hold of Paul.

Detective Crowley bent down to put his arms around James’ father but then James’ father rose to his feet. James’ father watched Father Scully take a small gold roundy case from his trouser pocket and open it. He watched him kneel on the grass beside his son and he watched him dip his thumb in the oil and make the sign of the cross on his son’s forehead. He watched the face of his dead son while Father Scully prayed over him. He looked up at the sky and his eyes were drawn north-east where what was left of the cut rope dangled from the copper beech, the wind gave it precious life. A timeless pendulum. Mindless. Between worlds.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

Our father, Who art in Heaven

Deliver us from all evil.

O Lord, hear my prayer,

And let my cry come to Thee,

Let us pray. To Thee, Lord, we commend the soul of your servant, James, that being dead to this world he may live to Thee: and whatever sins he has committed in this life through human frailty, do Thou in Thy most merciful goodness forgive. Through Christ our Lord. Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord: and let perpetual light shine upon him.

Amen.

Fuck you anyhow James.

Course the world is getting up now. Tablets kicking in. Took one and a half of the white ones cos I want to be knocked out. They’re the sleeping tablets. Usually only a half one I take. Thank fuck for them. Hard to cry when you’re asleep. And you don’t feel much. I’ll carry on with the rest tomorrow. Cos I have to.

So there I am in the churchyard seeing all this. Next thing I see Detective Crowley looking at me. I realised all of a sudden that I was up the top of the churchyard no more. I was down with the rest of them near the copper beech. I’ve no memory of walking down to them but I must have cos that’s where I was now. Father Scully looked at James’ father and asked him,

—Where’s Carol?

—With . . . she’s with Jim Higgins and Ber.

That was Old Master Higgins to you. Ber was his wife. James’ father asked Father Scully then would he come with him. Father Scully looked at Detective Crowley. Detective Crowley said he’d bring them over there. He got another garda to look after me. Said,

—Bring him back to the station first. Give him a cup of tea and find out if he knows what exactly happened between James and Sinéad last night. If he doesn’t want to talk don’t push him. I’ll bring him home myself after. I’ll explain things to his dad.

The garda didn’t say anything, just pointed me to the car beside Detective Crowley’s. Next thing Dr Reid pulls in and a fucking hearse behind her like she was the worst fucking doctor ever. Detective Crowley walked with her to the body. She knelt down for a few seconds and looked at her watch and then got up and walked over to James’ father and held his two hands and said something. Then the two undertakers went over. They were all talking then for a minute. The three young gardaí stood around James’ body wondering what to do with their eyes and their hands. They scratched their chins or the back of their heads. They rubbed their necks, their cheeks, their foreheads. They folded their arms. They put their hands in their pockets. They looked at the doctor, they looked at the undertakers, they looked at James’ father, they looked at Detective Crowley, at Father Scully, at the tree, at the church steeple, up the road, down the road and at James from head to toe all in no order known to me.

I heard Detective Crowley getting radioed then. It was John back at the station.

—I’ve lost him Tony.

—I know. He’s here.

—Is he? Is he OK?

—He’s fine. Peadar will bring him back now. Just make sure he’s OK. He’s seen everything here so he’ll be shook.

—OK. Sorry about that. Went to make the tea and he disappeared on me.

—That’s OK. See you later.

When Detective Crowley came back to the station he asked me what happened the night before and I told him. I told him I didn’t know what it was about but they had a falling out. Now I only wanted to hear how Sinéad was. I asked him and he said,

—The news is good. Little bit of hypothermia is all.