Chapter
17
Fanahan
was starting to hate this pub. It brought back unhappy memories. That
Hoor Tyrell and his leads. Who else would go and ask a blind auld bag
what she saw, when the priest was kidnapped. Who would think that an
auld piss-pot up in the Church gallery, would come up with a clue
that had caused him so much grief. Handmade bloody shoes, now Tyrell
would have them all off chasing the bloody shoe clue down, and he had
his bollix chewed off for not turning it up: in first place.
“And the blind
woman, and her dog, of course could tell us nothing.” Tyrell had
read it out loud at the briefing not once, or twice but three times.
“Jaysus Shay! Did
you even interview the woman?”
The shagger’ went
on to cover his interview with the bag and the piss-pot, and when
Fanahan thought it was all over concluded with.
“And the blind
woman, and her dog, of course could tell us nothing. Cross of Christ”
he roared. “I wish all witnesses were as observant.”
Now to cap it all,
Milo that Meath bastard, had put the framed photos back on the pub
walls.
There it was in full
view: in front of him. Cavan All Ireland Football Champions.
Shite! And next to it, Galway All Ireland Football - Beaten
Finalists.
Milo had obviously
heard of his balls-up, or he would never be so brave, as to drag out
the photos again. Feck him. He’s trying to rub this in again.
“Moynalty is
nearly in Cavan” he squealed, each time Fanahan complained. “I’ll
adorn me pub as I want.”
One of these days
I’ll feckin’ adorn you with a split feckin' head!
No comments:
Post a Comment