‘I didn’t catch him speeding,’ Raphie explained, ignoring the last question. ‘They went through a red light is all.’
‘Is all? I hope you arrested the flashy bastard.’
‘Well, how could I arrest Lou, now, really, come on,’ Raphie explained, sounding like a teacher. ‘You’re not listening. Stop jumping the gun here.’
‘But you’re so bloody slow at telling the story. Just get to the point.’
‘I am, and I won’t tell you the story at all if that’s going to be your attitude.’ Raphie glared at the Turkey Boy, who didn’t snap back this time, and so he continued the story. ‘It wasn’t Lou that ran the red light because it wasn’t Lou that was driving, I told you that.’
‘Gabe wouldn’t have run the red light. He wouldn’t do that,’ Turkey Boy piped up.
‘Well, how was I to know that? I hadn’t met the chap before, had I?’
‘They must have swapped over on the way home.’
‘Gabe was behind the wheel. Mind you, they were so similar they could easily have swapped, but no, I know it was Lou in the passenger seat, totally blazooed with both eyes in one socket.’
‘How come you just happened to catch him in the same place again?’
‘I was just keeping an eye on someone’s house, is all.’
‘A murderer?’ The Turkey Boy’s eyes lit up.
‘No, not a bloody murderer, somebody I know, is all.’
‘Were you following your wife?’ the boy perked up again.
Raphie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘To see if she’s having an affair.’
Raphie rolled his eyes. ‘Son, you watch far too much television.’
‘Oh.’ The Turkey Boy was disappointed. ‘So what did you do when you caught them?’
‘Hello Sergeant,’ Gabe said, big blue eyes wide and honest. Taken aback by the man’s knowledge of his position, Raphie changed his mind on his tone of approach. ‘You broke a red light there, you know.’
‘I know, Sergeant, I apologise profusely, it was a total accident on my behalf, I promise you that. It was amber and I thought I’d make it …’
‘You broke it well after it was amber.’
‘Well.’ Gabe looked to his left at Lou, who was pretending to sleep, snoring loudly and laughing between snores. In his hand was a long umbrella.
Raphie examined the umbrella in Lou’s hand and then followed Gabe’s gaze to the accelerator.
‘Jesus,’ he whispered, under his breath.
‘No, I’m Gabe,’ Gabe responded. ‘I’m a colleague of Mr Suffern’s, I was just trying to get him home safely, he’s had a bit to drink.’
On cue, Lou snored loudly and made a whistling noise. Then he laughed.
‘You don’t say.’
‘I feel like I’m a dad on duty tonight,’ Gabe said. ‘Making sure my child is safe. That’s important, isn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’ Raphie narrowed his eyes.
‘Oh, I think you know what I mean,’ Gabe smiled innocently.
Raphie fixed his gaze on Gabe and toughened his tone, unsure if he had a smart arse on his hands. ‘Show me your driver’s licence please.’ He held out his hand.
‘Oh, I, em, I don’t have it on me.’
‘Do you have a driver’s licence?’
‘Not on me.’
‘So you said.’ Raphie took out a notepad and pen. ‘What’s your name then?’
‘My name is Gabe, sir.’
‘Gabe what?’ Raphie straightened himself a little.
‘Are you okay?’ Gabe asked.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘You look a little uncomfortable. Is there something wrong?’
‘I’m fine.’ Raphie started to back away from the car.
‘You should get that looked at,’ Gabe said, voice heavy with concern.
‘You mind your own business,’ Raphie barked, looking around to make sure nobody heard.
Gabe looked in the rear-view mirror at the garda car. There was no one else in it. No back-up. No witness.
‘Make sure you drop into the Howth Garda Station this week, Gabe, bring your licence with you then and report to me. We’ll deal with you then. Get that boy home safely.’ He nodded at Lou and then made his way back to his car.
‘S’e drunk again?’ Lou asked, opening his bleary eyes and turning around to watch Raphie walk to the car.
‘No, he’s not drunk,’ Gabe said, watching Raphie’s slow walk back to the car in the rear-view mirror.
‘Then what is he?’ Lou snarled.
‘He’s something else.’
‘No, you’re somethin’ else. Now drive me home.’ He clicked his fingers and laughed. ‘Actually, let me drive,’ he said grumpily, and started squirming in his seat to get out. ‘I don’t like people thinking this is your car.’
‘It’s dangerous to drink and drive, Lou. You could crash.’
‘So,’ he huffed childishly. ‘That’s my problem, isn’t it?’
‘A friend of mine died not so long ago,’ Gabe said, eyes still on the garda car that was slowly driving back down the road. ‘And believe me, when you die, it’s everybody else’s but your problem. He left behind a right mess. I’d buckle up if I were you, Lou.’
‘Who died?’ Lou closed his eyes, ignoring the advice, and leaned his head back on the rest, giving up on his idea to drive.
‘I don’t think you know him,’ Gabe said, indicating as soon as the garda car was out of sight and moving out onto the road again.
‘How’d he die?’
‘Car crash,’ Gabe said, pushing his foot down on the accelerator. It jerked forward quickly, the engine loud and powerful all of a sudden in the quiet night.
Lou’s eyes opened slightly and he looked at Gabe warily. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yep. Sad really. He was a young guy. Young family. Lovely wife. Was successful.’ He pressed his foot down harder on the speed.
Lou’s eyes were fully open now.
‘But that’s not the sad thing. The saddest thing was that he didn’t sort out his will on time. Not that he’s to blame, he was a young man and didn’t plan on leaving so soon, but it just shows you never know.’
The speedometer neared one hundred kilometres in the fifty-kilometre zone and Lou grabbed the door handle and held on tightly.