3am. The suburbs of Newbridge are sleeping like a baby. The council lampposts are glowing ferociously orange. Some drunk is standing underneath one on my street. He’s staring up at it like as though he thinks it’s beam is from some sorta whacked out extra-terrestrial flying saucer. Crazy old fool. I was watching him from the second floor of my office in the run down AVH building on the outskirts of this two-bit town. I probably would have kept watching him if it weren’t for the noise of an envelope being pushed under my door and the sound of scampering footsteps running down the hallway and out the fire exit. I turned to look back out the window. I was in no hurry. Envelopes were always being pushed under someone’s door in this town and another case was exactly what I wasn’t looking for. The drunk was gone. Now I got it. He was the diversion. Should have seen that one coming. Maybe I’m losing my mind or maybe a little bit of me was hoping it was diversion for a murder. My murder. Some cop would come and stab me in the back and put me out of my misery. Wishful thinking. In this town, a dead body is always someone else’s relief and my problem.

 

 

The envelope looks as if it’s been on some journey. It’s creased and dirty like my preferred reading material. Grass stains. Could be from anywhere but these one’s aren’t from anywhere - they’re from nowhere. Whatever bum they hired to weather this envelope did a crude job. Gives me the upper hand though. Whoever’s behind this can only be one of two types of people. One is rich, powerful and underestimates me. Thinks I’m not worth the full $80 to weather the envelope which they hope will lead to me to their trap. Thinks I’ll fall for it hook, link and sinker. The second type is poor, craves power and overestimates me. I bet the lousy guy can’t even afford a bad weathered envelope craftsman. Probably did the job himself. Took a trip out to the Curragh. Rubbed the envelope face down until streaks of green jolted across it. This guy obviously didn’t even think of a reason why he’d he grass it up. Just thought it might contribute to throwing me off the scent. But whether the scent is the stench of a low-life scumbag thief or the sickly sweet aftershave tang of a high-life dirt bag criminal, my nose is never wrong.

 

 

I put the envelope on my desk, open the envelope and take out the message. It’s on acrylic paper. Typed. Nicely written with some good use of punctuation. The unmistakable whiff of McChrystal’s snuff gently rises off the page as I breath it in. The general gist of it involves a diamond worth a considerable amount and the bumping off of a broad for an even more considerable amount. The only thing I’ll be considering about this letter however is whether use it as fuel for the fire or to let the dog sleep on it. I think I’ll burn it and then sleep on it. Sleep on this whole sorry night. The drunk. The envelope. The broad. She was cruel. Cruller than usual.

 

 

I sat at the bar drinking cheap whiskey and stealing peanuts every time she turned her back. "Why do you do this to me, LG? You sit there falling in love with me every night and for what, huh? For what? You think a girl like me would just settle for a dead-beat detective like you? You’re out of you’re mind, sugar. I got offers from half the men in this town and it doesn’t seem to bother you one bit. Why do you this to me baby, why?" Boy, she has a mouth like the grand canyon but I just keep on falling in. Tonight was different. She quit. When I got there Charlie said she’d already left. Didn’t no where to either. Good ol’ Charlie. You could always count on is remarkable expertise in knowing nothing. Hit me with a cocktail, Charlie. Something with an upbeat name. I’m celebrating.

 

 

 

Yeah, it was gonna be a good night. With Shirley out of the picture, my life would be a Hell of a lot easier. No more late nights at the bar keeping watch on her. Making sure she survived one more crummy night in this crummy town. It wasn’t an official case. Hell it wasn’t a case at all. I was in love with the damn broad but jeez if she didn’t attract trouble like a light to flies on a warm summer evening. It was for the best. She just up and left. Didn’t tell no one where she was going or what she’d do when she got there. She had smarts. "Another Scrapple from the Apple, LG?" Yeah, sure Charlie. Make it two. I might be reminiscing for a while. Now I could concentrate on the mystery of the green grassed envelope, for all the mystery it was. Someone was out to get me but then again, in this town, who isn’t? I drag the dogs in from the streets. Send em’ to the pound. Some of them just bark but some of them bite. Those are the one’s ya gotta look out for. Those are the ones who go for the jugular. Usually with a knife.

 

This green-grassed envelope business might spell disaster but on the flip side it might spell retirement. I got a feeling about this one. Like it’s something big. Like if I catch the son of a bitch behind it I’ll be rolling in the dough. Then I’ll take a page from Shirley’s book and skip town. Forever. "You alright, LG?" Sure I’m alright Charlie. I’m alright. Or am I? Shirley’s gone. Even if I make a buck load from this chapter I still won’t know where she’s going and what she’s going to do when she gets there. It’s pointless. Like stamps in a town with no postmen. God damn it, Shirley, why’d ya have to leave? Why’d ya have to dessert me? If you had a given me a few more nights I would have got them for ya Shirley, I would have strung em’ up at Parlour Point. Made sure they were good and dead. I would have done it for you Shirley. If only you’d given me more time. Just a little more time. "Time!"

What’s that Charlie? Time? The Camarillo never closes. Not in all the years I’ve come here. "Sorry, LG. I’m really sorry." He shook his head He really did look sorry. Something was up. Someone’s been talking to Charlie. A single beat of sweat betrays him. Charlie’s always cool. The Camarillo isn’t the sort of place that gets shaken up much. A punch up maybe every week. A bottle making it’s way to the other side of the room by air. Nothing that Charlie couldn’t handle. Something’s definitely up. Alright, Charlie, if you say it’s time, it’s time. See ya tomorrow night, Charlie. "Yeah. Seen you tomorrow LG. See you tomorrow." He might as well have been reading my obituary for all the faith his farewell had in ever seeing me alive again.

Those bastards. Those green-grassing envelope bastards. I walked out onto the dimly lit street. The fog was thick like the mystery in front of me. It was hard to see what was ahead and who might show up there. One thing I could see glowing bright in the fog, though, was the pink neon sign of The Camarillo. That was the only thing I could see. It was the start of this mystery. It’s where Shirley walked out the door and outta my life. It’s where Charlie betrayed me. Poor guy. Probably said they’d get his kids or wife. Yeah, this fog was thick alright. And I was standing right in the centre of it.

 

What the Fog Left

"LG!" My name echoed down the alleyway. "LG!" Who in their right mind would be screaming my name this late at night besides someone I was beating up. And who knew my name. And who wanted me to stop beating them up. Besides someone like that who would be calling out for me? No use answering back. Could be Dewey Square. Could be Marmarosa. Could be voices in my head. I’m talking to myself a lot lately. Going crazy I guess. Spent too long on short cases and spent too little on long ones. "LG!" I spent most of the next few hours sleeping next to a trash can. Laying low. Catching up on some sleep. Kicking cats. That sort of thing. At 4.56am I got up. The heavy fog had been replaced by a veil of mist hanging gently over the avenue. Thinly blanketing any dead bodies. It should have been hanging gently over mine I gathered.

 

 Back at my office things we’re messy. Somebody had thrashed the place good. Another amateur stooge job. They probably picked some kid up off the street, offered him twenty bucks to whack me. He got anxious. Then bored I guess. Turned the place upside down and made off with a few dollars for the luxury. The desk was on it’s side beside the window. Probably tried to throw it out. A hard job even for two guys. Me and Max Johnson had tried it before. Dewey Square had called around with a couple of his boys. Started making a scene. I hate scenes. Max looks over to me. Let’s throw the desk on him, Max says. It was a swell desk and it looked nice in my office but it’d look nicer on Dewey Square, I thought. But just as we we’re about to lift it, a whole chorus of sirens broke out from every direction and Dewey Square split. Hadn’t seen him since. With any luck I’d never see him again. But luck doesn’t get you anything in this town. Money does. Just then the phone rang.

 

It took me a while to find it underneath all the upturned junk and then when I did find it took another seven rings before I decided to answer it. Answering the telephone is a tough decision. It could be some broad. It could be the fuzz. It could be Dewey Square. On this occasion it was none of those. I picked up the receiver. "About time Geraghty. I want you to listen carefully cause I’m not going to repeat myself, ya got that?" I stayed silent. "Shirley didn’t just decide to disappear. She was made too." This was nothing new. I got a letter requesting her dead. It was a stupid idea to show it to her but I was drunk. She obviously left to protect her self. There wasn’t exactly a choice in her mind. "Donna Lee’s got her. You’ve got a night to show up or she’s pig feed." He hung up as I dropped the receiver. Things weren’t becoming any clearer. Sure, I could see Donna Lee sending the green-grassed envelope but requesting the hit? He wouldn’t have enough to have a man whacked let alone a broad I was in love with. And if Donna Lee now had Shirley why wouldn’t he just kill her himself and why did I have one night to show up? None of it makes sense. It never does at the start. I’ll have to sleep on it. Sleep and dream of Shirley. Things might come into focus then. But then again they might just get blurrier.

 

Green-Grass Uncovered

So there I was. Standing in the middle of the mess of my shabby office that could have just as easily been the mess of my shabby life. The facts tossed and turned around in my head like clothes in a dryer. Falling on top of one another. My head spun. Think straight, LG, think straight. Donna Lee wanted me to knock off Shirley. Shirley skipped town. Donna Lee tracked down Shirley and is holding her in his building down the alley off 9^th street. He wants me to go there tonight or Shirley gets it. If I were to believe that mysterious caller on the phone yesterday all that should be true. Only problem is I don’t believe a word of it. The fog from last night had all but disappeared.

 

It was 7pm. Dark. A crisp, clean night. That’s something we don’t usually get around this dump of a town. I strolled down Two Shots Avenue, so called for the infamous two gun shot bloodbath that occurred there eight years ago. Dozens murdered. They painted all the buildings red along Two Shot Avenue so no one would ever forget the night they we’re painted red with splattered blood. I walked on and on. Passing lampposts and drunks as I went. The two always seemed to go hand in hand. What was I doing and where was I going? Two questions I could usually never answer. Tonight it was simple. I was going to Donna Lee’s to make sure Shirely wasn’t there. I knew she wouldn’t be but Christ, if they did have her and killed her because I never showed up I’d never be able to live with myself. For crying out loud, I can hardly stand myself now. 7^th street, 8^th street and finally 9^th street.

 

The alley to Donna Lee’s bureau was narrow and thin like Donna Lee himself. An effeminate man most would say. His place was decked out like a high-class brothel. Pastel shades of blue and red lit throughout by cheap 30watt bulbs. Donna Lee smiled. "What, Monsieur Geraghty, do I owe the pleasure of this delightfully unexpected visit?" "I, eh, I’m looking for Shirley Lewis." Donna Lee, straight to the point as ever, replied "Well she’s not here. Can I help you with anything else?" Three minutes later I was back on the street. Just as I deduced. This was a loose end. A dead end even. Clop, clop, clop. I heard the sound of high heels making their way over cobble. They were in a hurry. Gotcha now.

 

 I ran back out through the alley onto 9^th street. Looked left. Then right. I could see someone’s shadow getting smaller as whoever it’s owner was got further and further away. Soon my shadow replaced the one I saw as I ran further and further down the bricked lane, bridging 9^th and 8^th streets. Running like I’d never done before. Running after the one person who might be able to explain everything. It was the one case I needed answers on. The one that would keep me from sleeping if I didn’t get those answers. I leaped over the wall and cut across the old iron yard, pacing in and out of stacks of ancient automobile parts. At the other side I could hear those high heels getting closer. Clop, clop, CLOP, CLOP. "Gotcha!" I hoped over the fence to come face to face with . . . with . . . Shirley. "Shirley . . ?"

Her name barely made it’s way from my mouth. There she was. Standing in front of me as bold and beautiful as ever. A lone tear rolled down her face. Then another and another until she became a regular rain cloud and fell into my arms. It took her awhile to tell me everything and it took even longer for me to make it out through her sobbing. But soon everything became clear. Shirley, it turned out, left me the green grassed envelope herself. She was the one who pushed it underneath my door at the AVF building. She wanted to see if I’d take a hit out on her. Wanted to be sure she could trust me in a world where dishonesty was the current trend. Crazy broad. She up and left to her Ma’s for a while to make it look like she jumped town. Working for Charlie at The Camarillo, it wasn’t hard for her to convince him to give me the cold shoulder two nights ago to make the green grassed envelope more plausible. The whole set-up worked beautifully. Crazy broad. I wasn’t angry with her though. How could you possibly be angry with the love of you’re life? She trusted me now. Sure it took some doing, but she trusted me. That was all that counted. I looked down into her big water-filled eyes. "You’re a crazy broad, you know that?" She smiled. "I love ya, baby, but just one thing." "Anything LG," she whispered. "Why’d ya have to trash my office?"

Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist