Free The Devil by Ken Bruen Page B

tip, or
    ever offer the bar crew a drink. I asked,
    'Something for yourself, maybe?'
    Large brandy.
    I had me guy.
    He muttered,
    ' N o r m a l l y I don't, you know, b u t . . .'
    I gave h i m my best smile, said,
    'If a man can't have a wee snort n o w and again.'
    He clinked my glass, said,
    'Slainte amach:
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    KEN BRUEN
    A n d threw it back hke a man in dire straits.
    Straits I knew better than I cared to admit.
    I put a fifty note on the counter and his red eyes, the
    brandy giving them that artificial respite, fell on it eagerly.
    He put out a hand, said,
    'I'm Bob, pleasure to meet y o u . '
    I'd most of me pint gone and he volunteered,
    'Another? On the house this time.'
    By tea time, he'd be gone.
    Once the owner showed up, he'd be so out of the game, it
    was done but to shoot the poor bastard.
    I said,
    ' T e r r i f i c '
    A n d excused meself to go to the toilet.
    Let h i m wreak havoc on the optics.
    Gave h i m five minutes.
    Sitting back on the counter, he was by n o w my new best
    mate.
    I said,
    ' Y o u look like a guy who's clued i n . '
    He rubbed his nose in that way of the doomed coke
    addict, figuring I wanted to be hooked up, smiled - G o d , it
    had been a time since he saw the dentist - said,
    'I've been around, could tell some stories.'
    I tried to suppress,
    'Gotcha.'
    Sipped at the fresh pint, let h i m stew a little, eye the fifty,
    and then I asked,
    'A guy named Sawyer, y o u k n o w him?'
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    THE DEVIL
    I won't be daft and say it sobered h i m , but it definitely got
    his attention.
    He leaned forward, the brandy fumes like a blast of bad
    news in my face, said,
    ' W h o a , y o u don't want to, like, you know, be messing
    with that dude.'
    I waited, touching the fifty lightly with my index finger.
    He took a deep breath, then,
    'The guy is a major player, got connections, y ' k n o w ? '
    I smiled, us dudes just shooting the bull, and asked,
    'I was just wondering, as I have a little biz I might put his
    way and hopefully put a little something your way, in the
    light of a finder's fee, no one to be the wiser, of course.'
    He took the fifty, pushed it in his pocket, said,
    'Every day, like clockwork, he plays nine holes, then has
    a brew or two in the bar, members only.'
    Bitterness came off h i m like rabies as he said that. He
    knew 'members' was a term he'd never have dealings w i t h .
    H a l f my pint was going sour as the atmosphere went
    south and I stood, said,
    'Be seeing y o u . '
    He was as close to stunned as it gets.
    He was at that stage where he was about to lay out his
    whole shitty life.
    He near pleaded,
    'You're leaving? I never got your name.'
    As I opened the door, I said,
    'Dude, that's like, cos I didn't give it.'
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    KEN BRUEN
    M y dad always told me,
    'The golf club is not for the likes of us.'
    Seeing my crushed face, he'd quickly added,
    'But they always need caddies!'
    D o n ' t they fucking just?
    James Ellroy used to be a caddy.
    Need I add more?
    But for once, I didn't go blasting i n , decided to do this
    right.
    I watched.
    For one whole week.
    Loitering, you might say.
    W i t h serious intent.
    Sure enough, my brandy buddy was right. Every day, like
    jig time. Sawyer played nine holes.
    A n d he cheated.
    O.J. Simpson did too and there's a moral there.
    N o t of any uplift.
    M o s t l y I clocked the two heavies w h o followed h i m
    around.
    Big fuckers.
    Built to hurt.
    He had a drink in the clubhouse after, and then the
    gorillas drove h i m home.
    One usually sat outside in the B M W . He w o u l d have had
    a Humvee if the market w o u l d take it. The second heavy
    usually stayed at the clubhouse. M i n d i n g the clubs,
    perhaps?
    Come three thirty, having safely delivered Sawyer home to
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    THE DEVIL
    his mansion, the car guy moved off to collect the three
    daughters, w h o were no doubt exhausted from a day bully-
    ing the wee D o w n syndrome girleen.
    M o n i t o r i n g a case, following a guy, is just about as
    tedious as it