Free The Sleepers of Erin by Jonathan Gash

everywhere for Joxer to tell him, but he was nowhere around.
    Nobody seemed to have been hurt. Sinead relaxed at that. It was probably her nursing instinct which made her so tense at Marcia’s babbled news. Talk resumed. We all made clucking noises and some kind soul gave her a port-and-lemon. Then we all forgot it. Except me.
    I sat for a long time looking at the table as the taproom babble went on and on, over and over Marcia’s account. Patrick dramatically fainted, with Lily, his acolyte, frantically trying to bring him round with smelling-salts from his mauve handbag. After a long time I realized Sinead had taken my hand. I wasn’t scared, not really scared, but a hint is a hint is a hint. All Heindrick had said was, ‘Very lax of us all,’ and poor Joxer gets his old shed blammed. I could only think of my grotty little cottage. It looked like the Heindricks had a divvie after all.
    Sinead shook me gently.
    ‘Are you all right, Lovejoy?’ she was asking, and I came to. Her grey-blue eyes were anxious. I looked into them, thinking, well, all living is risk, isn’t it?
    ‘Yes, fine, thanks,’ I said. ‘Look, Shinny. About Ireland . . .’

Chapter 9
    Things went from bad to evil that night. It seemed to end on an increasingly worse note every few minutes. First, Sister Morrison dropped me off outside my cottage about an hour afterwards. We talked in her car, mainly about Mrs Heindrick, even though I was dog-tired.
    ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you, Lovejoy. She’s up to no good. She’s been on the phone asking about your condition.’
    That narked me. ‘She could have asked me.’
    ‘Don’t worry. I disclosed nothing, and the doctors won’t.’
    One thing struck me. ‘Why were you reluctant to tell me this in the tavern?’
    ‘That cold fish.’
    ‘Jason?’
    ‘Yes. Mrs Heindrick’s friend.’
    Again that disturbing chill touched my neck. ‘Friend? Are you sure?’
    ‘I saw them both leaving my cousin’s place together the day after you were discharged from my ward.’
    ‘Cousin? Er . . .’
    ‘Joe. Joe Casey. He’s like you, an antique dealer.’
    Odd, that. I’d always thought I knew everybody in East Anglia. Now there were all these unexpected cousins and friends of friends. Worse, friends of enemies.
    Sinead went on, ‘Joe doesn’t trust her, that’s for sure. He did a few small jobs for the Heindricks. They were so bitchy about his work, checked every little detail.’
    Well, if they were paying a workman they would naturally want good value. But I was thinking, Casey? Joe Casey? The name sounded oddly familiar.
    ‘Recently?’
    ‘Yes. Now. He even had to start work for them twice when it was dark. I ask you. He told me about it and we had a good laugh.’
    And
still
it seemed unimportant, though I was to learn different before the night was through. I said thanks for the warning, and we made our rather stilted goodnights. Puzzled, I watched the red tail-lights flicker as she drove off along the hedged lane. Too many problems and too knackered a brain to cope for the minute, so I went in thinking it was time I had a quiet night. Things would seem clearer in the dawn.
    He came for me about two, keeping on knocking even though I was yelling I was coming, for heaven’s sake. There were headlights outside from a car reversing to face the lane slope.
    ‘Who is it?’ I called, pulling the bolt.
    ‘Police.’
    ‘Come off it, George.’ I peered blearily into the gloom. Our village bobby stood there, at least as embarrassed as I was. ‘You’re not proper police.’
    He drew himself up at that insult. ‘You’re to help us with our enquiries, Lovejoy. Get dressed.’
    ‘I’ve just come out of dock, George. How the hell could I have pinched, forged or stolen any antiques? And you’ve Mrs Heindrick’s alibi for that cloth job.’
    ‘Murder investigation,’ he said.
    That shook me. ‘Eh?’
    ‘Get him out here,’ another copper called wearily from the car, stationary now.