Free The City of Shadows by Michael Russell Page B

entered the frayed-at-the-edges splendour of the Shelbourne lobby the top-hatted doorman smiled. He also gave a quick, warning glance to the porter at his desk. He knew who they were. Detectives didn’t just call in there for a drink. The porter emerged from behind the desk with the same barely disguised combination of welcome and wariness.
    â€˜Anything I can help you with, Mr Gillespie?’
    â€˜There will be, Anto. When I’ve worked out what it is I’ll tell you.’
    They walked towards the doors that opened into the dining room, which had been taken over for the evening by the German Christmas party. Stefan stopped and peered into the room. It was festooned with red and white and black swastika flags and red and white Christmas decorations. Inside there was a buzz of loud and cheerful German conversation. Men, women and children filled the tables and milled around amidst the debris of an almost completed meal. Just then a loud ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ boomed across the lobby. As Stefan and Dessie turned, they saw a fat, bearded figure in red, with a bulging sack over his shoulder, heading towards the dining room and the party. He was accompanied by a middle-aged elf in green and gold and a Brunhilde-like maiden, flaxen plaits and all, in German peasant costume. They also carried sacks of presents. The two detectives stepped back. Santa Claus and his companions burst into the dining room to the sound of applause. Children clustered round Santy as he fought his way through the crowd. Stefan turned to the porter, still hovering a little way behind them.
    â€˜Hugo Keller, do you know him?’
    â€˜Mr Keller, of course.’
    â€˜Is he in there? I can’t see him.’
    â€˜He’ll be in the bar. He was just now.’
    They moved on towards the Horseshoe Bar.
    â€˜It’s hardly likely Keller isn’t going to notice us,’ remarked Dessie.
    â€˜I’d say you’re right.’
    â€˜But aren’t we meant to be leaving him alone? Inspector Donaldson said the case is dead. And didn’t Lynch tell us to keep our noses out of it?’
    â€˜Which case is that?’
    â€˜What do you mean which case is that?’
    â€˜This is about a missing woman. Susan Field. Twenty-three. Student at UCD. Lived in Little Jerusalem. Sixteen Lennox Street. She disappeared five months ago. We’re trying to trace her last known movements and find out who was the last person to see her. It’s a cold trail though. It’s bound to be after all this time. I’ve got a hunch Herr Keller might be able to help us.’
    â€˜And where did all that come from?’
    â€˜Hannah Rosen. She’s a friend of Susan Field’s.’
    â€˜The woman –’
    â€˜The woman we arrested at Keller’s house, the one who wasn’t having an abortion after all, and the one DS Lynch dumped on Mother Eustacia.’
    â€˜It doesn’t sound much like leaving Keller alone.’
    â€˜But this is a different inquiry altogether. We only want some help.’
    â€˜What’s this missing woman got to do with Special Branch?’ Dessie didn’t like the sound of it. When Stefan started following his nose you never got much sense of where it would lead. But experience had taught the guard that it usually meant trouble. There didn’t seem any doubt about that here.
    â€˜Nothing I should think. We don’t want to tread on those fellers’ toes.’
    As they pushed their way into the small bar it was packed. People were spilling out into the hallway. Inside much of the conversation was in German, loud and enthusiastic and fuelled by large quantities of highly proofed Christmas cheer. The detectives squeezed through to the bar, Stefan apologising in festive German. Dessie caught the barman’s eye.
    â€˜A hot whiskey.’
    â€˜That’ll be two!’ called Stefan.
    The barman poured two whiskeys and topped them up with hot water from the