Breaking Point by Frank Smith Page A

breath. ‘Pussy Willow,’ she panted. ‘It’s Mickey’s little joke. Willow’s his cat, but I think she prefers it here.’
    Tregalles wasn’t surprised; the cat knew when it was on to a good thing.
    â€˜Well, sit yourself down, then,’ she said. ‘There’s plenty of room for a little ’un. But be a love and put the kettle on before you do. I could do with another cup of tea myself.’
    Directed by ‘Call me Mary’, Tregalles filled the kettle, set it on the propane burner, then slid into the seat facing her across the table. He made a show of looking at his watch and frowning. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit pressed for time,’ he said regretfully – he wasn’t, but after seeing the condition of the mugs beside the sink, there was no way he was going to be drinking tea, especially not with sugar in it – ‘so I’ll get right to it, if you don’t mind, Mary. As I said, I’m looking for Mr Doyle, and I’m told you might be able to tell me where I can find him.’
    â€˜Is he in trouble again?’ It seemed to be an automatic question when Doyle’s name was mentioned. ‘He’s not a bad boy, you know,’ Mary continued. ‘He made those shelves for me.’ She pointed to a set of three small shelves above the sink. ‘Never charged me. He knows I’m on the supplement, and I keep an eye on things when he’s away. And then there’s puss.’ She stroked the cat, who was purring softly.
    Tregalles shook his head. ‘He’s not in any trouble as far as I know,’ he assured her. ‘But I do need to talk to him. I’m trying to find a friend of his, and I’m hoping he can help me.’
    â€˜Ah, well, that’s all right, then, but I don’t think you’ll be seeing him for a while. He’s gone to Ireland, at least that’s what his friends said when they came to pick him up.’
    â€˜When was this?’
    Mary thought. ‘Last Friday,’ she said. ‘Yes, that’s right, it was Friday. Early in the morning, it was. They were so anxious to get going, they forgot all about puss. I had to go over and see to her after they’d gone.’
    â€˜You say a friend came to pick up Mr Doyle; have you seen this friend before?’
    Mary shook her head. ‘Two of them, there were, in a car,’ she said. ‘I heard them drive in. It must have been before seven; it was still dark, and I hadn’t been up long. Can’t sleep in like I used to.’ Mary lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘It’s the bladder,’ she confided. ‘And once you’re up you might just as well stay up, mightn’t you? Anyway, I heard this car, then a banging on Mickey’s door. It went quiet for a bit, but then I heard Mickey shouting something, so I went out to see what was going on.’
    â€˜And what was going on, Mary?’
    The kettle let out a piercing whistle. ‘Be a love and make the tea,’ she said, ignoring Tregalles’s question. ‘Puss is having her nap, and I don’t want to disturb her.’
    Dutifully, Tregalles slid out of the seat and made the tea, but when Mary told him to bring the pot and two mugs to the table, he only brought one. ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ he told her sorrowfully as he sat down again. ‘Mouth’s still sore from having a tooth out, and I’m not supposed to drink anything hot.’
    â€˜Shame,’ she said. ‘I remember what it was like when I had my tonsils out. I was just a girl, of course. Back then they took your tonsils out for any old reason, but you never hear of it now, do you? Talk about a sore mouth – I remember what it was like trying to—’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Mary,’ Tregalles broke in, looking at his watch again, ‘but I really am pressed for time. You were going to tell me about these men. You said