The Color of Blood by Declan Hughes Page A

voice that sounded like a shrill, highly strung version of Denis Finnegan’s, he screamed, “This is all your fault, you devious whore, you filthy fucked-up bitch!”
     
Five
     
    I THOUGHT I HAD JONATHAN CALMED DOWN, AND THEN Emily started up at him and the two of them let fly and it was you always you never your dad your mum fuck the Howards for a while, with Emily decidedly having the upper hand. It was an oppressive little room to share with two half-dressed cousins having a bitter lovers’ quarrel. Finally they subsided again. I suggested they put some clothes on, and said I’d see them downstairs. Sean Moon was waiting in the living room. I looked around the kitchen first: full of pizza boxes and microwave meals, it looked like people had been camping there for a while. When I went into the living room, the first thing I noticed was that it matched the room the porn had been shot in. The second thing was that Sean Moon appeared keen to talk but anxious that he might be overheard.
    “It’s okay, they’re still in the room,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”
    “I’ve never been in trouble with the police,” Moon said.
    “Well, tell me what happened, and maybe you won’t be,” I said.
    “They paid me to let them use the house.”
    “Who paid you? The grey hoodie boys?”
    “The Reillys. They’re… I don’t know. Their da has a paving business across in Woodpark, but the Reillys are into everything. Anyway, I was in the Woodpark Inn, and they asked — said it was just for a few days, couple of blue movies, I could watch and everything, thousand Euro.”
    “And who all was there?”
    “The two upstairs, and another girl called Wendy in the first one, and then Wendy and Petra in the second. And the Reillys.”
    “And David Brady.”
    Moon looked at the floor. The carpet had originally been a pale shade, ivory or vanilla. It was difficult to say what color it was now, such was the variety and texture of the stains and sheens it had accumulated. I wouldn’t have touched it, let alone had sex on it.
    “Why was he murdered?”
    “Good question. Any ideas?”
    Moon shook his head violently.
    “I’ve never been in any trouble—”
    “You told me that. But the Reillys have. Are they killers?”
    The headshake again.
    “No. Just…”
    “Drugs?”
    “I think so. But I don’t—”
    “I know, you don’t. What do you do?”
    “I’m on disability. Chest. Inhalation of fumes.”
    I looked around the room. By the TV there was a stack of videos and DVDs: Manchester United,
Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings,
a lot of cartoons. And a PlayStation and a bunch of computer games. What Sean Moon did was watch TV, by the looks of things.
    “Do you go to the Woodpark Inn much?”
    “Just when there’s a match on. I don’t really drink. Don’t like the taste.”
    “What about the porn films, Sean? Did you like them?”
    He looked up at me from beneath his pocked brow, a furtive leer on his overgrown child’s face.
    “They said they’d give me the DVD. But they haven’t. Do you think they will?”
    I heard footfalls on the stairs.
    “I don’t think so, Sean. I don’t think so.”
     
     
    Emily and Jonathan were silent on the drive back to Shane Howard’s surgery. There was nobody there except Anita, who told me Shane had called her at lunchtime to cancel the afternoon’s appointments. Of course, there were two patients she couldn’t contact, so she had to stay here to face them when they showed up. She didn’t look very happy, and although she smiled and blessed herself when I told her I had found Emily, she seemed like a woman with a lot on her mind.
    I swung around the harbor and up the steep drive to “Howard residence.” The Porsche wasn’t there, but Emily had a key. When we got inside, Emily announced she was going to bed. I said I didn’t think that was a very good idea and she erupted again and said she didn’t care what I thought, I was just another flunky bought and