“The twelfth.”
“Thanks.” O’Brien finished making his notes. “You got the list finished yet?” He stuffed the notebook and pencil back into his pocket.
“Almost, sir,” Healy called out from his office. “I’ll have it for you in five minutes.”
O’Brien studied the list of calls made by Keenan Moynihan. His last call lasted only about three minutes. The rest of the calls lasted five minutes or more. He cross-referenced the number and found Keenan spoke to fellow student Fergus Rafferty.
“Healy!” O’Brien shouted. “Did we have a Fergus Rafferty in here for questioning?”
It took a moment for Healy to check his list. “No, sir. We did not question anyone named Rafferty.”
“Feck. Bring Rafferty in here pronto. If he doesn’t answer, send the boys after him. I want to talk with him this morning!”
“Right, Chief.”
A few minutes later, Healy dropped the list of office calls between MacGowan and Knowlan on O’Brien’s desk. A regular pattern of afternoon calls showed daily at around two o’clock, except for one call from MacGowan to Knowlan midmorning the day before joggers found Moynihan floating in the River Corrib.
Well, bugger me, O’Brien thought. I caught the fekker in an inconsistency, and that’s always a clue. He pulled out his notebook and noted the inconsistency, including the date and time of the call.
“Chief, Rafferty didn’t answer his phone, so I sent a couple of the boys to pay him a visit.” Healy walked into O’Brien’s office. “Did the list contain anything interesting?”
“Feck, yes!” O’Brien slammed a fist to his desk. “I found an inconsistency in the usual pattern of calls between MacGowan and Knowlan. Something happened to prompt MacGowan to make a call mid-morning. Their routine daily call occurs mid-afternoon. Whatever prompted the break in routine, you bet I’ll find out!”
* * *
A loud pounding at the door woke Fergus Rafferty from a sound sleep at nine o’clock in the morning. Fergus joined his friends at a late-night party, so slept it off instead of attending class. He struggled out of bed and stumbled to the front door of his tiny one-room flat. He opened the door a crack, leaving the security chain on.
“What the feck do you want?” he groggily uttered as he eyed the two men standing at his door.
“Mr. Rafferty? Mr. Fergus Rafferty?” One of the men asked.
“Aye,” Fergus yawned.
“Police. We need you to come with us.”
“You arresting me?” Shocked into full consciousness, Fergus realized the law stood at his door and his neighbors no doubt heard the pounding.
“No, sir,” the policeman responded. “The Chief Superintendent would like to ask you a few questions.”
“What about?”
“We don’t have any information regarding the questioning, Mr. Rafferty. Now if you’ll please dress and come with us.”
Fergus unlatched the door and invited the two policemen in.
“Do I have time for a quick bath?” he asked.
“As long as it’s quick,” the policeman responded.
Ten minutes later, bathed and dressed, he grabbed his jacket and showed the policemen out the door.
Uncertainty knotted Fergus’s stomach as they parked at the station. His mind raced through everything his childhood, from the pack of gum he stole from the corner grocery as a child to the teenage pranks he pulled with his buddies in high school. Did they keep records about all those things? Keenan’s death screamed in his mind. I hope I'm not a suspect in Keenan’s murder. He recalled Keenan’s anguished cries before the phone went dead. He followed the officers into the Gardaí station.
“Fergus Rafferty for the Chief,” one of the officers informed the desk sergeant.
He pointed to a bench on the other side of the room. “Sit, Mr. Rafferty. You’ll be called.”
“Yes, sir,” Fergus hoped to discover the reason for his abrupt trip to the Garda station, but nobody volunteered the information. He sat for what seemed like an hour, but glancing at his wristwatch, only five minutes passed.
“Mr. Rafferty?” a lanky, red-headed man called his name, holding a door open leading into the bowels of the police station. “Come this way.”
“Yes, sir,” Fergus stood and walked through the door the man held open. Visions of a firing squad waiting in a hidden courtyard flashed through his mind. Did chewing gum stealing as a youngster mean prison time?
“I’m Sergeant Healy. Chief Superintendent O’Brien wants to ask a few questions about Keenan Moynihan. Right this way.” Healy led Fergus down a long hallway.
At least now I understand why I’m here. They turned a corner and continued down the hallway to the door at the end, marked Chief Superintendent.
Healy opened the door for Fergus, indicating he should enter.
“Have a seat.” Healy pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. “I’ll inform Chief Superintendent O’Brien you are here.”
He left Fergus alone while he stepped into the next office.
“Fergus Rafferty is here, sir,” Healy announced.
“Well, show him in, Sergeant,” O’Brien gruffed.
Healy motioned from the doorway. “Mr. Rafferty, in here, please.”
