“My line remained at one or two students,” Declan said. “Students are preparing for an art show next week, so they spent time finalizing their work for printing and display. I have a talented group this semester.”
“Sounds like you both can use this drink.” Wyl raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to relaxing with friends.”
“Here-here!” All three responded, clinking glasses. Ailbe and Declan exchanged glances, smiling at the word friends. They ate their patsies.
“Wyl, any questions on the project guidelines?” Ailbe asked.
“Only one so far,” Wyl said. “Do you want me to focus on specific projects or everything?”
“Why don’t we meet in my office on Monday? You’ll have digested the project plan, and we can figure out what would work best,” Ailbe said.
“Monday is fine,” Wyl said. “How is nine-thirty?”
“Perfect.” Ailbe paused, “You don’t realize how much I appreciate your help offer. Rod can help you figure out the grading.”
“I thought the same thing, Ailbe. Rod will enjoy seeing the complexity of the project I shared with him today.”
“Smart, Wyl.” Ailbe tensed at Rod knowing about the project but needing Wyl’s experience. Declan could handle things if the situation got out of hand. Rod was expendable, but not until Wyl’s usefulness ended.
“You ready to go, Ailbe?” Declan asked. “I’m a bit tired.” An edge of irritation flowed from Declan’s voice.
“Sure.” Ailbe finished his Bulmers. “I’ll see you gents on Monday.” They stood and left.
Now alone at the table, “Did you catch the change in Declan’s attitude?” Rod asked.
“I think trouble exists between them,” Wyl said. “If so, trouble will work in our favor. Internal strife always hampers success.”
“I'm still uneasy around those two.” Rod stood and shrugged on his jacket.
“Don’t ever lose your uneasiness, Rod.” Wyl tugged on his own jacket. “Those two are not to be trusted.”
* * *
That evening, Fergus Rafferty climbed into the tub for a hot bath before bed. In his tiny efficiency flat near the GMIT campus, the bathroom occupied one corner of the rectangular floorplan of the flat. As his butt sank into the hot bathwater and found the bottom of the tub, an unfamiliar noise startled him.
“Who is it?” he called out and listened for a response. A loud meowing outside signaled a stray cat. “Feck,” he muttered, drying his hands on a towel hanging near the tub and reaching for his earbuds. His iPod lay on a window ledge above the tub. He got it and found his favorite playlist before settling back into the warm water to relax, eyes closed.
A shadow passed over his eyes a minute later, and he opened them. The water sloshed as he jolted with surprise. The sudden jerk caused his iPod to fall from the window ledge into the tub. Fergus sat up, jerking the earbuds from his ears.
“Who the feck are you?” Fear shook his voice at the ominous figure standing next to the tub. Dressed in black with a black ski mask covering his face, the figure said nothing.
Fergus put his hands on the tub's rim to stand, but the figure placed a hand on his head, keeping him seated in the water as it glanced around the bathroom.
“What do you want?” Fergus shouted, nothing but a high-pitched squeak coming out of his mouth. “Get out of my flat!”
“Goodbye, kid.” The gruff voice growled as a gloved hand reached for the hair dryer on the top of the toilet tank, turned it on, and dropped it into the bathwater.
The lights in the flat dimmed, and the specter fled into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Healy, come here!” O’Brien shouted, scanning the police report which hit his desk mid-morning.
“Aye, Chief?”
“Rafferty’s dead. When he didn’t come to class, one of his friends went to his flat and found him in the tub with a hair dryer.”
Surprise crossed Healy’s brow. “Another death? And after he brought us information? The timing is coincidental, Chief.”
“You're right, Healy. I’ll visit the flat complex to talk with the neighbors. Someone may have seen something.”
“Aye, Chief.”
“This report says a Garrett Burke found him and called the police. Let’ have Mr. Burke in for questioning.”
“Should we have someone else talk with him, Chief?” Healy suggested. “We’ve already stirred the pot by having a group of students come to the station. Rafferty’s two visits may have caused his untimely death.”
“You make a valid point, Healy. Remind me to send your wife flowers.”
“I’m gay, sir,” Healy reminded O’Brien. “My boyfriend prefers cigars.”
O’Brien ignored the comment and went on. “Fill Glenn Cross in and have him contact Burke. We should be able to obtain what we need.”
“Yes, sir.” Healy turned to leave O’Brien’s office.
“Healy!” O’Brien gruffed. Healy faced the Chief.
“You mentioned Todd…your boyfriend, and I support your choices.” O’Brien used a softer tone. He valued Healy’s service. “I didn’t mean anything by my comment.”
