Anglo-Irish Murders Read Online Free Page A

perpetrator? What about Knocknasheen?’
    ‘Knocknasheen can wait.’
    Five phone calls later Amiss passed the phone across to her: ‘It’s Crispin Egglington. He confirms Saoirse’s account of their agreement.’
    ‘What sort of a pillock are you?’ was her opening gambit, followed a moment or two later by, ‘Has the elementary truth not sunk in that every time you give in to a lunatic MOPE demand they return to their Grievance Sub-committee to think up a few more…Certainly not…Damn sure it isn’t coming off my budget.’ Her voice rose. ‘You can bloody well provide the interpreter. If you want to waste money on half-witted cosmetic gestures which set precedents that will haunt our grandchildren, do so. But don’t expect me to help…No, I don’t care. If you want a bloody interpreter find a bloody interpreter.’
    She handed the phone back to Amiss. ‘That should have sorted out the craven little cretin.’
    Amiss winced. ‘Crispin? You still there…Yes, I know…Yes, she is. Very. But then she was your choice…No, sorry…I’d never hear the end of it. I’m sure you’ll be able to sort it with Dublin. Borrow one of theirs, perhaps?…Really? Well, well, life’s full of these little ironies isn’t it. Sorry, must rush. Bye.’
    He grinned. ‘Crispin says he doubts if the Irish can provide an interpreter easily. Seeing they all speak English all the time they have hardly any on the payroll.’
    He switched on the engine and put his foot on the accelerator. The baroness was quivering with rage. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘So what we’re actually doing is providing an interpreter to translate speeches into Irish for the benefit of a collection of people, most of whom can speak no Irish, at the behest of a gaggle of citizens of the United Kingdom who wish to join a state which never uses Irish anyway. Fine. Sets the tone for the whole weekend if you ask me.’
    The Sailor’s Hornpipe sounded once more and Amiss slowed down. ‘Hello…Yes, Mr Kapur. Can I help you?…Sorry…No, I didn’t know she had asked you to attend this conference…You know it concerns cultural sensitivities in the British Isles?…I see…No, she didn’t tell me. It must have slipped her mind. But then she’s been so busy I’ve seen virtually nothing of her,’ he added, glaring balefully at the baroness. ‘Of course you’ll be most welcome. As you say, I’m sure that the view of an objective outsider will be of considerable help. Right. Now this is how you get there…’
    ‘Jack,’ he asked with deceptive calm as he ended the call. ‘I should be grateful for an explanation.’
    ‘Don’t get pompous on me. I didn’t bother telling you since I wasn’t sure he’d come. Anyway you might have objected. You’re always objecting. Only thing to do was go for the fait accompli .’
    ‘Why do you want him?’
    ‘All packs need a joker.’
    ‘Or more likely a loose cannon.’
    ‘That too,’ she said cheerily. ‘There’s always a chance it’ll let off a ball straight into the enemy’s flanks.’
    ‘Or, of course, into one’s own ranks.’
    ‘Life is for taking risks. Anyway, Chandra will undoubtedly provide some fun and will definitely be on my side.’
    ‘The problem, all too often, Jack, is knowing which side you’re on.’
    ‘Well it sure as hell isn’t MOPE’s. Now put your foot down.’

Chapter Three
    ‘It’s just a few hundred yards on. Past the snipe bog.’
    ‘I’ve never seen a snipe bog.’
    ‘Not a lot to see.’ She stared out the window. ‘We’re nearly there. Left. Now.’
    Amiss turned abruptly through the enormous rusty iron gates. He had read enough novels about the slow death of the Anglo-Irish gentry to be unsurprised by the state of the structure that awaited them at the end of the overgrown drive.
    ‘We’ll stop here for a minute,’ said the baroness. ‘Get out.’
    They had been standing in the twilight for a moment or two when she asked, ‘Recognize the