JP, Mono and Rasher sat in their time-honoured positions at the bar counter. It was midweek. The bar was quiet. The three amigos were quiet. Each looked down into the creamy surface of their pint. Each in his own way waiting for that catalyst to materialise out of the pint glass and infuse the conversation. Their glaze was momentarily distracted to the Velux roof windows where the rain was now pounding the glass surface and demanding attention.
‘ That’s a bleedin’ wet one.’
‘Ya can whistle that.’
‘Yeah. Only rained twice this week so far. Once on Sunday for two days and then again on Monday for another two days.’
They guffawed. An old joke. Half joking. Half in earnest. The gallows laugh.
They comforted themselves with a synchronous visit to their pints. Mono saw that the glasses, when returned to their beer mat resting places, were getting perilously close to critical low volumes. He immediately raised a finger in the air to catch Donleavy’s attention. No words were required to exchange but the message was received loud and clear. Donleavy set about his task to efficiently replace what currently rested in front of the three lads. A really satisfying outcome was achieved when a last drain of the current volume was executed at the exact moment the incoming pints were placed on the existing beer mats. That’s experience. That would happen here. The pub was quiet, and the changeover would happen quickly. The call had been put in at just the right time. On another night, with a busier crowd, then there could have been some anxiety. The only time a glass should be accompanied in an empty state is those seconds before final draining and pub exit. Anything else represents anxiety and can ruin an entire evening.
The silence between our three amigos was not unusual. Sometimes they would sit there for long extended periods of time, each with his own private reflections, bonded together by only that almost imperceptible signal to reach for their respective glass and execute another synchronous cycle of pint drinking. On this occasion, it was JP who threw in a conversation opener.
“Sometimes the law is an ass.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. They shrugged. Mono volunteered to take the bait.
“What is it this time, JP? Speedin’ tickets? Parkin’ fine? Didn’t pay yer TV license?”
Rasher had that extra time to think.
“Feck it, JP. The taxman has finally caught up with ya. I knew he would eventually.”
Mono tossed in another curve to the conversation.
“Jayzus Rasher. It could be a taxwoman. Gender balance and all tha’. Is tha’ it, JP? Has a taxwoman finally caught ya out and done ya over?”
JP looked down the full length of his nose at his two drinking partners. It was ‘disdainful look’ number thirty-six from his playbook of unimpressed looks. Such looks, however, never stopped the two boys from seeking out a sensitive spot to hammer home a friendly advantage. JP made sure to clarify:
“It’s nothing to do wit’ me. You pair are worse than a couple of smirkin’ hyenas or circlin’ vultures. Remind me not to rely on ye for unconditional support.”
“No bother, JP.”
“Here for ya all the way.”
They each took another gulp. The conversation was open. The field was wide.
“I’m sayin’….”, JP paused for extra effect, “I’m sayin’ that the bleedin’ law shags things up sometimes.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it. But – what’s on yer mind.”
“Bloody criminals who get off on technicalities. The warrant wasn’t right. The mobile phone stuff shouldn’t have been used. It was entrapment. This thing about ‘inadmissible’ – whatever the hell that means.”
Rasher and Mono let this sink in for a while. There was a lot to absorb here in one sitting. Clearly JP had given some thought to this and they were only playing catch up. Neither of them responded. They looked at each other. JP took this as permission to expound further.
“I mean to say – Jayzus – I’d be givin’ the detective lads….or girls…”
Mono smiled at this.
“….I’d be givin’ them a bonus if they were clever enough to think up and execute an entrapment. Fair dues and all tha’.”
Rasher and Mono gave some further thought to that and Rasher signaled another cycle of imbibing to make sure the neurons were well enough oiled to take all of this in their cranial stride. When the glasses were returned to their beer mats and any wiping of lips had been completed, JP got back on the soapbox.
“It’s all fecked up, i’n’it?”
No reply required.
“It’s all fecked up because the only thing that should happen is that the detective boys and girls should get a little slap on the wrist for being less than perfect. Johnny Criminal….or Jane Criminal….”
Mono couldn’t help smiling.
“….Johnny and Jane have had another piece of evidence showing that they are low-down, malevolent, foul-smellin’, guttersnipes of questionable parentage. So that is what should stick.”
JP took time to see how this was going down. The boys were still coming up to speed.
“Let’s say, Rasher, that I get a warrant to search yer house and find all sorts of guilty stuff. Shergar’s head. The knife you used with the blood still on it and yer fingerprints still on it. Yer bloody fingerprints on the wall. All sorts of guilty stuff. Why would all that be thrown out because the wrong date was on the warrant? Doesn’t make sense. I mean – dock me a day’s pay for me makin’ an arse of the warrant – but you should still go down.”
Mono looked at Rasher with piercing eyes.
“You’re a complete bastard, Rasher. I loved that horse. Won some lovely bets on him. And you – ya heartless swine. Ya not only killed him. Ya bleedin’ decapitated him as well. Yer bang on JP. Rasher needs to go down. Feck the warrant.”
Rasher pushed his two hands out in front of him. This was all getting a bit out of hand.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. I’m innocent. I have an alibi. I was away on a fishing holiday with Lord Lucan. He can vouch for me.”
“Ah well. That’s OK so.”
They went back to their pints. A period of silence and calm descended again. Donleavy was called into action and like the efficient bar owner that he is – he delivered the incoming like as if he floated on a cushion of air behind the bar counter. JP scratched his chin. He wasn’t finished with his crusade. There needed to be another phase, another level of discussion. The itch on his chin was one thing but he had another itch that needed vigorous scratching.
“It’s a clusterfuck, lads. That’s wha’ it is.”
“Ah Jayzus, JP, it’s as good as any other pint that Donleavy has served.”
“Yeah. That’s bleedin’ harsh JP, very bleedin’ harsh.”
JP looked from one to the other. JP always sat in the middle stool flanked by his lieutenants. It also made the scanning process that bit slower and sharper as JP moved his head from side to side. The message was transmitted. They were discounting his serious points. He was less than pleased. He decided to ignore their foolishness.
“So let me take you as an example, Mono.”
“Ah for feck sake, JP. Don’t be making an example of me, will ya?”
“You killed my wife…”
“What the….”
“The detectives take your phone and are able to confirm that you were in my house at the time and that ya sent a text to Rasher to help you move the body.”
“Hey. Don’t drag me into this. I’m already coppin’ enough stick for killin’ Shergar.”
“Are you tellin’ me that this shouldn’t be used to lock you up for life.”
They all thought about this for a while. JP would be feeling quare sick if Mono was to get off because of some European Court technicality of storing and using mobile phone stuff. There was another period of quiet and reflection. There were a few cycles of synchronous pint drinking. Eventually Mono broke in.
“Look JP, I’m sorry about your wife. Honest I am. And I would never kill her. And in my defence – you said lots of times you’d murder her yerself if she stopped you from comin’ out to Donleavy’s.”
Rasher interrupted sharply.
“Hey – that’s your legal team deflectin’ blame. Bleedin’ great strategy. I’ve heard JP say hundreds of times he’d murder her.”
This time both JP and Mono shot dirty looks. Rasher held his hands up in defence.
“Only sayin’….”
Mono continued.
“But if we let the police look into everythin’ we’re doin’ – isn’t that goin’ to be like a 1964 thing?”
“1984.”
“Whatever.”
They went back to their pints. There might be more pints in this discussion than just one trip to Donleavy’s. This could be a multi-pint, many visit topic. With every respect to our three amigos – they knew when they should shift their priority of thought.
“Should be go for chips and a battered cod?”
“Think that might be the best option on the table.”
“No table. Take-away.”
“Figure of speech.”
“Loose talk costs lives.”
“Button it there and give Donleavy the nod.”
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 