Reluctantly (the barman’s) eyes flicked up and met mine. He also had greeny-blue irises with a hint of dark in them. But his dark couldn’t match my dark. I was not a man who got habitually dicked around with, and I had already been dicked around quite enough today.
He saw. He knew. I might be north of forty, I might be only a part-time cop, I might be getting soft in the middle, and I might not have worked a case in a year, but I was the scariest bastard he was going to encounter in a long time.
Northern Ireland, 1992. With Beth, their daughter Emma and Jet the cat safely ensconced in Scotland, Sean Duffy is a part-timer, working at the Carrickfergus Police station 6 days a month until retirement, along with John “Crabbie” McCrabben – a local dairy farmer. And while the sectarian troubles have lasted 25 years and the hopes of a peace process continue, it is July – which signals the marches of the Orangemen across the Province.
In the opening scenes, Duffy is negotiating the numerous paramilitary road blocks held by masked men that have sprung up across Belfast (some BRILLIANT dark humour here), on his way to catch the midnight ferry to Stranraer – when he is called to the crime scene of a carjacking gone wrong, ending in murder, while Sgt Lawson is on leave in Tenerife.
So begins the investigation of a painter of portraits and landscapes, who paid for everything in cash and was a quiet neighbour, living under a false name. A solitary clue: a pair of Picasso etchings – if their provenance can be determined, they might lead to a name. With CI McArthur anxious for a result, Duffy and Crabbie delve deeper with a pull-no-punches approach to old fashioned police work – the story gets murkier, drawing in Special Branch.
He was Scottish, better looking and younger than both Crabbie and I, but he was bound to be disappointed to still be a chief inspector and still to be in Carrickfergus after all these years. Still, navigating failure is a useful skill to learn, especially if you live in Northern Ireland.
When the trail leads across the border into the Irish Republic Duffy and Crabbie discover that despite the RUC badge, they are very much on their own, and fair game.
8th in the series, the strength of Adrian McKinty’s writing lies in the dark humour and flawed character of Duffy – in mid-life crisis, a penchant for poetry and music, and with an impressive clearance record but few actual arrests (he prefers a physical skirmish to get results than rely on the courts) – and thus the minor players here – art dealer/forger Archie Simmons, and "traveller" Killian – petty criminals in their own right, play pivotal roles, pointing to a sinister international connection. Top Stuff!