gave the arm a slight push.
“
Arghhhhhh!
Bastard!”
“Understand?”
“
Yesssssssssssss!
”
Suddenly, a woman came rushing down the hallway, wearing an off-white bathrobe, exposing cleavage. Hair was hidden in a turban-like towel, and her skin was glowing from hot water and anger.
“Thomas! Cut that out now! Do you hear me?”
Thomas mumbled under his breath. Something about this bastard starting it, catching him unaware.
“You can let him go now,” said the woman to Karl, her voice insistent.
“Are you sure? I’d really hate to see Thomas bust his knuckles on my craggy face.”
“Let him go,” she reiterated, folding her arms uncompromisingly, waiting to be obeyed.
Karl could smell residue of talcum powder and shampoo oozing from the woman as he pushed Thomas towards the hallway.
Thomas speedily turned and glared at Karl. His face told Karl he was contemplating retaliatory action.
“I really wouldn’t, Thomas,” insisted Karl.
“Go inside, Thomas … please –
now
,” instructed the woman, her face getting redder by the second.
“He started it, Margaret,” mumbled Thomas, sauntering down the hallway, a continuous stream of jargon pouring from his mouth. “You just watch your back, hard man. I never forget a face.”
“I never forget a face, either, Thomas, but in your case I’ll gladly make an exception,” responded Karl.
“Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” asked Margaret,easing behind the front door, covering her bathrobe as if suddenly realising how she must look to this trouble-making stranger standing at her front door.
Producing one of his business cards, Karl showed it to Margaret. She looked at the card but refused to take it.
“Karl Kane. I’m a private investigator, investigating your husband’s murder, Mrs Milligan.
Visibly annoyed, Margaret retorted icily. “
Ex
-husband. And the name is no longer Milligan. It’s Boland.”
“Sorry about that, Ms … Boland,” said Karl, producing a small black notebook. “Would it be possible to come in? I’ve a couple of questions I’d like to ask.”
“No, you can’t come in. Whatever you have to ask, ask it now, and leave. It’s bloody freezing standing here.”
Undeterred, Karl opened the notebook, glancing at the designated page. “Did your hus – did your ex-husband have any enemies, ones you were aware of, Margaret?”
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“About five hundred.”
“Huh?”
“Prisoners. Ex and those still incarcerated. He was a prison officer, as you are probably aware. You don’t make friends in that profession. Only enemies.”
Karl quickly scribbled something onto a page, and then looked at Margaret. “Did he receive any threats from any of the prisoners, that you know of?”
Margaret’s lips tightened for a second, then opened. “Oh, he got them. Deserved every one of them, the bastard. Wesley Milligan was a brute who loved brutalising both inside and
outside
the prison.” She laughed forcefully.
Believing that it’s often in laughter where true revelations emerge, Karl stared into Margaret Boland’s eyes and immediately saw the wariness of a woman marked by endurance. “I’m sorry to hear that … Margaret.” He flipped the notebook shut. “I think I’ve asked all the relevant questionsI need to ask. Sorry for causing that wee scene, at your door. You take care.” He turned to leave.
“Hold on,” said Margaret, unexpectedly, opening the front door fully, her hand tight against the throat of her bathrobe. “You may as well come in. I’m sure you’ll not say no to a hot cup of tea?”
Karl smiled. “That would be great. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Only after I’ve told you all about Wesley Milligan …”
C HAPTER E IGHT
Monday, 29 January (Evening)
‘There may be trouble ahead …’
Irving Berlin
, Let’s Face the Music and Dance
K ARL KEPT TYPING while relating the encounter with Margaret Boland to Naomi, when he returned to the office
“
Arghhhhhh!
Bastard!”
“Understand?”
“
Yesssssssssssss!
”
Suddenly, a woman came rushing down the hallway, wearing an off-white bathrobe, exposing cleavage. Hair was hidden in a turban-like towel, and her skin was glowing from hot water and anger.
“Thomas! Cut that out now! Do you hear me?”
Thomas mumbled under his breath. Something about this bastard starting it, catching him unaware.
“You can let him go now,” said the woman to Karl, her voice insistent.
“Are you sure? I’d really hate to see Thomas bust his knuckles on my craggy face.”
“Let him go,” she reiterated, folding her arms uncompromisingly, waiting to be obeyed.
Karl could smell residue of talcum powder and shampoo oozing from the woman as he pushed Thomas towards the hallway.
Thomas speedily turned and glared at Karl. His face told Karl he was contemplating retaliatory action.
“I really wouldn’t, Thomas,” insisted Karl.
“Go inside, Thomas … please –
now
,” instructed the woman, her face getting redder by the second.
“He started it, Margaret,” mumbled Thomas, sauntering down the hallway, a continuous stream of jargon pouring from his mouth. “You just watch your back, hard man. I never forget a face.”
“I never forget a face, either, Thomas, but in your case I’ll gladly make an exception,” responded Karl.
“Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” asked Margaret,easing behind the front door, covering her bathrobe as if suddenly realising how she must look to this trouble-making stranger standing at her front door.
Producing one of his business cards, Karl showed it to Margaret. She looked at the card but refused to take it.
“Karl Kane. I’m a private investigator, investigating your husband’s murder, Mrs Milligan.
Visibly annoyed, Margaret retorted icily. “
Ex
-husband. And the name is no longer Milligan. It’s Boland.”
“Sorry about that, Ms … Boland,” said Karl, producing a small black notebook. “Would it be possible to come in? I’ve a couple of questions I’d like to ask.”
“No, you can’t come in. Whatever you have to ask, ask it now, and leave. It’s bloody freezing standing here.”
Undeterred, Karl opened the notebook, glancing at the designated page. “Did your hus – did your ex-husband have any enemies, ones you were aware of, Margaret?”
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“About five hundred.”
“Huh?”
“Prisoners. Ex and those still incarcerated. He was a prison officer, as you are probably aware. You don’t make friends in that profession. Only enemies.”
Karl quickly scribbled something onto a page, and then looked at Margaret. “Did he receive any threats from any of the prisoners, that you know of?”
Margaret’s lips tightened for a second, then opened. “Oh, he got them. Deserved every one of them, the bastard. Wesley Milligan was a brute who loved brutalising both inside and
outside
the prison.” She laughed forcefully.
Believing that it’s often in laughter where true revelations emerge, Karl stared into Margaret Boland’s eyes and immediately saw the wariness of a woman marked by endurance. “I’m sorry to hear that … Margaret.” He flipped the notebook shut. “I think I’ve asked all the relevant questionsI need to ask. Sorry for causing that wee scene, at your door. You take care.” He turned to leave.
“Hold on,” said Margaret, unexpectedly, opening the front door fully, her hand tight against the throat of her bathrobe. “You may as well come in. I’m sure you’ll not say no to a hot cup of tea?”
Karl smiled. “That would be great. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Only after I’ve told you all about Wesley Milligan …”
C HAPTER E IGHT
Monday, 29 January (Evening)
‘There may be trouble ahead …’
Irving Berlin
, Let’s Face the Music and Dance
K ARL KEPT TYPING while relating the encounter with Margaret Boland to Naomi, when he returned to the office
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