Read Online The Dead (The Saxon & Fitzgerald Mysteries Book 1) by Ingrid Black - Free Book Online

had blown them up with a bicycle pump, and his shirt strained at a bullish neck. He was like an oak tree that had uprooted itself through sheer will but was still clumsy on its new feet. His hair needed cutting too, and his jaw was dark. Not so much a five o’clock shadow as the sort of daylong shadow that never really went away.
    There was a shyness about him as he lingered at the door, looking around at the large apartment, openly appreciative, his eyes drifting to the huge window overlooking the city, and the terrace beyond, like visitors’ eyes always did, before remembering why he was here and depositing the box down on the table with a sigh.
    ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You want coffee?’
    ‘There’s another one in the car.’
    ‘You’d better get it then.’
    ‘Right you are.’
    He went back down and returned with a second box, sweating now despite the cold. He made his own skin look uncomfortable. The lift must’ve been broken again. It usually was.
    ‘You could do with more exercise, DS Boland,’ I teased.
    ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said, ‘but I wouldn’t say no to that coffee you promised.’
    ‘See that over there? That’s called a kitchen. You’ll find what you want in there. Cups in the cupboard.’
    ‘Oh, right. I’ll do that. You want some, Miss . . .’
    ‘Saxon. Just Saxon. And no, I got some already.’
    ‘Right,’ he said again, and did as he was told.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him opening cupboard doors with the aimlessness of a man who had never actually been in a kitchen before and was alarmed by what he was finding.
    ‘Second on the left. No, left. There. Now top shelf.’
    He lifted down an I Love NY mug and poured coffee from the percolator.
    ‘I didn’t see you last night at the canal,’ I said as he carried it back.
    ‘Off duty,’ Boland replied.
    ‘I didn’t realise there was such a thing as off duty in a murder case.’
    ‘There is if you’re out drinking and you’ve left your pager back at the station,’ he said. ‘It was only when I got home later that I realised everyone was looking for me.’ He took his first mouthful of coffee and winced. ‘That’s strong,’ he said. ‘Not bad, mind, but strong. I’m more of an instant man myself.’
    ‘I guessed.’
    He gestured at the mug.
    ‘Is that where you’re from, then – New York?’
    ‘No.’ I opened the box and started sorting through the papers inside. ‘That’s just a souvenir. I’m from Boston.’
    ‘What brought you all the way from Boston to Dublin, if you don’t mind my asking?’
    ‘I don’t mind you asking. Everyone asks me that question.’
    Was he waiting for an answer?
    He could wait.
    ‘I suppose,’ he tried again, ‘you must be one of those Irish Americans we’re always hearing about.’
    ‘Not me. I’m one of those American Americans you never hear about. My grandparents came from this side of the Atlantic, if that’s what you mean. One from County This, the other from County That. They all thought of themselves as Irish.’
    ‘You don’t?’
    ‘I was born in Boston, raised there, went to college there. I pledged allegiance each morning to the flag. American is what I am. All that Irish American, Italian American, Whatever American stuff doesn’t really interest me. I guess it must’ve skipped a generation. Is this all there was?’ I said to change the subject, gesturing at the boxes he’d brought round from Dublin Castle.
    ‘It’s all I could find at short notice. There may be more. I’ll check with records again once I’ve another free minute. They’ve been working me pretty hard since I transferred.’
    ‘You came from Serious Crime, that right?’
    He nodded once more.
    ‘About a month ago. Didn’t get on with my superior, I was going nowhere, I needed a change, Fitzger— the Chief Super was looking for new blood.’
    ‘And now you’re lugging boxes up six flights of stairs for some interfering outsider.’
    ‘Ours is not to reason