THE LONG NIGHT AHEAD

Private Dick, Bird Dempsey, streetwise but sensitive soul, leaves his home in the Irish countryside for the seedy, mysterious streets of Malone Junction, Dublin City, at the behest of Moira, his first love and oldest friend. Moira’s sister has fallen on precarious times, immersing herself in the deadly, metropolitan world of high-class sex clubs and borderline prostitution, before dropping off the radar completely.

Now, accompanied only by his sidekick, The Daily Scoop Brown, and what little info Moira can provide, Bird must track down the wayward girl before it’s too late. Because another presence has taken to stalking the midnight alleys and dark streets of Dublin city – an evil, predatory man, who indulges his craving for blood by attacking the vulnerable young women who congregate on Malone. . .

..

…

ONE

It was the hottest summer we’ve had in nay on nine years now, the kids were out on Main Street shooting water hoses at each other and causing high hell holding up the traffic and the old timers outside Durkan’s bar were stripped down to their long shorts and string vests, slumped over on the benches, sipping ice cool cider and swearing to God it was the end of the world. I stopped in to White’s emporium for a paper and then headed back to the office.

It was quiet. It had been now for months. No action at all since we railed in on the gang of poachers targeting old Bobby Shaughnessy back in February. Turns out the fiery little Asian wife he bought himself over the internet was behind it all. Surprise, surprise. She tried to turn the charms on me then, but I weren’t biting. Bird Dempsey don’t shit where he eats. Not when it pays to do otherwise.

Had to feel bad for the old boy though. Sure he got his sheep back, but look at what he lost out on. Well if it’s any conciliation I bet she tore him up in the sack those first couple of nights. You could see it in her eyes. A demon in every sense.

Yeah, it had been quiet, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Financially, we were as secure as we’d ever been, having hit a big one a couple of years back that would keep us comfortable for another half decade or so, even if we failed to get a single good lead in all that time. And Christ knows Scoop still needed some time to get over his father, no matter what he said. The loss had ploughed through him like a ton of bricks.

So things weren’t bad exactly, but I was teetering dangerously on the brink of terminal boredom. Yeah, that’s what was really eating me – that and the heat – all that idleness was driving me stir-crazy. Well even though I didn’t know it yet, I hadn’t much cause to worry. Things were about to get real interesting again, real soon.

I climbed the staircase to our second-floor offices over Rusty’s Barbershop on Church Lane and opened the door. There were a few letters on the ground.

‘Hey Scoop, you in?’ I called.

Silence. He was probably down visiting his mother. She’d not been right since her husband passed on. I hadn’t the heart to say I reckoned she probably never would be again.

I bent down to pick up the post. A couple of bills, a check and a hand-written note. I chucked them on my desk and went to mix a drink. Sure it weren’t much later than noon, but Christ I needed something to cut through the boredom.

It was Moira’s handwriting on the envelope. If I’d been more alert I would have noticed earlier. Doesn’t do for a man in my business to be missing things, especially the obvious ones. I peeled back the paper lip and unfurled the letter.

“Bird,” it read,

Please come see me as soon as you can – it’s about Lindsey, I’m afraid something terrible has happened to her this time. Please hurry, I’ll be out at the house for the rest of the day.

Yours, Moira.”

I sipped my whiskey soda and rubbed my neck. Lindsey Costigan, how much heartache had that girl inflicted upon her kin? How many times had her older sister been roped in to spending time and money, effort and energy, on helping her out of another squeeze? As far as I was concerned she should be left to get through it herself this time, whatever it was. That was the only way the girl would ever learn. . .

I downed my drink in one, slammed it on the desk and stood up. Sure I thought Lindsey should be left to fend for herself, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t step in for Moira. Truthfully, there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for Moira Costigan.

I grabbed my hat off the stand and set out again.

Well Moira’s holed up in a big expensive farmhouse by the river just a few miles out of town. Maybe I could have afforded something better for her if things had gone different, in a different world, or maybe not. I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s been wed to that British moron Biff Hoskins for five years now, bore him a son after two. Says she’s happier than she’s ever been. I guess a man can always hope.

I drove my deep green Suzuki Baleno over the bridge out of town and followed the road along the river. She’s got a few nicks and bruises, but ol’ Suze still runs like a dream. We’ve been in some tight spots together.

The sun was beating down on the hills and fields as I zoomed past, and a soft, almost imperceptible breeze fluttered through the golden stalks of barley in the meadows. Even the cows were too heat-stricken to do much but lie in the long grass and chew. That’s Tipperary, that’s Raffertytyne.

Well the Tyne takes a turn from the road after a while and curls off around a crop of big, fertile hills. Biff Hoskins owns it all – several acres of land – with their house hidden away from view behind the hills, right at the edge of the river. Moira’s got her own private paradise down there. Only problem is it’s not me who gets to share it with her.

I pulled Suze off the main road and up the grey dusty track towards Moira’s place.

I parked in front of the house and walked up to the porch. Hoskin’s SUV was nowhere to be seen and little Jamie would likely be off at his grandma’s. That meant I had Moira all to myself.

Well whatever about Biff, I didn’t mind when the kid was about, I loved him in fact, but it gave me mixed feelings to see him playing and running in the fields while me and Moira took tea in the parlour. To be honest, it choked me up a little, to think what might have been.

I rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. I knew she was around because her clunky old pick-up truck was in the driveway (that’s Moira to a tee; she could afford any motor in the world these days, but she still chooses functionality over pomp every single time. That truck has never once let her down) so I rang the bell again and stepped back to gaze around the fields.

I couldn’t see her and there was no sign of life inside the house so I loosened my tie, took off my grey waist-coat, and took the path around back.

They have the whole vista around the river down there landscaped and renovated. It must have cost Hoskin a small fortune, and it’s really something special to behold. The old folks round here tell all sorts of fairy-tales and myths about the river Tyne – silly superstitious nonsense as far as I’m usually concerned – but as I looked down on the twisting footpaths and intricate topiary sculptures that afternoon, at the quaint little stone bridge that climbed over the clear, glistening waters, it was easy to see the magic in it. The glint of the sunlight on the surface of the water could have been a few loose scales, shaken from the wings of an angel.

I walked down towards the bridge to see if I could get a better look out across the gardens.

I stepped onto the bridge and paused, looking downstream along the brook. There she was, standing beneath an old oak tree – as beautiful as she’s ever been. My heart raced as I looked at her. It does that every time.

She was wearing a long white dress, made from a papery, ruffled material. The sleeves went all the way down to her tiny wrists and the hem was around her feet, which were bare and ever so slightly sunken in the cool mud beneath the tree. Her soft brown hair cascaded down her back, getting long these days, and the longest of it brushed the nape of her small, pert buttocks. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. I just wanted to watch her for a moment, admire her grace and beauty.

Her thin, gentle little nose twitched suddenly and her soft brow furrowed. I thought the game was up, but whatever had caught her attention was on the opposite side to me. She turned away, stepping out from the shade, and all of a sudden the sunlight permeated right through the thin material of her dress. Underneath, her body was a tantalising silhouette, like the shadowy spectre of some siren princess. She was completely naked beneath the dress.

Whatever had pricked her curiosity was down low in front of her and she slowly bent forward until only her ass and slender, elegant legs were presented up towards me on the bridge. My mouth was dry. I swallowed. I could just about make out the cleft of her buttocks beneath the dress. Underneath the itchy material of my grey tweed pants and silk boxers, I felt the blood flow into my cock, as it stirred to life.

I took a little fifty millilitre bottle of whiskey out of my pocket and carefully unscrewed the cap. Down by the river, Moira arched her back and rose upright again. She turned, and I could see that it was a little dandelion she’d found. She raised it to her gentle, peach-coloured chin and touched its downy white fibres against her lips. She held it there against the skin for a moment. And then blew.

The particles of the flower floated away into the atmosphere around her face, a perfect cloud-like aura, and I took the shot of whiskey. I felt the smoky burn in my throat as the raw heat landed in my belly and spread out through my lungs and head. It made me feel woozy; overpowered by the heat, and the alcohol, and the beautiful elven figure beneath me, down on the river. She was so close at hand and yet so far out of reach.

Slowly, Moira crouched down on her knees and placed her small porcelain-smooth hands beneath the hem of her dress. She rose to her feet, pulling the dress up over her waist, so that I could see her beautiful, pale legs and soft, auburn and gold little bush, like a solitary triangle of heaven, between her legs. She paused as she pulled the dress awkwardly up over her head, so that her hands were now bound and her head was covered and her small pale, pert breasts were naked to the world above the curved canvass of her abdomen.

I saw myself standing behind her, stepping quickly in one fluid movement so that my crotch was pressed up against her ass and my hands were firmly gripped on her waist. She’d know exactly who it was and what I intended to do. She would sigh my name desirously, tell me to do whatever I wanted, and I would guide her hips down to the ground, let the soft soil rise up around her naked knees, run the fingers of my hand gently down her spine while with my other, I would unclip my braces and open my pants. . .

Moira pulled off her dress and let it fall to the ground. Her hair was a mess of unbridled curls now, the soft locks tumbling down over her eyes and around her chin into her mouth. In a girlish, pixie movement she shook her head, sending the mane back across her naked shoulders and back. She bent down into pose.

In a flash, she took a sprint at the river and leapt out from the bank. Silently, she glided through the air and landed in the freezing water, shooting gushing white foam up around her.

I wiped the sweat from my face and cleared my throat. Then I started counting down from ten. As soon as my dick began to soften, I crossed the bridge and made my way down the bank towards her.

TWO

‘Hey Moira,’ I shouted, letting on that I’d only just arrived.

She took a spin towards me and started treading water, raising one arm to wave. ‘Hi! I wasn’t expecting you out here so soon!’

‘It’s been quiet.’

Moira swam in towards the bank. She rose quickly and the water burst off of her body like an exploding armour of ice. Her nipples were red and erect, perfectly sculpted by the cold aqua. As the water fell away from her body, droplets streaked down from her neck along her belly, forming little pearls of crystal in the short crop of hair between her legs.

‘You’re naked,’ I said, for want of something better to say.

‘It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Hand me that dress, would you?’ she asked.

I pretended not to be interested as she pulled the single-piece over her wet body.

‘What’s the matter, your glasses are all steamed up?’

‘It’s the heat. What are you doing out here?’

‘I needed to cool down,’ she said, turning towards me seriously, ‘I’m so distraught Bird, I thought the temperature would kill me.’

We walked back to the house and Moira fetched a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. Seconds later she fainted into my arms, letting the glass jug fall to the ground and shatter in a million pieces. I brought her into the parlour and gently laid her down on the soft chaise lounge.

Biff was away and wouldn’t be back for at least a week. His latest musical was premiering in London on the West-End that weekend. Moira and Jamie were supposed to be joining him in a couple of days. Before this latest trouble with Lindsey.

‘I knew she was in deep this time Bird,’ Moira said, ‘in bed with some really dark characters – and not just figuratively. I’d got the feeling she’d started selling herself to her friends and acquaintances – for the kicks more than anything, if I had to guess – but what could I do? She wouldn’t even give me a straight answer about it. . .’

‘You can’t live her life for her Moira,’ I said, ‘no matter how much better it’d go.’

Well my first instinct here was that the girl would likely surface again in a week or two, just as soon as she ran out of party-funds and needed the family to bail her out. But there was more to come. . .

Two nights earlier, Moira’s mother had received a message on her answering machine from Lindsey. Moira had the tape in her possession now and played it back for me. I listened as the thing played out. Then I stood up, rewound the tape and played it again.

The girl didn’t say much, but the real meaning was written in the tone of her voice. She told her mother she was sorry for all she’d done wrong, that she loved the family and regretted treating them so badly.

After the second listen, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. The girl knew she didn’t have long left to live.

I told Moira not to worry; I was on the case. My professional opinion, I said, was that Lindsey had probably just had a bad come-down and would be right as rain again in a couple of days. If that was what I really thought, then I would have just ambled back to the office and put my feet on the desk. Instead, I was already forming plans in my head for the trip up to Dublin.

I paused before getting into my car and took Moira’s hand. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘don’t worry about the bill on this one. You know Scoop and me made out ok a couple of years back. I’m doing this as a personal favour to the family.’

She knew by the look in my eye that it wasn’t up for debate. I got in the car and drove back up over the hill. I wished to Christ I could have stayed there with her.

I called the Daily Scoop on my smartphone as I drove back into Raffertytyne. ‘Pack your bags,’ I said, ‘something’s come up.’

An hour later and we were zooming up the M8 towards Dublin, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee out of polystyrene cups, with Charles Mingus playing The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady on the stereo-system. I wasn’t so hopeful we’d find our girl still alive.

Scoop got a hotel booked on the journey up and we stopped in to drop off our bags and pick up the room key before heading down to the streets of Malone Junction, the hub of what passes for Dublin’s Red Light District these days. We stepped into a diner and took a table by the window. And waited for darkness to fall.

Round about nine PM, the first couple of street-walkers sauntered past the window. Soon after that an over-weight African dame in a skin-tight pink PVC dress, strutted into the diner on long silver stilettoes. She smiled over at us coyly as she passed the table and I raised my cup of coffee in greeting.

‘How’s it going darlin, you got a long night ahead?’

‘Only if you want it sugar,’ she smiled and blew me a kiss as she continued up to the counter.

I laughed and shrugged at the Scoop. ‘Well at least we’re in the right place,’ I said.

The plan for the night was that Scoop would take to the streets, flashing Lindsey’s picture to the hookers. I reckoned they’d be more willing to open up to a big handsome lug like him than they would with me. Myself, I’d be cruising in the Suzuki, letting on to be a regular John. The only thing I was really after was information – but I’d pay them just as much as they got for tricks if they could give it to me.

We stepped out into the warm night. The city was still throbbing with traffic and noise. It probably only quietened for an hour or two round dawn.

‘Ok,’ I said, ‘we’ll meet back here two AM to debrief. If anything serious comes up then give me a call, otherwise leave it alone.’

Scoop ran his hand through his mop of thick blonde hair and pulled the collar of his brown leather jacket up around his neck. ‘Ok then,’ he said and stepped off into the darkness.

Well the Daily Scoop’s a big guy – a formidable opponent for any attacker – so I knew he’d be alright if he ran into any trouble that night. As for me, well I’d just have to use my brains. Like usual.

The first little waif I picked up didn’t have a clue what I was asking for, nor could she trust that a mysterious stranger might just be looking to help and be helped. At least not in the neon, cutthroat underworld she was used to living in. Either way, she definitely didn’t know who my girl was.

I gave her twenty bucks to buy some coffee and sent her on her way, knowing she’d probably give half to her pimp and spend the rest on crack cocaine.

I cruised up to a corner and stopped the car. A sultry young woman in a lime green tank top and purple cotton hot-pants strutted over towards the curb. I rolled down the window and she leaned in.

‘Well hi there handsome.’ She said, flashing deep brown eyes that were soft, but at the same quick as hell. Her hair was bleached peroxide blonde and her lips were coated with bright red lipstick. There was a beauty-spot on her left cheek – whether it was real or not was an open mystery – and she chewed lazily on a wad of bubble-gum.

‘Hi,’ I said, ‘I wonder if you can help me out tonight?’

‘I know I can,’ she smiled and opened the car door.

‘Where can we go to talk?’ I asked her.

‘There’s a long alley on the right up here,’ she said, ‘we’ll be safe down there.’ She placed her hand on my inner-thigh and squeezed. ‘I bet you’re a real powerhouse,’ she said, ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

I felt an involuntary twinge in my cock. I didn’t want to lose her just yet, so I ignored her hand as it stroked up and down, slowly reaching closer to my crotch. ‘In here?’ I asked and pulled the car into the dark alleyway.

I parked up. ‘Listen,’ I said, lifting her hand from my leg, ‘that’s not what I’m after here, ok? Forget about it.’

Alarm flashed across her beautiful face. ‘Oh shit,’ she said, ‘a cop?’

‘Nah,’ I chuckled, ‘just a private. I’m looking for some information is all and then after that I’ll help you out with some dough. . .’

The girl’s distrust slowly turned to intrigue and a wide, devious smile spread across her soft red lips. ‘Ha!’ she said, ‘like in the movies? No way!’

I shrugged. ‘Yeah, sometimes. But mostly it’s just trailing wayward husbands and persuading dodgy foremen to pay the wages that are owed. That’s in between the months of agonising boredom. Now listen; do you think you can help me out here or not?’

‘You know, when I was a little girl,’ she pouted, ‘I had such a crush on Humphrey Bogart. . .’

I sighed. That’s a line I hear fairly often. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this is serious business here. I have reason to believe a young woman’s life is in danger. Time is of the essence, so I just want to ask you a few questions and then I’ll be on my way.’

The girl looked a little hurt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I was only teasing.’

‘It’s fine. What’s your name?’

‘Bidi. . .’

Her big almond eyes peered across at me, solemn and serious, in the dark orange glow of the alleyway outside. For Christ sake, I thought, she’s too sensitive for the game she’s in.

‘Ok Bidi, I’m looking for a girl by the name of Lindsey Costigan, she’s a bit of a wild child, long brown hair the last time I seen her but she changes it often. . .’

Bidi’s eyes lit up. ‘Shit,’ she said, ‘Lindsey? Did she have a nose-ring, sound like she came from down south somewhere?’

I watched her closely. ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘Tipperary. An accent like mine, without the twang. You know her?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I mean, not well, but I know the girl you mean. She used to come down here sometimes, but she didn’t turn tricks or anything. She seemed a little crazy or something, like she was high half the time, only hanging around for the thrills.’

‘That’s her,’ I said, ‘well listen Bidi, you’re a smart kid, can you think back to who she went around with? Especially the guys?’

Bidi went quiet again. ‘I haven’t seen her round her for weeks now,’ she said. ‘I didn’t really know her except to see, but I think I know someone who could probably help you track her down. There’s this guy, he does some community outreach stuff down here. He’s a decent innocent type, but don’t let that fool you, because he knows more than he lets on about who’s running around down here. . .’

‘Well Sure,’ I said, ‘that’d be a big help. What’s his name?’

Inside, I was silently cursing, I thought I’d hit the jackpot here, but all it led to was some crummy advice I could have probably got from anyone.

Bidi smiled again. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help out more,’ she said, ‘I know that’s not really what you were looking for, but like I said, I didn’t really know her except to see. . .’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, ‘I’m sure your guy will be a big help. Now what’s his name?’

Bidi brought her hand up to her soft blonde head and curled a golden lock around her finger. Her long nails were painted with metallic purple gloss. She smiled at me coyly. ‘Why don’t you let me take some of the stress off you?’ she said, ‘I’m very good at my job, you know. I’m a good girl, Mr Private Eye. . .’

I smiled and locked my own silver eyes levelly into hers. ‘Sorry sweetheart,’ I said, ‘but I don’t mix money and sex. Seen too often where it leads.’

Bidi looked shocked, all of a sudden just an angel-faced innocent. ‘But who said anything about money?’ she asked, like it was the last thing on her mind until I’d brought it up. ‘You know I wasn’t joking when I said I had a crush on Humphrey Bogart. I used to stay up late to watch his old films. When he came on I’d touch myself – and imagine I was one of his femme fatales. . .’

Aha, I smiled. Well shit, this one was really something else. Christ knows what I would have liked to do with her. . .

Her big playful brown eyes were still gazing at me in unblinking earnestness. ‘Maybe in another life dollface,’ I said, ‘but I’m working on a schedule here. Cough it up before I have to get rough on you. . .’

As soon as I said it I knew it was a mistake. A glint came into her eyes and she shook her head stubbornly. ‘Uh-uh. I’m not telling. Not unless you make me. . .’

Christ. My dick was starting to heat up. I could feel the tip moisten. I’d been horny ever since I’d seen Moira that afternoon. ‘C’mon Bidi,’ I said, ‘stop joking around here. . .’

She moved closer to me, placed her palm beneath my waistcoat and up against my chest. ‘You’re a good guy,’ she said, ‘there’s not a lot of them around here, so let me do this. . .’

My heartbeat increased against her hand. I said nothing. She moved in closer, placed her chin against my stomach and pouted at me, drew her hand slowly down towards my waistline. She stopped when the tip of her thumb slid in beneath my pants. ‘Ok?’

She peered up at me, solemn but adamant. ‘Ah Christ,’ I laughed, ‘how can I say no?’

She jutted her chin out aggressively, digging into my belly. ‘Say yes,’ she said, ‘You have to say yes. Tell me you want me. . .’ She ran the sharp end of her thumbnail into the skin of my lower stomach.

‘Yes!’ I cried, ‘ah shit then yes, Goddamn it, yes I want you!’

‘Good boy,’ she smiled and then lowered her head.

With a snap she unclicked my first brace. My cock was throbbing in my pants now. She undid the other clasp and I wincingly glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure the alley was still clear. This was a bad idea on so many levels.

Bidi unzipped my pants and ran both hands against the hem of my boxers spreading her long painted nails out against my belly and then drawing them back underneath the fabric. She reached in with her left hand and pulled my dick out. It sprung up to immediate attention in her hand. The only part of me that was certain of itself right then.

She parted her lips ever so slightly and pressed them up against the top of my helmet, sighing with pleasure. I placed my hand on her soft peroxide curls as she opened her mouth down deeper around my phallus, her tight lips giving just enough resistance as I entered her. The whole of the head was inside now, contained within her warm wet beautiful mouth. She flecked her tongue against the tip and then quickly dived down further, swallowing the whole of my member all the way up to the root. She sucked the saliva back through her mouth, drawing my life-force up into her and then quickly came up again for air.

She grabbed my dick and lavishly ran her tongue up the stem like a hungry cat toying with a bird. I was losing myself. She gave a couple of rough pumps with her fist and then stopped, holding the foreskin peeled all the way back. She placed her red lips up to the tip and opened her mouth, her teeth ever so slightly grazing the purple flesh as she went back down again.

I could feel the tension rising behind my dick, like thunderclouds forming for an apocalyptic storm. I could go anytime now. I would have liked to have fucked her, but I’d already compromised myself too much.

Bidi squealed with delight through her full mouth and brought one of her hands back over to her own body. She slipped it beneath the tight cotton of her shorts and started to frig herself. She became even more vocal in her pleasure. Not necessarily a good thing, I deliriously observed as she worked her head up and down on my cock, taking me deeper into the clamping warmth of her throat. A moment later, I let out an involuntary groan of my own.

Bidi was frigging herself faster and I reached out and pressed my hand up against hers through the shorts and pushed it deeper, deeper up inside her. She cried out and her jaw suddenly went limp around my dick and everything went white for a second as all my consciousness drained down through my body and out of my penis, exploding up into her mouth.

‘Damn,’ I said, as Bidi shuddered to an orgasm of her own on the seat beside me, and then: ‘You drive a hard bargain.’

‘She smiled at me languidly as she came back to life. ‘Well it is my job. . .’

I frowned, reflecting on that truth for a moment. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I know you probably need to have something to show for it after being away so long now. I said I’d give you something for whatever information you had. . .’

Bidi giggled. ‘You’re so serious man,’ she said, ‘all the time. Forget about it. I work for myself out here and that one was free.’ She clicked open the car door and turned back in to face me. ‘The person you should go see is named Bertrand Benson,’ she said. ‘He’s a local councillor who has a constituency office near here. He knows all the girls by name. You should find his address easily enough in the Yellow Pages. I hope he can give you something a little more helpful than I could. . .’

‘Now wait a minute,’ I said, ‘let me give you something here; just enough for a hot meal and a cup of coffee even. . .’

Bidi stepped out of the car and smiled. ‘I’ll ask around for your girl,’ she said, ‘Lindsey, right? Who knows, maybe the next time we meet I might have something that’s actually useful for you. . .’ She slammed the door and strutted back up the alley. ‘Keep the gum,’ she shouted back at me.

I looked down at my crotch. Bidi’s pink bubble-gum was inexplicably coiled around my softening member. Neat trick.

I waited until she was gone and then turned the ignition and reversed back out onto the street.

Well I had a lead now at least, that was something to bring to the table when I met up with Scoop again. I was too tired to do much more snooping so I went back to the diner, ordered a cup of black coffee and spiked it with a generous dash of whiskey.

I thought about Bidi for a while. Sure, she didn’t have much information for me, but I guess I had hit the jackpot when I picked her up all the same. There’s not a lot of girls like that around these days, at least not on Malone Junction. Hell, if I were a younger man, I’d have given her my card and all, told her to call me up if she ever needed any help, maybe even if she didn’t. Now, I know a little better. The bad ones ruin it for the good ones.

I sipped my coffee and waited for Scoop, wondering what the chances were that Lindsey Costigan was still alive out there, somewhere across the dark and twisting streets of Dublin City.

The Full Book is available here: http://www.amazon.com/The-Long-Night-Ahead-ebook/dp/B005SIGSK0/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1

Cheers

– Rock