Anglo-Irish Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

Shouldn’t be on the road.’
    ‘What does it matter? We’re not in a hurry. We’re supposed to be on holiday. You shouldn’t be bringing to country roads in County Sligo that pace of life which everyone deplores back home. Especially in the middle of a deluge.’
    ‘I’m in a hurry to get to lunch. I want to put the memory of that breakfast well behind me.’
    ‘You’ve always trumpeted the wonders of porridge.’
    ‘That wasn’t porridge. That was gruel. Porridge is as thick as that tractor driver and you take it with lots of brown sugar, cream and whiskey. That watery stuff was inedible.’
    ‘We’re not doing too well on the gastronomic front, are we?’
    ‘That’s why I’m in a hurry. The centre of holidays is food. You can’t properly appreciate the scenery unless you’ve got a happy stomach.’
    Amiss reacted nervously to the sound of the Sailor’s Hornpipe. ‘Hello…Roddy…What!…Why?…What’s she like?…Must we?…What can I say except that I’m not pleased?…This has come very late in the day…Bye.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘We’ve been lumbered with an observer.’
    ‘What do you mean an observer? What is there to observe other than a lot of impossible malcontents complaining about each other?’
    ‘This is not the view of MOPE. As a result of your beating-up of Seoirse MacStiopháin, they’ve lodged a formal protest about your bias and have tried to have you fired. Dublin claims to have worked night and day to achieve this compromise, viz, an observer to ensure fair play.’
    ‘What do you bet McCorley’s accepted whoever they came up with?’
    ‘My shirt.’
    She groaned. ‘I can see it all now. No doubt it will be some poncey, left-wing, English academic who believes we should do what MOPE wants in order to atone for Cromwell.’
    Amiss shook his head. ‘Nope. It’s an American.’
    She banged her left fist on the dashboard. ‘A fucking American? What business is it of theirs?’
    ‘Now, now, now, Jack. You know very well that Americans have been meddling in Irish politics since the famine. Besides, Roddy said Dublin and London were happy that she’s not political. Just a representative of a cultural organization.’
    She glanced at him in deep suspicion. ‘What cultural organization?’
    ‘Roddy didn’t seem too clear. Something to do with Irish-American heritage.’
    ‘You know bloody well what that’ll mean, Robert. One of those cretins who likes to fight battles at a three-thousand-mile remove.’
    Amiss shrugged. ‘I’m beyond caring. We’re stuck with her anyway. Besides it should be quite entertaining watching you trying to prove to her satisfaction that you’re impartial.’
    ‘Pah! I’d like to see any bloody little Yank trying to cross swords with me.’
    Amiss noticed with alarm that the speedometer had crept up to eighty, but he knew better than to encourage the baroness to greater excesses by challenging her. He hoped she wasn’t noticing him gripping his seat hard. He was almost relieved when the phone rang. ‘Hello…Yes, Gardiner…Tea? I don’t think so. You won’t be arriving until about six thirty, after all…Goodbye.’
    ‘What’s that about?’
    ‘Gardiner Steeples wanting to know if he’ll be there in time for tea…Look out, Jack!’ There was an almighty jolt, the car lurched violently and only their seat belts saved both of them from being hurled through the windscreen.
    The baroness jammed on the brake and the car stalled. ‘What was that?’
    ‘We hit an obstacle. Shouldn’t we stop and look?’
    ‘Haven’t got time. The oysters call.’
    ‘I don’t like oysters.’
    ‘You should.’ She started the car again and within a minute the speedometer had passed sixty.
    ‘Jack,’ he said desperately, forgetting his earlier self-discipline. ‘Remember what happened only two minutes ago. This is a country road.’
    ‘That’s not going to happen again. Just a brick or something.’
    Twenty seconds later there was another