The Midnight Choir Read Online Free PDF

the days after she came here, then he’d transferred across the city to – where? – somewhere on the Southside.
    There were three other uniformed gardai within earshot, and she chose to ask Sergeant Ferry. He’d been patient and helpful from the first day. Took her on a tour of the place, introduced her to everyone, showed her where everything was. When he told her, ‘You’re a right pain in the arse’ he had a mock-irritable look on his face, then he patiently explained for the second time the back-office filing system. End of her first week at Turner’s Lane, when the young garda was using her day off to paint away some of her new flat’s shabbiness, Sergeant Ferry turned up at her door with a stack of pizzas, along with his wife and his thirteen-year-old daughter, and the three of them spent the evening helping her to decorate.
    Now, when she asked if he knew where Inspector Synnott had transferred, Sergeant Ferry hesitated for a moment. Then he said, ‘I’ll take it.’
    Into the phone, he said, ‘Who wants to know?’
    The sergeant at Cooper Street station repeated what he’d told the young garda – a prisoner, in on a mugging charge, needed to speak to Synnott. ‘She seems a bit desperate. Probably an informer. Is Synnott around?’
    Sergeant Ferry said, ‘Never heard of the man,’ and put down the phone.
    The young garda watched as Sergeant Ferry turned and walked away.

5
    ‘Trevor!’
    Max Hapgood Senior spoke into his mobile as though welcoming the Seventh Cavalry coming over the hill.
    ‘Thanks for ringing so promptly. We’ve got a slight problem here – I’m at home – it’s Max, we—’
    He was standing now. ‘You’ll excuse me, Inspector – solicitor.’ He clicked off his little voice recorder and put it in his pocket. Moving towards the kitchen, he put the mobile to his ear, then turned back to his son.
    ‘Not a word.’
    With the father gone, and the mother upstairs with Detective Garda Cheney, collecting the clothes that Max Junior had worn the previous evening, Harry Synnott was alone with the younger Hapgood.
    A couple of minutes, tops, before one or the other comes back.
    ‘Daddy’s right, you know. If you did what the girl says you did, the best course is to keep your mouth shut and hope you get a break from the jury.’
    The kid’s eyes widened. Synnott could see that his casual-seeming remark had delivered an almost physical blow. The kid was suddenly seeing himself standing in a courtroom in his best suit, watching a jury come back.
    After half a minute, he said, ‘What is she saying?’
    ‘I think maybe you know that.’
    ‘I didn’t force her.’
    As if he’d just remembered something, Synnott picked up his pen and scribbled in his notebook. He didn’t look at the kid, just said, ‘That means you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.’
    Max shrugged. ‘I mean, it wasn’t like she was a virgin.’
    Synnott wrote that down, too.
    ‘Did she say I hit her? I didn’t hurt her. I swear, nothing like that. It was just sex. When we started, she wanted it as much as I did.’ He leaned forward. ‘I mean, you know what that’s like – you can’t turn it on and off like a fucking tap. I did nothing wrong.’
    The kitchen door opened and the father was back, mobile in hand. ‘Trevor’s on his way,’ he said to his son. To Synnott he said, ‘My lawyer thinks it’s best if you wait in your car until—’
    Synnott had finished writing. He held out his notebook to the kid. ‘You want to sign my note of our conversation?’
    The kid looked from Synnott to his father. The man regarded his son with a mixture of surprise and contempt.
    ‘What did I tell you?’
    Max Junior looked like he might cry. ‘I didn’t tell him anything.’
    The father turned to Synnott. ‘What did he say?’
    Synnott ignored him. He took his time writing down the exchange between the father and the son. Then he again pushed his notebook towards the son and said, ‘It’s normal,