Torn Apart Read Online Free PDF Page B

said, ‘and friend.’
    â€˜â€”why this could have happened to him?’
    I put the bow back on the table. ‘None.’
    â€˜You travelled overseas, you put him up in your house, lent him your car, but you don’t seem to know anything about him.’
    â€˜I know the things he told me and they seemed enough at the time. Our family relationship, a bit about his past and the business he’d been in. We had interests in common—books, music, boxing . . .’
    â€˜You never felt the need to know more? After all, you used to be a private enquiry agent. I’d have thought curiosity was your middle name.’
    â€˜I suppose I would’ve found out more as we went along.’
    â€˜He sought you out, you said.’
    â€˜Yes, this family thing about the Irish Travellers, we . . .’
    â€˜Yes. Did it ever occur to you that he needed you for protection?’
    Given what had happened, it was a reasonable question, but from his suddenly alert manner there appeared to be more to it. He picked up the passport and flicked through it as he waited for my answer.
    â€˜No,’ I said.
    â€˜Did he do business of any sort while you were overseas?’
    That was a new tack and on the money, now that I knew what Patrick’s visit to the vet in Dublin had been about. You go to vets for steroids the way you go to Mexico for Nembutal. But I didn’t feel like enlightening Welsh.
    â€˜Not that I know of.’
    He closed the passport and put it back on his desk. It was the only item separated from the other things—the fiddle, clothes, books, keys, shoes, a wallet, some photographs, a shell from the beach at Galway Bay.
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Hardy. That’ll be all. I’ll get an officer to see you out.’
    â€˜Hang on. What was that all about? Those questions?’
    He touched a button on his desk. ‘Don’t concern yourself. We’ll keep you informed of any developments that involve you.’
    â€˜You think I’m just going to walk away?’
    â€˜You’d better, Mr Hardy. You’re not a private detective anymore.’
    So that was just about that as far as the cops were concerned, but I wasn’t having any of it. I’d liked Patrick, was grateful to him for suggesting the trip and had felt comfortable in his company. I knew that I’d miss him and that made it personal.
    Welsh phoned, said the body could be released, and did I want to make funeral arrangements.
    â€˜Did you contact that company he owned?’
    â€˜Part-owned. Of course.’
    â€˜Anyone there know anything about his personal affairs—lawyer, will, that sort of thing?’
    â€˜I’m only responding because you seem to be the person closest to him. The answer is no. He scarcely involved himself in the business at all. Usually just when something big was on.’
    â€˜They must know something.’
    â€˜I’ve got no more to say. Are you going to make arrangements or not?’
    Of course I agreed. I put a notice in the paper and arranged for the simplest disposal Rookwood could provide. Patrick hadn’t gone to church during our trip and I’d never seen any signs of religious faith from him.
    Megan phoned when she read the news in the paper and so did Frank and Hilde. They knew that I’d been fond of Patrick and his funeral wouldn’t be easy for me. They each said they’d attend.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I said to Frank. ‘I wouldn’t like to be the only one there for the poor bugger. Frank . . .’
    â€˜I know what you’re going to say. Could I use my contacts to monitor the police investigation for you?’
    â€˜What’s your answer?’
    â€˜I doubt it’d do much good. People in the service know about our connection. Anyone with information’s liable to clam up if I get nosy.’
    â€˜Not everyone.’
    I heard his groan. ‘Okay, I’ll do what I can but don’t push too