All Souls

All Souls

John Brady

Language: English

Pages: 260

ISBN: 0002238985

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The fourth Inspector Minogue mystery is set in County Clare, Ireland, before All Souls' Day, as an IRA lawyer convinces Minogue to reopen the case of a convicted murderer just released from prison--and just recovering from a nervous breakdown.

Watch Your Back! (Dortmunder, Book 12)

A Finder's Fee (Missing Pieces Mystery, Book 5)

Still Life (The Books of Elsewhere, Book 5)

The Overton Window

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

leaves. He studied the roof lines and the windows along Abbey Street. “Time to stir the pot, I think,” he murmured. “Throw in another ingredient. I need a phone.” Minogue sat next to Crossan and looked at the plate of sandwiches. “Where’s Shea gone?” “Off to get fags,” said Crossan. “Here, what happened to him anyway?” “He’s recuperating from a recent accident.” “Would he need to be irrigating his throat too with a few jars, maybe? I for one certainly feel the need this very minute.”

said Eilo McInerny. “Crossan told you how Jamesy died, did he?” She stopped and turned to Minogue. Melanie stood by. Her expression suggested to Minogue that she imagined each drop of rain that landed on her smooth, cafe au lait face might be acid. “What?” “He was shot dead the other day.” She frowned and looked down at the pavement as though she had just dropped a coin on it. “To do with the IRA or something?” “No. A case of mistaken identity, I suppose you could describe it.” “I’d heard

man stared in the window and his eyes met Minogue’s for several moments. A hard-case from Dublin, the Inspector registered: prowling. The face fell back into shadow as the car passed. Hoey’s eyes were still fixed on the empty street. “The cavalry,” said Hoey. “It’s getting to be like a garrison town.” Minogue worked on his grill but had to leave most of the chips. He dared more coffee but wished he could smoke to blunt its taste. “Kathleen asked how you were doing.” Hoey rubbed his nose with

over it.” “Work out your digs some other time then. We don’t want to be raising dust when we need to get something from the Howards.” Crossan gave a mirthless snort. “You think it’s sour grapes with me, Guard? I like horses, don’t get me wrong. I’m a horse-protestant, am I not? It’s in my blood.” “Beggars ride to hell. We need their goodwill here, so back off with the smart-aleck stuff.” Dan Howard returned to the sofa, frowning. Minogue felt suddenly irritated when the thought came to him:

cigarette out of his mouth and eyed Minogue, the fag poised in his hand. “It’s the excitement. Never a dull—” Minogue knew immediately that it was glass, and he was first out the parlour door. The door to the back room was closed. He opened it and looked down to the tiny kitchen where Naughton was stooping. The rest of the room was taken up with a table, television and dresser. A red-faced Naughton stood up. The smell of whiskey reached Minogue and he looked down at the shattered bottle, the

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