CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My chest is killing me. It still has the rawness of a fresh tattoo all over it. The materials aren't quite what you would get on the outside and so pain is a larger part of the process, but that's better. Puts more power and energy into the artwork. We're nearly there but it's not finished yet. Me and my baby back together is only a part of the dream. There's more. We made a good start on this one today, but still plenty left to do.
Where were we then?
Garda Thicke turned around slowly and closed the cell door behind him. Then he turned to face me. I looked up at him and had the unexpected sensation of wanting to vomit. He had already manhandled me, kicked me and thrown me to the ground. It was just me and him now, in a closed cell in the Garda Station. He would do anything he wanted and it would be my word against his. My heart was pounding so hard it was giving me chest pain.
I took as deep a breath in as I could and repeated; "Please...."
The clumsy kick came almost in slow motion but so did my clumsy reaction. It felt like he had cracked my ribs into my lungs like dry firewood. My breathing got even more difficult now. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes.
Don't cry Dennis, don't cry. You can do this. I told myself. Pacifism in action.
"Shut. Up. Last fucking warning Mr. Fucking Tidy Towns."
He left the cell.
I couldn't stop the tears from coming out now. It wasn't the Garda and it certainly wasn't the kick in the ribs, as painful and unexpected as it was. It was the shocking realization that I had been a complete idiot. Not just now, but for most of my life. Worse again, I had just succeeded in pissing away a good half of the time I had to save my son from having his legs broken or worse. I had let him down. I should have been out scaring up money or getting help of some kind, instead there I was, sitting in a locked jail cell late on a Tuesday evening, looking at the floor like a gormless idiot and crying like a child.
I struggled with my breath, gasping to get the air in and calm myself down. I heard the shutter close on the spy hole. Garda Thicke must have been very happy with his work.
The pain in my ribs was searing, worse than anything the loan-shark heavies had done to me but I guessed that I didn't have the right to medical attention while Garda Thicke was on duty.
Think straight Dennis, think straight. I was shouting at myself inside my own head. I slapped my face from side to side and sat on the bench. Where had all this begun? The murder, that was it. The murder on the estate. Was that connected to this? Everything had been just fine up until then, and that was only three days ago. Sunday night. Today was Wednesday. First there was the murder, then the attacks, next the loan-shark and now finally, here I was locked up just because I went to the Gardai for help. And where the hell was Sergeant Mike Biggs when you needed him?
Now I have had a nervous break-down once before. It made me a lot stronger as a result, but I was struggling here.
I swear to you, you don't know what kind of country you are living in until you've been arrested.
Maybe you don't need to know what kind of country you are living in.
I ended up sitting on the bench for hours, afraid to move, terrified for my family, trying to connect up the dots, but it seemed like suddenly my brain just couldn't form clear thoughts any more
Eventually, mercifully, I did fall asleep.
I don't remember lying down but I do clearly remember the early morning slap across the face that woke me up.
"Get up Tidy Towns." Thicke was shouting at me.
"Aaahhh!"
You would be surprised how shocking that can be.
"Get up and get out of here now."
I started to get up but it wasn't fast enough so Thicke grabbed the back of my collar and swung me off the bed and through the cell door.
"Up and out the fuck with you."
Somehow, after my experiences of the previous day, this sort of behavior was almost beginning to feel normal.
"Fuck off with you now and I'm warning you, I don't want to see you in here again. Understand?"
I nodded my head and limped out of the Station and into the morning sunlight.
"Tidy Towns?" He shouted after me. "Don't forget your statutory right to a phone call."
My phone rattled out onto the ground beside me where Garda Thicke had thrown it. He appeared to have stamped on it at some point as well.
Hilarious.
The sun is rare in Ireland and usually lifts the spirits when it decides to come out. Today however, it radiated nothing but menace.
I picked up my scratched and cracked phone and texted my son to come and meet me. He arrived shortly. I didn't have the courage to speak to him yet.
"Jesus Da, where were you? We only have 15 hours left."
"Where do you think I was? I told you I was going to the Gardai."
He looked guilty.
"I thought you'd bailed Da." He hung his head. How he could look so grown up and so like a little child at the same time was a mystery to me. He had hung our entire family out to dry, but at the same time he was still my little guy, even if he was taller than me and I hated to see him like this. Somehow it set my thoughts straight again. I couldn't let him down. I could do this. Jesus Christ, God in heaven, on the graves of my mother and father, I would find a way.
"We're going to the bank son, we'll take out as much money as we can and offer it to them, maybe buy some time or at least bargain them down."
I would sort this out. I would not let him or Suzy or Marianne down.
The problem we had however, was that the bank wouldn't open for another three and a half hours.
The longest three and half hours I have ever sat outside a bank or outside anywhere in my life.
The town was dead at that hour except for one oddball jogging up and down Main Street and stopping to stare into the Cash for Gold place or better put, evil loan-shark pawn shop. Probably looking to buy some person’s priceless heirloom or last remaining possession for a song. I know I would never set foot in a place like that. He passed us at least twice and I glared at him each time. I've never hated a jogger so much in my life. Happy nitwit. Not a care in the world.
By 10.00am we were at the cash withdrawals counter. The guy looked sleepy and a little irritated at our promptness.
"Let me have €9000 please and just leave the balance in the account."
He tapped away at the keyboard and waited.
We waited.
"I can let you have €3500 mate. But that would leave only 1 Euro 36 cents in the account. We need to have at least €25 to keep the account open so I can let you have €3475.
"If you want to keep the account open that is?"
"Excuse me? I'd like all €9000 please."
"Only €3500 left mate. Of which €3475 you can have unless you want to close the account."
"No, no, no. Let me see that. There should be €9000. Is there a savings account? My wife has been making deposits every month for the last three years."
He examined the screen.
"Your wife did make some deposits about three years ago. Pretty steady for a while as well, but then there was no activity for a long stretch and in the last 3 months she, or someone, has been withdrawing a couple of thousand at a time. You might want to speak to your wife mate."
"Don't call me mate. You're a bank teller, not my bloody mate."
He shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
"I'd better take it then, hadn't I. Mate."
"OK. Large or small bills mate?"
"Large."
"We've only got small, Mr. Small. Hey, that's funny, isn't it? Ha ha."
He began to count out the bills.
"Da, I don't get it. Where's the rest of the money?"
"I don't get it either son. We're short about €5500. Only the other day I asked your mother about this and she said we were up to 9k. She wouldn't lie. I don't know what's going on."
I took out my phone and dialed her number.
"Who are you calling Da?"
"Your mother. She can speak directly to this guy. Maybe she can sort it out."
Will went white.
"Jesus Da, please no. Don't call Ma. She'll go mental."
He looked more afraid than he did when the goons were threatening to kill us.
The call went straight to voice-mail.
"Please Da, no." He was nearly crying again.
I ended the call and put the phone back in my pocket.
"You're right son. It's better this way."
Marianne and Suzy had gone away for a couple of days on their 'girly' mid-week break. Suzy hadn't really wanted to go, she hated missing her Piano practice, but she's a good girl and went along for her mother’s sake.
"Let's try and get this sorted out before they come back. If we can work it out then that's all the better, they don't need to know all the details, you know? No need to tell them what happened to me with Rafa or any of that kind of thing."
He nodded.
"We won’t spoil their time away."
The teller put our money into an envelope and slid it across the counter.
"There you go mate. Look after that. Don't spend it all in one shop."
Cheeky little git.
We went home and prepared ourselves for Rafa and his side-kick to arrive.