Blood in the Water Oliver Davies (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

the Tolsta bridge, which had been a focal point of the local conflict between 1918 and 1920. Built on a raised earth platform surrounded by a ditch and trench, it was built in three divided parts, like two, split halves of an upturned boat with a stone column between them. We stood before it silently for a time, and then Conall recited softly,

“May you have -

Walls for the wind

And a roof for the rain,

And drinks bedside the fire

Laughter to cheer you

And those you love near you,

And all that your heart may desire.”

Yeah, they hadn’t asked for much, those good, brave men. Damned right, they weren’t going to settle for less than a little place to call their own and leave to their children, and their children’s children. It was nice to see that the memorial was being well kept. Conall smiled up at it and slapped me heartily on the back.

“A rare win for our side. Come on, let’s get cleaned up and order a takeaway in.”

Sounded good to me. We got back into the car and headed for town.

Eleven

That little trip up to Gress had been a great idea. I think we were both feeling pretty good after the welcome exercise. Once I’d finished showering, I rinsed my wetsuit thoroughly and hung it on the shower rail to dry off. Dressed again, I went through the connecting door to Shay’s room. He was still in the bathroom which meant he’d stopped to check his laptop before getting started. He was usually faster than I was. The sound of running water cut off seconds after I sat down on his bed, and he soon came out, a bath towel draped around his waist while he attacked his dripping hair with a smaller one.

“Chinese, Thai, or Indian?” I asked. “Or do you fancy pizza for a change?”

“Indian.” He decided, rubbing vigorously at his head. “Just pick me something medium hot and get a few nice sides and dips in. No rice for me, thanks. Naan bread will do. They hardly ever do brown rice.” I checked the menu. No brown rice on offer.

“Naan, it is. Garlic or plain?”

“Both?” He pulled on a pair of boxers and some loose black trousers and went to hang his towels up. Someone knocked at the door. “Get that, will you, Con? I phoned down to order drinks from room service before I hopped in the shower.” Good thinking! I went to open the door.

“Good evening, Inspector Keane.” Mads Nielsen said, looking a little taken aback at the sight of me.

“Herre Nielsen.” He was looking very stylish this evening, all dressed up for dinner? “What a surprise to see you here.”

He had the grace to flush slightly.

“Actually, I was hoping to have a word with Mr Keane. Your cousin, I believe?” Right. Gossip probably travelled fast in a place this small, especially if you were deliberately snooping around. I looked over to where Shay had halted in the bathroom doorway. What did he want me to do about this?

‘Let him in,’ he gestured. Yeah, we might as well deal with this, whatever it was, right away. I stepped aside, and Mads walked in. He froze momentarily, despite himself, as he turned and saw my half-dressed cousin staring emotionlessly back at him.

“My apologies.” Mads turned away quickly, that image doubtlessly seared into his retinas, “I have called at an inconvenient time.” Shay stalked over to his bag and found a t-shirt to pull on.

“Not at all, Herre Nielsen. What can we do for you?” he said politely, reaching up to sweep his wet hair out of his eyes. “Have you found some further information on Mr Jordan for us?”

“Actually, no.” Mads’ wandering gaze took in the open, interconnecting door, paused doubtfully on me for a moment, and swept back to my cousin as Shay moved to push the lid of his laptop down. “I’m afraid you are probably better informed on that subject than I am by now. May I?” He gestured at a chair by the wall and seated himself. “I came to invite you to join me for dinner, so that I could discuss a job offer with you, Mr Keane.”

“Oh?” Shay sat on the edge of the bed, facing him, “In that case, I’m afraid you’ve called at a bad time after all. We’re eating in tonight, lots of work still to do. I’m sure you understand.”

I’m sure he did, with Shay going rigidly formal on him like that. Our room service finally did turn up then, and I thanked the guy and relieved him of his little tray. We’d leave a tip when we settled our bill. I put it down on the desk and opened my lager, allowing myself a good couple of swallows before uncorking Shay’s wine so it could breathe a bit. I took my bottle over to the bed and sat down too.

“What kind of job offer?” I think I might have been glowering at our unwelcome guest. He just smiled at me pleasantly.

“Your cousin is very hard to find any information on, Inspector, unusually so, one might say. But you must both have realised that his little linguistic display earlier would certainly arouse my curiosity. My young people all insist that he spoke each of their languages like a neighbour from their hometowns, and I was treated to a small sample of his perfect Danish myself.” He turned his attention back to Shay. “A remarkable talent, Mr Keane. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that your appearance was also so... unusual? I now understand perfectly why you would wish to keep a low profile.” He waved a dismissive hand, as if that minor detail was of little or no interest to him. “Nielsen International is always on the lookout for skilled, multilingual translators, and the salary we are prepared to offer, depending on how many other languages you are fluent in, would be very generous.”

Well, that was surprising. He’d really come here to recruit