Johnny stared at Murph, then broke away, shaking his head slowly. He took a few steps backwards.
‘Look,’ said Murph. ‘Why don’t you just hold up your hands and say, “Lads, I fucked up, and I need your help.”’
‘Because,’ said Johnny. ‘I did not do fucking ANYTHING.’ He slammed his fist hard against the side of the confession box. Everybody jumped.
Laura knocked over her drink. ‘Jesus Christ!’ Johnny handed her a pile of napkins from the shelf behind him. Laura grabbed them out of his hand and held them to the trickle flowing down the side of the table. ‘He’s lost the plot altogether.’ She turned to Edie. ‘Is he on drugs, or has he stopped taking whatever he’s supposed to be taking?’
‘Laura,’ said Patrick.
‘I’m serious,’ said Laura, throwing the balled-up napkins on to the table. ‘He’s expecting everyone here to take this massive hit for him, when he’s in a total state of— I don’t know what. Madness? Paranoia? And we’ve all got a lot of alcohol in our systems. Bar you,’ she said, looking at Patrick. ‘Does any of this seem sane to you? Honest to God, it’s like a load of psychiatrists nodding away, going along with whatever nonsense the mentallers are telling them.’ She let her arms flop out over the chair. ‘Jesus. CHRIST. CALL THE GUARDS.’
‘Fine – we call the guards,’ said Johnny. ‘And here’s what’ll happen: we wait an hour or more for them to get here from Bantry. Then we sit around all night, while they take our statements, and then it’s the morning, and the State Pathologist’s here in her white suit, with the CSI guys in tow, and what happens if a post mortem is inconclusive? I get to walk around town like Kevin fucking Crossan for the rest of my life? Jesus Christ.’ He looked over at Edie. ‘Imagine that? And, of course, you’ll have the journalists and the photographers making sure they’ve got a good shot for the front page of the Sunday World. “Murder at Luxury Inn” has a nice ring to it. Or “Mysterious Death” even better. You’d read it, wouldn’t you?’
‘“Mysterious” has too many letters for a headline,’ said Murph.
‘Shut up, Murph,’ said Laura.
‘But this isn’t about “God love us, we’ll end up in the papers”,’ said Patrick.
Laura turned to him. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Someone’s talking sense. Plenty of innocent people are involved in dodgy situations, or they’ve witnessed a crime, they do the right thing, they might be in the papers for a week, and that’s that.’
‘And none of us knows the ins and outs of Terry’s life,’ said Patrick. ‘He could have been involved in a lot of shady dealings, which could lead the guards directly to whoever’s responsible for this.’
‘Except there are no guarantees that they will!’ said Johnny.
Laura turned to Edie. ‘What’s your story? Are you going to go along with this madness?’
Edie said nothing.
‘Wow,’ said Laura.
‘Jesus,’ said Johnny, looking over at her, ‘I forgot what a pain in the hole you are.’
‘And I forgot what a self-centred prick you are,’ said Laura.
‘It’s not just me!’ said Johnny. ‘It’s Edie, it’s Dylan.’
‘It’s my fucking life too!’ said Laura. ‘Everyone else’s here too and you’re expecting us all to lie to the guards, lie in court if it came to it.’ She looked across at Clare. ‘I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?’ She turned back to Johnny. ‘Have a think about that. And then you’re expecting us all to sleep at night for the rest of our lives?’
‘I care about your lives too,’ said Johnny.
‘You do in your hole,’ said Laura. ‘You had to guess how many kids I have! Did you go visit Murph’s dad when he was up above in the hospital? Do you know Clare’s kids’ names? Do you know—’
Clare’s hand went down on Laura’s arm, and she squeezed tight.
‘Look – I’m sorry I’m not as stuck into everyone’s lives as you all are,’ said Johnny, ‘but that’s just … me. It doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit. I—’
Patrick got up from his chair and stood at the edge of the mantelpiece.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Show of hands.’
‘Show of hands?’ said Laura. ‘Are you joking?’
‘And if the majority wants to go the guards, then that’s what we do,’ said Patrick. ‘What’s the alternative? Stay here all night looking at each other?’
‘And, sorry, lads,’ said Murph, ‘but anyone could come looking for Terry in the meantime.’
‘I can’t stay, either way,’ said Clare. ‘So you’ll have to let me go.’
‘I can’t stay either, then,’ said Laura. ‘I have to go too.’ She shrugged at Johnny, then turned to Patrick. ‘Right, so, Patrick. Show of hands and we can all get the fuck out of here—’
‘Well, you won’t be getting out of here if we go to the guards,’ said Johnny. ‘You’ll have to hang around.’
‘At least they won’t lock us in,’ said Laura.
‘Right,’ said Patrick. ‘Raise your hand if—’
‘Not a show of hands,’ said Clare. ‘Pen and paper. Let’s keep this anonymous.’
‘But we’re all friends here, aren’t we?’ said Laura.