6
Brendan Flood was an ex-garda who’d discovered religion. My first encounter, he’d half killed me, broken my fingers and left me for dead. By a strange set of circumstances, we’d become unlikely allies. He’d helped me solve a case. The last time I’d enlisted his help, I ignored his contribution and an innocent man was killed. I hadn’t seen him since.
Rang him and, reluctantly, he agreed to meet. As usual, he chose Supermacs. There he’d look longingly at large containers of curried chips. I’d offer to buy, he’d decline, as penance. I got there first, got a double cheeseburger and a milkshake. Was picking at these when he arrived. He was wearing a donkey jacket, leather patches on the sleeves. It was open to reveal a heavy silver cross on an even heavier chain. I said,
“Thanks for meetin
