Irish Adventure #3: From the Fog

I’ve had these two introductory paragraphs and the final action scene done for years. Now I’m finally going to write what comes between.

As soon as I finish Jake Calcutta story #3 next week.

I looked down at my shoes, and I smiled.

Mossie had bought me a very nice pair so I would, as he said, “look the part of heroic best man” at his wedding. I doubted a pair of shoes could manage that without oodles of help, but it was Mossie and Clare’s big day. Who was I to argue?


3000 Miles

Ireland sings to me most nights and some days. We spent a month there in 2005. I’ve been trying to go back (and if possible, stay) ever since. Yes, I’m one more of those people who want to be Irish. Seems everyone with a certain bent is inexorably drawn there.

Continue reading “3000 Miles”



The Irishman and the Tiger

chorus
Kenny from Killarney was a sorry little man
Nothing that he ever did went according to his plan
Little did he know today when he went out his door
That he would meet a tiger and his life would change for sure
That he would meet a tiger and his life would change for sure

McGillicuddy’s circus was rolling into town
put up all their posters and the people gathered round
nobody was looking and and it changed our Kenny’s fate
when a hungry angry tiger snuck out through an open gate

chorus

now Kenny worked a still hidden out among the green
distilled a murky liquid he pretended was poitín
he’d barely got the fire lit when the tiger happened by
and Kenny started running just as fast as he could fly

chorus

now Kenny was no runner and he ended up as lunch
you were thinking that he’d beat the tiger; sure I had a hunch
did you really think the story could end another way?
and the tiger’s had a taste for weasel ever since that day

chorus


Like the Sea

Em
we’ll be together
D
now and forever
Em D
like the sea and the earth and the sky
Em
yes we’ll live forever
D
always together
Em D Em
my golden-haired lady and I
Em D Em

gulls cry above us
here on the hillside
smell the sea spray in the air
we walk hand in hand
through gentle green grasses
the sun glinting gold in your hair

and we’ll be together
now and forever
like the sea and the earth and the sky
yes we’ll live forever
always together
my golden-haired lady and I

like waves of the sea
that will never give over
their flowing forever to shore
there’s room in two hearts
who’ve found one another
for loving to flow evermore

and we’ll be together
now and forever
like the sea and the earth and the sky
yes we’ll live forever
always together
my golden-haired lady and I

we’ve nowhere to go
our whole lives to get there
and never to walk alone
fill me with joy
and I’ll fill you with laughter,
golden-haired lady, my own

and we’ll be together
now and forever
like the sea and the earth and the sky
yes we’ll live forever
always together
my golden-haired lady and I


Thanks for the fish, Mr. American Tourist

I had the urge to leave. So far Siobhan had done nothing but avoid my questions, drag me cross country, and rebuff my advances. What kind of relationship was that?

guinness-is-good-for-youI stood up. Checked my pockets. Yup, still had 45 Euro. Thanks for the fish, Mr. American Tourist, but I’m moving on. Time to be proactive.

I was so close. So close to finally being smart. Or, close to smart finally doing me some good.

I hadn’t even seen them come in; I was getting comfortable in my environs and not paying attention, or maybe I was so focused on deciding whether Siobhan was dangerous or not that I didn’t have the mental energy to watch for other enemies, if they were enemies.

“Dr. Martin, please, don’t go yet. We should talk.”

The speaker couldn’t have kept me there if he’d wanted to; he was the second smallest man I’d met in Ireland, after the ex-Mr. O’Quinn. His compatriot was another matter. A giant, in acres of Armani, he had me sitting back down and slid against the far edge of the booth as if I hadn’t existed.

The big hard lump in his pocket had smacked my elbow hard enough to hurt. A big metal lump, not even in a holster. Sloppy, but probably effective.

I decided not to go yet. I didn’t decide whether we should talk.

This is an excerpt from Through the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon or just sign up for my newsletter and get it free.

They’re not shy about convicting me of his murder, are they?

negative-opinionI didn’t completely mistrust her, but I was having an even harder time accepting that she just happened to be coming out of the garda station as I was heading in (although, how could anyone possibly have known where I was, or where I was going, when I didn’t know?) or that she was just a journalist looking for a story. In fact, I only had her word for O’Quinn’s death or anything else she’d told me.

It’s hard not to act suspicious, when you are. Probably just as hard as not acting interested in a woman, when you are. In the hour to Ennis, what was happening in my head must have become obvious to Siobhan.

We stopped to stretch our legs in Ennis. I popped into a pub to use the gents’, and when I came back to the van, Siobhan was waiting behind the wheel. As I got in the left side, there was a copy of ‘An Phoblacht’ on the seat.

I raised my eyebrows at Siobhan.

“A few pages in; under ‘Other News’ . . . ”

I flipped through the pages until Michael Seamus O’Quinn was glaring at me from the center of the right-hand page. The article was short and uncomplimentary, to both O’Quinn and myself.

“They’re not shy about convicting me of his murder, are they?”

This is an excerpt from Through the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

All that effort just to get your not-very-good opinion

Somewhere along the line I’d decided to trust her. I wasn’t totally sold on the reporter angle; maybe I’d watched too much American television, but that seemed like the easiest way to ask a lot of probing questions without raising suspicions.

Whatever; I suddenly wasn’t in a hurry to escape, at least not from her. Yeah, I know: stifle it.

Chapeltown

I told her everything—almost. I described events; the kidnapping, meeting O’Quinn, my beating, the long sleep, the short trip with the cousins and my escape, lake boating and more escaping. I left out pilfering money from unsuspecting tourists, and most especially I left out my lack of memory. Maybe I wasn’t ready to trust her completely; maybe it was just a little humiliating. Doesn’t make sense, looking back, but I’ve heard men can be funny around attractive women.

“Does it really make sense to you that O’Quinn would go to all that effort just to get your not-very-good opinion about some artifacts you don’t even specialize in?”

This is an excerpt from Through the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

He’ll want to crush you personally

crush-you-personally“Tonight?”

“Hey, you were surprised to see the map there still, right? You think he’s gonna leave it there forever? No, we advance his timeline with audacity.”

“You’re sure he’ll bite?”

“You’ve convinced me.”

“Me? I’m not sure of it myself; how did I convince you?”

“You have a writer’s ability to paint a picture with words. I’ve visualized Dubin through your eyes. If you challenge him in a tangible way, he’ll want to crush you personally. He won’t let some rent-a-goon plug you. He made the threat personal, didn’t he?”

I had to admit that it felt really personal. Boy, this capturing desperate criminals is fun. You should try it some time. Like, maybe the next time they ask me you can have my turn.

This is an excerpt from Through the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.