
“Did you ever meet his girlfriend?”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “Sure you wouldn’t like more tea?”
Minogue glanced at the two Gardai whose car was blocking the driveway outside. One had crumbs in the folds of his uniform. A nice easy few hours’ work holding Fine’s place until the glamorous blades from the Murder Squad came by. Minogue gestured for the younger Guard to step out of the kitchen.
“We’re going up to his flat now. Go over what she remembers again, would you? How long he had been here, any irregularities? Did he ever come home drunk, was he ever having rows that she knows of? Arguments with people on the phone? Did he ever tell her anything about his work or personal life? Any strangers on the terrace this last while, callers looking for Fine?”
“Like Arabs with headgear?” the Garda asked.
Minogue fixed him with a stare.
“It’s just that we heard there was something to do with Palestine…” The Garda tried to regroup with a careful smile.
“Did she see any letters addressed to him? Don’t worry about her saying she never noticed such things-just probe. She’s not a woman to be missing things, I’m sure.”
Minogue phoned Kathleen after an hour. The last ten minutes he had spent seated on Fine’s bed with Hoey, going over what he had recorded in his notes. He had told Hoey to get hold of Gallagher in Special Branch for late afternoon. They’d be wanting all Gallagher had on possible extremist groups. Hoey was to phone the television station, RTE, and insist on seeing Fitzgerald as soon as possible.
