The New Policeman by Kate Thompson Page A

particularly awful. They needed attention.
    “I didn’t come here to play tunes,” he said, a bit more irritably than he meant to.
    “Oh?” J.J. thought he glimpsed a corresponding gleam of antagonism in Aengus’s clear green eyes, but if he did, it vanished as quickly as it had arisen. “What did you come here for, then? A rescue mission for lame dogs?”
    “No,” said J.J.
    “You have another reason for being here, so,” said Maggie, who wasn’t asleep after all.
    “I have, I suppose,” said J.J., although the business with the dog had almost driven it out of his mind. It seemed absurd now, as he said it. “I was told you might be able to help me buy some time.”

    “Time?” said Devaney.
    “No bother,” said Aengus.
    “We’ve heaps of it,” said Cormac, “and we’ve no use for it at all.”
    “Oh, great,” said J.J., though it all seemed even more absurd now. “Will you sell me some, then?”
    “Take it,” said Aengus. “Take it all.” J.J. was silent, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
    “We don’t want it,” Aengus went on. “You’re welcome to it.”
    “You mean…” said J.J. “You mean…just take it?”
    “Just take it,” said Aengus.
    J.J. looked around at the other faces, wondering what kind of joke was being played on him. There was no sign that he could see of any malice or amusement. But it couldn’t possibly be as simple as it appeared to be.
    Devaney sensed that he was in difficulty. “Wait, now,” he said. “Maybe it would be better if he gave us something for it.”
    “It would,” said Maggie. “It would cement the deal.”
    “And he would have more value on it, that way,” said Marcus.

    “Right, so,” said Aengus. “Make us an offer for the lot.”
    J.J. felt the ten-euro note in his pocket. If he’d known he was going to be in this situation he would have come better prepared. He wished he’d had the foresight to ask Anne Korff for a loan.
    He took it out. “This is all I have on me.”
    They all stared at the shabby note in his hand. It was a mistake, he knew. He had insulted them.
    “I can get more,” he said hastily. “I have a couple of hundred in the credit union.”
    “Ah, no,” said Cormac. “It isn’t that.”
    “You could wave any amount of that stuff around in front of us,” said Jennie.
    “It’s no use to us,” said Maggie.
    “We don’t use it,” said Devaney.
    “Have you nothing else?” said Aengus.
    J.J. searched his pockets. In the inside breast pocket of his jacket he had the candle and matches that Anne Korff had given him. He needed them for his way back. His penknife was in there as well, but he was very attached to it. If he had to he might offer it, but it would have to be a last resort. He searched his other pockets.
    Aengus looked up at the sky. Devaney examined hisdrum skin and gave it a couple of hefty clouts. Maggie appeared to go to sleep again.
    “There must be something,” said Devaney.
    “I’m sure there is, if we could think of it,” said Jennie.
    “There is,” said Aengus. “There’s something we all want.”
    “What?” said J.J.
    “‘Dowd’s Number Nine.’”
    “Yes!” said Maggie, who wasn’t asleep after all.
    “Good thinking,” said Cormac.
    J.J. racked his brains. It was a common enough tune—so common, in fact, that there were endless jokes about its name. There was no “Dowd’s Number Eight” or “Dowd’s Number Ten,” no “Dowd’s Number One” or “Two,” or any other numbers at all. Just “Dowd’s Number Nine.”
    J.J. knew he played it. It was one of Helen’s favorite tunes. There were dozens, possibly hundreds of tunes that J.J. could play if they came up in a session, but the problem was that he seldom remembered their names. Unless he was playing in a competition it never seemed important to him.
    “Don’t you know it?” said Aengus, sounding disappointed.

    “I do,” said J.J. “I just can’t think of it. How does it