He had not eaten since his early breakfast at Maria Walsh’s. He flanked the railings of Merrion Square, passing the Royal Dublin Society’s premises at Leinster House and the pillared facade of Francis Fowke’s National Gallery. In less pressured circumstances he would sometimes take an hour to wan...
‘You got the shitty end of the stick again, Boss. But we’ll crack this one. If I was Chief Mallon, I’d be lookin’ to you too, instead of Boyle.’ The little Belfast detective was unconvincing, and Swallow was not in a mood to be comforted. ‘It’s fucking great to have a full-time optimist around,’ ...