I knew it wasn't like that in real life, at least not all the time, but it struck me as a breathtaking thing to have a job where even that possibility existed. When, all in the same month, Charlie got engaged and the dole informed me they were cracking down on people like me and this guy with a thing for bad rap music moved in downstairs, it seemed like the obvious response to go back to Ireland, apply to Templemore Training College and start becoming a detective. I didn't miss the bedsit-I think I had been starting to get bored anyway-but I still remember those marvelous, self-indulgent two years among the happiest times of my life.
Sam left around 11:30; Ballsbridge is only a few minutes' walk from Sandymount. He gave me a quick, questioning look as he pulled on his coat. "Which way are you walking?"
"You've probably missed the last DART," Cassie told me easily. "You can crash on my sofa if you want."
I could have said I planned to take a taxi home, but I decided she had probably called it right: Sam wasn't Quigley, we wouldn't come in the next day to a gleeful little flurry of smirks and single entendres. "I think I have, actually," I said, checking my watch. "Would that be all right?"
If Sam was startled, he covered it well. "See ye in the morning, then," he said cheerfully. "Sleep tight."
"He fancies you," I told Cassie, when he had left.
"God, you're predictable," she said, digging in the wardrobe for the spare duvet and the T-shirt I keep there.
"'Oh, I want to hear what
"Ryan, if God had wanted me to have a horrible pubescent brother, he would have given me one. Also your Galway accent sucks."
"Do you fancy him, too?"
"If I did, I would have done my famous trademark trick where I tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue."
"You do not either. Show me."
"I was
We pulled out the futon; Cassie turned on the bedside lamp and I switched off the overhead light, leaving the room small and warm and shadowy. She found the knee-length T-shirt she sleeps in and took it into the bathroom to change. I tucked my socks into my shoes and pushed them out of the way under the sofa, stripped to my boxers, pulled on my T-shirt and settled myself under the spare duvet. We had the routine down pat by this time. I could hear her splashing water on her face and singing to herself, something folk-songy I didn't recognize, in a minor key. "To the Queen of Hearts is the Ace of Sorrow, he's here today, he's gone tomorrow…" She had pitched it too low; the bottom note disappeared into a hum.
"Do you really feel that way about our job?" I asked, when she came out of the bathroom (small bare feet, smooth calves muscled like a boy's). "The way Mark feels about archaeology?"
I had been saving the question till Sam left. Cassie gave me a quizzical little sideways grin. "I have never poured booze on the squad-room carpet. Cross my heart."
I waited. She slid into bed and leaned up on one elbow, her cheek on her fist; the glow of the bedside lamp edged her with light, so that she looked translucent, a girl in a stained-glass window. I wasn't sure she was going to answer, even without Sam there, but after a moment she said, "We're dealing with truth, finding truth. That's serious business."
I thought about this. "Is that why you don't like lying?" This is one of Cassie's quirks, especially odd in a detective. She omits things, eludes questions with open mischief or so subtly you hardly notice her doing it, spins misleading phrases with a conjurer's expertise; but I had never known her to lie outright, not even to a suspect.
She shrugged, one-shouldered. "I'm not very good with paradox."
"I think I am, actually," I said thoughtfully.
Cassie rolled over onto her back and laughed. "You should put that in a personal ad. Male, six foot, good with paradox-"
"-abnormally studly-"
"-seeks his very own Britney for-"
"Ewww!"
She cocked an eyebrow at me, innocently. "No?"
"Give me some credit. Britney is exclusively for those with cheap tastes. It would have to be Scarlett Johansson at
We laughed, subsided. I sighed comfortably and arranged myself around the sofa's familiar quirks; Cassie reached out one arm to turn off the lamp. "Night. Sleep tight."
"Sweet dreams."
