Blood Money (chapters fifteen and sixteen.) (standard:Suspense, 5564 words) [8/18] show all parts
Author: Hulsey	Added: Sep 23 2011	Views/Reads: 2117/1674	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Continued.

15 

DRUMCONDRA DUBLIN 

The red-faced Morris O'Hara was standing in front of his Dublin mansion,
amid a multitude of golf balls. His swing was neither graceful nor 
orthodox, but it had the desired effect, as he sent ball after ball 
soaring through the air. Standing at his side was his devoted Irish 
wolfhound. 

O'Hara recognised the Range Rover that was progressing along his lengthy
driveway and selected a three wood from his golf bag. He watched 
contentedly, and smashed another ball across his expansive lawn. 

“Still playing that pussie's game, Morris?” joked Keenan, who stroked
the dog affectionately. 

“Not much of a tan, Terry have you? Come on, I need a drink.” 

The two men strolled towards the mansion and were met by O'Hara's
butler, who was carrying a tray laden with drinks. They rested on a 
bench outside the luxurious establishment and Keenan rubbed his hands 
together. “It's frigging freezing out here.” 

“Who's the pussy now, Terry?” O'Hara dismissed his butler and his face
assumed a more serious look. “I never thought he'd have the balls... 
Chaplin, I mean... You're certain that the Greek wasn't lying?” 

“He was telling the truth.” 

O'Hara poured out two liberal measures of brandy. “You're getting
clumsy, Terry.” 

“Come again.” 

“I told you to bury the body... If Kannellakis's body is discovered,
then the spotlight once more will fall on me. I'm robbed of three 
million and one of the suspects is found dead. You did make it look 
like an accident, I take it?” 

Keenan hesitated. “He won't be found believe me. I saw the car disappear
beneath the waves.” 

“And what about when the tide goes out? I fucking pay you good money,
Terry and I expect a professional job.” 

“I've told you, the body won't be found.” 

O'Hara changed the subject. “So, Chaplin and the three heroes were out
to fleece me. Why then would Chaplin rob me?” 

“Maybe he didn't... I mean, it wouldn't make sense, Morris.” 

O'Hara squinted as the sun appeared from behind the grey clouds. “I've
had Chaplin followed. Jimmy Cochrane's in London.” 

“Jimmy fucking Cochrane?” spluttered Keenan. “That psycho is working for
you?” 

“Ironic isn't it that Chaplin once defended Jimmy and got him off?
Anyway, Chaplin met with two men in Camden Town recently. One of them 
is his brother in law, who goes by the name of Dean Schofield. A 
two-bit private eye, he is.” 

Keenan interrupted. “So he visited his brother in law. Nothing unnatural
in that.” 

“Chaplin tried to lose Jimmy and he parked some way from Schofield's
flat. No, this was a meeting Chaplin didn't want anyone to know about.” 


“So who was the third man?” 

“I don't know. Jimmy, as ordered continued with his surveillance of
Chaplin, but he did take a photo of the man as he left the flat.” 


Click here to read the rest of this story (757 more lines)