a radical group of anarchists drop a drug into the water supplies around the country – and then months later they come forward and admit to it? Anarchists, taking responsibility for their actions? That defeats the whole point of being an anarchist, doesn’t it? Do you know when the trial is? Do you know which prison they’re locked up in until it happens? Because I don’t.”
Inspector Me sat back. “This sounds awfully like a conspiracy theory, Kenny. What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know, but Lynch said it wasn’t anarchists that did this. He said it was little slices of darkness, flying around and infecting people.”
To Kenny’s surprise, neither the Inspector nor the girl smirked.
“Do you know how many people reported seeing strange things over those few days?” Kenny continued. “I’ve read dozens of reports. There was a nightclub in North County Dublin that was apparently swarmed by the things, but it wasn’t even reported in the local paper.”
“Sounds like a bunch of people hallucinating to me,” said the girl.
“Lynch didn’t think so. He had a vision of those things spreading out, infecting the world, making everyone do crazy things, kill each other, drop bombs …”
“All right then,” said Me. “We have established that Lynch was psychologically disturbed, that he believed in a subculture of superheroes and evil gods. So why was he killed?”
Kenny blinked. “Uh, he was robbed, wasn’t he?”
“Was he?”
“Wasn’t he? That’s what the … that’s what the guy said, the Guard, the one who spoke to me. He said it looked like a mugging.”
“I see.”
Kenny frowned. “You think it’s got something to do with his visions, don’t you?”
“It’s a possibility,” said Me.
“Why were you meeting him this morning?” the girl asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Kenny, “I don’t mean to be rude, but why is she asking me questions? Why is she even here?”
“Work experience,” said Me.
“You accused me of murder. Do you make a habit of bringing schoolgirls into interview rooms with murder suspects?”
Me waved a hand. “Oh, I was only joking about that. I don’t really think you murdered anyone. Unless you did, in which case I reserve the right to say that I knew it all along. But she asks a good question, Kenny. Why were you meeting him?”
“For the past few months, he’d been having new visions, of shadows coming alive, of people dropping dead. His latest apocalypse.”
“What did he say about it?”
“Why is this important?”
“Everything is important.”
“But it’s not like he identified anyone. It’s not like he heard any names in his visions. He saw someone in a black robe, that’s it.”
“Male or female?”
“He couldn’t say.”
“Did he happen to mention the Passage at all?”
Kenny looked at him. There was something about the Inspector’s face that wasn’t quite right. As soon as Kenny noticed it, he looked away. His mother had taught him it was not polite to stare.
“He didn’t use that word,” Kenny said. “But I’ve heard it from others. How did you hear about it?”
“Who did you hear it from?” asked the girl.
“Others,” Kenny said irritably. “Three or four people, who had overheard it in pubs or alleyways or whatever. It sounds like the Rapture, to be honest.”
The girl frowned. “What’s that?”
“The Rapture,” Inspector Me said, “is a Christian belief in which God will collect the faithful and deliver them into Heaven. ‘And the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be raptured together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.’ Those found unworthy will be left here on earth with the rest of the sinners.”
“The Passage sounds like that sort of deal,” Kenny said. “Mass salvation before the end of the world. Whether or not there’s any kind of a god at work behind it, I don’t know, but there usually is.”
“Did Lynch give any kind of a time frame?” Me asked.
“His visions were getting stronger and more frequent,” Kenny answered. “The way it worked in the past is that he’d have another six or seven days at this level of intensity, then the apocalypse wouldn’t happen and he’d be able to relax again.”
“Seven days,” said Me.
“Or thereabouts, yeah. How did you hear about the Passage?”
“We’re detectives,” said Me. “We detect things.”
“She’s a detective as well, is she?”
“She’s a detective-in-training.”
“Look, this is all very, very weird. Why are you focusing on rumours and urban legends? You haven’t even asked me any normal questions.”
“Normal questions? Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, like if Lynch had any enemies.”
“Did Lynch have any enemies?”
“Well, not that I know of, no.”
“Then there really was no point in me asking that, was there? Unless you wanted to distract me. You didn’t want to distract me, did you, Kenny?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Are you playing a game with me, Kenny?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
Inspector Me leaned forward. “Did you kill him?”
“No!”
“It’d be OK if you did.”
Kenny recoiled, horrified. “How would that be OK?”
“Well,” Me said, “maybe not OK, but understandable. Perhaps he said something that annoyed you. We’ve all been there, haven’t we?” He looked back at the girl. “Haven’t we?”
“I’ve been there,” said the girl.
“We’ve all been there,” said Me, looking at Kenny again. “We know how it goes. He says something that annoys you, you get angry, all of a sudden he’s lying dead and you’re wondering where did the time go.”
“I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Anyone? You mean there’s more?”
“What?”
Me sat back, tapped his chin with a gloved hand. “You know what, Kenny? I believe you. You have an honest face. You have honest ears. So who do you think killed him?”
“I had thought it was just a mugging.”
“And now?”
“Now … I don’t know. Do you think someone killed him because of the Passage? Are there people out there who really believe in this stuff?”
“People are strange,” said the girl, then started humming a few bars from the song.
“Did Lynch talk to anyone else about this?” Me asked. “Did he have any friends? Any family he still spoke to?”
“No, no one.”