Playing Dirty(44)

I pulled my Mercedes into the parking lot and jogged to the station. A plump brunette woman with a stringy fringe pushed away from her forehead with a clip was sitting behind the reception desk, and she raised her eyebrows at me but didn’t say anything when I came barreling inside.

“Hi, ma’am, I’m here for Connor Callaghan,” I said.

The woman stared at me. She blinked, looking on the verge of reptilian. Finally, she opened her great maw. “Who?”

“Connor Callaghan,” I repeated. “He was brought in for possession of narcotics.”

The woman laughed. “Ha, boy, you think you’re gonna chase him down and buy something? We’ve taken his bloody drugs away from him at this point! I don’t care how famous you are, he isn’t gonna be selling anything to your tight little arse for a very long time!”

In irritation, my hands balled into fists by my side, but I didn’t let the woman see that. “No,” I said in an even tone, trying to contain my temper. “I’m his friend. I’m here to bail him out, and hopefully take him to rehab.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at me and leaned back. “You’re kidding me,” she said. “Someone like you….some famous football bloke! Bailing out this rotter!”

I glared at her. “He’s not a rotter,” I said. “He’s my best friend, and I don’t like you talking about him like that. He’s a good man.”

“Good? Like when he tried to sell blow to a bunch of young uni girls?” The woman laughed again. “His bail is too high even for the likes of you.”

I set my lips in a thin line and leaned over the counter, gritting my teeth. “Please let me speak to someone about his case. Someone higher up than you.”

The woman sighed in exasperation. I could tell she was really winding up to say something nasty when a back door opened and a uniformed officer came out. He eyed me with curious interest. I’d seen that look before; he recognized me, but he wasn’t sure from where, and he was trying to remember before I could say anything.

“What’s all this?” The officer strutted to the front of the room and looked down at the surly receptionist. “What are you doing?”

“This asshole thinks he can come in here and bully me into seeing his friend,” she replied, glaring at me. “Toss him out!”

“Wait, what? I haven’t been bullying you at all,” I said through gritted teeth. “Please just listen to me. My best friend was booked and I haven’t been allowed to see him. I want to pay his bail, get him out, and take him to a rehab facility.”

The officer walked towards me, nodding his head. “I think I know who you are,” he said. “You’re...you’re Jay Walsh!” he added with a triumphant cry. “My kids love you!”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to manage a polite smile. The hag behind the front desk was still glaring at me. “Can I see my mate?”

The officer frowned. He reached down onto the woman’s desk and grabbed a sheaf of paperwork. “Who’s your pal?”

“Connor Callaghan,” I said, feeling tired of repeating his name. “He was booked for possession of narcotics. His sister, Mary, called me from Belfast. She couldn’t come—she’s got three young kids at home, so she asked me to take care of it.”

“I see,” the officer said. He frowned again, more deeply this time. “You know this isn’t the first time Mr. Callaghan has enjoyed a visit with us?”

I raised my eyebrows. “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I said stiffly. “I didn’t know what kind of things he’s been up to. His sister told me he’s had a problem for some time.”

“And this is your best mate?” The officer was looking at me, not seeming quite so pleased this time.

I nodded, feeling defensive. “Yeah,” I said. “We grew up together in Belfast.”

“Not really paying a lot of attention to him, are you?” The officer looked at me with a gleam in his eye. “Not really watching what kind of stuff he gets up to, aye?”

“He keeps things from me,” I said. I was starting to get angry. Between justifying myself to a police offer and the bitchy receptionist, I was feeling a bit stretched thin.

“Perhaps you’re spending a bit too much time on the football and on the ladies?” The officer winked at me and had the nerve to laugh.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t say anything too horrible. “That’s a bit rum,” I said. “Saying I’m not a good mate because I can’t babysit Connor all the time. We’re grown men, you know.”