All the barmen knew Fitz.

There’s a killer pub on Nickels street, backs onto the river. Used to be a time when the tide turned, the day’s filth was washed away. Not anymore, not on Nickels street. Fitz knew the barman, he knew all the barmen, but this wasn’t a social call. It was a dank and dark gaff; a dim light above a torn pool table vaguely illuminated a movement at the back. They were still there, he was always there.

Fitz sat down, laid his hat on the table and rolled a cigarette between thumb and forefinger. He looked up at the face.

What does evil look like, he thought and inhaled deeply. He saw a residue of generations of depravation of decent things, he saw a denial of warmth and love, and a lifetime’s inhalation of hatred and fear stared coldly back at him. A boy still, in his early twenties,  his tongue flicking, lizard-like, testing and tasting the fear around him.  

His brothers sat either side of McKano. A near empty bottle of vodka, three shot glasses and a girl’s salty make-up mirror lay on the table. It was an edgy 3.00 pm.

You looked for me Fitz,

Fitz threw out an envelope and a photograph, 

I’m looking for him and that’s an incentive.

The uglier brother reached for the envelope but Fitz slammed his hand to the table and flicked the cigarette to the ground.

You owe me since the girl, McKano, I still have the file.

McKano’s pock-marked face pinched into a smile and he nodded to his brother. Fitz leaned back, casually slipped his hand beneath the table and felt the trigger. He looked McKano directly in the void where eyes should be, and saw a bead of sweat forming on a greasy hairline. Timing is everything and this was not a good time.

I never seen the guy before, now take your money and leave quickly while you can still walk.

Fitz  had a weak hand so there was only one move left, bluff.

Come across with his whereabouts or the file goes to the cops.

McKano flared, bolted upright and leaned into the table,

Come back tomorrow at five, I’ll have information then. maybe….. 

Fitz stood up, slowly backed away and nodded to the barman. Afternoon sunlight hurt his eyes and he kept a steady pace till he’d left the Island, his hand stayed in his pocket, his finger on the trigger. He felt anxious, more then his usual edge. He needed to think and he needed a drink.


7 responses to “All the barmen knew Fitz.

  1. Hi Devin,

    Excellent, just up the road from Stix . Good stuff outa you.

    Cops starting to hit back in recent weeks. Lets see what happens next.

    Good luck

    Thanks much .

  2. About time and all. Now’s the time to keep the pressure up and not give the fuckers a minute’s respite.
    Can’t wait for the next episode.

    (Did a few tommers down d’Island back in the day)

  3. If he could kill all 3 brothers he’d have a McKano Set!


    I’m loving this Limerick Noir. I haven’t a clue what you and Dev are on about but Limerick sounds like a town that knows how to keep its secrets, a place of long shadows and short fuses. Lovin’ it!!

  4. Hiya Sam,

    Wasn’t sure about that name, but if you drop the Mc and add an e (go on, say it, you’re in the mood.) well, then have our one of our warring factions.

    A Ukrainian kid was stabbed two nights ago, 16 years old, murdered by another 16 year old.

    Last week, 300 police including a special armed unit raided 150 houses around the place and 30 businesses down town. Guns, money and drugs.

    I don’t lie awake at night thinking about it, but I’m waiting for the pendulum to wing back, just a little will do.

  5. I think we need to bring Sam on a tour of our fair city.

    Who’s game?

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