In Death 19 - Visions in Death

started riding her train. Made a lot of comments regarding his size. Also described him as bald and wearing sunshades." "Discs are recycled by now, if not destroyed." He pulled his lip. "We can go to the Transit Authority, cull through until we find discs, if they still exist, for that time period.
    We can pick through the images, try to find echoes of previous images. Lot of luck involved there, but we might find him." She noticed tried not to, but couldn't avoid it that today's shirt was the color of lime juice. "I can ask Whitney for the extra manpower and OF you need." "I can do my own begging, thanks. I'll send a couple of boys down to get started. Got the train route in the file." "Keep me in the loop." "McNab's eyes are going to bleed," Peabody commented when Eve ended transmission. "That's what he gets for being an e-man." "We get a visual of this guy, we nail that visual, we nail the box." It was going to take time, Eve thought. Not just hours, but days. And more than luck, it was going to require a small miracle.
    O'Hara's was as advertised: a small, reasonably clean Irish-style pub. More authentic in that area, Eve noted, than some billed as such in the city that attempted to prove it by slapping up shamrocks everywhere and requiring the staff to speak with fake Irish accents.
    This one was dimly lit, with a good, solid bar, deep booths, and low tables scattered around with short stools bracketing them rather than chairs.
    The man working the stick was wide as a draft horse, and pulled pints of Harp, Guinness, Smithwick with an easy skill that told her he'd likely been doing so since he could stand.
    He had a ruddy face, a thatch of sandy hair, and eyes that skimmed and scanned the room like a cop's.
    He'd be the man to see.
    "I've never had a Guinness," Peabody commented.
    "You're not having one now." "Yeah, on duty and all. But I'm going to have to try one sometime. Except they look a little scary and they cost beyond." "Get what you pay for." "Huh. Yet another tip." Eve stepped up to the bar. Its tender pushed pints into waiting hands, then worked his way down. "Officers," he said.
    "You've got good eyes. Mr O'Hara?" "I'm O'Hara. My father was on the job." "Where?" "In merry old Dublin." She heard it in his voice, the same lilt that crept into Roarke's. "When did you come over?" "When I was but a green and cheery twenty, off to seek my fortune. And did well enough." "Looks like." "Ah well." His face sobered. "You're here about Lily. You want my help, or that of any here, to find the bastard who murdered that sweet girl, you've got it. Michael, take the stick. We'll sit down a moment," he said to Eve. "Will you have a pint?" "On duty," Peabody said, a little morosely, and he grinned.
    "Beer's next thing to mother's milk, but I'll pour you out something soft. Take that booth down there. I'll be right along." "Pretty nice place." Peabody settled in the booth, looked around. "I'm going to come back with McNab, try the Guinness. Does it come in light?" "What would be the point?"
    O'Hara brought two soda waters and a pint to the booth, and slid his bulk in across from them.
    "To our Lily then." He lifted his glass. "Bless her sweet soul." "What time did she leave here that night?" He sipped. "I know you're cops, but I haven't your names as yet." "Sorry." She pulled out her badge as she spoke. "Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody." "Roarke's cop. I thought so." "You know Roarke?" "Not in a personal manner of speaking. I've a few years on him, and we ran in different circles back in the day. My father knew him," O'Hara said with a twinkle.
    "I bet." "Did well for himself, too, didn't he now?" "You could say. Mr O'Hara--" "I don't know him personally," O'Hara interrupted, and leaned in, his eyes keen on hers. "But I know of him. And one of the things I know is that he's a man who tends to want and have the best. Would that include his cop?" Tm sitting here, Mr O'Hara, as Lily's cop. And I'm going to make damn sure she's got the best." "Well." He sat back, lifted his pint again. "Well now, that's a fine answer. She left about half-one. It was a slow night so I scooted her along a bit early. I should've had someone walk her home. I should've thought of that after what happened to that uptown woman. But I never thought of it." "You've got good eyes, Mr O'Hara. Did you notice anyone in here that made you look harder?" "Girl, doesn't a week go by someone doesn't make me take a harder look. I run a pub, after all.