“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?”
“I’m 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. But not what you’re meaning. There was nobody I saw who made me think I’d need to worry for my girls.”
“He’d be big,” Eve continued. “A big man, strong-looking. He’d keep to himself, wouldn’t socialize or make conversation. He might have worn sunshades. He wouldn’t sit at the bar, unless there was no choice. He’d want a table—in Lily’s section—and he’d make it clear he didn’t want company.”
“I’d remember someone like that.” He shook his head. “But I don’t. I’m here most nights. But not every.”
“We’d like to talk to whoever worked Lily’s shift.”