Fish Out Of Water

Fish out of water.

Sebastian O’Leary had never entered the fishing tackle shop before, although the shop is known far and wide among the fishing fraternity. Sebastian’s only contact with fish is from the chipper two doors down.

‘You’re taking up the fishing, so?’ Seán Lydon said in his quiet, droll way.

‘They say it could relax a fella; get him away from people for a while,’ Sebastian replies.

‘It could do that all right, Sebastian, but don’t you live nice and peaceful on your own?’ Seán says as Sebastian looks through the glass case under the counter at a selection of knives designed for fishing and hunting.

‘Maybe some tackle to catch the fish might be our best place to start.’ Seán continues, throwing out a speculative bait.

‘I’ll need a knife no matter what I go after’ Sebastian reasons, still eyeing the glass case.

‘That you will, but they won’t kill the fish for you’. Seán lands the lure gently in front of Sebastian.

‘There’s quare fish out there’, and Sebastian’s reply without a flicker of irony or amusement is not considered unusual by Seán who has known him since childhood. They hadn’t much contact since they attended school together. Sebastian had gone off to study for the priesthood while Seán had gradually taken over the family fishing tackle shop. Sebastian left the seminary for health reasons just before ordination, and had stayed at home with his parents until they died. 

Sebastian had turned to look out through the glass door to the street beyond, as if weighing up his fishing options.

‘Was it the river or the sea you were thinking about?’ Seán kept a steady but casual eye on his suspended lure.

Sebastian’s thoughts were elsewhere, wondering if they had come upon his neighbour Tadgh O’Malley yet. Tadgh had reported him to the sergeant for using intemperate language in his direction the week before.

‘Language that might lead to a breach of the peace’ as Sergeant Lally put it, when he called to follow up the complaint. 

That same Sergeant Lally had aroused his sudden interest in fishing a few minutes previously. He had seen him rushing from the barracks at the other end of the street, and getting into the family car which he used to investigate rural crimes, like breaches of the peace and incidents of cattle wandering on the public road. The imminent arrival of the sergeant had caused his diversion into the fishing tackle shop. Besides, he had felt the need for a better knife for some time.

‘You have choice in this lovely corner of the world,’ Seán tweaks the bait ‘Haven’t we the sea and the rivers all around us?’

But Sebastian wasn’t listening proper, or maybe not listening at all, because a big lad in a suit had walked slowly past the shop and then walked back with a paper held up like he was reading the headlines. Sebastian wasn’t fooled. He had seen stuff like that on Kojak years ago, and that raincoat slung over his arm was awful like Columbo’s. He couldn’t see the hand under the raincoat but it most likely held a gun.

‘Jesus’ Sebastian mutters under his breath, convinced that they had brought the serious crimes squad from Dublin. Seán had unconsciously picked up a small piece of wrapping paper and started folding it tight into a little bottle shape, like he does on the rare occasions when he’s bothered. 

The Kojak character had stopped outside and seemed to have developed a keen interest in the Euro Millions poster above the shop opposite. The advert had a nice young lady lightly clad, lying back on a deckchair and holding up a drink while she smiled from ear to ear. Seán noticed Sebastian watching the suit closely.

‘He’s awful interested in your wan drinking on the wall’ he says lightly, all thoughts now gone from his dangling lure, as he weighs up the odd fish in front of him.

‘What’s that?’ inquires Sebastian, distracted.

‘I’d say it’s one of them Pina Coladas, seeing as she has an umbrella in the glass’ Seán replies.

‘An umbrella?’ Sebastian said with a strange rise and fall in his breathing. He had just noticed that the Pina Colada guzzler’s admirer has a long black umbrella hanging from under the raincoat on his arm. He had read about the Russian agent using the umbrella with a poisoned dart. 

‘I’ll have the knife now’ Sebastian says suddenly, wheeling back towards the glass case.

‘Ah now Sebastian, haven’t you enough knifes at home? Wasn’t your father the best pig sticker hereabouts, back in the day’ Seán says reasonably.

‘Pigs?’ Sebastian says eyes darting back towards the street, just as Sergeant Lally drives past, saluting the man in the suit with his index finger, bringing a look of alarm across the face of Sebastian.

‘The pigs’ he says indicating with his thumb, ‘they think that I’m the quare fish’.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Seán inquires, moistening his tongue from a glass of water he uses to lubricate fishing lines before tying, his weak voice overwhelmed by the siren of the fire engine roaring up the street.

‘They must have seen the smoke. They’ll know there’s no smoke without fire. I might have to take you hostage Seán’. He says this as he turns the key in the door and goes behind the counter hunkering down to choose a knife.

‘Whatever you think, Sebastian. We go back a long way,” referring to how they sat together in the junior infants class. Seán steadies his hand to drain the stale water.

‘Tadgh O’Malley goes back a long way too, but I had to deal with him.’ Sebastian says.

‘You dealt with Tadgh, did you?’ Seán murmurs.

Sebastian didn’t confide how he had earlier tied his neighbour, Tadhg, to a kitchen chair, or set fire to his haystack. He wanted to draw the police on Tadhg, because his neighbour was up to his neck in the deep end of a Russian conspiracy. Tadgh might confess when the heat was on. 

‘The red herring sleeps with strange fish.’ Sebastiann says instead, as he rises with a small knife from the display. He walks towards Seán but continues to the door. 

‘O’Malley is alright. Just a bit tied up today.’ Sebastian says, turning back briefly before leaving and for the first time Sean sees him smile