Back To The House

Conor led the way to the office of the Planning and Zoning Department on the fifth floor. Someone—Kieran, probably—had called ahead. A city employee manning the front desk took a look at Conor’s IC, showed us to a room filled with racks upon racks of cardboard boxes. ‘What you need is on that table over there.’ He pointed to a large rectangular Formica table leaning against the far wall. ‘Thanks.’ Conor shook the man’s hand, and I caught him slipping something into the man’s palm. Probably a roll of cash. The table surface was covered with what looked like drawings and maps. ‘What are we doing here?’ I asked again. ‘What are those?’ ‘Drawing plans for Orchid Park.’ ‘My house?’ It was the name of the gated community Brennan built, in a joint venture with Desmond Murray. It was where I lived for the entirety of my childhood, and where Conor lost his parents in the fire. Conor rummaged through the plans. ‘What are you looking for?’ I asked. ‘If you tell me, I can help.’ ‘Found it.’ He hel