Old Friend

Conor produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. ‘Want one?’ Kieran picked up the pack, studied it, extracted a cigarette and put it to his lips. ‘No.’ I took it from him and chucked it into a waste basket. This would be a good time for him to quit smoking. Kieran pouted, but didn’t say anything and kept his hands to himself. ‘What are you, his mother?’ Conor shook his head. ‘Maybe getting back into his old habit will help him remember.’ ‘Not this way,’ I said. I ordered for all three of us. The dishes were served in a matter of minutes. Conor tucked the pack of cigarettes away. He didn’t speak again until he’d polished off a big piece of focaccia flatbread. Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip of his Chianti. ‘I’ve done some digging about this Ferguson character.’ ‘That’s fast.’ ‘Of course. I always work fast.’ ‘What did you find?’ ‘You said he was once sent to prison but got out early. So I started there. Reached out to a couple of contacts in cit