Light of the Diddicoy by Eamon Loingsigh Page B

nothin’.”
    Dropping his hat on the back of his head and wiping the snow from his face, Brosnan walks toward the bar with his hand extended, “Paddy Keenan, is it?”
    Keenan looks at the large policeman and lays a hand out for greeting, “’Tis.”
    â€œFrom what part are ye then?” Brosnan offers while pulling a pack of cigars from his tunic that reads “Na Bocklish.”
    â€œKilmenagh.”
    â€œSure, sure, over Kilkenny way,” Brosnan agrees. “Why not give us a drop o’ the pure when ye’re ready, eh Mr. Keenan?”
    Keenan nods.
    â€œThat’ll be the cure of it,” Brosnan says as Keenan pushes forward the home brewed poteen. “Might as well take the drop while the life is still in ye. I’ve known me quite a few from them parts. Kind people they are, from Kilmenagh. I’m from Dooblin meself.”
    â€œI know,” Keenan answers not so cordially.
    â€œBut Kilkenny! Oh my, lovely place it be. Seat of our ancestors beyond the pale, but close in our hearts still today.”
    â€œâ€™Tis, ’tis,” Keenan agrees.
    Leaning across the bar and whispering, “Is Dinny h’opstairs?”
    Keenan looks up toward the dark, empty stairwell at the end of the bar, then back to Brosnan, “I wouldn’t go up, sir.”
    Brosnan though, he only hears a challenge from Keenan’s advice. He grinds his teeth inside his mouth, but doesn’t show it on his face. Instead Brosnan smiles and takes off his hat, begins to sing where quickly Keenan joins along, Culkin watching by the door and the injured man.
“ There once were two cats liv’d in Kilkenny
    Each t’ought dere was one cat too many
    So dey fought and dey hiss’t
    An’ dey scratched and dey bit
    â€™Til instead o’ two cats dere weren’ t’any!”
    Laughing along, Brosnan pronounces, “only good t’ings come from Kilkenny, ye must be a good man Paddy Keenan! How long ye been on for Dinny now?”
    â€œWisha, I just tend bar sir, nothin’ more.”
    â€œYe know what,” say Brosnan, pounding his hand on the bar and pulling the Na Bocklish out of his head. “I believe that! There’s a lotta gobshite round here, I’ll be the first to reco’nize it. But I believe ye, Paddy. Ye know, we that come from the auld lanes aren’t as violent as them that dragged up round the waterfront here.”
    â€œI see it that way too,” Keenan agreed.
    â€œDo ye?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œKilkenny cats, Mr. Keenan,” Brosnan said smiling with a finger in the air, Keenan listening quietly and without offering his own opinion either. “Dinny’s got ’is day t’day, but these bhoys got the nature to bring down their king. And what a king he be, yeah? King of the Diddicoys, if ye believe them larrikins are wert’ presidin’ over. Watch ’em, Paddy Keenan! I seen it many time in this neighborhood. Ye t’ink Lovett’s got loyalty fer the king? Do ye? Those ol’ Jay Street hooligans and their knavery: Lovett, Connors, Frankie Byrne and his boyos, the Leighton brothers and others. They’re Dinny’s now? Ha! Are they, Paddy? Even with Dinny’s gift fer arganizin’, ye can’t break some, ye can’t. These bhoys down by the docks, I seen over many years. Here me,” Brosnan said leaning across the mahogany for a whisper. “They’re the Kilkenny cats themselves.”
    â€œAre they?”
    â€œThey are! Bill Lovett?” Brosnan announced while staring at Keenan’s face. “Wild Bill Lovett?”
    Keenan wrinkles his nose but for a moment.
    â€œThey’ll fight each other outta existence, they will. . . . If I don’t take Dinny down meself, as a matther o’ fact,” Brosnan warns before blasting down a shot, then looks up the stairwell angrily. “I’ve done it before, take that Dinny down I did