Panting and exhausted Seámus looked up at his uncle. The body he straddled was a bloody, inhumane mess. Mickey examined him expressionlessly then began to unbutton his shirt.
"Y' mam'll kill me if she sees you in this state mate." He held his shirt out, the cleaner of the two, towards Seámus who nodded silently and got on with the necessities. Uncle Mickey was right his Ma didn't need to see this. Once they were fully dressed again Michael lifted the body into the back of their car. The hole had already been dug a few miles out. Now they just needed to add the lye.
Caitlyn sat at her desk humming along to Sinatra's "That's Life". She pondered on the whereabouts of her twin and eldest son. Michael and Seámus Jr. had been gone for most of the evening . The door to Cait’s office opened with a creak and her twin strode in. Mickey unbuttoned his blazer and threw it on the leather two-seater. His crimson tarnished shirt was quickly removed and shoved in her direction.
"That one squirmed too much," he stated without a waver in his monotone voice. They looked at one another, his boredom burning into her eyes. Simply, he was fed up of them squirming. Half the men these days couldn't be, what he thought of as, real men. He thought himself to be more of a man than the scum he dealt with. Real men faced death without groveling for their lives, without pleading for mercy. Real men didn't get themselves caught. Caitlyn sighed, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She opened the cupboard door and produced a crisp, white shirt for him.
“It’s fresh, as always. Just got it back from the dry cleaners. I had Cieran take it after you left. Figured you’d need one.” Caitlyn saw Mickey’s entire form relax and left the shirt in its bag hanging from the cupboard. She didn’t need to offer him the seat in front of her desk as she went to her own and as they sat Cait pulled out a bottle of Jameson along with two spirit glasses from her desk, pouring them both a decent amount. She downed hers the moment Michael had taken his glass and poured herself another. Mickey didn't really drink, a strange trait for an Irish man, he preferred to swirl the glass and watch the drink. That was probably the only thing Cait didn't understand about her twin. Cait had inherited her father's taste for whiskey.The drink felt better inside you if you asked her. "So tell me what happened."
Michael rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb then pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his twin would be wanting the details but he was in no frame of mind to go over them so he told her the basics of the night: arriving at the garage with her eldest, the various means of persuasion the two men had used, how they finally got the name out of the punter. Mickey decided to leave out the fact that it had been Seámus Jr. who had finished the guy off. That kid was a loose cannon just like his father and revenge was fresh on his mind.
As Cait’s eyes began to glisten he reached out for her hand; she took it in a firm grasp. “He killed my Seámus Mickey. He killed my Seámus.” Hatred glazed over Caitlyn’s eyes as Michael had never seen before. He knew then that the bastard would pay with his life, only now he wasn't quite sure who would get to Moore first.