by Mick Moran
“Yes: just a day or two before he went away. But he never mentioned that he planned to leave. He did tell his landlady, though. He said he was going away for a few days. She expects him back. Most of his clothed are still there. But, now it’s been over a week. People are getting concerned.”
“Why are they? I get the impression that he’s not a man who tells his business to everyone.”
“Yes. You’re right. He’s quite a secretive man. But’ he’s also a truthful man. When he told Mary, his landlady, that he would be away for a few days she believed he meant just that. Also, there is a job waiting for him that can’t be held any longer. But, there is something else that he told me: Something more worrying.” The priest hesitated as if considering whether to go on.
“Yes Father.” Teresa was eager to hear it.
“OK. Martin never said that what he was telling me was confidential. Nevertheless, I would not normally repeat such things. However, in the light of recent developments, it might not be right to keep this information to myself any longer. I’m seriously thinking of going to the police with it. You’ve come a long way and I think you deserve to know the truth. I trust you will treat this information sensitively.”
“Of course father.”
“You know about Martin’s other identity?”
“Yes; Michael O’Malley.”
“Well,” continued the priest. “Nobody knew him by that name around here. Here, he always used his real name, Martin Prendergast. However, by coincidence, a man by the name of Michael O’Malley lived nearby. That man, as you heard, has just died, after being assaulted a couple of weeks ago. Martin was convinced that that assault was a case of mistaken identity: that he was the intended victim.”
“Do you think he disappeared because he was frightened?”
“Frightened! No. I don’t think he was frightened. But, he did feel responsible for what happened to Michael O’Malley. He was blaming himself for it.”
“That seems illogical. Was his mind a bit…?”
“No. He seemed normal to me. Although, the young fellow that I spoke to yesterday evening, said he thought Martin had been acting a bit strange recently. Oh; and there was something else. There was a letter: a threatening letter. It was left at Martin’s digs, I think about a week before the assault on Michael O’Malley. It was addressed to Michael O’Malley, but Martin was sure it was meant for him. A similar letter was sent to him when he lived in Birmingham. He recognised the handwriting. The letter was left on a shelf, waiting for someone to take it to Michael O’Malley. Then, one time, when he was alone in the house, Martin carefully opened the letter.”
“His fears were confirmed. I don’t know the exact words, but Martin said they were identical to the ones in the letter he received when he lived in Birmingham. He knew he should have taken the letter to the police. I think that was the main reason he felt guilty. But, Martin’s life experiences had made him wary of the police, or, for that matter, of any one in authority. Instead, he removed the letter and resealed the empty envelope: to save frightening Michael O’Malley, he said.”
“Who did he think was threatening him Father? Did he think it was my family?”
“Yes. I believe he did. Although he was not totally convinced, that was mainly what he suspected. That terrible civil war: people have still got the scars over forty years later. Some, God help them! will take those hatreds to their graves.
“My father sees the folly of it all now, and, after meeting Martin, he regrets the ill feelings he had for so many years. But, I can’t bear to think what would happen if any of my uncles met Martin: even now. However, I can’t see any of them being involved in the assault on Michael O’Malley.
“There is another possibility. Martin told me he had a bit of a run-in with a racist group when he lived in Birmingham. They don’t normally target Irish people. But, they are very anti IRA. Martin fears that they may be aware of his past connections.”
“How could they be?”
“Well. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but could you have a younger brother who is somehow involved with that group?”
Teresa was shocked. “I hope not.”
***
It was a nice bright spring afternoon. Teresa decided to walk to Mary’s lodging house. Just ten minutes walk the priest said. The walk suited her fine. The new car was safer in the church car park and she needed to think. Her brother Joe; she must talk to him urgently. How could he be so stupid? Or was he? Maybe what Martin suspected wasn’t true. In any case she must talk to him. She realised she didn’t know where he lived. She hoped her parents or one of her other brothers did. On returning to Birmingham she must locate him. Having failed to persuade the priest to omit informing the police about Martin’s suspicions about her brother, it was imperative that she talked to him before the police did.
Therefore her stay in Broadfield would have to be a short one. However, while she was there she would at least talk to Mary. The priest said Mary was a nice friendly woman, unlike, Teresa thought, the landlady she tried to talk with in Birmingham.
The priest was right. Teresa found Mary extremely friendly and helpful, without in any way seeming suspicious of Teresa. She brought Teresa into the living room where she introduced her to Paddy, who appeared to be dozing on the settee. Paddy merely nodded. The comings and goings of the house seemed of little interest to him. Teresa felt guilty about not being able to tell Mary the real reason for her interest in Martin, but it couldn’t be helped. She again said she was Martin’s niece. Mary accepted that without question: or so it seemed.
Mary seemed genuinely concerned about Martin. “I hope nothing’s happened to him,” she said. “He’s a decent honest man.”
Teresa could see that Mary really cared about Martin. “When he said he’d be back in a few days,” she continued, “I’m sure he meant it, and the most of his clothes are still in his room. But, now it’s over a week.”
“And he gave you no clue as to where he was going?”
“Not a clue. I didn’t see him on the day he left. I was out at the time. But he left me a note saying he had to go away, but he’d be back in a cupla days.”
Mary shook her head. “That was over a week ago.”
“This is very cheeky, but would you mind awfully if I had a look in his room?” Seeing Mary’s hesitation Teresa added, “I’ll understand if you say no.”
“Thank you,” replied Mary. “I would normally say no. He’s a private man and I like to respect that. But, in the circumstances, maybe taking a look can do no harm. I don’t like the idea of looking through his stuff. But, I’m thinking of going to the police and if I do, that’s probably just what they’ll do. Maybe if the two of us had a look first. There might be something there that he wouldn’t want the police to see. Like a lot of Irishmen, he probably hasn’t paid all his taxes.”
The police wouldn’t be interested in Martin’s taxes, thought Teresa. Nevertheless she decided it was best to agree with Mary.
“Good idea,” she said. “Let’s go
“I haven’t offered you a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
“No thank you.” Teresa didn’t wish to waste any time. “I’m fine.” She followed Mary up the stairs.
Mary unlocked the door. Martin’s was one of the few rooms with a locked door. Looking in the room Teresa was struck by its neatness.
“Have you tidied the room,” she asked.
“No. That’s how he left it. He’s a tidy man. I only go in the rooms about once a week to change the sheets, but I ever touch anything else. This room is always tidy.” “Unlike some others,” she added.
“I heard that.”
“Jimmy! You sneaked up on us. Well if the cap fits.”
“Sure wouldn’t you make it fit.”
“Go on with you. Have you just finished work?”
“I. It’s a short day on Saturday. Have you heard anything of Martin?”
Jimmy was noting that they were about to enter Martin’s room.
“Not a thing.” Mary seemed slightly uncomfortable, probably, Teresa thought, about being seen taking someone into Martin’s room “This is his niece, Teresa,” she said. “Jimmy McCarthy.”
Teresa smiled and nodded, as did Jimmy.
“I’m thinking of going to the police,” said Mary, probably by way of explanation.
“Well, best of luck,” said Jimmy. “I’d give it the weekend first though. He might turn up this weekend. You never know. He has a job waiting for him on Monday. Well nice meting you Teresa. I’m going for a wash.”
“He’s a nice polite young fellow,” remarked Teresa after they both entered the room and closed the door.
“Oh. He’s the charmer all right.”
Looking around Teresa said, “His suitcase is still there.” She could just see it under his bed.
“I, and all his working clothes. I had a look yesterday when I started to get worried about him. He got a pile back from the laundry the week before he left. They are all neatly folded and in his drawers.” Mary pointed to the chest of drawers.
“The wardrobe too is full of his clothes. Nothing is left lying around, except those boots.” There was a pair of heavy working boots by the wall.
“He’s a reader. Is he?” A book on the chest of drawers caught Teresa’s eye.
“I. He likes to visit the library when he can.”
Teresa picked up the book. Man and Superman was the title by Brendan Behan. She opened it. “It’s overdue by a couple of days,” she said. More evidence that he planned to be back before then, she thought.
“Oh God! I’ve lost his page.” What was probably his bookmark fluttered to the floor. Teresa picked it up. It was a hand written note.
Mary, noticing that Teresa looked perturbed, moved over and joined her reading the note.
It was just a few lines
To Michael O’Malley
Remember Jimmy Casey?
You’ll still pay
Teresa recalled that Father Downey had told her that Martin had intercepted a letter, which he believed was for him although it was Michael O’Malley’s name that was on the envelope. This must be its contents, she thought. But, as it was told to her in confidence, she couldn’t repeat it to Mary.
Mary was puzzled. “I don’t know who Jimmy Casey is,” she said “But this is to Michael O’Malley: a man who was badly beaten up last week. He’s in hospital, in a very bad way I believe.”
“A Michael O’Malley died this morning. Father Downey was informed while I was there. You knew him then?”
“Oh God rest him.” The news upset Mary. “Yes; I knew him well: a lovely man.”
“Oh my God!” Exclaimed Mary. “This is a threat,” as if it just dawned on her. “And to Michael O’Malley. Why would Martin write such a thing?”
“Maybe he didn’t write it. It’s not signed.”
But Mary was not listening. “Oh my God!” she repeated. “Maybe he was the one who beat him up.”
“He’s a murderer!” she exclaimed almost hysterically. “That’s why he’s gone away.”
“Calm down Mary, said Teresa firmly. “I think you’re reading two much into this note. We don’t even know that Martin wrote it. And if he did, he didn’t give it to Michael O’Malley.”
“What’s he doing with it then?”
“I don’t know. But, there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Teresa thought for a moment. “Can you tell if it’s his hand writing?”
“No. I haven’t seen his hand writing.”
“Didn’t you say he left a note, saying he was going away?”
“ Yes; of course. I forgot about that. I believe it’s still in the kitchen. I’ll have a look. Stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Left alone Teresa quickly started opening and closing drawers. Like Mary had said, they all contained clothes, until she came to the large drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe.
That drawer contained more books and some personal items: his passport (at least Martin hadn’t planned to leave the country) two letters which Teresa picked up. Both were addressed to Martin in the same hand- writing and both were posted in Ireland, she noted, in the last few months.
“Dare I open and read them,” she thought. “Mary might not approve.”
Teresa heard the sound of Mary’s footsteps returning. She quickly replaced the letters and closed the door with her foot. As Mary entered she was holding the note.
Mary was also holding a note. “I’ve found it,” she said.
They compared the notes. “ I’m no handwriting expert,” said Teresa. “But, I’d say, with confidence that those two noted were not written by the same person.”
Mary nodded in agreement. “What’s Martin doing with it then?”
“That’s the puzzle.” Although part of the puzzle was already solved in Teresa’s head, she couldn’t reveal that to Mary.
“There was a letter for Michael O’Malley,” Mary remembered. “It was lying around the house for a long time. Paddy was supposed to give it to him, but he kept forgetting.”
“Paddy?”
“He’s my husband. You met him downstairs, but he’s useless in some ways.”
“Aren’t they all,” Teresa smiled. “In some ways. But, how did the letter get here?”
“A young man called a few weeks ago, thinking Michael O’Malley lived here. I just sent him away saying I didn’t know where Michael O’Malley lived. I didn’t exactly. But, then he met Paddy. Paddy took the letter off him, saying he’d pass it in to Michael. Maybe he did, eventually. It’s not here any more”
“A young man, you say, gave you the letter.” Her brother Joe, Teresa was thinking, could it have been him?
“What did he look like?” she asked
“I didn’t take much notice.” Mary thought. “I suppose about twenty, dark hair I think, average height. Why? Do you think you might know him?”
“No. No. Just trying to build a picture. Did he sound like he was a local lad?”
“No. Could have been a
Birmingham accent. I had a man from Birmingham stayed with me once. He sounded like him.”
It could be Joe, though Teresa. The description certainly didn’t rule him out as she had hoped it would. Could Joe have written the note? She didn’t know. She wouldn’t recognise Joe’s handwriting. It seemed likely, though, that whoever delivered that letter would be, at least, a suspect.
Mary was thinking similarly. “Maybe he was the one that assaulted poor Michael,” she said. “I’ll have to tell the police about him.”
Teresa wished she wouldn’t, but couldn’t say so. She made no comment.
“And that note,” Mary continued. “I’ll have to give them that as well.”
“That will implicate Martin. It will look bad for him, especially now that he’s gone missing.” What am I saying, Teresa thought. Mary must tell all to the police. But, maybe she could be stalled a little.
“Maybe if you took that young mans advice and waited until after the weekend,” said Teresa hopefully. “Martin might yet come back.”
“Even if he does, I’ll still have to tell the police all that I know.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. It just might be interesting to hear Martins explanation before the police start crawling all over the place.”
“You think that’s what will happen?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so; now it’s a murder case. And when they see that note they’ll have no choice.”
“Oh; God help us! It was getting too much for Mary. “Maybe I shouldn’t show them the note. I could just put it back in the book.”
“You could. But, then you’d be withholding evidence. We both would.
I suppose we should tell the police.” Teresa thought about that. If they both went to the police station they might be detained there for hours, and she needed to get back to Birmingham to locate her brother. She made a suggestion.
“Suppose you sleep on it. Leave it until Monday. If Martin hasn’t shown up by then, go to the police station and tell them everything.”
Mary thought for a moment. “O K,” she said. “I’ll do that. But I don’t think I’ll sleep much. Have we finished here?”
“You’ve checked all the drawers.” Teresa was thinking of the wardrobe drawer.
“Not that bottom one.” Mary indicated the drawer Teresa had in mind.
“Should we have a quick look?” Without waiting for an answer Teresa bent down and opened the drawer.
“Not clothes.” Teresa feigned surprise. “Books, his passport, some letters.” Teresa picked up the envelopes. “Dare we read them?”