The Mystery of Sundays Well

by Anne Crosse

  They were stupid boys the Dillons. Daubing swastikas with red paint on the front door of the jeweller’s shop. But no, Miss Kneeshaw didn’t make allowances for them, because even though she was a child when she lived in Germany, she was aware of all the humiliation foisted upon her and her parents, and she never forgot it.

  Ireland had become a place of refuge for her and her father, and she was damned if she was going to accept that kind of behaviour at this late stage of her life from two ignorant louts.

  There were other reasons she hated them so much, one being she didn’t like the way they were taunting Marie McGrath about her affliction.

  They were scum, they robbed and plundered all round them. They got a lot of money from Hanton to do their tormenting.

  They called her names that night they landed in her parlour. She asked them why they were tormenting their downtrodden mother. It incensed her when they made it clear they had no respect for the woman who had slaved over them all her life.

  But how could you compare the Dillons with what went on in Germany? They were just your average bully boys. Why not ignore them, Lilly had dared to ask the man who could be lying on his deathbed.

  Miss Kneeshaw chose to fight back. She was a hero, like the one in The Avengers, the brave Honor Blackman, fighting injustice, and that, according to George Larby, was the long and short of it all as far as he was concerned.

  Miss Kneeshaw was an avenger, he’d said with pride. Are you deluded, Grandad? she had wanted to ask. She really wanted to rubbish all that clap trap he’d spouted out, but she didn’t want to cause him any more stress. She didn’t want to be the cause of him dying, because guilt was a terrible burden to carry.

  Lilly realized she had a dilemma on her hands.

  Should she give James Sayder all this information? She would feel like a Judas if she sold her grandfather for forty pieces of silver, not that there would be any silver involved.

  What a bloody mess, Lilly thought, as she shivered in the cold morning air. She owed her grandfather a lot. He’d brought her and her brother up after their parents died, and that can’t have been easy for him.

  On the other hand, he had it well out of them with the work they did for him. She, slaving away in the shop until an ungodly hour of the night, and Gerry having to work in the carpet store by day and pub by night. So, who was it who said slavery had been abolished? Slavery was alive and well and still operating in Magnerstown.

  Lilly pulled the collar of her coat tightly around her neck and made her way home.

  CHAPTER 34

  James wiped the blackboard clean and put the chalks back into the wooden box. “There we are, all done and dusted,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Robert said.

  “The case is solved, sir.”

  “Not as far as I am concerned,” Robert said, with a frown.

  “The case solved itself, you mean.”

  “Don’t you start,” Robert said.

  “Miss Kneeshaw shot herself with the same gun that killed the Dillon boys and John Hanton, isn’t that evidence enough?” James asked.

  “You are forgetting about the second set of prints on the gun?” Robert said.

  “They were only on the barrel, she fired the bullets, unless you think somebody held…”

  “She was a frail old woman, so how did she dispose of the bodies? She doesn’t have a car,” Robert reasoned.

  James had expected to meet Robert on the stairs back at the hotel with his bag packed, ready to hightail it out of town, but instead, here he was in the incident room drawing things out.

  “That’s true, she couldn’t have done it on her own,” James said in agreement.

  What James really wanted to say was, Miss Kneeshaw did the murders, called in a favour for the body disposals, and who could refuse a dear old lady.

  “We are looking at accessory to murder,” Robert said.

  James wondered if he should phone his uncle and ask him if he could have Robert told in no uncertain terms that the case was closed, and he would be physically removed from town if he didn’t comply.

  “Are you listening to me?” Robert barked.

  “Yes, I am listening to your every word, sir.”

  “Someone has to be charged.”

  James could read Robert like a book. He knew what was really bothering him. Everyone in town had been going on about the Keystone Cops, and Robert wanted to have one up on them by finding an accomplice. As if that would make a difference. Good riddance to bad rubbish, the old adage was being bandied about in every establishment in town in relation to the three victims.

  The Crier even had a cartoon on the front page. James thought it was very funny. Three cats sitting on the edge of a well, and two dogs with magnifying glasses looking up at them.

  “Con McGrath is my number one suspect,” Robert said.

  “Why’s that?” James asked.

  “Remember, Hanton wanted him out of his chipper business, and the Dillon brothers were bullying his daughter.”

  James decided the best thing to do would be to humour the man. Just help him to get it all out of his system and then they could go home.

  “Right, so Con McGrath is in the fray, you think? His wife was having an affair with Hanton,” James said.

  “Good point, James. There’s the motive. Chalk that up, James.”

  James stared at the box of chalks for a minute. “What colour shall I use?” he asked.

  “He has a car that could have done the job quite easily. Nice big boot in it for lugging potatoes from wherever he gets them, and a body could weigh…”

  “Since you put it like that, sir, perhaps you have a point,” James said, interrupting.

  “We will hang on a bit longer, James. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”

  “Whatever you say, sir.” James managed to sound enthusiastic.

  Sometimes he wondered if he was pursuing the wrong career, drama school could be a much better option, but then he was going to be a lawyer, and you definitely needed acting skills for that.

  “Anything going on with The Crier?” Robert asked. “Any big revelations that we don’t know about?”

  “Our mutual friend, Joey Tyrell, is doing a bit of drawing. Cartoons. He’s good too, I have to admit,” James answered.

  “Cartoons, for God’s sake, the whole thing is a joke. Can’t understand how they keep going.”

  “They do a lot of advertising, that kind of thing pays well,” James said.

  “Right, I’m off for a coffee transfusion.”

  “I’ll catch up with you, sir, just have to make a quick phone call,” James said as he scrolled through his contacts. His uncle would give him a right ear bashing, but if the man came up with the goods, as in to tell Robert the game was over, it would be well worth it.

  CHAPTER 35

  Nellie Dillon had meticulously planned the speech she was going to deliver to Brigit Barry, but as soon as she sat down in front of the girl, she was horrified that all the right words were coming out wrong.

  “I gave your uncle what for, sending you down to a place like this. I asked the silly man, did he not know this is the twenty-first century? No, I take that back, he’s not a silly man, sorry.”

  “It wasn’t his fault I ended up here,” Brigit explained. “Father Burns approached him…”

  “Oh, did he now? The little weasel,” Nellie cut in. She loathed the fellow in his black garb, which made his pale face look even paler, and as for his nose, it was like a vulture’s beak. He sent shivers down her spine every time she saw him, and that wasn’t often, because she didn’t go to mass nowadays. Maybe when she would find herself at death’s door, she would resume the practice in order to secure a place in heaven.

  “It was a pity Father Scully died, he was really nice,” Brigit remarked.

  “Well, tell me about Father Burns,” Nellie said.

  “He told my uncle he knew of a couple down the country looking to adopt a chil
d, and they were willing to pay big money.”

  “I thought all that stuff was done away with,” Nellie said.

  “Some things never change,” Brigit said, smiling. “There are people who really want children and can’t have them, and people who don’t want children, having them.”

  “Please, don’t tell me you’ve gone along with this adoption plan,” Nellie said.

  “The couple don’t want to take him until he is a year old. They couldn’t be putting up with screaming and crying at night, they said. They are paying for me to stay here, this is a posh place, I’ll have you know.” Brigit laughed nervously.

  “Are you sure they are the kind of people who should take your child? Do they think everything will run smoothly when the child gets to be one? Do they think there will be no more tears? That’s when the real trouble begins, silly idiots.”

  “They have a nursery here, and a nurse to look after the children. I am not the only one here, you know,” Brigit said.

  Nellie looked around the room, it was nice alright. Like a luxury hotel really. St. Hilda’s Retreat was the name over the front door, she’d noticed on her way in.

  “They should have a little plaque outside saying, ‘We will do anything for money in St. Hilda’s name’,” Nellie said.

  “You are here for what reason, Mrs Dillon?” Brigit prompted.

  “I am here to do my duty,” Nellie replied, smiling.

  The tears that Brigit had held back up to now, started to flow.

  “I am so sorry for what happened to your sons,” Brigit said, sobbing.

  “If you play with fire, you will get burned,” Nellie replied. “And those two were striking matches from the day they were born. Although Pat wasn’t a bad fellow, really, he wanted to be a priest. I’m glad he didn’t get his wish because I never liked priests, would you believe,” Nellie said.

  Brigit was surprised to hear those unkind words about Dick, although not so much Pat, coming out of Mrs Dillon’s mouth. She was their mother after all, and you were supposed to love your children; but, as the saying goes, if you want to know me, come and live with me. Love your children, that was a good one; she herself was a right hypocrite on that score. She wasn’t going to love her child, she was going to sell him.

  Brigit pulled herself together. “My uncle told me about Miss Kneeshaw killing your sons,” she revealed.

  Nellie held her tongue, she would not sully Miss Kneeshaw’s name, not to anyone. People would expect her to be angry at what Miss Kneeshaw did, but she was not one bit angry, not angry at all.

  “Dick was a right rogue, and you might find this hard to believe, but I did love him,” Brigit admitted.

  “I know exactly what you mean, I felt the same about his father,” Nellie said, and smiled. “But, you know what? You can only give so much.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Brigit said.

  “Now, firstly, Brigit, let’s get down to business. With regard to the child, you haven’t signed anything yet, have you?” Nellie asked.

  “There’s no signing to be done, it is all to be done in secret, a kind of nudge-nudge, wink-wink thing,” Brigit answered.

  “Some things never change,” Nellie said.

  Brigit fought back the tears and managed to make a statement. “I am so confused. I thought it was going to be easy, but I am getting attached to the child, and I don’t want to do that, because it will be so hard to let him go.”

  Nellie felt a sense of pride welling up inside her. Her son had done this young woman wrong, and she had a chance to atone for him.

  “Tell me this, Brigit, would you like to return to Magnerstown?”

  “No, I certainly would not. There are too many gossipmongers there. You know what I’d really love, though?” Brigit said.

  “Tell me,” Nellie said.

  “I would love a fresh start, but that’s impossible,” Brigit said.

  “Nothing is impossible.” Nellie smiled.

  “If only that were true,” Brigit said.

  “I have been doing a little bit of investigating myself. I would have made a great detective, much better that those two eejits in Magnerstown, who got the case solved for them by Miss Kneeshaw’s confession,” Nellie said with a wink. “Well, that’s not entirely true, she didn’t confess, but the thing she did to herself got them twigging that she had been involved in the three deaths. They are calling them the Keystone Cops in town, though the young fellow, James, is a clever fellow.”

  Brigit laughed. “Keystone cops, that’s a good one,” she said.

  “There is a small pub for sale near here. I wouldn’t mind a fresh start myself. I quite fancy being a landlord, or should I say landlady. You could run it for me, Brigit, and I could mind the little lad,” Nellie said.

  Tears welled up in Brigit’s eyes.

  “Miss Kneeshaw kindly left me some money. No, not some money, a lot of money, to be correct. She had her head screwed on, that one. So now I must put that money to good use. No point in having it languishing in a bank, is there?”

  “Did I hear right, Miss Kneeshaw left you money?”

  “Yes, Miss Kneeshaw, an angel in disguise. In fact, from now on I am going to think of her as my guardian angel.”

  “I can’t let you do this.”

  “Course you can, you’re owed it.”

  “But you’re not responsible for your son’s actions.”

  “I am responsible. I allowed Dick to turn out to be a brat, and he thought nothing of taking advantage of you.”

  “It takes two,” Brigit said.

  “No, he was always a sly scheming little so-and-so. I should have nipped it in the bud years ago. Chastised him when he needed it, by giving him a right good kick up his scrawny little arse.”

  Brigit laughed and cried at the same time.

  “Now enough about Dick, the thing I want to know is, when am I going to see my grandchild?” Nellie said.

  Brigit got up from her chair and rushed to Nellie. She threw her arms around the little woman and it felt so natural.

  “If Miss Kneeshaw is your guardian angel, then you are mine,” Brigit said, sobbing.

  “That’s a really lovely thing to say,” Nellie whispered.

  CHAPTER 36

  Lilly knocked on James Sayder’s hotel room door.

  James ushered her in. “Lilly, lovely to see you. I was about to call on you, but you’ve saved me the trouble,” he said.

  Lilly noticed the open suitcase and the items of clothing neatly folded on the bed.

  “That came out wrong,” James said apologetically.

  Lilly’s heart sank. James was leaving, but why wouldn’t he be doing so, considering there was nothing to keep him here now.

  “So, how’s your grandfather getting on? Still in hospital, is he?”

  “Yes,” Lilly whispered.

  “He’ll make a good recovery, don’t worry. They have great treatment for heart trouble nowadays. Before you know it, he’ll be back to his old self and back to where he belongs,” James said.

  Lilly burst into tears. James moved to her side and put his arm around her. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the man at all, but then if he didn’t, she’d have thought him unfeeling.

  Lilly plucked a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “He has lost the will to live, and it’s all over her,” Lilly said.

  James pushed the suitcase aside. “Sit down there,” he said.

  Lilly gathered herself and sat down on the vacant space on the bed.

  “Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be fine,” James suggested.

  “It’ll take more than a few deep breaths, I am afraid, for me to be fine,” Lilly said.

  James jerked his head in the direction of the tray containing a kettle, sachets of tea, coffee, sugar and little pots of long-life milk. A bottle of still water stood in all its glory beside the kettle, because James never trusted the water that came out of hotel taps. “Would you like a cup of tea?” he said.

 
“I want to tell you this before I lose my bottle,” Lilly said.

  “Alright, I’m listening,” James said.

  “He just wants to die because she’s gone,” Lilly said.

  “His wife?” James asked.

  “No, the jeweller woman,” Lilly said.

  “You mean Miss Kneeshaw?”

  “I didn’t know he knew her so well. He really kept that a secret,” Lilly snapped.

  “But what’s so wrong with that?” James asked.

  “There’s something I should tell you,” Lilly said. “The only thing is, I will feel like a bit of a traitor if I do.”

  James put a finger to his lips and pointed in the direction of next door.

  “The walls have ears,” he whispered.

  Lilly got the message and stopped talking.

  James steered Lilly towards the door. “Some people have microphonic ears, if you get my drift,” he whispered.

  Lilly knew it was Robert Carroll who occupied the room next door.

  “Let me have a farewell drink with you in the bar,” James suggested.

  “That would be nice,” Lilly agreed. “But would you mind if I went home to do a few bits and pieces? I could meet you in an hour.”

  “That would suit me,” James said. “I could finish my packing and then I won’t have it hanging over me.”

  “I’ll send you a text,” Lilly said.

  “Great. Look forward to it.” James smiled.

  CHAPTER 37

  Lilly sat beside James in the hotel lobby. How was she going to word this? Just start at the beginning would be the best way forward, she concluded.

  “There’s something my grandfather told me, and I feel it is my duty to tell you, but I don’t want to,” Lilly said.

  “Well, if it isn’t the lovely Lilly Larby. Is this your young man? You are such a sly old thing, if you don’t mind me saying so, Lilly.”

  Lilly stared at the figure towering above her.

  “I’m here to meet Detective Inspector Carroll. I’ve notes to write up for him,” the larger-than-life woman said.

  James was amused. The desk sergeant was obviously having a laugh.