by Willow Rose
“It sure was,” Morten continued. “They said she was with Father Allen when they spotted the body. What are those two wandering the forest together for?”
“Beats me,” I said. “But it does lead me back to something the father said earlier when we visited him.”
“What was that?”
“That both Mary Margaret Callaghan and Anna Delaney worked at the same place. They both worked for him years ago.”
“So what?”
“I wonder if…” I grabbed my phone and started researching. It didn’t take me long on the White Pages to find another Mulligan living in Enniskerry.
63
July 2015
Cars, reporters, and cameras surrounded Ryanne Mulligan’s town house. When we drove up the street, I knew there was no way I could show my face there. They would be all over me.
“We have to go around the house,” I said to Morten.
“Around? Why?”
“Too many people. I have an idea. Park up on the top of the hill there.”
Morten drove past the house and parked up on the hill. We got out, then walked back towards the house. Without the journalists noticing, I snuck in through the trees behind the house and found a small trail leading to the back side of the three townhouses. I threw a small rock at one of the windows in the back, and then waited. But nothing happened. I found another rock and threw it at the window. Unfortunately, it went straight through the glass and left a big hole in it.
“Crap,” I said and looked to Morten for help.
He shrugged. “At least you got her attention,” he said, and nodded in the direction of the window.
A woman peeked out. She was gesticulating widely. She opened another window and started yelling at us.
“Are these the methods you journalists use today?” she yelled. “I am going to make you pay for this. This is vandalism. I’m calling the police right now.”
“Wait,” I said. “Please don’t. I’ll pay for the window. Just don’t call for the police.”
Ryanne Mulligan hesitated. She stared at me, then at Morten, and back at me again. “You’re not a journalist, are you?” she asked. “I’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t I?”
“Yes. We met by the river the other day.”
“Y-y-y…you’re that woman who helped me,” she said. “When we found Fiona.”
“Yes, that was me. I need to talk to you.”
Ryanne disappeared for a little while, then returned in one of the windows downstairs. She opened it and crawled out. She approached us and we walked away from the house and the hungry journalists.
“I am so sorry to hear about your son,” I said, when we had gotten far enough away for me to be able to talk normally without anyone hearing us.
Ryanne bit her lip and nodded. “We weren’t close anymore; I didn’t approve much of his lifestyle. But of course it hurts. A mother shouldn’t live longer than her child.”
“We’re trying to figure out what happened to him and think we might have a few clues. I need to know if you used to work at the convent, the home called The Good Shepherd.”
Ryanne didn’t look at me. She didn’t answer right away either. She kept walking in silence. I could tell I had hit a nerve. Finally, she stopped and looked at the mountains.
“I did. I had a feeling this had something to do with it,” she said. Ryanne sighed. “After all, we all worked there. Me, Anna, and Mary Margaret. I was afraid that something would happen to Carrick when I saw Fiona in the water. I tried to warn him, but who listens to their old mother?”
“You had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that you all worked in the same place? Why is that?”
Ryanne reached into her pocket and pulled something out. An envelope with her name on it.
“A letter?”
“I received this three weeks ago,” she said. “Please don’t read it before I am gone.”
I nodded and put the letter in my purse, even though my fingers were itching with curiosity.
“Who was Carrick’s father?” Morten asked.
Ryanne stopped walking. Her eyes had grown big and moist.
“I have to go. I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m sorry. Please, leave me alone.”
64
March 1978
Today, there are only two weeks before I am due, before you will come out and finally be with me. I can’t begin to tell you how much I have longed for that moment, how much I am looking forward to it. I still believe you’re a boy, but I might be mistaken. One of the nuns told me yesterday that the way I am carrying you, she is certain you’re a girl. Sister Mulligan has become my friend lately. She is new and younger than the other nuns here and seems to care more about us. She has been taking extra good care of me and made sure I had extra to eat. She tells me I can’t tell the others; it will only get her in trouble that she sneaks extra food for me, so I don’t, but it does feel nice to have someone caring for me again. Ever since Ava left the convent, I have felt so alone. I am glad she made it out of here, though. Even though it meant I was punished again for not telling where she had gone to, because they thought I had something to do with her disappearance. I am still happy she succeeded. I hope she made it to Dublin, like it was her plan. She told me she believed she had a cousin in Crumlin just outside of town. She remembered her mother talking about him when she was a child.
“What’s that you’re writing there, darling?”
Violet looked up. She tried to hold onto the diary, but couldn’t. Mother Superior snatched it out of her hands.
“That’s mine!” Violet yelled.
But there was nothing she could do. Mother Superior was already flipping through the pages, sticking her long nose into Violet’s personal secrets.
“So, Ava is in Crumlin, huh?” she said with a wry smile. “And you didn’t even care to tell us. Child, don’t you understand that we’re only trying to protect her? She has nowhere to go and will end up on the streets. If this cousin of hers wanted her, don’t you think he would have come for her by now? She’s been here most of her life. Why do you think that is? She has no one else, nowhere to go.”
Violet swallowed hard. Mother Superior threw the book back on her pillow. “Guess we’ll have to inform the police, then. I see no other way.”
“Please, don’t,” Violet said, and grabbed the Mother’s sleeve. “Please don’t send the police after her.”
“I am responsible for that girl. She is under my care until she is eighteen,” Mother Superior answered. “She’s going to get herself in trouble. That’s why she is better off here. Don’t you understand? How will she eat? She has no money, she has nothing. There is nothing for her out there.”
Violet wiped away a tear from her cheek. Parts of her knew the Mother was right, but still she wanted desperately to believe that Ava had found her cousin and that he had taken her in and maybe given her a family. She needed to believe that there was some way to get out of this place, that there was something for them out there, something more to life than what they had been offered in here. She desperately wanted to believe that Ava’s cousin would be happy to be with Ava again, just like she needed to believe that Conan was out there wondering where she was and maybe planning to find her somehow.
They couldn’t just be forgotten, could they? Had Conan forgotten about her? Had her brothers? Had her father? They couldn’t have.
Mother Superior left Violet, and to her surprise, she was never punished for not telling them that she knew where Ava was heading. Maybe they figured it was punishment enough that she was about to go through a birth. Maybe they just forgot.
In the days following, Violet thought a lot about Ava and worried about her, until three days later when a police car arrived in the courtyard. Violet, who was now so ready to give birth that she no longer had to work, saw it from the window in the room she shared with the elderly on the fourth floor. Her heart pounded as she watched it drive up to the entrance. Two officers stepped out of the car.
Violet watched them closely and was relieved to see that they didn’t have any children in the car. Ava hadn’t been arrested and brought back. That was good news. Mother Superior greeted them at the top of the stairs. They spoke for a few minutes, then Mother Superior hid her face in her hands.
Violet’s heart dropped. She knew it was bad. She knew something was very wrong. Carefully, she walked downstairs, where she met Sister Mulligan. The sister had an expression of terror on her face.
“What happened?” Violet asked.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Sister Mulligan cupped her mouth.
“What?” Violet’s voice was shivering in fear. She knew something bad had happened, she just refused to believe it.
“It’s Ava,” she said and stroked Violet’s cheek. “She is not with us anymore. She was found in an alley somewhere in Dublin. A drug overdose, they say.”
Violet shook her head in disbelief. “No. No. It can’t be. She was going to be with her cousin. She was going…”
Violet stopped herself. She couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much. She shook her head wildly.
“Violet,” Sister Mulligan said, and looked down at Violet’s white dress.
Violet shook her head while tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Violet,” she repeated. “Violet. You’re bleeding.”
Violet looked down at the dress that was getting soaked in blood. Then a wave of excruciating pain rolled over her and she bent forward in a loud scream.
65
July 2015
I opened the letter once we were back in the car. My hands were shaking. Morten started the engine and drove off to get us away from the journalists. I had a strange feeling inside of me, like I was worried about Ryanne Mulligan. She seemed like she was in a really bad state. But then again, she had just lost her only child. It was only natural to be profoundly shaken up.
I opened the piece of paper inside and looked at it. It was a letter. Handwritten. It looked old. It was dated Monday March 29th 1978. It seemed like it had been ripped out of a book or something.
“So, what does it say?” Morten asked. “You’re killing me here.”
“I think it’s a letter to someone else or something,” I said, then started reading out loud.
“You were born today. I can’t believe I have finally given birth to you. Something went wrong, though. I was bleeding badly, so they had to rush me to the hospital, where I was given something, an injection, they said it would help me, and from then on I don’t remember anything. Once I woke up, I was told they had taken you out through my stomach. They called it a Caesarean section. I now have a large scar in the bottom of my stomach. I don’t mind. As long as you’re all right. I asked one of the nurses if you were a boy or a girl and she looked at me and said she didn’t know. She said she wasn’t supposed to tell. But I know that you’re a boy. Just like I knew you would be. They tell me I can’t see you yet, so I am still waiting. You were born too early, so you need extra care, is what they tell me. But soon we will be together, and then I will never let go of you again. I love you, my baby. I always will. Now life will be worth living again. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.”
I stopped and looked at Morten.
“What else does it say?” he asked.
I looked down at the letter. “That’s it. There is no more. It’s just signed, your beloved mother, Violet.”
“Violet?” Morten asked. “That doesn’t sound like a name we’ve heard before around here.”
I shook my head, then looked out the window at the Wicklow Mountains rising in the distance. I had no idea what all this meant.
“Why do you think Ryanne gave this to us?” I asked.
“Beats me,” Morten said.
“She seemed like it mattered a great deal or something. She was terrified when she received it in the mail. She told us that is why she believed Carrick was killed. That the letter made her fear for his life. It must be important if she gave it to us. Maybe this woman and her baby are somehow the key to all this. But how? Why? And what does it have to do with the fact that they all worked at The Good Shepherd? That they all worked for Father Allen?”
Morten turned and looked at me mischievously. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
And just then, it hit me. Right when I looked into those big gorgeous eyes of his.
“If you’re thinking that maybe the two other mothers received the same letter, then yes.”
Morten looked at me like I had lost it. “I was thinking about dinner at the pub, fish and chips, but alright.”
I pushed him gently with a light laugh. “No, you were not. That’s the kind of thing I think about. That’s my specialty. But, yes, by all means, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
66
July 2015
We ate at McGill’s. I chose a sirloin steak this time, but regretted it as soon as it landed on my plate. All through dinner, I envied Morten his fish and chips. Still, it was pretty good, and I ate it all and ordered a Knickerbocker Glory for dessert. It was a layered cream sundae served in a large tall glass. It was good. The place was very nice and I could tell a lot of the locals liked to hang out at the bar. I spotted several familiar faces, among them Inspector Grady, who was having a pint and a whiskey. His presence made it hard for me to enjoy my food, but I decided to ignore him. He spotted us and approached our table, just as I had finished my dessert.
“Enjoying your meal?” he asked.
“Yes, I was,” I said.
He smiled. “Good. Might be your last as a free woman.”
“Is that so?” I asked, trying hard to not show how nervous he made me.
“Yes. We got the results from the lab and the blood on the cross was Mrs. Delaney’s, and your fingerprints were all over it. We also found your fingerprints at the house.”
“Well, I was there earlier in the afternoon, so that’s not so strange,” I said, still trying to play it cool. I could tell Morten wanted to say something to defend me, but he held back. It was no use anyway. This guy was only out to make me feel miserable. If he had that strong of a case, they would have arrested me already.
“Well that computer of yours sure did contain some very interesting stuff as well. Now, I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your meal. See you real soon.”
“He’s bluffing,” I said when he had left. I watched him greet someone else at another table before he went out the door. I snorted. “There is no way he could have found anything on my computer. If there is one thing I do well, it’s covering my tracks.”
“But it does sound like we need to hurry up and find out who is really behind all this,” Morten said, and asked for the bill. “How do we figure out if any of the others received the same letter?”
I stared at him while biting my lip.
“I know that face,” he said. “That means trouble. You want to break into Mrs. Delaney’s house, don’t you?”
“Kind of.”
Morten growled. “You do realize I am a police officer, right? I could lose everything over this.”
“And if we don’t do it, you might lose me,” I said. I tried to smile, even though I didn’t feel much like it. Meeting the inspector like that had completely destroyed my mood.
“True,” Morten said. “You know I would do anything for you.”
I smiled. This time because I really wanted to. “You always know how to say the right things at the right time,” I said.
My phone rang suddenly and I picked it up as we left the table. It was Victor calling me. My heart was immediately in my throat. Victor never called me, even though I had given him his own phone to be able to contact me at any time he needed to. He never used it. He hated speaking on the phone; he absolutely loathed it. Something had to be wrong.
“What’s up, buddy?” I asked.
He was quiet on the other end. My heart was racing as I walked outside. Morten went to the car. He could tell I was worried.
“What’s going on?” he asked
.
I shrugged.
“Victor, are you there?” I asked, thinking maybe the phone had somehow called me from his pocket without him knowing it or something.
But that wasn’t it. Victor was there. I could hear him breathing. He had called me for a reason.
“Victor, you’re scaring me here. Is something wrong? Has something happened at home? Are you all right? Is Maya all right? How about Grandma and Grandpa? Please, just say something, buddy.”
And that was when he started to sing. With a small still voice, he sang the song that I remembered from my youth being sung by Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue.
From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
She stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the color of the roses
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild
He only sang the first verse, that Nick Cave used to sing at the beginning of the song, then stopped and started all over again. When he started over for the third time, I tried to interrupt him.
“Victor, I’ve heard it now. Please stop, will you? You’re creeping me out here.” But he didn’t stop. He kept singing the same lines over and over again. I had no idea how to make him stop. Morten looked at me. He could tell I was freaking out.
“Victor, stop. Please, just stop, will you?”
“…For her lips were the color of the roses that grew down the river, all bloody and wild…”
“Victor!”
“…From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one…”
“VICTOR! STOP!”
It was no use. He continued to sing it until he had been through the verse ten times, then suddenly, his voice disappeared and there was nothing there.