by Rhys Bowen
“I don’t suppose anything will happen over the weekend,” Darcy said.
Aunt Oona frowned at him. “What a horrid Americanism, Darcy. Where did you learn such a word?”
Darcy was amused. “You mean ‘weekend’?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, it does nicely define the two days when not much is going to happen and we’ll be stuck here.”
“You make it sound like a penance,” Aunt Oona said. “Speaking of which, you can all come to church with us on Sunday.”
Darcy shot me a look. “We have Georgie with us,” he said. “She won’t want to—”
“I’ll come too,” I said. “Will your father want to join us?”
Darcy shook his head. “He rejected the church long ago.”
“Stupid man,” Zou Zou said. “Rejecting everything and everyone who could give him comfort and solace. Someone needs to make him see sense.”
So on Sunday morning we all piled into the rolls and joined the villagers of Kilhenny in the little church. It was strange to hear the Latin chanted and to watch the smoke of incense curling up and hovering in the cold air. Strange, but somehow special in a way that church services had never seemed when I was growing up. We got plenty of inquisitive stares and after mass the villagers came up to Darcy, shaking his hand and wishing him well. It was quite moving to see how well liked he was and how the inhabitants of Kilhenny village still felt an attachment and obligation to the O’Mara family.
After mass Oona insisted on visiting Darcy’s father, but he had sunk back into a black mood and didn’t want our company. We drove home feeling subdued and spent a rainy afternoon with each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts.
When we heard nothing on Monday, I began to worry that they would find no information on the true identity of Timothy Roach or that the background of Mickey Riley raised no red flags. In that case Chief Inspector Callahan would be anxious to push ahead with the trial. We were a gloomy lot at dinner that night. Oona hadn’t dared to invite her nephew to join us again, and Darcy had chosen to eat with his father.
Thus we were most surprised when at nine o’clock, as we were sitting by the fire, enjoying a cup of coffee after dinner, there came a thunderous knocking at the front door that set the dogs barking furiously.
“What in heaven’s name?” Oona demanded.
“I’ll go,” Dooley said, getting up hurriedly.
“You? You couldn’t deter a mouse, my darling,” she said. “I present a much more formidable figure.” And she strode toward the door. We waited, holding our breath, for bad news. Then we heard Oona’s deep, booming voice. “Ye gods, Darcy, you scared the pants off us, banging on the door like that.”
“I came as soon as I got the news,” he said breathlessly. “Mr. Lennox just sent me a telegram. He’s heard from Chicago. And he’s driving out to meet with us in the morning.”
It was hard to sleep that night. Tomorrow we would perhaps learn the truth and maybe exonerate Lord Kilhenny for good. I was up early, put on my coat and walked around the property to try to tame that excess energy. It was a typical old-fashioned estate with a large kitchen garden growing rows of cabbages and cauliflower, a few sheep, a couple of cows and chickens and ducks all over the place. The thought crossed my mind that I could be happy in such a place as this. I met Oona herself coming back from the henhouse with the day’s eggs.
“Not laying well in the winter, I’m afraid,” she said. “Can’t say that I blame them.” She gave me an inquiring stare. “You’re out early. Excited about what the day will bring, or worried?”
“Hopeful,” I said.
She nodded as if she understood. “Any idiot could tell that Thaddy didn’t kill anyone,” she said. “Unfortunately some juries have their fair share of idiots.”
We walked back to the house together and breakfasted on fried eggs and bacon. The princess joined us just as we were on the toast and marmalade. She looked composed, elegant and serene, as if her biggest task today would be shopping at Harrods. I waited impatiently until Darcy arrived at ten, and we all drove back to the lodge. On our way down the drive we passed Queenie, walking with a shopping basket over her arm.
“Should we give her a ride?” Darcy asked. He slowed the car. “Where are you off to, Queenie?” he asked.
“Lady Whyte was out of some things we needed for baking,” Queenie said, “so I said I’d go into the village for her.”
“Jump in, we’ll give you a lift,” Darcy said.
“Oh, thank you, sir. Most kind,” she said, blushing scarlet, and climbed in beside the princess. Again I waited for something disastrous to happen, like snagging her basket on Zou Zou’s silk stockings, but miraculously we dropped Queenie off in the village with no ill effects. A new leaf was definitely turning.
Lord Kilhenny was looking tense and drawn, staring into the crackling flames as we sat around the fire at the lodge waiting for Mr. Lennox to arrive. None of us spoke much, each wrapped in our own thoughts and worries. Mr. Lennox came before eleven. He still had that serious look on his face, like an anxious schoolboy, and we couldn’t tell if he brought good news or bad.
“Okay, this is what we know so far,” he said, stretching out his long legs as he sat across from us. “Still no identification on the dead man. Naturally his face matches no pictures we have on our wanted files, so I think we can confirm that he had facial surgery done. And we have no real fingerprints. However . . .” And he paused for effect. “We have a match on Mickey Riley.”
“I knew it!” I gave Darcy an excited smile.
“He’s a small-time gangster called Mickey ‘the Weasel’ McHenry. Small potatoes, as I said. On the fringes of big crime. Acts as driver, lookout, that kind of thing. Has done time for receiving stolen goods, participating in a robbery.”
“So a criminal element is involved in this,” Darcy said.
“Almost certainly. So the question is still, who was the dead man, and who wanted to kill him?”
“As I mentioned before, the only suspicious person who was seen near the castle recently is the one who called himself Professor Peabody,” Darcy said. “We checked with Trinity College and he was not known there. And we have a better description of him now: about six foot two, not fat but stocky, large head, sagging jowls and a bulldog look to him.”
Lennox was actually smiling. “I knew it! That’s a good description of Lofty Schultz,” he said.
We looked at him expectantly.
“Lofty Schultz, member of the Lake Shore Gang. They had been a powerful force in Chicago crime since the twenties. Made their first money in bootlegging rackets. Then, when liquor was made legal again, they set their sights on bigger things.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “In 1929, before the crash, they pulled off the heist of a US mail truck containing cash, bonds and jewelry. Two million dollars’ worth of assets.”
Darcy whistled.
“Which was never recovered,” Lennox went on. “They took off in a getaway van, leaving Lofty Schultz behind. He was arrested. There wasn’t enough evidence to pin that crime on him and he was sent to Leavenworth federal prison in Kansas for five years on a lesser charge of tax evasion. He was released after four years for good behavior.”
“So what happened to the money and the rest of the gang?” Zou Zou asked. She had seemed composed at first, but now she was sitting on the edge of her seat.
“The gang split up. We think Weasel McHenry was the driver but again it was never proved. We think the gang leader’s girlfriend, Lola Martinez, was the one who made sweet with a contact at the US post office and got the information on when the shipment was going to be sent. Neither of them was caught or prosecuted and both seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. However, two of the big players were caught. Skeets Kelly—we reckon he pulled the trigger that shot the mail truck driver—and Bugsy Barker. Bugsy was the gang leader. He masterminded the whole thing. They were both sentenced to life and later moved to the federal prison on Alcatraz. That�
�s an island prison in San Francisco Bay. No one has ever escaped from it. The freezing water and the currents make swimming impossible for more than a few minutes.”
“So they are still there?” I asked.
Lennox shook his head. “A few months after they were sentenced they managed to escape. They cut their way into a ventilation shaft, went down a wall on a rope and swam for it. Through the grapevine we believed they had arranged a boat to be waiting for them, but there was a high wind that night, and the water was quite rough. We found Skeets Kelly’s body washed up on the San Francisco shoreline. Bugsy was never found, presumed drowned.”
“And the contents of the mail truck?” Darcy asked.
“Never found, either.”
He looked around us with satisfaction.
“So you think that the man who called himself Timothy Roach was really Bugsy Barker?” Darcy said, his voice sounding unsteady. “He didn’t drown, but was rescued by the boat?”
Lennox nodded. “We’re beginning to consider that possibility.”
“Of course,” I exclaimed as something struck me, then flushed as all eyes turned to me. “Bugsy, and he chooses the name Roach. Isn’t it funny how often people give themselves away in their choice of names?”
“Well done.” Mr. Lennox looked at me with new appreciation. “Quite astute.”
“Then if Professor Peabody was really this Lofty person,” Zou Zou chimed in, “he discovered who Roach was and came to seek revenge for being left behind and for leaving their fellow gang member to drown.”
Lennox nodded again. “But I think it’s more likely that Lofty came to find out where the rest of the loot was hidden. Obviously Bugsy/Roach used some of the cash to buy the property. But none of the bonds or jewels have turned up yet.”
“You think Bugsy brought them with him to Ireland and has hidden them in the castle?” I asked. “Do you think Mickey was sent to find them? Or do you think that Bugsy was doing him a favor by hiding him over here?”
“The latter, probably,” Mr. Lennox said.
“Until Lofty showed up, posing as Professor Peabody, and persuaded him to help find the bonds and jewels.” Zou Zou clapped her hands like a delighted child.
“Or threatened to go to the police and expose him,” I added.
“So he had to have let Lofty in, planted evidence against my father, and got Lofty away again after they killed Bugsy,” Darcy said.
All this time Lord Kilhenny had sat silent and brooding, staring into the fire as if he was in his own world. Now he looked up. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “The man who called himself Timothy Roach was really Bugsy Something, leader of a gang. And Mickey and this professor chap are really former gang members?”
“That’s correct,” Lennox said.
Darcy’s father continued to stare into the flames. “Can any of this be proven?” he asked.
“I’ve already asked the Garda to arrest Mickey Riley, alias Mickey Weasel McHenry,” Lennox said. “I think he’s the kind of small-time crook who will squeal.”
“Crook and squeal? Don’t you love the terminology? It’s like living in an American film,” Zou Zou said happily. “I am glad I decided to fly over to join you. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Chapter 35
TUESDAY , DECEMBER 11
News at last and hope that this may soon be all over.
Mr. Lennox rose to his feet. “I’ll keep you informed as soon as we learn more,” he said. “We need to take a closer look at the corpse. It’s possible there are dental records or small scars on the body that would positively identify him. And in the meantime I’ll ask the local police to put their best effort into locating Professor Peabody, and I’ll certainly want to be present when they question Weasel McHenry.”
Lord Kilhenny also stood up. “Thank you. I’m most grateful,” he said gruffly.
“My pleasure, sir.”
Lord Kilhenny was escorting him to the front door when there was a knocking.
“What now?” we heard him bark as he opened the door.
“Lord Kilhenny?” the voice said. “I’ve been asked by Chief Inspector Callahan to bring you to Dublin.”
“What for this time, may one ask?” Darcy’s father’s voice was tense.
“I can’t exactly say, sir. I was only told to bring in Lord Kilhenny. The chief inspector wishes to ask some further questions.”
“We have been over this again and again,” Lord Kilhenny said angrily. “I have told the Garda everything that I know.”
Darcy was out of his seat and joined his father in the front hall. “I’ll come with you, Father.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir,” the Garda constable said.
“Father, you are to say nothing more without a lawyer present,” Darcy said. “You’ve already done yourself enough damage.”
Lord Kilhenny hesitated. Mr. Lennox now also stepped behind Darcy. “I’m from the US embassy, and I thought we agreed that we would wait until we had more evidence from the States before we proceeded in this case. Why don’t I drive Lord Kilhenny to your headquarters and I can be present at any questioning, since it concerns my country.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” The constable’s voice came again. “But I was told to fetch Lord Kilhenny and I have to do just that.”
“Then I’ll come in a separate motorcar with you, Mr. Lennox,” Darcy said.
The princess jumped up and ran out to them. “I have a better idea, Darcy. Why don’t I go with Mr. Lennox, and we can swing by to pick up Sir Grenville if we feel it’s necessary? You stay with Georgie. It will only annoy that inspector if too many of us are there.”
“Oh no, Alexandra,” Darcy said, “I think it’s my place—”
But Lord Kilhenny cut in, saying, “No, she’s right, my boy. You stay here with Georgie. If anyone can make that inspector behave like a civilized human being, it will be Alexandra.”
Darcy turned to give me a quizzical look. “Very well, Father, if that’s what you want,” he said. We watched them go.
“I do believe he’s sweet on her,” he said as he closed the door. “I hope it won’t lead to disappointment. She’s quite out of his league.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I rather suspect she has developed a soft spot for him.”
“Only in the way that one does when one rescues a drowning kitten, I fear. She has a big heart.”
I nodded and said nothing more.
“So we were right about Mickey Riley,” Darcy said. “I knew that he’d never make a manservant. I hope they are able to pin the murder on him—” He broke off as there were footsteps outside and a loud rap on the knocker.
“Now what?” Darcy said. “They’ve probably come back because Zou Zou has forgotten her powder compact.” He strode back to the door and opened it. Yet another Garda officer was standing there and there were two police vehicles in the lane.
“I wonder if you can help us, sir,” the Garda constable said. “We were sent to bring in a man called Mickey Riley who was working at the castle. But the gate is locked and we can’t raise anyone inside to open it. So we wondered, is there perhaps another way in?”
“Of course,” Darcy said. “Follow me.”
I came too. I wasn’t about to be left out of the fun. Darcy led them to the little door in the wall.
“Presumably you’ll need to get into the castle, won’t you?” he asked. “It doesn’t exactly have the sort of doors you can kick down.”
“Can you help us with that, sir?”
“I believe my father still has a key to the servants’ quarters,” Darcy said. “Let me go and see if I can find it.”
“Much appreciated, sir. We’ll wait.”
Darcy went back to the lodge. He wasn’t gone long and came out bearing a large key on a ring. As he passed me he said, “You wait inside, Georgie. This man may well be armed. I don’t want you in danger.”
Then he led the Garda officers through the estate to the cast
le. Of course I followed behind. The grounds were soggy underfoot and we squelched through mud. Patches of snow still lingered under big Scotch pine trees. A bitter wind swept through the trees, rattling bare branches. Darcy led the way to the back of the castle, then went down a narrow flight of steps. They were moss covered and quite slippery. Water dripped down from above. He put the key in a weathered door and it opened with an ominous creak.
“This leads through the cellars and up to the kitchen,” he said in a low voice. “You should go cautiously from here on. This man may be armed.”
I saw the constables look at each other with concern. Darcy went into the dark interior with them. I was reluctant to follow but also too curious to stay behind outside. The passageway smelled damp and musty and very old. We passed rooms that looked more like dungeons than cellars. I suppose that was what they were once. Then up a winding stone stair and we were all at once in a mammoth kitchen with a flagstone floor and a row of copper pots hanging over an old-fashioned stove. There was no sign of food having been prepared recently. I remembered that Mickey had taken his meals at the pub. Maybe he was on his way there for his lunch now. I decided I should mention this and touched the nearest constable on the shoulder, making him yell out and leap as if burned. The others all reacted with fear. Darcy frowned when he saw me. “I told you to stay behind.”
“I didn’t want to miss out on the fun,” I said. “And I wanted to mention that Mickey Riley has been taking all his meals at the pub recently. Have you asked about him there?”
“We did,” one of them said. “The landlady says she hasn’t seen him since Wednesday night.”
When Barney’s taxi went into the river. So my hunch was right. Or maybe he met up with Lofty and they killed Barney together. That gave them five whole days to be well clear of here. We went from the kitchen past the butler’s pantry, the laundry room, various storerooms.
“He’s not down here,” one of Garda constables said. “Where would his bedroom be?”
“Presumably on the third or fourth floor,” Darcy said and led us up a flight of stairs and through a baize door to the main part of the castle. Here we were in tall vaulted hallways. Banners and tapestries hung from the walls. It was bitterly cold. Clearly no fire had been lit for a long while, and the space had that abandoned feeling. I realized how hard it must be for Darcy to come back to his family home like this. The dining room, sitting room, several other reception rooms all lay cold and unoccupied. There was a pretty morning room at the back of the castle that had bigger windows and a view over the grounds to the distant hills. We went up a broad curved staircase to the next floor. Here was a gallery with a fireplace big enough to roast an ox at its center. The walls were decorated with displays of weapons—swords, spears, battle-axes and shields. Beyond it was the library where Bugsy’s body had been found.