A Study in Sin

by August Wainwright

  Aiden began to cough as he checked the living room and made his way towards the dining room; both were empty. His skin felt like it was melting off and his vision began to blur as the flames and smoke billowed around him. Back in the hallway, he glanced at the stairs to his left, but quickly decided that making his way upstairs would more than likely be the last decision he ever made. A chunk of the ceiling split away and fell flaming to the floor in front of him. He looked past it, to the end of the hall and saw the door to the kitchen propped open.

  There, seated with his back against the door, was Jim Ryan, his hand outstretched in the direction of Aiden. Only he wasn’t moving, his body sat limp on the ground, and his skin was black and charred as the flames covered and moved around him. Aiden noticed that his feet were bound with a thick rope that was also on fire.

  He dropped to one knee and started to cough uncontrollably. His mind was hazy and felt dizzy. The heat was too much. He wondered to himself what it was going to feel like to be burned to death. But, from somewhere deep in his memory, he remembered that people almost always asphyxiated from the smoke before they were burned by the fire. Most never felt anything. He found the thought comforting, and it gave him a sudden burst of strength. He pushed himself up to a standing position and stumbled towards the front door.

  He didn’t make it, though, and quickly fell back down to the floor. Instead of trying to stand again, he started to crawl. But the smoke got to him in the end, and although he would somehow survive, the rest of his ordeal would be nothing more than the fuzzy end to the moment that would define him as a man.

  When the fire trucks and police showed up, they found Aiden Clery blacked out, sprawled on the bottom steps of the porch. His back was burned from being turned towards the flame. He finally came around the next day in a hospital bed, and immediately asked for Claire. Instead, an officer was the first person that came and talked to him.

  “Where’s Claire?” Aiden asked.

  The officer took a breath and looked down at Aiden, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we found Claire upstairs. She was bound at the wrists and ankles. We weren’t able to get to her in time,” he said.

  Aiden said nothing. His eyes began to tear up before the officer stretched out a hand towards him. He handed Aiden a plastic bag. Inside was a small gold ring with ‘CC’ inscribed on the inside.

  Aiden looked at the bag for a second, then opened it and silently slipped the ring onto his smallest finger, letting the bag fall to the ground.

  He turned over and put his back to the officer, not hearing anything else he would say. His skin throbbed from the burns, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. He decided in that moment that he would dedicate the rest of his life to one purpose and one purpose only. With that, he closed his eyes, and succumbed to the exhaustion, the faces of the McCarty Brothers fresh in his mind.

  For the months that followed, nobody could say exactly what happened to Aiden Clery. Most of his time was spent in the shadows of Dublin, collecting as much information as he could to help track down the McCarty Brothers. The fierce desire for revenge never stopped raging within him.

  On two different occasions, random shots from an anonymous shooter barely missed the younger McCarty, both times shattering windows behind him and causing him to run off in fear for his life.

  Then a plan was put in place to take out the older McCarty, who was both more brutal and much more intelligent than his quick-mouthed brother, with a homemade explosive. Unfortunately for Aiden, his attempt was careless and didn’t work. Not only did the intended victim find the device before it went off, but Mike McCarty spotted the man who was watching from across the street and immediately recognized him as the young boyfriend of Claire Ryan.

  Soon after, Aiden Clery was found beaten to within an inch of his life on the sidewalk of a Dublin side street. He was in the hospital for three months and his assaulters were never found. Moreover, Aiden never gave the police an official statement to work with, sticking to the story that he didn’t remember what happened or why he was in the hospital.

  When he left the hospital, he again attempted to find the brothers that had nearly killed him for the second time. But his efforts were unsuccessful and nobody seemed to know much of the two he was interested in. He would later find out that they had been sent to Boston, though the information did him little good, as he barely had the means to eat, let alone pursue them across the Atlantic.

  Aiden was forced to take a job washing dishes in a Dublin pub. After a few months, he worked his way up to bartender and started saving his earnings. He promised himself that he would save for exactly one year, but due to a few unforeseen complications, his one year promise quickly turned into three years, and then four. But never once did he falter in his dedication to track down Claire’s killers, not for a second.

  Eventually, he made his way to the States, and not much was heard of him for a long time after. Along his travels, he actually managed to track down the brothers, who he believed were now in Chicago under fake names: the younger of the two going by the name Finton Cormack and the older as James McKeague.

  In 2005, Aiden was arrested a block from the Cook County Courthouse after he assaulted a man. A group of young college guys were making their way to a nearby bar when they saw a dark-haired wild looking man pounding away at a shorter man in a suit. Acting to protect their fellow man, they inadvertently kept Aiden Clery from beating Patrick McCarty to death. In actuality, they had probably saved Aiden. For when he saw Patrick on the street alone that day, a furious rage took root in him and, if not for the group of men that stopped him, he more than likely would have killed Patrick McCarty in broad daylight for all of Chicago to see. He was held in the county jail, but no charges were pressed against him and he was ultimately released.

  Most men, having come so close to catching their prey, only to be dragged off and hauled to jail, would have abandoned their pursuits in the face of doing hard time. But Aiden’s resolve had never been stronger. It had been a decade since he last saw one of the McCarty Brothers and as he held onto the bars of his cell, he thought to himself that it was only a matter of time until he carried out the revenge he was owed.

  Over the next few years, his hatred drove him in his pursuit. He went from Chicago, to New York, where he spent only a few weeks before moving onto Las Vegas. He found trouble in Vegas, as life there didn’t come cheap. Again, he was forced to work to save up more money. In time, he would travel back to Chicago, and on to Miami, until he finally tracked the brothers to Washington, D.C.

  As for the rest of Aiden Clery’s story, there seems no one better suited to tell it than the man himself.

  Chapter 5

  The Inevitability of Aiden Clery

  Upon realizing he had no reason left to protest his crimes, Aiden Clery turned out to be the most amiable killer I’d ever met – although I had never met a murderer before so I had nothing to compare him to.

  “What is your name?” he asked in Remy’s direction, after Lambert and Arruda pulled him to his feet.

  “Don’t answer him,” Lambert said.

  “Calm down Lambert, he didn’t mean to cause such a scene, did you?” she asked.

  “No, I didn’t. You caught me off guard. I’m sorry if I hurt anyone.”

  “I didn’t think so. My name is Remy Moreau,” she said.

  “Ms. Moreau, I won’t cause you any more trouble, you can be sure of that. My work is done. And I honestly can’t imagine I’d get away with anything if you’re the cop in charge.”

  Remy laughed hysterically at his comment.

  “What is it?” he asked confused.

  “Forget it,” Lambert said, “Why don’t you just keep your mouth shut.”

  “I think I’d much rather talk, if it’s all the same to you,” he said. “I don’t imagine I’ll be around much longer, so it’s best we get all the formalities out of the way as soon as possible.”

  “Why won’t you be around
?” Remy asked.

  “Brain tumor,” he said nonchalantly. “The doctor only gave me a few weeks; that was six months ago. I’m more and more exhausted every day. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to finish my business here.”

  “By your business, you mean murdering two men in cold-blood?” Lambert said.

  “Yes, that’s right. Although, I wouldn’t call it murder.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Retribution. Why don’t you sit me back down on the curb and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Our fight has drained all the energy I had in me.”

  Lambert and Arruda looked at each other, “You want to give a statement, without a lawyer present?”

  “Yes sir, I do. I promise everything I say will be the absolute truth, as I won’t be putting up any defense to the crimes I’m accused of.”

  His answer seemed more than enough for the two detectives, so they helped him take a seat in the grass. The man took a few deep breaths and tried to get comfortable on the ground. Then he began his statement in a cold and detached tone, as if he were recounting the events of someone else’s life, a story he had heard in passing.

  “My name is Aiden Clery,” he said, “and I’m from Ireland, although I haven’t set foot there in seventeen years. I suppose it doesn’t much matter why I hated these two men, only that I did. I’ve hated them every second of every day for almost two whole decades. These men were the real criminals; they were responsible for the deaths of the only two people I ever truly loved, a father and a daughter. Sometimes the laws of men fail us in a civilized society, and in those times, someone must step forward as judge, jury, and executioner. In this instance, I was called on to play such a role. They weren’t aware at the time, but I found them both guilty seventeen years ago, and every day since I’ve been searching for them to carry out their sentencing. I promise, if you have the slightest shred of decency in you, every one of you would have done the same as me.

  “The daughter I spoke of was going to be my wife; we were engaged. They delivered her ring to me after they took it off her burned body and I’ve carried it with me every day since. I made a promise to myself on that day that I would stand over Patrick McCarty, you will know him as Finton Cormack, and hold that ring in his face as he took his last breath. In that I have succeeded. Only, in my elation, it seems I misplaced the ring, which you Ms. Moreau used to try to apprehend me before I could reach the second of my two targets.”

  Remy nodded at him. Aiden Clery returned the gesture.

  “There were many days where I thought I would die before I laid my hands on the two. But things have turned out in my favor. Whenever I die, I will go knowing I’ve done what I said I would do, and that this world is a better place for not having those two in it. I believe I will be judged fairly for the deeds that I have done. That is enough for me.

  “It was no easy task staying on their heels either. It seems criminals can make money a lot easier than a normal working man can. I would frequently have to stay behind and find odd jobs as they ran off to some new city. When I finally tracked them down here, it took some time, but I eventually found out they were living here, in the house belonging to the man you know as James McKeague; his real name is Mike McCarty.

  “Once I found out where they were staying, I knew I had won. A few years back, I ran into the younger brother Patrick in Chicago, and in my haste, I almost ruined everything. I was determined not to make the same mistake again. So, I sat back and waited. I got a job as a cab driver, which helped me to blend in. Of all the times I followed them, they never even glanced up at my car.

  “I knew from my past efforts that the only chance I had was to take them when they were separated. That rarely happened though. The older brother watched over the younger constantly; stuck to him like a shadow. I always knew he would be the more difficult of the two. The more I watched, the more I got the feeling he knew I was watching.

  “The other day, I finished my shift and pulled up near the house just in time to watch them throw a bunch of luggage into the back of a sedan and drive off. I’ve become pretty well acquainted with the city and it didn’t take me long to realize they were heading to the airport. I was furious with myself that I might have waited too long, that they might slip through my grasp again. When they pulled up to departure area, I pulled in directly behind them. I was wearing sunglasses and my hair has grayed a bit over the past years, and there’s this beard I’ve got, so I wasn’t worried about either recognizing me. I had my windows down and could hear every word of their conversation. I was no more than ten feet away; it was the closest I had been to the two of them in over fifteen years. They were grabbing their luggage out of the trunk and I contemplated crushing them with the car, ending it all right there. Just as I was about to drop the gear into drive, an attendant came over and asked if they needed help with their bags. The younger said no but asked about the flight to Heathrow. The attendant said he would check for him and walked over to his stand near the door. When he came back, he informed the two that they had already missed their flight and the next one wouldn’t be leaving until later that evening.

  “At hearing that, Patrick McCarty began ranting about how it worked out perfectly because he had business to take care of. The older brother insisted that they stay at the airport and wait for the flight, but the younger would hear nothing of it. He said he was just going to make one stop and that he’d be back in time for the next flight. His brother tried again to persuade him, but Patrick started yelling incoherent slurs back at him, got in the car, and left.

  “I followed behind his car, barely able to contain myself at the idea that my chance had finally arrived. For so many long years I had pursued these two murderers, in the hopes of finding them separated and vulnerable. I had decided months earlier, that it wouldn’t suffice to simply have my revenge on the two men; no, I wanted them to look their deaths in the face. I wanted them both to see me, to know which of their many sins had caught up to them. I wanted them to understand what was happening as life slipped out of their reach. And, instantly, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

  “A few weeks earlier, I picked up a fare from a restaurant in Georgetown and drove him back to his house. He was a friendly man and we spoke of politics and Paris. When I pulled up to his house, he asked if I could wait and give him a ride back to the office. While I was sitting there, I looked across the street and saw a house that was being renovated. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in months.

  “ ‘How’s the work across the street going?’ I asked when the man got back into the car.

  “ ‘It’s not,’ he said. ‘Had to call the cops last week because a squatter had taken up residence. It’s ridiculous; that’s a million dollar house and whoever owns it hasn’t checked in on it in the last year. The front door doesn’t even lock.’

  “As I followed the younger McCarty, that conversation sprang to life in my mind. It wasn’t long before the car pulled to a stop outside of a little bar. He jumped out and ran inside, and the car pulled away, leaving McCarty all alone.

  “An hour and a half later, I watched him stumble out the door and make his way down the sidewalk. He almost ran headfirst into a street sign before he stopped walking, and decided to call for a cab. His hand went up in the air as he moved to the edge of the sidewalk and slipped into the street. My heart jumped into my throat; this was it.

  “I started to drive up towards him, when from my left, another cab flew past, saw him in the edge of the street, and pulled over. McCarty jumped in the back seat and the cab drove off. I wanted to be irate, to curse and scream, but all I could do was laugh. Isn’t it funny how life chooses to test us in the moments we need it most?”

  Aiden Clery smiled to himself and he looked almost proud, like he was recounting the life of some great hero, someone who deserved the honor of a story well reflected.

  “Anyways, I followed again, and the cab eventually pulled up to the Hotel George on E Street, where the wea
sel of a man started to step out. I pulled in and parked a few spaces behind. There was some sort of argument inside the car, to which he stood up, opened the passenger side door, and threw a wad of cash at the driver, who promptly gestured back and sped off.

  “McCarty stood outside of the hotel and straightened his jacket. I didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be doing there, but he seemed to be preparing for something. Once he talked himself up for whatever he had planned, he swayed through the front doors.

  “It wasn’t two minutes later that he came flying back out the door and lands hard on the pavement. A younger guy was right behind him and yelled at him to ‘stay away from her’, but McCarty was already running down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I put my car in drive and passed the front door right at the same moment the young guy stepped back onto the sidewalk, only now, he had a thick handled umbrella he was holding like a bat and seemed more than willing to use it.

  “I drove slow and had to stop a few times to keep from overtaking McCarty as he walked. We had gone a few blocks when he ran into another sign and spun around. That’s when he saw the young hotel clerk in pursuit. I pulled up beside him and rolled down the window.

  “ ‘Hey buddy, need a lift?’ I said.

  “It was the only incentive he needed and he jumped into the backseat, yelling ‘Go. Go.’

  “In that moment, when I finally had Patrick McCarty alone and at arm’s length, I felt a terrible pain well up behind my eyes; I immediately thought of the tumor and was convinced, that in my excitement, I had just caused my own death. But the wave eventually passed and I shook it off. All that was left was to get this man to the spot where he would meet his end

  “ ‘Where to buddy?’ I said.