Dublin Odyssey

by Michael P. Cooney

  Just as Collins finishes a loud bell rings in the hall right above where Mickey is standing. It’s a deafening sound, causing Mickey to recoil and escape down the hall.

  “Stay safe. It’s a mean world out there.” That’s a Chief Michael Odysseus salutation. That’s got to be him.

  CHAPTER 26

  “It is better to be lucky than wise.”

  Irish Proverb

  Shaking his head and rubbing his ears after being caught by surprise by the hall bell, Mickey thinks aloud. “Man, I thought only Catholic schools still used bells to signal the end of class.”

  The students start to file out of room AV-2 in small groups. Mickey waits patiently for their professor to follow behind. Then the classroom door slams shut. Mickey waits a few seconds to see if Collins comes out.

  Are you kidding me? What the…

  Mickey catches up to the last group of students that came out of AV-2.

  “Excuse me. Is Professor Collins still in the classroom?”

  One of the female students answers, “I doubt it. Saw him and Hughie Ramzi going out the lower level door. Think they went to Collins’ office.”

  “Where would that be?”

  “It’s over in the Staff Office Building. It’s the building to the left of the front gate. If you look on the map across the square, it’s building sixty-one.”

  “Sixty-one! Okay! Thank you.”

  Mickey skips the campus map and makes a dash toward the front gate. When he gets there, he sees the signs for the Staff Office Building. Just inside the building there is a directory listing the professors, teaching assistants, and their assigned office space. Mickey runs his index finger down the list.

  Collins—Collins—Collins. Where the heck is Collins? Bingo! Professor Michael O. Collins, Room 302.

  Mickey heads up the worn slate staircase at which point he’s greeted by a uniformed female security guard coming down.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for room 302. Professor Collins’ office.”

  Mickey resists flashing his badge. It worked with the Garda on the street, cop-to-cop, but he’s betting it won’t work for Trinity’s private security.

  “Room 302.” The guard points down the hall. “Ya can take the lift back there to the fourth level. When you exit, turn right. Room 302 is the second door on your left.”

  “Excuse me, Officer. Did you say 302 is on the fourth floor?”

  The young guard smiles. “For you Americans that would be the third floor, sir.”

  “Of course. Sorry! Thank you.”

  Mickey walks to the lift and presses 4. The doors open and he gets in along with two other men. One presses 2 and the other pushes 3. I should have taken the steps. Mickey gets off on 4 and looks down the hall toward room 302. The light in the room is on and the door is half open. As Mickey gets closer, he can hear a man’s voice. Sounds American. When Mickey gets within a few feet of the office door, it suddenly swings open. A young man wearing a New York Yankees cap, sitting on his head backward, black tee shirt and cut-off jeans exits and pulls the door shut behind him. He takes out a ring of color-coded keys and slips the red one into the lock, turns it to the right and pulls the doorknob, checking to ensure the office door is locked.

  Mickey catches up to the young man halfway down the hall. “Excuse me.” The man doesn’t react. Mickey tries again. “Excuse me. Maybe you can help me? I—”

  The man stops and turns toward Mickey and points to himself. “Me?”

  “Yes. Are you Hughie Ramzi?”

  The man removes his mini-headphones and asks Mickey to repeat himself.

  “Is your name Ramzi? I was told by…”

  “No way! Do I look Iranian to you? I’m John Deforrest. Everybody calls me Tex.”

  “Tex?” Mickey smiles and points to the man’s Yankees cap. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a cowboy hat?”

  “Had a really nice one. My pop sent it to me for Christmas. I must have misplaced it somewhere.”

  “Too bad. It wasn’t white by any chance, was it?”

  “Yes! Ya seen it?”

  “Sorry! No. Just speculating is all. The good guys always wear white. Right?”

  “Riiight.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know Patrick Drum, would ya?”

  Deforrest turns a bright shade of red. “Drum? No, never heard of him. Why? Who are you again?”

  This kid is too young to remember Chubby Checker.

  “Ernie Evans from Philadelphia.”

  “Well, Mr. Evans, how can I help you?”

  “I was looking for Professor Collins.”

  “Just missed him. He and Ramzi left five minutes ago.” He points to the stairs at the end of the hall.

  “They used the stairs?”

  “Ya! Like I said. ‘Bout five minutes ago.”

  “Wouldn’t know where they were headed, would ya? It’s kinda important I catch up with Collins.”

  “Can’t help ya there, Mr. Evans. I’m just a lonely grad assistant. The prof doesn’t tell me that stuff. He just gets up and goes. But I did hear something ‘bout taking the DART to Howth to check on a boat.”

  “Boat? Collins has a boat?”

  “No! Ramzi has a boat. You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Your professor is an old friend of mine from Philly. I’m leaving tomorrow for the States. Just trying to catch up with him before I leave.”

  “Oh. Okay. The professor did live in Philly. But like I said, you just missed him.”

  “I’m not familiar with Howth. Can you write down directions for me?”

  “I guess I can do that.”

  Deforrest walks back to room 302 and unlocks the frosted glass door. He sits at his tiny desk just inside the door and uses one of the pencils in the Trinity College coffee cup sitting on his desk and jots down directions to Howth on a small notepad. He even draws a map to the Pierce DART station.

  “Here ya go. I wrote down directions by car and which DART you can take. The DART would be faster.”

  Mickey reads the directions. “Thanks. The DART looks like the way to go. I don’t suppose your boss said when he’s coming back to the office.”

  “Tuesday. Next Tuesday. Took some vacation time. Guess that’s why all the boat talk with Ramzi.”

  “Could be. Well, thanks for your help, John. I mean Tex. And I hope you find that white cowboy hat of yours. I’m sure it’ll show up.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure it will. Have a nice day.”

  “Tex” heads for the back stairs and Mickey walks to the lift and pushes L. Interesting about Tex “misplacing” his cowboy hat. Could be he’s closer to his professor than he claims to be.

  Mickey walks out of the staff building and into Parliament Square and lets the warm afternoon sun beat down on his black-and-blue face. He looks up at the light-blue face and glimmering gold hands on the tower clock. Four fifteen.

  Mickey walks back to his car parked on Tara Street, pockets the Garda courtesy parking card, and drives to 93 Saint Stephen’s Green South. On the way back Mickey recalls what his mother used to tell him. “There is never a door shut but there was another opened.” I’m lookin’, Mom. But time is running out.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Death does not come without cause.”

  Irish Proverb

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Medical Examiner’s Office

  On the overnight shift, Josh Hatch, by day a medical student, serves as intake manager for the ME’s office. Neither he nor the other two part-timers are qualified to perform autopsies nor are they authorized to release results of autopsies. They are responsible for taking receipt of human remains, logging those remains, assigning a sequential number to them, and stowing them appropriately and respectfully. Occasionally, the ME’s Office will accept “custody” of remains for short periods of time when no autopsy is warranted.

  Only with written approval after an autopsy has been completed are they authorized to release rem
ains to the family or their representative funeral home. On 5-22-96, at 2:30 AM, Josh was studying from his class notes when he was startled by the very loud and annoying buzzer at the receiving dock of the ME’s office located in the rear of 321 South University Avenue. Security cameras appear out.

  When he pushed the button to open the oversized gray steel overhead garage door, he is greeted by an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in a dark suit. Standing with that man is a shorter younger man dressed more casually. The younger man, who had an accent, spoke first.

  “Hello there lad.”

  Josh greets the men. “Good morning. I’m Josh. How can I help you?”

  “Good morning, Josh. I’m Patrick Drum. I’m here to take my brother back to Ireland for a proper burial.”

  “This is a first for me. Don’t normally have family or anyone for that matter come down here at this hour to claim loved ones. Deliver or identify them, yes. Please come inside. I’ll need to check the doctor’s release list before I can discharge your brother. I also need to make sure all the appropriate forms have been prepared and are ready for your signature. And, I’ll need to see a photo ID. Please, follow me.”

  Both men step inside. Josh closes the garage door. And all three men walk back to the overnight administrative desk. On the way Josh asks the younger man for his identification.

  “I’ll need to see your driver’s license or your passport.”

  “My luggage got lost at the airport. My passport and stuff were in that bag.”

  “That could be an issue, Mr. Drum.”

  The man doesn’t respond.

  “Okay, let’s see. Drum. Drum. Here we go, Jerold Drum.”

  “Jerry.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Jerry. His name is, was, Jerry Drum. Had it changed when he was fifteen.”

  “Okay! Date of death 5-21-96. Last-known residence, 2505 Olive Street. He was single. Autopsy assigned to Doctor David Steinberg. The only thing I’m missing is the doctor’s signature on the release form. There’s a note that next of kin has not been notified.”

  The man who identified himself as Patrick Drum addresses Josh’s remarks.

  “Must be some mistake. I was obviously notified or I wouldn’t be here, right? Can’t you call someone and have them approve the release of my brother’s body to me over the phone?”

  “That’s not the policy, sir. I’m sorry. Could be just a mix-up, or could be something else.”

  “Something else. What something else?”

  “The doctor could have a hold on the body at the detective’s request. Or he could be waiting for the toxicology report to arrive. As you can see here, the doctor did not indicate COD.”

  “COD?”

  “Sorry. Cause of Death. I would suggest you call this office in the morning and ask to speak to Doctor David Steinberg. He can straighten everything out. Maybe you’ll catch up to your luggage by then as well.”

  “But I have a plane to catch. And I’ve made arrangements to accompany my brother’s body back home.”

  “I apologize, sir. But I don’t have the authority to release Mister Drum’s remains to you at this time.”

  “I see. Well then, lad, maybe we have to…”

  The older man grabs the younger one by the arm and walks him a few yards away from Josh.

  “Give us a minute, Josh.”

  They have a short private conversation and then return to Josh.

  “Please write down Doctor Steinberg’s number for us and we’ll do as you say. We’ll call the doctor in the morning.”

  Josh writes the number down and hands it to the younger man. Then he escorts them back to the loading dock area and lets them out.

  “Good night, gentlemen. Sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.”

  The men leave without commenting.

  Josh closes the garage door and goes back to his small desk. He writes a short note to Doctor Steinberg concerning his early-morning visitors.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Even a good horse cannot keep running always.”

  Irish Proverb

  Back in his Saint Stephen’s Green fourth-floor suite Mickey kicks off his shoes and his bloodstained clothing and takes a much-deserved hot shower. His cuts and bruises will heal, but his memories of May twenty-third in Ireland will last a lot longer. He was blown up. Came close to losing a new friend. And a hot lead on a convicted assassin turned cold because of a classroom back door and a slow elevator ride.

  After showering and attending to his facial injuries he plops on the bed, picks up the phone, and starts making some long overdue calls. First, he calls his wife’s cell phone and catches her at work. He fills her in on “things,” leaving out the part about him and Kevin almost being killed. He’ll tell her that story at the appropriate time.

  Next, he calls the police commissioner using his private office number. Not surprised, the PC doesn’t pick up. Instead, Mickey hears a friendly voice.

  “Commissioner’s Office, Lieutenant Rambo, how can I direct your call?”

  “Creg? Mickey Devlin.”

  “Captain, how’s Ireland treating you?”

  “Great! Right up to the point a C4 blast almost killed me. Other than that, I’m getting closer to accomplishing my mission.”

  “No shit? You got blasted?”

  “True story. I’ll tell you and the PC all about it one day.”

  “But you’re okay, right?”

  “I’m fine. Is the commissioner in?”

  “I’ll get him. I’m putting you on hold.”

  Mickey doesn’t have to wait long for the PC to pick up. “What do you mean you almost got your ass killed? I knew this whole Ireland trip was gonna turn to shit.”

  Always the wit Mickey reacts to the PC’s rant. “I’m fine, Commissioner. Thanks for your concern.”

  “Okay Devlin, cut the crap. When’s your flight home? And don’t chuck and jive me about your flight-being-cancelled bullshit.”

  Mickey skillfully dodges the PC’s question and launches into the circumstances around his first visit to the Drum ranch to inform Patrick about his brother’s death, followed by a summary of his two meetings with Superintendent O’Clooney, and spends some time explaining and justifying his second trip to Drum’s property. He ends with his near miss at Trinity College with getting a positive ID on Michael Collins, AKA “The Greek.”

  “That’s all water over the dam, Devlin. Now answer my question. When’s your plane land?”

  “Actually, Commissioner, I’m calling to get your blessing to extend my investigation.”

  “What? You want to stay over there longer? Why would I go for something like that?”

  “Four reasons, Commissioner. I’m closer to nabbing the Greek than at any time in the past five years. Second, the Garda will need my testimony at their equivalent for our preliminary hearing on the Drum ranch C4 case. Third, Superintendent O’Clooney and I have pretty good evidence that the Greek is planning some kind of action around the president’s visit to Dublin on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth. Last, but not least,” Mickey now pulls out his trump card, “it’s gonna be a lot cheaper for me to stay another day or so to testify for our brother Garda than to fly all the way back over here again in a couple of days. Besides, I’m staying with friends.” Mickey does not want to let on he’s staying with Michael O’Leary. The O’Leary name in Philly has been linked to Irish gang activity. “So the Department isn’t picking up the tab on my room, Commissioner. It makes financial sense.”

  Nothing but silence from the other end of the phone. Mickey waits a few seconds, then asks, “Commissioner, you still with me?”

  “I’m here, Devlin. But my patience is running out on your whole the-Greek-is-in-Ireland theory. You’ve already been over there two full days. And from where I sit you ain’t done nothing but chase your fuckin’ tail. Results, Devlin. I want some fuckin’ results. Think you’re capable of givin’ them to me? Sooner rather than later?”

  When
did this guy become results oriented?

  “Absolutely, Commissioner. And results you will have. So I take that as a yes. A few more days and this will all be over. And it will be you and your administration that will get the return on your investment.”

  More silence. “Commissioner?”

  “No! It’s Rambo. The Boss signaled for me to pick up. So did you get whatever it was you wanted, Cap?”

  “I think so. At least that’s how I’m playing it.”

  “Good! Point of information, Cap. The PC is leaving for Washington this afternoon. He’s testifying in front of the House Subcommittee on Public Safety. Something to do with the straw-gun purchases and gun violence in Philly. He’s taking one of the deputies and the chief of patrol with him.”

  “Sorry I’m gonna miss that. Should be a classic. When’s he coming back?”

  “Tonight! Takin’ the train down and back. But tomorrow he goes on one of his long weekends to his house in Delaware. So he won’t be back in the office until Monday the twenty-seventh.”

  “Monday? That’s Memorial Day.”

  “That’s right. What I really meant to say is the Boss will be back in the office on Tuesday, the twenty-eighth.”

  Mickey laughs at Rambo’s walk back. “Outstanding! Thanks for the heads-up, Creg. And by the way…”

  “I know what you’re gonna ask, Cap. I relented and told the Boss I want out and where I want to go.”

  “Did he go for it?”

  “Yep! I actually think he was relieved.”

  “Relieved?”

  “It’s no secret that he really wanted to bring one of his guys on board. He was just waiting for the right time to break the news to me.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “I softened the news by agreeing to stay until the end of the month to break in the new person. So things are gonna work out.”