The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

  “But—” McGreevy began.

  “No buts. I know your family’s not particularly well-heeled. I’ll pay for the doctor’s visit myself. I insist.”

  “Are you sure, Mr. Solicitor?” McGreevy asked. “Maybe it’ll heal on its own.”

  “It’s my cross to bear for having such a clumsy nephew.” He grinned and then turned to the other boys. “Fellows, help Derry to my car.”

  Two of the larger boys boxed McGreevy in on each side. He put his arms on their shoulders and hobbled off the field. The other boys followed him over to the car, leaving Terence and Bairre alone.

  “And you,” Terence began fiercely, “you get your arse over to Saint Ita’s.”

  “The loony bin? For God’s sakes, why?”

  “Because I say so, Bairre. That’s why.”

  He looked at his uncle disbelievingly. “It’s in Portrane, a good five miles away. How am I—”

  “Are you truly baffled, or are you actually dumb as a stick? God gave you two strong legs—use ’em, for Christ’s sake, and if you’re not there in thirty minutes …” Terrence was furious. “I’ll give your supper to the hogs tonight, and you can sleep with them too. Is that clear enough?”

  “Yes,” Bairre grumbled. He was still stymied by his uncle’s demand, but he turned all the same and broke into a run.

  Chapter 55

  Terence was already there and waiting for Bairre to arrive, sitting in his warm car and stuffing his pipe with tobacco. He ignored Bairre and let him stand outside the car, panting, until his bowl was filled and the tobacco lit. He took a puff, then opened the door and stepped out. “You’re late.”

  “I ran the whole way,” he said, gasping to catch his breath. His face was beet red from the cold, and snot ran from his nose.

  “Don’t you want to know about your friend?”

  “Sure. Is he okay?”

  “The leg’s not broken. The doctor thinks it’s torn ligaments, but he won’t be playing football for at least a month.”

  “I’ll go by his place later and tell him I’m sorry again.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a knowing expression. “You do just that. Was winning the game so important you had to injure your friend to stop him from scoring?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Bairre explained.

  Terrence smacked his nephew’s face without warning.

  “Ouch!” Bairre put his hand to his cheek where he’d been struck. “The hell was that for?”

  “You’re a lying sack of shit, Bairre. It’s good to be competitive, but this time you went too far and your friend McGreevy will be paying for your misdeed all winter long.”

  Bairre glanced at St. Ita’s Hospital, an asylum for unfortunates with long-term mental illnesses. “So what in the name of all that’s holy are we doing here, Uncail?”

  “All in good time, boy.” Terence handed him his handkerchief. “Wipe the snot from your nose, Bairre. You’re a disgusting mess.” He walked off through the parking lot toward the side of the hospital. “Follow me, boy,” he instructed and didn’t say another word until he had reached the rear of the building. “We’re here.”

  Bairre was still breathing hard from the long run. He put his hands on his knees and looked out at the barren famine graveyard while he caught his breath. “I don’t get it, Uncail. What’s this all about?”

  Terence puffed warm smoke from his pipe that was scattered by the wind the moment it rose from the bowl. “How’s your history, boy? Tell me about the Great Famine.”

  He looked at his uncle with puzzlement mired on his face.

  “Well?” Terence demanded. “You look like you’re about to soil your shorts, Bairre. Straighten up and impress me with your smarts if you’ve got any.”

  “The potato crops failed and there was mass starvation, but that was ’bout a hundred years ago. Why bring it up now?”

  “Is that all they teach you in school, boy?” He shook his head, admonishing his nephew. “It was a travesty. Millions died or fled the country to prevent themselves from starving to death. It was nothing less than the systematic extinction of the Irish people and all you know is that we ran out of potatoes? Saints preserve us, Bairre—you should be horsewhipped for your lack of patriotism.”

  “What do you mean by ‘systematic extinction,’ Uncail?” He was still very much in the dark about why he’d been brought all the way out to Saint Ita’s but was bright enough to show inquisitiveness and in so doing demonstrate that a spark of intellect actually existed in his head.

  “Christ, lad … sure, the famine was real enough, but the British government treated we Irish folk like lepers and deliberately pursued a policy aimed at destroying our people. There was food enough for every man, woman, and child in the Kingdom, but it was shipped overseas for profit rather than being used to feed the hungry. True, there were no potatoes, but a famine there can’t be when there is food aplenty.”

  “I read that Parliament underestimated how bad the famine was.”

  “Underestimated, my arse. It was mass genocide pure and simple.”

  Bairre’s head dropped. “Sorry, Uncail,” he said ashamedly. “I didn’t know.”

  A stiff breeze tore across the cemetery, which was filled with hundreds of unmarked graves. “Christ, I’m freezing my stones out here,” Terrence said as he glanced at Bairre. “The cold don’t bother you none, does it? Just like your father, strong as an oak.”

  Bairre continued to look at his uncle with a perplexed expression, wondering if there was a point to all of this.

  “Not all the Irish starved,” Terence began with despair. “Your great-grandfather Bradan, he did all right for himself. The son of a bitch stole from the rich and he stole from the poor as well—he fucked over every man, woman, and child he ever met. He stole food rations from his own townspeople and took money from the British for acting as their go-between. Filled his pockets, the fucker did.”

  “He was a thief?”

  Terence dropped his head in disgrace. “Aye.”

  Even Bairre with his formidable strength was now succumbing to the extreme cold. He had been outdoors in the cold for hours and was exhausted from football and the long run to Portrane. He shivered as sweat dried on his neck. “Uncail, could we finish our talk in the car. It’s freezing out here.”

  “Directly,” he replied and picked a few pebbles off the ground. “We don’t live the high style, Bairre, but you know we never want for anything. Can you ever recall a day when out pantry wasn’t stocked with all the food we could eat?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “You’re a solicitor, Uncail. You do well for yourself. You’re a respected man of the court.”

  He examined the pebbles in his hand and rolled them between his fingers. “Our money is dirty, Bairre—as dirty as chimney soot. It’s tainted with the stench of your great-granddad Bradan. He cursed us, he did, and now that curse has come home to roost.”

  Bairre pressed his folded arms against his chest as he shivered from the cold. “But, Uncail—”

  Terence put up his hand. “Hush.” He turned to look at the hospital. It was constructed of red bricks with a black slate roof. He tossed the pebbles at a second-floor window located just below a steeple. “You remember what I told you about that boating accident that took both of your parents, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Uncail, but …”

  “Shhh.” He stilled the boy with a finger to his lips as he continued to stare at the second-floor window. “Ah,” he announced, a grin forming on his face as he pointed to the window. “See that man, Bairre, the one who looks half out of his mind, the one whose eyes are as red as the fires of hell?”

  Bairre was numb from the cold and too exhausted to think. He looked where his uncle had pointed at the tortured soul whose face was pressed up against the window. “I do, Uncail, but why should I care about that miserable soul?”

  A lump formed in Terrence’s throat when
he tried to speak. “It was all a lie I told you, but I did it for your own good. Protecting you, I was, but now you need to know the truth. The demon you’re looking at, the one standing by the window. That’s him, Bairre, that’s the man who brought you into the world. That’s your father.”

  Chapter 56

  Bairre sat in his uncle’s car, disconsolate but too proud to cry. The engine had been running for several minutes and had finally begun to blow warm air. He warmed his hands in the air blowing through the vents. “Why did you tell me? I never questioned the lie.”

  “Because, Bairre, it was time you knew, because you’re going to need to be strong.” He wet his lips. “Your father and I … we had half the money each, Bradan’s blood-money inheritance, but …” Terence paused and drew a difficult breath. “Your father, he liked to show what he had. He drank and he lived larger than a man needed to. He chased women incessantly. That’s why he was well over twenty when you were born. He didn’t settle down and marry your mother until he had sown every wild oat God had given him, and when your mother died from the grip … well, he just snapped. He went on a bender, and one night when he was lit up like a skyrocket, he beat a woman to death.”

  “That’s why he’s in there?”

  “Aye. The whole story is just so goddamn egregious … we’re proud people, Bairre, and it was just so shameful his being put in the asylum and such … well we thought a lie was better than the truth. We didn’t want you to live with the weight of your father having gone insane your entire life.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “Alas, you can’t. You see, Bairre, the woman your father beat to death was your nannie, and when the police arrived … well, you were found in such a state, you were bruised and bloody. No one really knows what happened to you that night, but the courts won’t let him come within a hundred meters of you, not now and not ever.” He put the car in gear and began to drive away from the hospital.

  “I hate him. I wish the crazy bastard were dead.”

  “I can’t say as I blame you, boy, but … there’s more to this story than you’ve been told.”

  Bairre stared at his uncle, his eyes red and irritated. “Now what?” He watched his uncle take the turn for Dublin. “Where are we going now? Home’s the other way.”

  “Just give me a few minutes, Bairre, and I’ll explain it all.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Like I said, your great-granddad Bradan … His curse has come back to haunt us. Have you heard of The Hague?”

  “No. What’s that?”

  “It’s a bunch of holier-than-thou intellectuals who sit around and decide what’s just and what’s not in this unholy world. Well, some years back, 1948 I think it was, they finally got off their lily-white arses and after a hundred years of deliberate blindness finally decided that Britain’s handling of the Great Famine was tantamount to genocide. Back in the day Britain and Ireland were two halves of the same country, but now … now the Irish can finally stand on their own two feet. Now that they can, they’re finally doing something about the outrage.”

  “But what does that have to do with us?”

  “The Irish government has launched its own investigation, and while doing their research, guess which turncoat’s name came to light?”

  “Our great-granddad’s?”

  “That’s right. They know he was a thief and a traitor, and they want restitution for all of his ill-gotten money.”

  “But he’s been dead such a long time.”

  “Aye, but his money is still very much alive and the government wants it back.”

  Bairre heard the roar of an airplane engine and looked up to see a plane taking off from Dublin Airport. “Are we going to the airport?”

  “Aye.” Terence reached into his coat pocket and handed Bairre an envelope. “I’ll stop by the McGreevys’ for you and tell the family how sorry you are that Derry was hurt.”

  “I don’t understand, Uncail. Am I going somewhere?”

  “Being a solicitor has its rewards. I was able to hold onto your father’s money after he was committed. I sent his share along with mine to the States. That envelope contains your ticket, passport, and instructions for when you get to New York. You’re to meet with a Mr. McCloy at the Chase National Bank in New York City. He’s an old sod and will see about your living expenses and introduce you to an American solicitor. I’ve arranged room and board for you as well.”

  “But what about you and Aintín Eveleen?”

  “We’ll follow you there soon as we can. I’m certain my solicitor’s status will shortly be revoked, but the money the government is looking for is already long gone. I’ve gone to such great lengths to bury the paper trail that it’ll be years before the examiners see the light of day.”

  “But isn’t that illegal?”

  “The short answer is aye, but the money is a hundred years old and it’s cleaner now than it’s ever been. I’ve always done right with my money, and I hope you’ll do right with yours. It’s your duty to make amends for Bradan’s greed and deceit, Bairre. I hope you’ll remember that when the time comes.”

  The car pulled to a stop in front of the airline terminal. “Your suitcase is in the boot. The shame your great-granddad brought upon the family has fallen upon us now, and you’re better off making a clean break of it while you still can. There’s all kinds of gossip going ’round and, well … your aintín and I won’t be able to stay here very much longer. We just have to tie up some loose ends first, and then we’ll join you in the states.” He put his hand on Bairre’s shoulder. “Can you handle it, lad?”

  Bairre thought for a moment and then nodded.

  “America’s the land of milk and honey, Bairre.” He leaned over and kissed him on the head. “Sorry I was so rough on you today, but like I said, I needed you to be strong.”

  Chapter 57

  Terence saw the look of concern on Eveleen’s face the moment he entered his home. She was sitting on her hands in the parlor, and the murmur of male voices was distinct. He made knowing eye contact with her before unbuttoning his overcoat and hanging it on the brass hook alongside the door next to his cap. Doom weighed heavy in the air as he crossed the foyer. He paused before entering the parlor to put on his brave face. “Gentlemen,” he said, “sure, this is a surprise.”

  Eveleen had been a dutiful hostess—steaming mugs of tea sat before her guests on the coffee table. Mayor Brady and Alderman Mulhare rose to greet him, offering requisite handshakes.

  Terence flashed his eyes at Eveleen. She stood immediately. “I’ll take my leave and let you gentlemen get to your chat.” She smiled at the town officials and dipped her head respectfully before leaving the room.

  “So let us be getting to it,” Terence began. He sat down opposite the two men, clearly looking uncomfortable. “I suppose this ain’t exactly a courtesy call.”

  Brady and Mulhare looked at each other, neither certain of which would speak first. “Terry, this ain’t easy for us,” Brady began, “but an investigation is an investigation, and we’re compelled to see it through.”

  Terence pulled his pipe out of his jacket pocket and blew through it to clear the stem. To put his visitors on edge, he took his time filling the bowl with tobacco and lighting it. He didn’t speak until smoke brimmed from his pipe. “An investigation, you say? Or is it a witch hunt? We’re dealing with facts that are a century old, gents. What Bradan Donovan did or didn’t do … Well, I don’t see how I can help you to clarify any of that.”

  “The days of living under England’s boot are over, and the New Irish Republic is committed to ferreting out the truth in this matter,” Mulhare said. “The tales of Bradan’s offenses are numerous, too numerous to ignore.”

  “Tales are tales and nothing more. Bradan was a wealthy man. Sure the starving village people would be envious of his success and create stories to paint him in a bad light.”

  “Well then, the truth will be very illuminating, won’t it?” Mulhare persiste
d.

  Terrence shot him a hard glance. “The truth? Is that what you’re after, or is it the money? Let’s not hide the issue behind clouds of patriotic blarney.”

  Mayor Brady took a sip of tea and then laid his mug to rest on the table. “Call it what you will, Terry, but one way or another, the piper has to be paid.”

  “Then you pay him, Mr. Mayor. I’ve no more idea about my granddad’s business than the man in the moon, and I resent you plaguing me on the matter. I’ve been nothing but an asset to your administration, Mr. Mayor, and I think my loyalty and good standing in the community should count for something.”

  “Terry, you think I like this?” Brady responded. “I don’t like it one bit, but the evidence the tribunal has compiled is very compelling. Your granddad Bradan must be held accountable for his treasonous acts.”

  Terence sprang from his chair. “But he’s dead eighty years. The hell do you want to do, dig up his bones and inter them in the pokey?”

  “So you won’t be cooperating—is that it?” Mulhare asked.

  “Cooperating with what? Tell me what you want, gents. You want an accounting of my granddad’s finances and a paper trail to where it went? You might as well ask me for the bookkeeping on the wealth of the House of Windsor because I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything ’bout that either.”

  Brady locked eyes with Mulhare and they rose from their chairs together. “Then you leave us no choice, Terry. By my authority I’m removing you from the ranks of solicitors, and you’re not to leave County Limerick until this matter is decided.” He picked up his hat and coat. “Sorry, Terry, but what’s got to be has got to be. Come see me if you have a change of heart.” He turned to Mulhare. “Give me a minute alone with Terry, would ya?”

  “Sure.” Mulhare walked away, with his head hung low.

  Brady waited for him to leave. “This is a small community, Terry, and it’s got more than its fair share of troublemakers, as I’m sure you know. These are desperate times. We’re still rebuilding and in the post war times … well, most folks don’t have enough to make ends meet. The sharks smell blood in the water and they’re getting mighty hungry. Especially where there’s a few pounds to be made. You got me, brother? If it were up to me, I’d piss on the whole affair, but I can’t, and this ain’t gonna go away quietly.” He patted him on the shoulder. Take care of yourself. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”