‘Well, I’m not one of your clients, so I’ll thank you to avoid the lecture.’
An antagonistic client was bad enough, but an antagonistic father, that was something she could do without!
She said nothing and watched him spoon the soup slowly into his mouth, fiddling with the slice of bread. Normally he’d be gone from the table by now, in watching the racing or the football on TV. Her mother was right, there was definitely something up with him.
‘Dad, I’m down for a nice pleasant weekend and to see the two of you. If while I’m here you want a little bit of legal advice, no problem. Otherwise I’m just happy to relax and go for a few walks. Fergus and Conor invited me to go sailing with them over to Passage tomorrow afternoon, so if you don’t want to talk to me about whatever is going on I’ll just go with them.’
‘He’s a stubborn old fool and he does need your help,’ her mother pleaded. ‘For God’s sake, Frank, tell Kate all that’s happened since Martin retired from the business, please!’
Kate knew it was hard for him to suddenly have to confide in one of his daughters, to step down from his pedestal as head of the family and admit perhaps that he had not been as clever or cute as he should have been.
‘I’m ruined,’ he said slowly, dropping the spoon, despair etched on his lined face. ‘The council are being investigated with regard to planning irregularities.’
‘And what’s that got to do with you?’
‘Well, Martin and I always believed in oiling the wheels, so to speak.’
‘Bribes?’ Don’t say her father was stupid enough to be involved in bribing local councillors, buying his planning permissions!
‘It’s how things work,’ he explained. ‘How else do projects get off the ground and everyone gets to make a bit of money so everyone is happy.’
‘Dad, tell me, you didn’t pay or take any bribes?’
‘Kate, it was just dinners here, a few drinks, donations for this and that, weekends away and the odd little holiday, money to good causes, bits of important knowledge passed on to the right people, advice to a friend or two. There was no harm in it!’
‘Are there records?’
‘I’m not sure. Martin kept the books, dealt with the accounts. My end was buying and selling land and property, turning things around to make a profit or deciding to make an investment or not.’
‘Is there anything else?’ she asked, suspicious.
‘I’ve had a letter from the bloody Revenue and they’re talking about an investigation.’
Kate swallowed hard. It was worse than she’d imagined. She caught her mother’s eye: she’d been right to get her involved. Her father was going to need all the advice and help he could get.
Frank opened up the office in town on Saturday afternoon and Sunday, the two of them trying to go through more than twenty years of files and payments and bank lodgements and withdrawals. Even at a quick glance Kate could see where her father and Martin Duffy had turned a quick profit on a huge part of land sales they’d acted on. Kate noted down cases where there were gaps in the registration, sometimes the partnership buying the piece of property and then selling it on to another vendor later, their ownership never legally declared.
‘Christ, Dad, some of this is illegal!’
‘There was no harm done,’ he said defensively.
‘What about the mill?’ She turned her attention to the old mill at the edge of town; she remembered how proud she’d felt when her father had purchased it. Obviously it had protected status because of its age and historical importance. Kate was flabbergasted to see in the documents the council’s permission for its redevelopment as exclusive holiday apartments and a restaurant five months later with absolutely no mention of its status or the protection of its original features. She pulled out the file, determined to go through it later that night with a fine-tooth comb if need be to see if her father had incriminated himself or there was any direct link to the council or its officers at the time. She yawned, exhausted: this was going to take for ever. There were boxes of stuff to go through!
They worked through till late that night, Maeve Dillon producing a slow simmered beef casserole when they eventually got home. Her father excused himself saying he needed a drink as he slipped on his raincoat and disappeared down to McHugh’s.
‘Leave him go,’ urged her mother. ‘A pint will do him good.’
Kate lifted in a box of files from the hall and curled up on the couch barefoot to read them, tossing some to her mother trying to explain what exactly they were searching for.
‘Is it bad, Kate?’
There was no use lying to her mother. At least she’d had the good sense to get her involved.
‘It’s complicated, put it that way.’ She sighed to herself, wishing she could spare her mother. ‘Dad and Martin have sailed really close to the wind, and with this council investigation and also the Revenue likely to turn their attention to him, it’s not good news.’
‘How far will they go?’
‘As far as it takes.’
Sunday and Monday and most of Tuesday were spent in the same fashion, Kate managing to get two long walks in the fresh air to clear her head. Her father’s business affairs were in a worse mess than she’d imagined.
‘Dad, we need to get an accountant to look at this and assess the liabilities involved.’
‘Larry Flood used to do our audit.’
‘Dad, he’s about seventy, for God’s sake. We need to get a fresh eye on this. I’m not a financial expert. What about Patrick?’ she suggested.
‘Under no circumstances are you to tell Moya and Patrick about this, do you hear, Kate?’
‘Dad, they’re probably going to hear, no matter what you do. Patrick’s used to this kind of stuff. OK, maybe not normally as messy as this but he’s an accountant.’
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘I’m not having Patrick go through my business affairs!’
Not wanting to upset him any more, Kate let the matter drop. Maybe one of her colleagues could recommend someone.
‘What about Martin? You were partners. What does he say?’
‘I told you Martin’s retired. He’s an old man now. He left the business in my hands and this, all of this, is down to me,’ he said despairingly. ‘We still have some investments together but otherwise he’s not involved. I’m not having him dragged into this.’
‘Dad, some of this goes back years and no matter what you do or say now, most of it is going to be public. You’ve broken the law, and there are no two ways around it. Look, you bought two of the fishermen’s cottages down on the Harbour Road off poor old Jem Crowley for a song and then five weeks later sold them on to O’Malley construction for a fortune, and looking at the records you failed to register as the owner and never paid tax. The fact that you are also a shareholder in O’Malley’s is going to be seen as very suspicious.’
‘Jem was delighted with the money we paid him. He was only storing lobster pots in one of them!’
‘Come off it, Dad, the other was his home and he’d have been far happier to have got a decent price for them.’
Kate sat in her father’s large leather office chair, knowing that probably within the year the office and much of what he had worked for would be gone. She would advise him to settle. Things could be sold off to raise cash if need be. Looking at him standing in his shirtsleeves at the filing cabinet she felt a rush of pity for him. He’d always been so strong and self-assured, always out, busy working, making money, spending it easily, generous to those around him. Sean’s death had almost destroyed him, but somehow he had managed to keep going. She could never understand his getting involved with Sheila O’Grady. She’d never excuse it, but she’d kept his secret all these years. Never said a word to the others. Looking at him now, grey haired, tense, bent down over years of files and paperwork, she wondered how many more secrets of his were to be uncovered.
‘I got Jem a place in the Harbour.’
‘What?’
‘I made Tom O’Malley provide him with one of the smaller holiday cottages, ’twas a palace in comparison to his old place.’
‘But he doesn’t live there,’ she said, thinking of the wealthy families who kept yachts down on the marina who booked the houses from one year to the next.
‘I know. Jem lives in two old rooms up behind McHugh’s, rents the cottage out.’
‘Oh Dad!’ she said, throwing her arms around him. Her father was one of those blustering big men who take on the world and she loved him for that. She couldn’t stand seeing him brought down, fighting off grey civil servants and fastidious prosecutors who would rake through every penny that came through this office door and try to smear his good name. She’d do everything in her power to help him, fight if need be and settle where called for.
‘Listen, Dad, I’ll do everything I can to help. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.’
Chapter Twenty-five
BACK IN DUBLIN Kate could not get the quandary her father was in out of her head. The situation was even more serious than either of her parents realized and she needed financial advice from someone used to dealing with the Revenue Commissioners and government departments. Bill had thrown her the name of a guy they’d used before and Kate had set up a lunch meeting with him in the Clarence Hotel as she had no intention of bringing him to the office.
‘Hiya, Kate,’ he’d greeted her as they took their seats in The Tea Room, Kate making sure they were seated in a part of the restaurant where they couldn’t be overheard. They ordered quickly. Kate was relieved that Rory McWilliams had passed on the alcohol, as she wanted him to have a clear head.
‘So what is it?’ he asked. Kate was taken aback by his directness.
‘I have a problem with someone.’
‘A client?’
‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘who is perhaps looking at charges of corruption, bribery, I’m not sure yet. Planning deals that were pushed through a local council.’
‘Backhanders?’
‘More than likely. The files are in a heap, no proper paperwork, a set of accounts not done for almost three years, insider type trading but with regard to property and land acquisition.’
‘Fraud?’ he said, leaning across the table.
She reddened. She could not believe the bizarre situation she was in. She could strangle her father for what he’d done. ‘I’m not sure.’
He buttered a piece of fresh walnut bread, concentrating.
‘Any more?’
‘The Revenue are talking about investigating.’
He groaned aloud. ‘Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse! Are you trying to ruin my lunch?’
She gulped a glass of chilled Ballygowan, watching the forty-year-old accountant tear into his seared crab cakes and salad starter. Her own appetite was somewhere down in her toes as she sipped at her soup.
‘You said things are in a fucking mess, no accounts done or signed off on. Sounds bad but it could be advantageous. Maybe your client didn’t quite know how bad the situation was.’
She sat up, paying attention.
‘Was there anyone else involved in this?’
‘A partner, but he retired a few years ago.’
‘A sleeping partner.’
‘No he was the main holder of the company originally, he looked after the finances.’
‘Maybe what your client needs to do is play cowboys.’
‘Play cowboys!’ she spluttered.
‘Yeah, come out with his hands up! The taxmen like that. Well, sometimes.’
She was intrigued. As the waiter cleared their plates and brought the main courses, she asked, ‘But what about the backhanders, the payments?’
‘Obviously there would have to be some sort of an assessment of moneys given and the taxes lost. There are two situations here to be considered and dealt with, the likelihood of the council or whoever is involved being able to prove bribery – not an easy thing to get people to confess or admit to, and an in-depth investigation by the taxmen would likely take an age. For me to ascertain the likely damage to your client and the settlement offer should one be made I’d need to have time to study the files, bank recs, deposit accounts, current property valuations, etc.’
‘It sounds very complicated, Rory.’
‘I suppose it’s sort of forensic accounting, if you want to call it that in laymen’s terms.’
‘Do you think you’d be able to help us?’
‘Should do. Do you want me to go to your client’s premises?’
‘No, I’ll get the information to you, it will take a few days to get it sorted and packed up.’
‘That’ll be fine.’
‘Rory, I’d appreciate it if you kept this under your hat.’
‘There is always client confidentiality,’ he said seriously.
‘It’s just that Bill and the other partners aren’t involved. This one’s mine.’
‘I get it,’ he said, ordering a milky cappuccino. ‘Send the stuff over and I’ll get back to you.’
Relieved, she tried to relax and enjoy the end of the meal with Rory, the two of them talking about mutual acquaintances and favourite Dublin haunts. Sitting across the table from him she realized how both physically and mentally she was attracted to him, sighing to herself when she noticed the big gold wedding ring on his finger and wondering why it was that all the guys she fancied lately seemed to be married.
She phoned her mother and father when she got back to the office to tell them the latest progress.
‘He’s gone into Waterford to meet someone. He should be back for dinner.’
‘How is Dad anyway?’
‘He’s still not eating or sleeping properly, the worry of this is really getting to him. The sooner all this business is over the better and we can get back to normal.’
Kate sighed. The likelihood of things returning to normal were slim, and they’d probably have to sell off some of their assets to clear money her father owed.
‘Listen, Mum, I’ll be down again this weekend, tell Dad we’ve a lot to go through.’
What a crap life! Killing herself all week in the office and then the whole weekend given up to sorting out her father’s mess, trying to put some kind of order on things before she carted it back to Dublin to Rory.
‘What about this one, Kate, it refers to Kirwan’s land deal and this one the O’Reilly and the Clears.’
‘I’ll look at it in a second. Dad, didn’t you ever think of getting a computer and putting everything up properly on it? It would cut down hugely on the paperwork and mess. You wouldn’t know yourself.’
‘Martin wouldn’t have it. Kicked up a huge fuss any time I mentioned it.’
‘Dad! You told us you had a racehorse. One horse!’
‘Aye Lovely Lass! She’s a grand little filly, heart as big as a tiger.’
‘Well it looks like you were being charged for the keep and training of three other horses too by Tommy Brennan.’
‘She did well, so it made sense to add to the stable. Sligo Girl, Kilkenny Kate after yourself and Moyaromy.’
‘Jesus. Dad, I don’t believe you!’
‘They’ve run a few good races, Tommy feels they have potential.’
‘Dad, are you gone stark staring mad? These racehorses are costing you a fortune!’
Kate riffled through a heavy black ledger, running her fingers down the columns. Money paid out. Payment for Milo Richardson’s farm holding, payment for Mulcahy’s outbuildings and four acres . . . Her finger stopping suddenly. Payment to Hazel Lavelle? That couldn’t be . . .
‘Dad, did you pay out money to the Lavelles?’ she asked, puzzled.
Her father stopped what he was doing, but didn’t turn around.
‘I invested in it a few years ago. Hazel wanted to retire, give up the café and was looking for a buyer. We did the usual trawl but no takers, then we realized there was a buyer right under our noses.’
‘Sheila O’Grady,’ she whispered.
‘You financed her!’
‘I made a business investment.’
Kate couldn’t believe it! She could still remember the winter when Lavelle’s small bakery and teashop had closed down for a few months, the whole town curious as to what was going on behind the hoardings, then with huge fanfare it had reopened as a large bright restaurant that overlooked the seafront, with a small paved courtyard to the back. The best of food served from lunchtime right through to dinner in the evening, patrons advised to book a table, especially at the busy weekends. In the separate tall glass-fronted annexe beside the restaurant door a sign proclaimed ‘Lavelle’s Fine Foods’, a totally separate enterprise where fresh breads, cakes, desserts and biscuits and prepared meals were sold.
‘Sheila was a good investment. She knew the business inside out, was a good worker and in Hazel’s eyes was totally trustworthy and a suitable person to take over and run the business.’
‘Was this before or after I caught you two together?’ she snapped.
‘That’s none of your business,’ he replied slowly. ‘Sheila O’Grady is a good woman who has worked damned hard to build up a rock-solid business and I was glad at that time to be able to help her!’
Her father was defending and standing up for the woman he’d had an affair with!
‘But what about you and Mammy?’
‘Your mother and I were going through a terrible time after Sean died, that’s all I’ll say. It’s not an excuse but it’s the truth. Sheila O’Grady understood. She’d lost her husband and was on her own raising a family. I suppose we were both in our own way lonely.’
Kate still remembered it, the awful time when her parents barely spoke and grief had filled the house.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without Sheila, probably ended up in St Pat’s.’ He spoke of the other woman with more than affectionate kindness and Kate suddenly realized that her father actually loved Sheila, and held her in high regard. She hadn’t the courage to ask him if the relationship was still going on.
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