Sins of the Fathers

by A. J. McCarthy

  The room was large. It contained about twenty-five round tables, all covered with white tablecloths and nothing else. Only one of the tables was occupied, at the rear of the room. A man of about fifty years of age and medium build sat alone, a glass of what looked like straight whiskey on the table in front of him. He had a head of thick, black hair with several strands of gray working their way through it.

  His expression was very serious, and his eyes were narrowed as he watched them approach. As they drew closer, and he focused on Charlie, his attitude changed altogether. Simm found himself ignored. The man smiled brilliantly, stood, and extended his hand to the woman by his side.

  ‘You must be Charlene Butler.’

  ‘Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sullivan, and please call me Charlie.’

  ‘Then feel free to call me Marty. All my friends do.’

  Simm had the sensation he was at a social event, not a meeting to question a criminal mind. It also occurred to him the meeting would not be so sociable if he had come alone. Charlie was smart enough to understand, and canny enough to dress the part. She also acted the part, gushing and simpering like a southern belle.

  ‘This is such a beautiful spot. I can see why you like to spend time here. It’s almost like a vacation resort,’ she said, motioning with her hand toward the panoramic view offered by the expanse of windows.

  ‘It’s convenient for me. I hear you have a great place too. I haven’t been there for years, not since Jim had it, but I remember you. You were just a young thing then, helping out around the place.’

  ‘Did you know Jim well?’

  ‘Oh yes, we were close. But where are my manners? Sit.’

  He pulled out a chair for her, and for the first time, seemed to notice Simm, the person who had asked for the meeting in the first place.

  As Charlie settled in her chair, the two men shook hands. The smiles weren’t quite as brilliant or simpering.

  Out of nowhere, a waitress appeared and asked them if they would like something to drink. Both Charlie and Simm asked for a coffee. For them, it was too early to drink whiskey.

  Chapter 38:

  Charlie was nervous about the meeting, but she did her best to hide it from Simm. Her choice of outfit served the purpose of boosting her confidence a little, knowing she looked good in it. She wanted to impress Marty Sullivan enough to get him to cooperate. Whether she would succeed or not was yet to be seen. After all, he was an experienced criminal. He had seen it all and wasn’t apt to fall for false pretence.

  He was a handsome and charming man. It made the act of pretending that much easier. She was certain she could chat with him for hours without any difficulty. She was more worried about Simm. His jaw was clenched, and his spine was stiff. His usual affability was gone, and she didn’t understand why. He should be playing along with her.

  Marty drew her attention again.

  ‘I didn’t know your father so well. I had my own dentist.’

  As if to prove his point, he displayed his perfect, brilliant smile again.

  ‘So, what is your problem, Charlene?’ he continued. ‘Why did you hire a private investigator?’

  He gestured in Simm’s direction.

  ‘I’ve been receiving some disturbing mail. Simm thought it may have to do with Jim and his past.’

  ‘Mail? What kind of mail?’

  He frowned at Simm, as if he was the person responsible.

  ‘Strange letters sent by the same person, but invariably claiming to be someone else,’ Simm explained. ‘They aren’t overtly threatening, but one of them was a package, delivered to her home. It contained organs.’

  ‘Organs? Human organs?’

  ‘They turned out to be from sheep, but they gave us quite a scare,’ Charlie explained.

  Marty Sullivan was no longer smiling. He laid his hand on the table, palm up, reminding Charlie of Frank.

  ‘Let’s see them.’

  Charlie reached to pick up her handbag from its spot on the floor. She withdrew a large brown envelope from which she extracted the small pile of letters and handed them to Marty.

  He took another sip of his whiskey before pulling his eyeglasses out of his pocket and starting to read. His brows remained furrowed and his lips tight. Charlie let him finish going through the letters before she continued.

  ‘That’s not all. He knows where I live. He put torn posters of missing children, and fake blood on the outside of my apartment door. Then he took my dog.’

  ‘He took your dog?’

  He seemed so upset by the idea Charlie hastened to finish the story.

  ‘I got him back a couple of days later. He wasn’t hurt, but he was heavily drugged, and it took a while for him to get over it. In the meantime, I was frantic.’

  ‘What kind of guy would use an innocent dog to send a message?’

  Charlie and Simm exchanged a quick glance. She knew Simm was having the same thought as she was. A head of a criminal organization, responsible for multiple acts of violence, was concerned about the welfare of a small dog?

  Marty Sullivan returned his attention to the letters, looking them over once again. He removed his glasses and set them on the table, his gaze still lowered. He rose and stood facing the plate-glass window, his hands on his hips, and stared at the magnificent view of the Saint Lawrence River with the Clock Tower in the foreground. Charlie sensed he wasn’t actually taking in the sight.

  Sullivan seemed upset by the letters and Charlie didn’t understand why.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ the older man said, still facing the window.

  ‘I can tell you honestly, I don’t like it either,’ she said. ‘Do you think Simm is right? Do you think it has something to do with Jim’s past?’

  The mafia boss turned and returned to his seat. He finished off his glass in one swallow, and, like magic, the waitress appeared with a refill. He didn’t acknowledge or thank her. He seemed to be deep in thought. Neither Charlie nor Simm said a word. After several long, uncomfortable minutes, he spoke.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Suddenly, he sat forward and reached for Charlie’s hand, meeting her gaze again. His hand was cool and dry. She sensed Simm stiffening beside her, and she hoped he remained calm long enough for them to get the information they wanted.

  ‘Charlie, you have to understand that Jim was a good man.’

  ‘I know that. I always knew it,’ she reassured him.

  ‘He did some work for us, nothing dangerous. He didn’t like danger. But we made use of his establishment for certain things, and he helped us out. After he got out of jail, he wanted all the way out. We understood. We’re very understanding people, so we let Jim off the hook. He was a good guy. And he remained a good friend. He was like a brother to me. I was broken-hearted when he died.’

  Charlie didn’t remember seeing this man at Jim’s funeral, but he may not have attended. It wouldn’t do to have someone of his stature in a criminal organization showing up at a funeral. It would definitely get rumors going once again.

  Marty didn’t seem to be finished with his story, so Charlie waited patiently for him to speak.

  ‘We continued to do favors for each other over the years,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, Jim would have some small hassle with a client or a supplier, and I would arrange for someone to have a conversation with this person.’

  He dropped Charlie’s hand and went over to stand by the window again, his back to them.

  ‘We helped each other out, but we never did anything malicious or harmful.’

  He turned to face them again.

  ‘I don’t like that you’r
e getting these letters. It makes me angry. I know Jim thought of you like a daughter, and I know he’d be angry too. I want to find out who’s doing this.’

  He looked at Simm and pinned him with a glare.

  ‘I know who you are and who you used to be. I got no beef with you. My sources say you’re a good private eye, and you do things straight. I’ll help you find who’s doing this. But, there’s two things you gotta know. If you don’t succeed, I’m going to take over. The second thing is, you better be careful with the information you may find. I appreciate discretion. Remember that.’

  Charlie knew a threat when she heard one, and she hoped Simm wasn’t planning to do anything Marty Sullivan didn’t like.

  ‘Do you know who’s doing it, sending these letters to me?’ she asked, pulling his attention back to her.

  ‘No, I don’t, but I want to. I want to know who it is, and where I can find him.’

  His tone was enough to scare Charlie on the perpetrator’s behalf.

  ‘I can’t point this guy out for you,’ Marty continued. ‘But, I think I know where you can find more information.’

  ‘Good. That’ll be a big help,’ Simm said.

  ‘I hope you have a passport.’

  ‘I do, but why?’

  ‘Because you’re going to Ireland.’

  Chapter 39:

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Dublin.’

  ‘You’re not going to Dublin.’

  ‘You need me,’ she insisted.

  ‘I’m capable of handling this on my own.’

  ‘When will you admit I was a big help today?’ Charlie said.

  ‘I already did. I told you that you did a great job. That doesn’t mean you’re coming to Ireland.’

  ‘Do you remember the letter I received? I think it was from Tamara. It talked about Ireland and how I should go there to find my roots. That’s where we’ll find the answers. I can feel it. The key is in Ireland.’

  ‘I’ll find it for you. You can stay here where it’s safe.’

  ‘If you don’t want me to go with you, that’s fine. I can go on my own. My passport’s ready.’

  Simm banged his hand on the steering wheel.

  ‘Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why can’t you just let me do my job? I promised you I would keep you up-to-date on whatever I find.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Dublin,’ she repeated.

  ‘Then go there. On vacation, when this is all over. It’ll be much more enjoyable, believe me.’

  Simm had a sudden thought.

  ‘Besides, what about the pub?’ he added. ‘And Harley? You can’t just pick up and leave.’

  ‘I have Madame Lafrance for Harley and Frank for the bar. He’s entirely capable, and I’ll get Marie to come in and work full-time while I’m gone.’

  Simm gritted his teeth. This was not going as planned. Ever since Marty Sullivan mentioned Ireland, the wheels were turning in his head. All they had was a name and a last-known address. Aidan Connelly and Thomas MacDonagh Flats. Simm had research to do and a flight to plan, and he didn’t need a complication named Charlie.

  He dropped her off on the sidewalk in front of Butler’s. When she suggested he come in so they could discuss their plans, he declined. He gave an excuse about having to work on another case for a while. His smile felt stiff, and he hoped his sunglasses helped to hide his true feelings.

  Back at his office, he turned on his laptop and opened the internet search engine. After an hour, he sat back and ran his hands through his hair. He had discovered quite a bit, but it wouldn’t give him much.

  First of all, the number of people with the name of Aidan Connelly in Ireland was staggering. Second of all, the address that Marty had given him, Thomas MacDonagh Flats, no longer existed. The apartment building had been in Ballymun, a northern suburb of Dublin, but it was demolished in 2005. If the Aidan Connelly they were looking for had indeed lived there, Simm had no idea where he could be found now. He had his work cut out for him. He was tempted to call Marty Sullivan and ask him for further details, or better yet, what it was all about, but he didn’t think the man would be forthcoming.

  Simm had the impression Sullivan knew a lot more than he was telling. For some reason, he was holding back information, and his threat about what Simm did with the information he found confirmed there was something he didn’t want revealed, possibly something that affected the mafia boss personally.

  Simm thought his best bet would be to get to Dublin as soon as possible, before Charlie had time to get her act together. From there, he would contact the local authorities and see if he could track down Aidan Connelly.

  Chapter 40:

  ‘I’ll tell you a secret, if you like.’

  The only reply was a grunt.

  ‘I’ve never done this before.’

  Simm opened one eye and peered at her.

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Nope,’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s a bit scary, but exciting at the same time.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  ‘I bet you’ve done it a few times.’

  ‘Much more than a few.’

  ‘There’s no need to brag.’

  ‘Just stating the facts, that’s all.’

  She crossed her legs and leaned back. Simm closed his eyes again. They were at Pierre-Elliot Trudeau Airport waiting for a late-night flight to Dublin. It was the best he could get on short notice. Again, he didn’t know how she had done it, but Charlie had wormed her way into his plans. As he checked the flights online, she showed up by his shoulder, passport in hand. The next thing he knew he booked two seats.

  ‘If you’ve never travelled before, why do you have a passport?’ Simm said.

  ‘I wanted to be prepared, just in case. Aren’t you happy I was?’

  Simm thought it would be better not to respond to that question. Instead, he closed his eyes again and thought ahead several hours.

  They would arrive in Dublin at 11:00 in the morning local time. He would have a few hours to try and make some contacts before the close of the business day. They would get to sleep at a normal hour and, hopefully, would get their biological clocks in sync by the next day. But, that was likely wishful thinking.

  He jolted upright when Charlie seized his knee.

  ‘Our flight is boarding now,’ she said.

  ‘Okay, there’s no need to panic. We’re right here. They can’t leave without us.’

  He watched her fidgeting impatiently as people lined up. He sighed, sat up, and grabbed his carry-on bag.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, knowing she wouldn’t relax until she was on the plane.

  It didn’t take any further encouragement. She was in the line-up before Simm had a chance to stand.

  Once they were on board, Charlie looked around her with fascination. She insisted they put on their seatbelts right away. She removed a book and a notepad from her carry-on bag and put it in the pouch in front of her. She fiddled with the fold-down table and the window shade. When she reached up to check on the light switches, he captured her arm.

  ‘That’s too much activity, Charlie. Why don’t you relax for a while?’

  ‘The flight is six hours long. We can’t relax during that time?’

  ‘Let me put it this way. You’re driving me crazy with all your fidgeting. Give it a rest.’

  She scowled and leaned back in her seat. Everything went smoothly until the plane fired up the engines for takeoff and raced down the runway.

  ‘Oh God. Oh God. It won’t make it.’
>
  Charlie’s hand gripped Simm’s knee with surprising strength. The more the engines roared, the harder she gripped. He thought her fingers would puncture the skin of his leg.

  ‘We’re going to crash!’

  ‘We’re not going to crash. Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Listen to that. The engines are forcing too much. They can’t lift us.’

  As she said this, the plane was already halfway to full altitude.

  ‘It’ll be over in a few minutes, Charlie.’

  Simm winced when he witnessed the look of shock on her face.

  ‘I mean we’ll be at cruising speed, and they’ll slow the engines. Don’t worry.’

  She didn’t speak again or relax her grip until the engines quieted to some degree. When she removed her hand, and looked out the window, Simm surreptitiously rubbed his leg, trying to regain circulation. Charlie finally relaxed, but refused to remove her seatbelt or close her eyes.

  However, Simm closed his eyes to try to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

  ‘How will we find him?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’ll figure that out when I get there,’ he answered, not opening his eyes.

  ‘What if he’s dead?’

  ‘I’ll figure that out when I get there.’

  ‘Don’t you ever do any preplanning?’

  ‘All the time, but have you ever heard about the best-laid plans?’

  ‘Well, of course, things can go wrong, but you have to have somewhere to start.’

  ‘I have somewhere to start. Aidan Connelly in Ballymun.’

  ‘Is it nice?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dublin. Ballymun.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been there, but apparently Ballymun was not a very nice place a few years back. A lot of crime and drugs.’

  ‘Do you think this all has to do with drugs?’

  ‘Maybe, but I doubt it. And don’t ask me why I think that. I just do.’

  ‘Fair enough. We’ll soon find out.’