As promised by Tom O’Brien, they arrived in Arkwik soon enough, but it turned out the last known address for Aidan Connelly was no longer the right one. The retired cop hadn’t been keeping such good tabs on the man as he claimed. However, a few questions at the local pub led them to another house, this one farther out of the town limits, in a more isolated spot.
Charlie wasn’t sure just how luxurious it was to live ‘all laudy daw’, but Mr. Connelly’s present living quarters seemed very comfortable compared to those of Mr. O’Brien. He lived on a large property, in what was a nicely renovated farmhouse, although there wasn’t any evidence of farm activity. The grounds were well cared for, and the flowers surrounding the house were lush and colorful.
They parked their rental vehicle beside a late-model car in the driveway.
‘I don’t know if I’m ready for this.’ Charlie’s voice held a slight quiver.
Simm looked at her with a puzzled look.
‘This was our goal, to find this mystery man,’ he said.
‘I know, but I’m almost afraid of what we’ll find.’
‘Let’s not be afraid of something we know nothing about yet. We’ll have a chance to be afraid after, if need be. What you have to remember is we have to play this cool. We can’t let him know we know what he’s done. Let me handle the questions. Please.’
His eyes were very serious as they looked straight into hers. He expected a promise from her.
‘I’ll behave.’ It was the best she could give him.
Simm looked around as he climbed the front steps with Charlie by his side. His obvious uneasiness with the surroundings did little to calm her already fully-stretched nerves. Their knock was answered immediately by a woman of around fifty years of age. Charlie was surprised. It had never occurred to her Aidan Connelly would have a wife, and she wondered fleetingly why she had assumed he was single.
As it turned out, she was right. The woman was his housekeeper, and after checking with her boss, she showed them into a small sitting room and told them Mr. Connelly would be along shortly. Charlie took in the Victorian-style furnishings, the chairs straight-backed, and the tables useful merely for holding a glass of sherry or two. Heavy drapes in a matching floral pattern covered the windows from ceiling to floor.
Charlie was studying the imposingly large portrait of a young woman when a man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and thin, and held himself very upright. His hair was more salt than pepper, but, for his age, which Charlie assumed to be at least sixty-five, he was quite young-looking. The smile he offered them didn’t reach his eyes, which were more cautious than curious. She suspected he wasn’t surprised to see them, despite his first words.
‘My my, it’s rare that I have visitors all the way out here. And Mrs. Wright tells me you have a foreign accent. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?’
He spoke with a British upper-crust accent. Charlie knew he had been born and raised on the streets of Dublin. Was the affectation exclusively for their benefit?
They both stood and shook the man’s hand, and Charlie held back a shiver of revulsion when her skin came into contact with his. She couldn’t push aside the thought that those hands were responsible for lost lives, both babies and mothers.
Chapter 49:
Simm saw Charlie had a difficult time hiding her emotions. Since Connelly focused his attention on her, ignoring Simm almost totally, he needed to take control of the meeting.
‘May we have a few minutes of your time?’ Simm asked.
The man released Charlie’s hand, and turned to Simm.
‘Certainly. Why don’t we sit?’
He gestured at the arrangement of chairs beside them. Simm took Charlie’s elbow and guided her to the couch, sitting beside her before the other man could.
‘I’m trying to place the accent. American?’
‘No, Canadian.’
‘Ah, I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.’
‘It is. As is Ireland,’ Simm answered.
Simm didn’t want to have a polite conversation about their respective countries or the weather. He wanted to move on.
‘We have a mutual acquaintance, Jim O’Reilly,’ Simm said.
‘Jim? Yes, I met him years ago. He also lives in Canada. How is he doing?’
‘He passed away a few years ago,’ Simm said.
The other man assumed a sad look and began to speak, but Simm interrupted him, not wanting to hear his lies, or a fake expression of sympathy.
‘How did you know him?’ Simm continued.
Connelly waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
‘Oh, he was just someone I had come across. I think I met him in a pub one night, and we hit it off. Whenever he came to Ireland he would look me up, and we’d share a pint. Nothing more than that.’
‘We heard you had business dealings with him.’
‘Is that so? Well, that’s strange. He ran a pub back in Canada. I’ve only ever been on one side of the bar. No, I’m afraid you heard wrong. We were just acquaintances. But why are you asking?’
‘Jim’s son isn’t well, and he asked us to come to Ireland to do research on his roots. We had found your name mentioned in some papers of Jim’s, and we thought maybe there was a family connection.’
‘Oh heaven’s, no. Are you related somehow to Jim?’
He directed his question to Charlie, his eyes sharp.
‘No, but we were close. He was a friend of my father.’
‘What was your father’s name? Maybe Jim mentioned him to me at some point.’
‘Butler. Pat Butler.’
Simm detected a flash of recognition in the man’s eyes, but Connelly controlled it instantly. His words belied his reaction.
‘Butler? No, I never heard of him.’
His gaze remained on Charlie, and there was a gleam of pleasure and perhaps something else in it.
‘Is this your first visit to Ireland, my dear? Surely, with a name like Butler, your roots are here also,’ he said with a smile.
Simm felt Charlie fidgeting and inching closer to him.
‘It’s a first visit for both of us,’ Simm interrupted, trying to draw attention away from Charlie. ‘Are you retired now? This is a nice place you have.’
The chilling gaze moved to him.
‘Yes, I’ve retired. I worked as a doctor for many years, and I feel I’ve earned my time here.’
‘Where did you practice? In Dublin?’
‘Yes, always in the city, but I much prefer my peaceful existence in the country. How did you find me, by the way?’
‘Another mutual acquaintance, Mr. O’Brien.’
The man threw back his head and laughed genuinely.
‘Poor old Tom. How is the old delusional bastard? He had such a wild imagination, he did. For some reason, he was terribly jealous of my success and went out of his way to invent stories about me. Of course, nothing was ever true.’
‘Do you have other friends in Canada, Mr. Connelly?’
‘No, as I said, I’ve never been.’
They witnessed his dead smile, his teeth revealed, but his eyes cold.
Chapter 50:
‘He was lying.’
‘Like a rug,’ Simm agreed.
‘About everything.’
‘Yes.’
They had taken their leave. Charlie was never so glad to get out of a house than she was that one, no matter how gracious it looked. Simm headed the car toward Dublin.
‘Now, what do we do? What did we gain from that, other th
an a serious case of the willies?’ she asked.
‘We got to look him in the eye. We let him know we’re looking in to his past. We shook him up, even though he put on a good show of trying not to look shook up. Now the ball is in his court. We’ll have to see how he reacts.’
‘Are you sure he will?’
‘Yes, he will. This man is not one to sit back and do nothing. He kept his ass out of jail this long, he has no intention of letting anyone put it back in there now.’
‘What do you think he’ll do?’
‘He’ll send us a message, a warning.’
‘We already got a warning, in the hotel room.’
‘And that was probably his doing. Someone let him know we were asking questions about him. He’ll send us another one. He’ll try to scare us off.’
Charlie didn’t like the sound of that. The assault on their hotel room was enough.
‘You should go home to Montreal,’ Simm said.
‘No. I’m going to stick it out.’
‘Charlie…’
‘Don’t even think of it. What about you? This is dangerous for you too. And don’t tell me you’re a man, and you can handle it better than me.’
‘It has nothing to do with me being a man. I was a cop. I have a certain amount of training that you don’t have.’
‘I know, but I’m not leaving.’
‘If you stay, you’ll have to listen to me at all times.’
‘I will.’
‘You never have in the past.’
‘I will now.’
They drove in silence for several minutes.
‘What kind of warning do you think it’ll be?’ she asked in a soft voice.
‘I don’t know, but we’ll have to be very careful.’
‘Do you think someone will try to kill us?’
‘No, they don’t want to ruffle any international feathers. I think it’ll be subtler than that.’
Charlie held her breath as they unlocked their hotel room door, but the room was intact. It was their oasis for the time being.
‘So, what do we do now? Sit around and wait?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’m going to do some online research, see if I can find any other leads on ‘Doctor’ Connelly’s past.’
As Simm booted up his laptop, Charlie took the opportunity to call home for an update.
‘It’s the world traveller!’ Frank said.
Charlie smiled. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Frank until she heard his voice.
‘How’s it going? Busy?’ she asked.
‘It’s busy like it normally is this time of year, but there’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s under control.’
‘I wasn’t worried. I knew I could count on you. How’s Harley? Do you know?’
‘He’s great. I checked with Madame Lafrance. He misses you, but he’s trying hard to hide it.’
She laughed, then grew serious.
‘Any more letters or anything?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You wouldn’t tell me if there were,’ she said accusingly.
‘That’s true, but in this case, I’m not lying. It’s been very quiet. I passed by your place to make sure everything’s okay, and there’s nothing out of place.’
‘Great. Thanks, Frank. I owe you.’
‘There’s nothing to owe. Are you getting anywhere over there?’
‘I think so. Nothing conclusive, but I’d say we’ve made progress.’
‘You’re being careful?’
She glanced over at Simm, hunched over his laptop.
‘Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch in a few days and let you know when you can expect us home.’
They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Charlie was struck with a wave of homesickness. She wanted her life to revert to normal. She wanted to be back at work, with her friends and her dog. She didn’t want to have the threat of a crazy person hanging over her head.
‘What’s wrong?’
She came out of her daydreaming with a jolt.
‘Nothing.’
‘You look upset. Judging by your conversation, it sounded like everything was okay at home.’
‘It is. I just want to be back there.’
‘You’re not enjoying your first trip overseas?’ he said with a wry smile.
‘I would if it were a real vacation. I’d prefer to be touring and learning about Ireland. This isn’t the same thing.’
‘No, it isn’t, but if we can get it over with, maybe we can turn it into a mini vacation.’
Charlie smiled feebly. She believed they had a long way to go before it would be ‘over with’.
Chapter 51:
Simm’s search for further information about Aidan Connelly turned up very little. He discovered a few archived newspaper articles about his run-ins with the authorities, and his subsequent releases, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t already heard from Mr. O’Brien.
After a brief discussion, they decided to return to the same pub for dinner. The weather had changed and returned to what was considered normal for Ireland this time of year, cool and misty. Charlie added a cardigan to her outfit to provide a bit of warmth.
They weren’t surprised to find most of the same customers as the previous night. Charlie had the impression it was a place for regulars, and they were two of the few outsiders in the pub. However, they were greeted with open arms, as if they had lived in the area for years. Charlie was charmed once again, as they were shown to the same table as the night before. This was the type of atmosphere she yearned to achieve with her place. Of course, she had her regulars, but not to this extent, and even her regulars moved on sooner or later and were replaced by others. She had the impression that didn’t happen here.
‘And, have you found yer man? Old Tom told me ya were over to see him.’
It was Harry O’Shea, setting a Guinness in front of each of them, even though they hadn’t ordered them.
‘Yes, we did,’ Simm answered. ‘Mr. O’Brien was a big help.’
‘That’s good news, now it is. So, will ya be takin’ this Aidan fellow back to Canada with ya? Are ya arrestin’ him?’
‘No, I’m not a cop, and we have no reason to take him back to Canada. We just wanted to talk to him.’
Charlie was amused, but also worried about how the rumor mill worked around here. If word got out they wanted to extradite Aidan Connelly, God knows what kind of attention they’d attract.
Simm promptly changed the subject by asking to see the menu, but the locals were not ready to let it go. A man to her right leaned over to Charlie.
‘So, is he a smarmy fella then?’
‘Uh, no, I wouldn’t say he was smarmy,’ Charlie ventured.
‘What is it he did that ya would want to take him back to Canada for?’ asked another.
‘We don’t want to take him back to Canada,’ she clarified again.
‘I bet ya he’s a spy,’ offered a younger man sitting alone at another table.
‘Aye, a spy, an international one. That’s it.’
‘Maybe he’s a terrorist.’
The debate continued as Charlie and Simm looked helplessly at each other. It didn’t seem to be worth the effort to argue. They placed their order, sat back, and drank their beer while listening to the debate and opinions flow around them.
Once they were full of delicious food and beer, they stood to take their leave. It took at least fifteen minutes longer before they made it out t
he door, since they had to chat with everyone at each table they passed on their way out. They had to reassure Harry they would return for another meal, or at least a drink, before they returned home to Canada.
Laughing, they stepped on to the sidewalk only to have a jute bag thrown over each of their heads, and their hands tied behind their backs.
Chapter 52:
Charlie woke feeling disoriented. It was pitch dark in the room, and when she turned her head to look at the alarm clock on the night table, she saw nothing. The bed was also unusually hard, and her arms ached horribly.
Suddenly, she remembered what had happened, or at least some of what had happened. Her earliest memory was of the bag being yanked over her head and tied around her throat, all but cutting off her air. By the muffled sounds coming from Simm’s direction, she knew he suffered the same fate. Although she struggled as her arms were pulled behind her back and tied, it had little effect. The grunts of pain coming from beside her made her think Simm was putting up a better fight, and perhaps losing.
She tried to call out to Simm, hoping to make him stop fighting for fear he would be hurt, or worse, but as she breathed, the bag went in her mouth, and the best she managed was a muffled scream. They were shoved ahead, stumbling and tripping, until two strong arms picked her up and tossed her in the air. She landed on top of something firm, but not rock hard, more like bags of sand. A few seconds later, accompanied by other loud grunting sounds, something landed beside her, and she heard the sound of a tailgate being slammed shut. This was followed by more banging as doors were opened and closed again.
‘Simm?’ she said shakily.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘What’s going on? What will they do to us?’ Her voice rose in panic, the implications of what had just happened beginning to dawn on her. ‘Will they kill us?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll get out of this somehow. I don’t think they’ll take a chance on harming us. Since we’re from Montreal, they may suspect Marty Sullivan is involved somehow. They won’t want to provoke him.’
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