Sins of the Fathers

by A. J. McCarthy

  Their flight boarded on schedule, and Charlie hurried to settle into her seat. She hastily put in her earphones to watch a movie, sensing Simm wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t want to get into it in a public place. It was better to wait until they were alone.

  The takeoff was a little rough, but Charlie didn’t pay any attention to it. She stayed focused on remaining in her bubble, and she rationalized that if they crashed it would at least save her the misery of discussing the dark-suited man’s conditions.

  Simm apparently decided to call a temporary truce. He relaxed and alternately dozed and watched movies during the flight home. He even generously allowed Charlie to rest her head on his shoulder as she slept for a few hours.

  As soon as Charlie was on home turf, she was impatient to see Frank and Harley, but Simm insisted they drop off their bags at his apartment and freshen up before going to the pub. Charlie knew the real reason behind his suggestion, and she dreaded it.

  ‘I want you to find your birth certificate for me,’ he said, as the door shut behind them.

  ‘I will,’ Charlie said, turning her back to him while she opened her suitcase and sorted through the contents.

  ‘Where is it? At the pub or at your apartment?’

  ‘I’ll find it for you. I know where it is.’

  ‘I need it as soon as possible.’

  She threw down the sweater she had been struggling to get on a hanger and turned on him.

  ‘I told you I’d find it. Give me a chance. I just got home.’

  Simm placed his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘I know. I’m just telling you we can’t delay. It’s the key to everything. It may even help solve our problem with Sullivan.’

  ‘I don’t see how.’

  ‘Neither do I at this point, but if I can move forward with this investigation, it may open up a possibility for me.’

  ‘The investigation is over. We’re not looking in to it anymore. We’ll have to find another way to satisfy the guy in Ireland.’

  ‘What if you keep getting letters? What if someone goes to your home again and threatens you? Is that something you want to live with?’

  ‘Of course not, but…I can’t…’ She shook off his hands and turned away.

  ‘We’ll deal with it,’ Simm said.

  ‘It’s not your parentage that’s in question here. It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like to live your whole life believing something only to have it shot to hell in a few seconds.’

  ‘You’re right. It’s not my life, but I’m willing to help you get through it, whatever it is.’

  Charlie walked into his arms and rested her head on his chest.

  Chapter 59:

  Charlie threw open the door and scanned the crowd, a smile splitting her face. She weaved her way through the maze of people, excusing herself along the way. Somehow, he sensed her approach, because he turned and their eyes met. A replica of her smile appeared on his face. When she reached him, his arms were open and ready. He lifted her up in a bear hug that felt like it could crush her ribcage.

  ‘God, I missed you,’ she said.

  ‘Me too. It’s great to have you back. Holy Jesus, what happened to him?’

  Charlie turned to look at Simm, who had followed her into the pub.

  ‘Oh, he got out of line, so I smacked him upside the head.’

  Frank grinned and raised his hand for a high five.

  ‘Way to go, girl.’

  Simm wasn’t amused, but he had to admit, seeing Charlie happy was a balm to the soul. The gloom that had hung over them for most of the trip to Ireland, especially the last few days, was shed, at least temporarily.

  Frank held Charlie at arm’s length and looked her up and down.

  ‘Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it in a bit. I want to see Harley first.’

  Simm followed her to the office where they found an ecstatic Harley, his entire body wriggling and shaking with happiness. He whimpered and licked Charlie’s face as she greeted him and reassured him she wouldn’t be leaving again. Simm was also given a welcoming lick as he reached over to pet the pug.

  ‘It’s great to be back,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t realized how much I missed this place until I walked in the door. It’s home for me.’

  Simm couldn’t disagree. Charlie and the bar fit together like a picture in a frame.

  ‘That’s not to say I won’t make changes. I’m thinking about hiring a real chef to prepare things other than finger foods. I’d like to have authentic Irish meals. If I could duplicate Harry’s setup, I’d be thrilled.’

  ‘If anyone can do it, you can.’

  He relished the smile she gave him, because he knew it would soon disappear.

  ‘Charlie, I need to see your birth certificate. Could you find it for me please?’

  As expected, the smile vanished. With her lips pressed together, she took a key out of her desk drawer and unlocked a cabinet behind her. She grunted slightly as she lifted the fireproof box onto her desk. Papers rustled as she rifled through the box. She took out an envelope and peered inside. Wordlessly, with a smug smile, she handed it to Simm.

  It was an original birth certificate from the Province of Quebec. It stated her full name, Charlene Iris Butler, and those of her parents Patrick and Patricia Butler.

  ‘Great. Perfect. Can I make a copy please?’

  Charlie gestured with her arm at the photocopy machine, inviting him to help himself.

  ‘I told you,’ she said, as he handed her back the original.

  ‘You did.’

  He wouldn’t get into it any further tonight. He had already done enough to spoil her homecoming.

  Chapter 60:

  Charlie was exhausted by the end of the evening. Thankfully, it was Wednesday, and they closed early. But midnight was five o’clock in the morning, Dublin time, for her. When she went into the office to collect Harley and Simm, she found the man asleep in her office chair, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. The dog slept, curled up on Simm’s stomach, but he lifted his head as she walked in, and his curly tail wagged in greeting.

  The movement didn’t wake Simm until Charlie came closer, and Harley stood up to stretch, his little nails digging into Simm’s abdomen.

  ‘Ow, what the hell?’

  ‘Time to go,’ she said.

  ‘Is it? Already?’

  ‘Are you being sarcastic?’

  ‘Never. How did you last so long? You must be dead tired.’

  ‘I am, but I’m a happy dead tired. It’s good to be back to a normal life again.’

  Neither of them mentioned the fact that her life was not necessarily normal yet. They still had a potential stalker out there somewhere, not to mention a promise made to one Mafia boss to send an inflammatory message to another Mafia boss.

  Charlie collapsed in bed as soon as they arrived at Simm’s apartment. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow, with Harley curled up on the comforter beside her feet. A few hours later, she woke and glanced at the clock as Simm climbed into bed beside her. She wondered for barely a second what had taken him so long to come to bed before she fell asleep again. She didn’t even think for a moment about the fact that he was sleeping in the same bed as her without a barricade of pillows between them.

  The following morning, he was still unconscious when she went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Happy to be home, she threw together a batch of pancakes, along with eggs and bacon.

  ‘What’s that smell? I do
n’t think I’ve ever had anything smell so good in this place.’

  Charlie smiled.

  ‘I was in the mood to cook.’

  Simm gratefully set the table, and they sat down to enjoy their breakfast.

  ‘Why were you up so late? You couldn’t sleep?’

  ‘Uh no, I was doing research.’

  ‘On what?’

  He set down his fork and looked at her.

  ‘I was validating your birth certificate.’

  Charlie didn’t like his tone. She moved her gaze to her plate. Her breakfast didn’t seem so appetizing any longer.

  ‘There’s no record of your birth in Quebec,’ he said.

  She looked up at him.

  ‘I have a birth certificate. You saw it. You have a copy of it.’

  ‘It’s fake. It’s a very good one, but you weren’t born here.’

  Her heart plunged to settle in the vicinity of her stomach.

  ‘They were my parents.’

  ‘Of course, they were. Just because you may not be their biological child doesn’t mean they weren’t your parents. It’s the same for all adopted children.’

  ‘So, that’s what this is all about? The fact that I was adopted from Ireland, and not necessarily through the proper channels?’

  ‘I think so,’ Simm said.

  ‘I don’t understand. If they wanted to adopt a child, why didn’t they just do it legally?’

  ‘Maybe the process was too long, or too difficult. Maybe they wanted an Irish-born child. I don’t know. I can’t speak for them, but the fact remains that you were seemingly brought here with the help of Aidan Connelly and Jim O’Reilly.’

  ‘Jim was his middle man,’ she said, the truth of her parentage sinking in.

  ‘I would guess so.’

  ‘Do you think I was stolen from someone, or given up willingly?’ Charlie’s voice was almost inaudible.

  Simm shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘I don’t know which is worse, knowing someone mourned a lost child, or knowing someone didn’t want me.’

  ‘We have a lot of unanswered questions.’

  ‘Like what? What are you thinking?’

  ‘Like were you stolen, were you given up but taken out of Ireland through illegal channels, or are you one of Connelly’s own children?’

  ‘Oh God, I hope not. This is all bad enough, but the thought that I could be the daughter of that monster…,’ she said, pushing her plate aside.

  ‘The probability is low. I’m thinking he trafficked hundreds of babies. And I’m thinking the guy in the dark suit was one of them.’

  Charlie’s eyes widened.

  ‘Of course. You’re right. He said he literally owed his life to Aidan. That’s why he was doing whatever Aidan told him to do. He was adopted by someone.’

  ‘And maybe he was Aidan’s biological son,’ Simm added.

  Charlie’s brain was sifting through all the possibilities.

  ‘What about Sullivan? He’s tied to this too. He told us to keep quiet about whatever we found.’

  ‘Yes. He has a son. He’s thirty years old. I saw his picture. He doesn’t look anything like his father.’

  ‘Another one. And another friend of Jim’s,’ Charlie said.

  ‘But there’s another question that hasn’t been answered.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Who is sending you the letters, and why?’

  Chapter 61:

  Every morning, Simm caught up on the news, getting the highlights of what was happening in the world. Most mornings it had little effect on him, but today one of the headlines was the announcement of the death of business and real estate magnate, Winston Simmons, the Second. It was accompanied by a picture of the man he hadn’t seen in over ten years. It was a recent photo, showing the ravages of age, sickness, and a good dose of payment for his sins.

  Simm had noticed a missed call from his brother the previous evening and he guessed Walt had either wanted to convince him to talk to his father one last time or to inform him of his death. Either way, he didn’t regret missing the call.

  Simm didn’t want to feel anything, but he did. He felt the pain of loss. Not the loss of his father, because that was a pain he had suffered and gotten over long ago, but the pain of all he had lost because of this man. The picture revived all those memories. He knew he shouldn’t, but he hoped the old man had suffered during his final days, as he had made others suffer during his lifetime.

  Simm’s cell phone rang beside his elbow. He recognized Charlie’s name on the display and had a sense of foreboding.

  ‘Simm, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t kill him.’

  ‘I know you’re joking to cover up your pain.’

  ‘Charlie, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘I understand.’

  He had at last found a way to get her to stop digging. Maybe he was onto something here.

  ‘I know it’s early yet, but when you know the details for the funeral, I’d like to go.’

  Simm wanted to groan out loud, but he suppressed it. She now had a new bone to chew on.

  ‘Charlie, I’ve got to let you go. I have another call coming in,’ he lied.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you later. Keep your chin up.’

  Simm set aside the phone and put his head in his hands. She wouldn’t rest until she witnessed him bawling his eyes out at the funeral, proclaiming to everyone who would listen how much he loved his father.

  He would have to be very creative to get out of this.

  His phone rang again. This time, it was Walt.

  ‘Did you hear?’

  ‘Yes, I saw it on the news.’

  ‘He died peacefully.’

  Simm was tempted to say he died very differently than he had lived, but again he held his tongue.

  ‘Why don’t you come over to the house today?’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  This time, when he hung up, he knew he had appeased his brother more handily than he had Charlie. He had no desire to go to that house. When he left it ten years earlier, he had made a vow, and he intended to keep it.

  Chapter 62:

  Even though Simm had described the place to her, she was still taken aback. It was so luxurious Charlie had no idea how any ordinary person could afford it.

  It had been Simm’s idea to visit Sylvie O’Reilly this morning. Charlie thought there were better things he could be doing on the occasion of his father’s death, despite his apparent hatred for the man, but Simm was insistent. So, she decided he probably needed the distraction.

  As it had been for Simm, there was no problem being admitted to Mrs. O’Reilly’s room. Charlie was shocked to see the woman looking so frail and helpless. She had been a bit of a princess, but a very healthy and vibrant princess. She remembered the contrast between her and Charlie’s mother, who had seemed dowdy compared to the bejeweled and fashionably dressed Sylvie.

  Was that what had led Jim to organized crime? Was that why he had helped Aidan Connelly traffic babies? To keep his beautiful wife in jewels and clothing? Charlie knew he had adored the woman, but she never thought he would sacrifice his principles for her sake. But, maybe he’d thought he was doing something good. Maybe he sincerely believed he was saving the lives of children. It’s possible Jim had been brainwashed by Connelly.

  It wasn’t just Sylvie’s appearance that was distressing. Her reaction to their arrival was extreme, at least
from Charlie’s point of view. The woman’s eyes widened in something resembling fear, and her body pressed backward in the chair, as if she wanted to distance herself from them.

  ‘Sylvie, it’s me, Charlie. Do you remember me?’

  ‘There’s no need to introduce yourself. I think the fact that she recognizes you is the problem,’ Simm said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s what we need to find out.’

  Simm pulled up a chair and sat facing the older woman, almost touching knees with her.

  ‘Hello, Mrs. O’Reilly. I think you remember me also, don’t you?’

  Her gaze narrowed on him.

  ‘I have a few more questions to ask you this time. I’m sure you don’t mind.’

  Charlie recognized the sarcasm in his voice, and was about to tell him to be gentler with the older women when she observed the expression on Sylvie’s face. It was pure hatred, and it seemed to be directed at both of them.

  ‘We’ve discovered a lot of things since my last visit. It seems your husband dabbled in other activities besides laundering money. He had another side business, didn’t he?’

  Sylvie O’Reilly turned her head to the window. A small amount of drool came out of the side of her mouth, and Charlie was tempted to wipe it off for her, but she didn’t think her help would be appreciated.

  ‘Did you know he was trafficking babies for adoption in Canada?’

  Her trembling hand lifted to wipe away the drool with a tissue then moved toward the emergency button. Simm took the gadget and moved it out of her reach.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Do you know where those babies went?’

  The old woman wasn’t a very good poker player. Her gaze jerked to Charlie and returned to the window almost instantly.

  ‘Yes, the Butlers got one. Who else? Did Marty Sullivan get one also?’

  This time, the look on her face could only be described as terror. She shook her head vehemently.