Grace and Disgrace (27 page)

Tuohay leaned back, astonishment registering on his face. “
Anna
?”

“Eighteen years ago Anna and Sara ran away from Father Aiden Kearney when they discovered that Anna was pregnant, afraid of his reaction. To make matters worse, the father of the unborn child was a priest, Father Abrams Valentine. It seems it was no coincidence on the part of Abrams.”

“Meaning?”

Thayer frowned. “If you are Father Abrams, what better way is there to get back at a muckraking, holier-than-thou priest like Father Aiden Kearney than to sleep with the sanctimonious priest’s niece?”

Tuohay sighed. “She was just a piece in Abram’s game.”

“Anna and Sara fled to another uncle, Doctor Kearney, who took them in,” Thayer continued. “He delivered the boy, and kept the whole scandal hush-hush. He got Colin set up at the Trinitarians of Mary convent, with help from Valentine’s uncle, Father Donnelly. It’s been a well-kept secret for eighteen years.”

“Why didn’t you share this information with me earlier? That ties Doctor Kearney and Anna to Abrams Valentine, as well as Father Donnelly.”

“Everyone has secrets. Especially lawyers.” Thayer massaged his temples as if struck by a sudden headache. With a weak smile, he indicated Tuohay’s right-hand coat pocket.

“I think I’ll take that drink now, inspector.”

The seismic rattle of the tracks above the Winthrop Street rooftops of Charlestown did not elicit a response from the man standing in their shadow. To a newcomer the thunderous clanking and groaning would have caused an involuntary shudder as any number of unfortunate scenarios ran through the imagination, the most common that the sky was falling with a metallic roar. But to a true Charlestownian the reverberation was nothing more than the common occurrence of a train passing along the elevated tracks.

Tuohay lit a clove-scented cigarette and peered from his gloomy roost to the snake-like creation above him. The El was an unmistakable intrusion upon the old historic city, meandering through the tight-knit communities like an unwanted guest and arching over the bunkered homes in a wave of skeletal metal. Responsible for an influx of industrial business, including a boom to the previously well-established Naval Yard, the El was looked upon as a mixed blessing by the community. An eyesore in a seaside port with such worldly attractions as the Bunker Hill Memorial and Patrick Keely’s masterful St. Mary’s Church, it was truly representative of the evolving industrial age.

Tuohay looked upon it with disdain.

Checking his watch, he stood and stretched his leg, leaning on his cane for support as he struck out towards the heart of Charlestown.

He stopped at a crossroads, a thick stream of horse-and-buggy traffic rumbling past. Picking the right moment, he crossed at a brisk clip, despite his sickly complexion and barely concealable limp. He shifted his top hat to deflect the sun shining through the elevated tracks above.

The resounding clatter of the tracks grew in intensity as a train rumbled overhead, drowning out all other sounds. Tuohay muttered under his breath as debris floated down from the tracks like fine snow. Brushing himself off, he continued in the direction of his destination.

A few minutes later, Tuohay was craning his neck, eyeing the three-story brick building before him. “Doctor Kearney’s apartment building,” he murmured, checking the rumpled note from McNamara. “Third floor.”

He stepped back into the shadows and waited. Within fifteen minutes, a woman in a rose-hued tailored blouse and white skirt marched down the sidewalk, the black parasol in her hands nearly leaping from her hands at a strong breeze, but she continued unabated. A fashionable straw hat entwined with roses completed the ensemble, and matched the burgundy curls framing her eyes.

“Miss Eliza.” Tuohay stepped from his perch.

“Jack,” Eliza nodded. Her lips were painted a soft red, matching the rogue faintly applied to her cheeks.

“We are apart two hours and you return transformed.” He shook his head in wonder. “Truly, I never would have guessed that you have barely slept in the last two days.”

“A girl’s got her methods.” She cast a critical eye at Tuohay. “You could have used some help, though. You look a fright.”

“Appreciate the opinion.”

“It’s a
fact
, Jack. Trust me.”

“Point taken.” He met her gaze. “You did remember to stop at Riley’s, of course?”

Eliza patted the black velvet purse hanging at her side. “You bet.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” she continued, her eye catching the end of a newspaper sticking from her purse. “Seen this yet?” She freed the paper from the purse’s embrace.

“I am afraid not.”

“Take a gander.”

Tuohay accepted the paper and stepped into the sunlight for a better view.

GRABBED FROM THE GRAVE

Final Resting Place of Priest Believed to be
Hiding Place of Templar Diamond.

Grave Robbers Take Everything, Including Remains.

Police Stumble Across the Scene Too Late.

DIAMOND STILL AT LARGE.

“The coffin was empty,” Tuohay said, slapping the paper against his leg with enthusiasm. “Just as we suspected.”

“Just as
you
suspected,” Eliza corrected him. “And the imaginary ‘grave robbers’ got the wrap for cleaning out the casket, including the Templar Diamond.” Eliza smirked. “Quite the leap, even for a newspaper. You should read the rest of the article, it’s a dandy.”

“Inspector Frost needed a legitimate reason to permit the dig, so there you have it.” Tuohay stuffed the paper back into her purse. “I have the information I need, in any case.”

“Which is?”

“The death of the Nephew—Father Abrams Valentine—was fabricated, and only someone with medical knowledge could have helped pull it off.”

“Doctor Kearney?”

“I am leaning towards Father Donnelly.
Imhotep
himself.”

“So Father Robert Donnelly
was
involved in this whole thing?”

“The shadows of deceit are beginning to disperse before the light of truth—ah, there’s our man.” Tuohay pointed down the street. The rotund form of Eldredge in a dapper gray suit and blue ascot emerged from a small crowd. He strolled about almost aimlessly, looking into storefronts and pausing at various stoops, his course only slightly angled in their direction. Occasionally he bent down as if strangely fascinated with the ground.

“What in high heaven is he doing?” Eliza asked. “Is he drunk?”

“I believe that is his version of acting covertly.” 

“Hasn’t he ever just taken a walk? You know, down the street like a regular joe? The old ‘hide in plain sight’ routine.”

“He does things his own way, as you are well aware.”

Eliza smiled at that. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you two.”

After several minutes Eldredge finally sidled up to them, not addressing either until he was within whispering distance. Even then, he allowed only the slightest nod as he reached into his pocket for a pipe, fumbling about a bit. Finally he extracted it and a lighter.

He cleared his throat and murmured, “Greetings.”

Eliza suppressed a laugh. “And a firm and cheery greetings to you, good sir.”

Eldredge cast a confused glance at Eliza. “What?”

Getting no response but a smile, he took a step backwards so he could whisper to Tuohay. “I wasn’t followed. Sure of it, my good man.”

“Splendid.” Tuohay regarded his friend. “Did you have any good fortune with your work last night?”

“The RIC code is broken, thanks in part to your recollection of key words. As you anticipated, it was operational details. Times, locations, names. Everything and anything needed to locate the diamond for a heist.”

“And the other task?”

“I visited a friend at the customs house this morning; found our man on an 1896 passenger list—the
Carinthia
, Cunard Line. Belfast to Liverpool, from there to Boston.”

“What man?” Eliza asked.

“Father Abrams Valentine, sailing to America due his sickness,” Tuohay replied. “It appears he was, in fact, near Belfast during the time of the diamond crime.” He turned back to Eldredge. “We’ll review the RIC information in more detail after our visit to Doctor Kearney. No time now.”

Eliza addressed Tuohay. “Jack, was it really necessary to go through this whole rigmarole? Three separate routes to the doctor’s apartment? If Inspector Frost wanted, he could just snag us now like three peas in a pod. He knows we’re here, remember?”

“He won’t interfere,” Tuohay replied. “If he plays his cards right, he benefits from our findings. But there are others on the lookout. For your own sake, it’s best that you and Eldredge are not seen in public with me.”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Not that again. But I guess I asked for it this time.” She looked up at the apartment building. “Can we go in, already?”

“Yes.” Tuohay led the way up the stone staircase to the front door of the building, his cane clicking in time with his steps. “It’s time to get to the bottom of the good doctor’s role, if any, in Mary Hart’s death.”

“Inspector Tuohay!”

Tuohay, Eliza, and Eldredge turned as one at the voice from the street. They were at the top of the landing, entering the doctor’s building. A woman in a slim pea green dress was approaching, her threadbare jacket hunched at the shoulders.

The troubled face of Sara Conall came clearly into view as she reached the building, and she raced up the steps, her cheeks red from hurrying.

“Miss Conall,” said Tuohay, wonder registering in his voice, “what are you doing here?”

“Considering this is my uncle’s flat, I believe the question is more appropriate pointed at the three of you.” She crossed her arms to ward of a sudden breeze. “McNamara visited me this morning and told me of your plans to visit my uncle.”

Eliza craned her neck so she could see past Sara. “Is that man with you? A friend of McNamara’s, maybe?”

The group shifted their gaze to a man in an olive suit leaning against a post supporting the elevated trolley tracks. One hand was thrust in his coat pocket, a newspaper squeezed to his body by the same arm. He held a burning cigarette in the other hand, which he raised to his lips.

“No, I’ve never seen him before,” Sara replied.

“Well, we have,” Eliza muttered.             

“Inside, quickly,” Tuohay ordered, corralling the group with his free arm and waving them into the dark passageway of the tenement building.

“What’s going on?” Sara demanded as the front door closed behind them.

“We are here to pay your uncle a visit,” Tuohay said, looking down the narrow passageway. “I was told that the police have him listed as possible suspect in Mary Hart’s death. There are details I need to ask him about that.”

“He would never hurt her,” Sara replied, her voice soft. “He is not that kind of man.”

“I understand,” said Tuohay. “But I still need to talk to him.” He motioned towards a rickety staircase with a grimace. “It appears we will have to take the stairs.”

Sara glanced at Tuohay’s cane and stopped his forward motion with a touch of her hand. “There is a lift. Follow me.”

The three partners followed the woman in the green dress down the narrow hallway, reaching a lobby with several hallways escaping from it. A rectangular exit was established to their left, closed off by a rather fanciful iron gate.

Sara led them to it and pulled the gate open, which folded upon itself with a high-pitched whine. Guiding them through, she followed and closed the gate. They were standing on a small lift, a silver handle protroduing from a gear-works box marked with floor numbers.

Eliza frowned. “There is no operator for the lift?”

“No,” Sara replied, “the building is owned by a cooperative who did not deem it necessary to hire an operator to move a lift up and down.” For emphasis, she took hold of the gear and shifted it to the marker for ‘3’. The lift rumbled to life beneath their feet and slowly began its ascent.

Tuohay turned to Sara, raising his voice over the clamor caused by the squealing winch and pulleys. “Care to tell us what you are doing here?”

Sara’s frown warned of dark news. “I came to Boston as soon as I received word of Mary’s condition, and stayed at a hotel last night. I was at the hospital yesterday when they declared her…declared her dead.” She forced the last statement out with a lump in her throat. “I went back to the hospital this morning to meet up with my uncle. As I was waiting, Mr. McNamara appeared, looking haggard. He told me he had recently separated company from you, inspector, and that you were intending to see my uncle. It was at that moment that we heard from a frantic hospital worker that Mary Hart’s body had somehow been stolen from the autopsy table.”

The statement elicited a round of exclamations from the listeners, accentuated by the grinding halt of the lift as it reached the third floor. Eldredge moved the gate aside, and the group waited in a hush until they were clear of the lift to continue the conversation.

“The body was stolen?” Tuohay peered at Sara with a hard gaze.

“Before the autopsy could be performed,” Eliza added. “Meaning the exact cause of death will remain a mystery.”

“That is what I heard,” Sara confirmed. “I looked for Uncle Sean at the hospital to establish the truth while McNamara went to find Mr. Thayer, but my uncle was nowhere to be found. It was corroborated by several other sources, and eventually the police arrived. That is when I decided to come here.”

The group followed Sara’s lead in disquieting silence, stopping at a door in the center of a windowless hallway. Sara drew a key from her coat pocket and fit it into the lock. Turning the doorknob, she opened the door a crack.

“Uncle Sean? It’s me, Sara. I am with Inspector Tuohay.” Her voice faded into the darkness of the apartment without a response. She called again, this time louder, but was met only with silence.

She turned back to Tuohay, concern in her emerald eyes. “He’s not here. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I have no authority to enter your uncle’s flat, but under the circumstances I deem it the necessary thing to do.”

After only a moment Sara nodded in agreement, and fully pushed the door open into the apartment. They entered one at a time, the oppressive heat of the room washing over them like a summer wave.