A June of Ordinary Murders (33 page)

If so, it would probably not be good news, Swallow reckoned. It was bad enough to be at a full stop on three deaths. But what if they were to be connected? Failure would be the ultimate challenge and humiliation – a series of related murders but without any significant prospect of solving them.

He replaced the bag in the box and re-tied the string, then he went downstairs to the parade room and placed the package in his personal locker. If the investigation by Smith Berry's men ever got to the point at which they would come looking for the bag, which he greatly doubted, he would be able to produce it.

He realised that he felt cut off and adrift as never before in a serious crime investigation.

In the ordinary course of events, a new breakthrough or a sudden insight would have had him making straight for the inspector's office or even to John Mallon himself. He would want to tap into the wisdom and knowledge of other experienced detectives. He would have asked for a photographic technician to take pictures of the bag, and especially of the label with its ‘WATKINS OF LIVERPOOL' stamp.

Now, though, the normal operating rules were suspended. There was no one in the chain of command to whom he could turn. For whatever reason, it was clear that G Division was not going to be allowed to continue its investigation into the death of Sarah Hannin. If he spoke to Boyle or any of his colleagues about the possibility of some connection between the three deaths he might find himself taken off the Chapelizod Gate murders as well.

One person he could talk to in confidence was Harry Lafeyre.

He glanced at the wall-clock. Lafeyre would be at the City Morgue until 1 o'clock, at which time, Swallow knew, he generally went to his house at Harcourt Street to have lunch and later to see his private patients.

He left the detective office and hailed a cab outside the Cork Hill gate. He gave the driver the address of the Morgue at Marlborough Street and settled back into the stiff upholstery for the short drive across the river. He was glad of the current of cooler air that came through the cab windows as it moved through the heat of the city.

As he dismounted at Marlborough Street, Swallow saw Lily Grant taking leave of Lafeyre outside the building. He made an effort to sound light-hearted.

‘What are you doing here, Miss Grant?' he asked in a half-reproving, half-mocking tone. ‘Aren't you supposed to be encouraging artistic appreciation among the younger generation at Alexandra College and not keeping this industrious public official from his important work?'

Lafeyre grinned. ‘Well, this isn't a visit from my fiancée in any romantic sense. Lily is here helping me with what you rightly call my important work.'

Swallow raised an eyebrow interrogatively.

‘I'll explain.' Lafeyre pushed the door inwards. ‘Come up to the office. Can you stay a few extra minutes, Lily, to explain what we've been doing?'

‘Of course,' Lily said. ‘I don't have to be at Alexandra until 2 o'clock. You'll want to see this, Joe.'

They climbed the stairs to Lafeyre's office.

‘Yesterday I introduced you to a version of “Chapelizod Gate Woman,” but it wasn't anything like what we have now,' he told Swallow as he opened the door.

‘I spent four hours last night working on the plaster reconstruction, but the fact is I'm only a doctor. I really needed an artist – someone who could make the leap of imagination from the sinews and muscles that I could put in place to composing a set of features that would fit. So I sent for the assistance of the best art teacher in Dublin: Miss Grant of Alexandra College.'

He bowed mockingly and extended a hand towards the tabletop. ‘Now, let me introduce you to the new, improved version of “Chapelizod Gate Woman.”'

Swallow recognised the same contours of the clay head from the previous day, but now he was looking at something utterly different. The features had come alive under Lily's hand. Swallow was looking not at an assemblage of plaster and hair but at a recognisable individual.

When Swallow first saw the body in the copse of trees by the Chapelizod Gate on the previous Friday morning the face had been a travesty. Now he was looking at the features of a woman in her late twenties. The facial structure was thin and angular. The nose was somewhat flat, but the features were handsomely symmetrical. The eyes were prominent, bulging as if the woman had just seen something that had frightened her. They were blue-green, set in a complexion that Lily had painted in sallow flesh-tones.

A dark wig mimicked the hair that Swallow had seen above the ravaged face. The lips were firm rather than full. The forehead, where the circular bullet wound had been, was smooth and high, showing a little furrowing between the brows.

‘It's very realistic. But how do you know it's true to life?'

‘Harry's quite sure he reconstructed the bone and muscle structure along the lines set out by Professor Hiss,' Lily said, ‘so we know that the shape and the contours of the features are accurate. After that, I'm responsible for a bit of artistic licence, I suppose. I've made a guess about the skin tone. The eye colour is a bit of a guess too because the irises were completely destroyed. Insofar as Harry could make out, using the microscope on the fragments of tissue that were left, it seems they might have been green or blue. And as you know, there were some cysts around the sockets that would have made the eyes rather prominent.'

Swallow felt a surge of optimism.

‘We'll get this to all police stations and post offices. The newspapers can get etchings done from a photograph and they can print those. If the method is really as accurate as you say, Harry, this might get us somewhere.'

Lily interjected. ‘I really have to go now. I'll have to catch a tram in Sackville Street if I'm going to be on time.'

She kissed each of them in turn on the cheek.

‘Joe, we're seeing you and Maria for the theatre on Friday evening, isn't that right? I'm looking forward to it.'

When she had gone, Swallow told Lafeyre of the morning's developments. He recounted Boyle's refusal to process the warrant and the transfer of the Sarah Hannin investigation to Smith Berry's department.

Lafeyre shrugged.

‘That's how it is sometimes, I'm afraid. These fellows in the Upper Yard have their own plans and priorities. The death of a housemaid isn't going to weigh very heavily with them if it's a question of keeping the pressure off one of their protégés at a time like this.'

Swallow told him about the finding of the dead girl's bag with the ‘Watkins of Liverpool' label on the lining.

‘It's possible that there's some connection. When you look at the two cases, there
are
similarities.'

Lafeyre nodded. ‘I agree. It's a theory worth exploring. But if it's correct then you're dealing with a multiple killer.'

‘There's something else,' Swallow added. ‘You recall McDonald, the butler from Fitzpatrick's who came in here on Monday afternoon to identify Sarah Hannin?'

‘Of course. I thought I'd have to referee a boxing match between you in the examination room.'

‘There's more to him than meets the eye, and I feel it isn't anything good. He and I got off to a bad start. But I'm sure he was put out by Fitzpatrick to block us.'

Lafeyre shook his head in disagreement. ‘I'm not hearing much of the cool, detached crime detective here. You just don't like having your authority challenged.'

‘Maybe that's true. But I ran into Hetty Connors yesterday in Naughton's of Crow Street. She's the kitchen worker from Sir Patrick Dun's who called out Sarah Hannin's name when they took her from the water. She used to work in Fitzpatrick's. She told me that McDonald operates under an alias. His real name is McDaniel, she says, and she thinks he has a military background.'

‘Is that significant?'

‘It could be. Old soldiers don't change their names without a damned good reason. They draw their pension under their enlisted name, as you know. If you change your name, how do you get your money? Pat Mossop is trying to check him out with the Pay Master's office.'

‘Assuming, of course, that this Hetty Connors is telling the truth,' Lafeyre said.

‘I think she is,' Swallow said. ‘I caught her out thieving. She's stealing from all around her at the hospital I'd guess, and passing on whatever she collects to a known receiver called Tony Hopkins. But I got her red-handed and I put the fear of God into her.'

‘So what can you do?' Lafeyre asked.

‘I'm not entirely sure yet,' Swallow answered, ‘but I'll find a way of putting the thumbscrews on Mr McDonald, or Mr McDaniel, or whatever he calls himself.'

Lafeyre withdrew behind his desk and swivelled in his chair, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

‘Well, I've no doubt you'll do that. But let's look at the political canvas around this. It's clear that the authorities don't want any focus on Fitzpatrick. Maybe it's at his insistence. I can think of some reasons why one wouldn't want one's household raided if one were about to lead a royal welcoming party.'

‘There's one other possiblity,' Swallow said tentatively. ‘I think I can probably trace Sarah Hannin's background to the orphanage where she was raised.'

Lafeyre was doubtful. ‘How do you intend to do that?'

‘When I talked to Hetty Connors she told me that Sarah came to work at Fitzpatrick's from an institution in Queen's County. I believe it's a place called Greenhills House.'

Lafeyre nodded. ‘I know it. That's my part of the country. Greenhills is maybe 6 or 7 miles from Maryborough. It's a home for orphaned or abandoned girls. Roman Catholic, I'm sure. My father used to act as the attending doctor there from time to time when the regular man wasn't available.'

‘Well then, maybe you'd like a day out in the country,' Swallow laughed dryly. ‘They're expecting a visit from the Board of Educational Guardians any day now. And they're on the lookout for someone who might be able to help with an endowment. It seems they're running low on funds.'

He grinned. ‘Do you think I'll pass for an inspector of orphanages? You could be my assistant.'

Lafeyre shook his head in disbelief. ‘You can't be serious, Swallow. What have you done?'

‘I happened to get my hands on a couple of sheets of Board of Educational Guardians' notepaper. So I sent off a notification of an inspector's visit to the guardian, a Mr Pomeroy, I believe. I'd say it should have arrived today.'

Lafeyre rose from the chair. ‘What exactly are you proposing?'

‘I thought I might take a day's leave on Saturday and travel down by train. I can hire a car at Maryborough to get me out to this Greenhills place. I'd like to have a look through the files and see what we can find out about Sarah Hannin.'

‘But you're off the case.'

‘I'm off one murder inquiry, but I'm still the investigating officer on the Chapelizod Gate deaths. There may be a connection.'

‘You're splitting hairs. What you're proposing is completely irregular. There'll be hell to pay if it's discovered that you've gained access to confidential orphanage files by subterfuge. You'd be sacked and you'd deserve it.'

‘First, nobody will ever know. Second, I'm at the point where I don't really worry too much about being sacked. Third, it's a very small deception to write a note introducing oneself as an education inspector. Sure, you could come with me and we might have a day out in the country.' He grinned. ‘Fresh air, scenery and all that.'

‘I can't,' Lafeyre's tone was exasperated, ‘I've arranged to take Lily out on Saturday. We were planning to catch the train to Bray to walk the promenade. We're going to have lunch at one of the hotels by the sea.'

‘Well, just think of it as a change of venue. Bring her along. Instead of the seaside why not have your day out in the country? I'll try to persuade Maria to come too. We'll make an outing of it. In fact having two ladies with us could be very helpful. We can represent them as possible benefactresses looking for a suitable place to make an endowment.'

Lafeyre shook his head in disbelief. ‘I don't know. I'll have to talk to Lily. This is madness.'

He turned back to the files on his desk. ‘Let's try to advance things one at a time. I've had Scollan arrange to have the photographic technician come down here to take pictures of “Chapelizod Gate Woman.” I think the results are very good. There are three copies here for you.'

He handed a set of prints and a large envelope across the table to Swallow. Swallow glanced at the photographs. The images were crystal clear.

‘I'll agree they're very good,' he said. ‘I'll see if we can get some results by publicising these.'

He slid the prints into the envelope. ‘I'd like you to have a think about coming with me on Saturday,' he said in a gloomy tone. ‘I haven't had a lot of luck with these cases so far. I have to take any chance I can see.'

He walked back to the Lower Yard and exited the Castle through the Ship Street gate. His destination was the Dublin Metropolitan Police print shop.

Its staff of two printer-constables laboured daily in a Ship Street basement to produce the official forms and stationery that the force required for its bureaucracy. They also printed notices proclaiming rewards or posting descriptions of stolen property or missing persons. One of their principal tasks was to produce the official
Hue and Cry,
the weekly newssheet which contained such information.

Swallow requisitioned a sheet of plain paper and set out a notice in strong, clear capital letters.

DO YOU KNOW THIS WOMAN?

SHE WAS MURDERED IN THE PHOENIX PARK ON JUNE 16th or 17th LAST AS WAS A YOUNG BOY OF 8-10 YEARS.

IF YOU CAN IDENTIFY HER OR IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER, CONTACT THE DETECTIVE OFFICE, EXCHANGE COURT, DUBLIN CASTLE.