Grace and Disgrace (14 page)

Eliza stared into Tuohay’s eyes. “Do you believe that?”

“At this point, it is not about belief. It is about probability based on evidence.”

“But do you believe that?”

Tuohay hesitated. “To be forthright with you, I admit it is reasonable to entertain the possibility of a nefarious plot against the priest based on our current discoveries.”

“
It is reasonable to entertain the possibility
. Wow. You really know how to go out on a limb, Mr. District Inspector, 2
nd
Class.”

“We need
irrefutable
evidence.” Tuohay tapped his cane against the ground, brightening as a thought struck him. “And we can obtain it!”

“How?”

“The breakfast, like the cigar, was purportedly consumed by Father Donnelly. If the cigar was smoked by someone else, we can assume the breakfast was as well. And if that is the case, we can prove it.”

Eliza snapped her fingers. “Of course. By checking the contents of Father Donnelly’s stomach.”

Tuohay smiled grimly. “Yes. And now all that remains is getting that information from the autopsy.”

“Should we ask Inspector Frost?”

“Let’s start with the local constable. We will go to the Plymouth office together. He already knows I am part of the case, and should make allowances for one of us to stay.” He gave Eliza an apologetic smile.

“One of us to stay?” Eliza pursed her lips into a small frown. “You want me to remain here.”

“It would be best if one of us was present.”

“But the autopsy could be as late as tomorrow or the day after.”

Tuohay shook his head. “No. Despite Inspector Frost’s little act, he is also concerned about the circumstances of Father Donnelly’s death. The autopsy will be this evening, at the latest.”

“And your visit to Mary and Sara in Medfield?”

“Onward as planned, but we will need to telegram Sara that I will be late.” He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and propped it in the corner of his mouth. Locating a match, he lit it and quickly transferred the flame. The cherry glow at the end of the rolled paper expanded as he drew the smoke in.

Eliza waited until Tuohay had exhaled before plucking the cigarette from his mouth. “You do realize what it means if Father Donnelly was actually murdered, don’t you?”

“It means there is a killer out there who is not only attentive to our activities, but intimately knows our every step and is resorting to deadly violence to fulfill his dark purposes before we can stop him.”             

Eliza took a long drag of the cigarette and exhaled with a rueful look, wisps of smoke rising past her eyes. “Dramatic, Jack, but not what I was getting at. What it means is that I was right.”             

The six o’clock C-line rattled along the tracks at a generous clip, discharging handfuls of white-hot sparks from the wires. Tuohay watched the heavily wooded countryside run past in an olive blur as he gripped the worn leather ceiling-strap in support. The trolley windows were open, allowing a deluge of fresh air to run through the sparsely populated cabin. It carried with it the smell of a recent rain and thin rivulets ran off the top of the trolley, the silver water sheared into spray by the turbulent air.

Tuohay searched the evening scenery for distant, immovable matter. His eyes focused on hills, lakes, fields. These entities passed much slower than the scenery close at hand, creating a sense of permanency. He spotted a red-tailed hawk gliding lazily above a sparsely wooded knoll. The hawk floated gently with the wind, allowing the air to push it higher without straining its faculties. It reached the apex of the draft and began to circle downward again, its wings never varying from their outstretched position.  The hawk disappeared from Tuohay’s view as the trolley dipped below a line of trees, and he was once again mindful of the hurtling express. A cider mill emerged suddenly, its abundant flock of apple trees blurring past. Beyond the mill a cluster of homes marked the perimeter of Medfield center.

“Medfield ahead! Last stop!” the driver called, ringing the bell. Tuohay gritted his teeth at the clanging of the bell just above his head. The trolley slowed in increments, jerking with each change of speed. The forest melted away as the town center expanded to greet the newcomers. Neighborhoods grew denser, and threads of adjacent tracks appeared from different directions, combining like the center of a web to terminate in front of the clapboard station, the last stop on the line. Several packed dirt roads ran from it in various directions.

The shadows had lengthened considerably by the time the trolley screeched to a stop. Alighting from the electric transport with a handful of commuters, Tuohay leaned on his cane and looked about. Behind him, the grille of a large steam engine smiled with iron teeth, clouds of black smoke belching from its pipe. The sky above was darkening rapidly, with the faint promise of early starlight emerging from the heavenly depths.

A dry tickle in his throat encouraged him to draw out his flask. After taking a quick tug of the warm brandy, he left the train depot and walked towards the center. Coming upon Main Street, he spotted Sara under an old willow tree, its spindly branches hovering over her like a veil. She was wearing the thin white dress and apron of a nurse’s uniform, but the traditional cap had been replaced by a more fashionable straw hat. He was struck by the distinctive pose she held, a white spirit hidden beneath the streaming tears of the weeping boughs.

“Miss Conall,” he said in greeting as he descended under the hanging branches. He grimaced as the uneven ground caused his bad leg to buckle. “A quaint choice of meeting places, though I would have preferred something indoors.”             

Sara ran one of the budding leafs through her fingers. “This area is one of seclusion that I use to set my mind at ease after a day at the asylum. But not to worry, Inspector Tuohay. Indoors it shall be.” She led him back to the road, her hurried step causing great discomfort for Tuohay as he struggled back up the slope. She took him to North Street, a well-kept road lined with gated residences. In the near distance the white spire of a church rose towards the purple sky.

“Thank you for meeting me,” said Tuohay. “I take it you received Miss Eliza’s telegram about my delay?”

“Yes. I thought she was coming as well?”

“Unforeseen circumstances prevented it.”

Sara slowed her pace. “Is it true that Father Donnelly is dead?”

“It is.”

“What does that mean?”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something. That is what I am trying to discern.” Tuohay leaned against his cane. “Miss Hart told us that she was staying with you. I believe she has more information about the recently deceased priest.”

“Was his death of natural causes?” Doubt dripped thick in Sara’s voice.

“I am investigating all possibilities, Miss Conall.”

“Call me by Sara, if you please.”

“As you wish.”

Sara had stopped walking. “Inspector, I am sorry to say that Miss Hart is not currently in Medfield with me. My uncle, Doctor Kearney, had her moved to another one of our trusted friends for safekeeping as soon as we heard of Father Donnelly’s death.”

Tuohay frowned at the news. “I see.”

“However, I will give you the particulars of her current location.”

Tuohay coughed lightly into his sleeve. “I would be appreciative of that.”

“But first…there is a man who will be meeting with us briefly.”

Tuohay’s brows raised. “A man?”

Sara stared straight ahead, her face expressionless. “He works for the police, but is ill-intentioned.” She began walking again, her brisk pace a struggle for Tuohay to maintain.

“Who is he, if I may ask?”

“Inspector Dennis Frost.” Sara noticed her pace and slackened. “He arrived thirty minutes before you did. I have heard from my Uncle Sean that you are familiar with him.” Accusation tolled like a bell in her voice.

“Indeed.” Tuohay’s mood darkened. “I did not anticipate that he would act
this
quickly.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I have brushed shoulders with the inspector several times during the investigation, including this morning in Plymouth. He has made no secret of the fact that he is running an inquiry in parallel with mine.”

“Parallel. Are you sure he is not one step ahead?”

“I may walk with a cane but I assure you I am quick to the cut.” Tuohay grimaced. “I simply must bear his presence. He works for the Boston brass, who have partnered with me—with who I work for, the RIC.”

“
You
must bear his presence?” Sara’s face darkened. “He has a wicked tongue, and he’d steal the sugar out of your punch the moment you weren’t looking. Three years ago he lied under oath about poor Uncle Aiden—about Aiden taking up with streetwalkers and such lewdness. Inspector Frost claimed that the girls—Mary Hart, Kathryn Dwyer, Susan Lovelace—came running to the authorities with their stories when they heard about Uncle Aiden’s lawsuit against the Church. But the truth is that Frost approached
them
. He offered them money to lie on the stand, and then substantiated their claims with his own fallacies.”

“So I was told by Mary Hart and your uncle Sean.”

Sara’s voice dropped as they passed a church, but lost none of its venom. “He made a mockery of everything Uncle Aiden stood for. Inspector Frost lied under the eyes of God and man, and curse him to hell for it. Him and those in the Church who he did it for. Even now he watches us, just as
they
have watched my family since my uncle’s trial against the archbishop.” Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the church. Tuohay followed her gaze, but the shadows had lengthened considerably, and little could be discerned.

“He is a dangerous man, Mr. Tuohay,” Sara concluded.

The conversation died upon the thin breeze at that, and they walked in silence until coming to a small pond by the side of the road.

“He will meet us here,” she said, walking over to the grassy bank.

“How did his arrival come about?”

“He spotted me under the willow tree as I was waiting for you. Showed me his badge as if I needed reminding of who he was.” She ground the toe of her shoe into the dirt. “He wanted to know where Miss Hart was, though he would not say why. I told him you were on your way, which seemed not to surprise him at all. He nodded and ordered me to wait by the pond with you upon your arrival.”

The stars began to glow in the moonless darkness, casting a pale light off the unbroken surface of the pond. Glancing at the mirror-like sheen of the water, Tuohay pondered the reflection of the glowing sooth-sayers in the sky.

“What do you see?” Sara asked.

“Sorry?”

“The stars. You are looking at their reflection.” Her voice softened. “Back in Ireland, my brother Richard and I used to spend long hours looking at them, trying to figure out what messages lay hidden within their glowing patterns. I miss him so,” she added with soft but icy bitterness.

“I am afraid there are no hidden messages in the stars, Sara.”

Sara blushed. “It was a childhood fancy, is all.”

“So it was.” Tuohay leaned on his cane as he looked out into the growing darkness. “See there. The inspector approaches from the road.”

Sara crossed her arms against the growing chill but said nothing.

Tuohay nodded in the direction of the rapidly approaching Frost. “I must ask you something of importance.”

Sara appeared wary. “Yes?”

“The night of our interview at the law firm of McBarronThayer….there was someone there watching us,
listening
to us.” His eyes met hers. “Are you being threatened, Miss Conall? Or are you making a game of this? A dangerous game, at that.”

Sara clenched her hands into fists. Her eyes narrowed. “I am risking everything just talking to you, so do not make a mockery of my trust.”

Tuohay stared at Sara. “Was it him? Inspector Frost?”

“I…cannot say.”

“But you do not deny it.”

“I am no perjurer, like him.” Sara turned away as Frost closed the gap, his hands thrust in his pockets. A scowl was visible as he reached them, despite the fact that his face was hidden by the collar of his trench coat.

“We meet again, inspector,” said Frost. “Funny thing, that.”

“Quite.”

The tension between Sara and Frost was as tight as a noose, strangling any kindness between them into a gasping silence.

“I’ve been officially assigned to look more closely into the death of Father Donnelly,” said Frost, ignoring the daggers in Sara’s eyes, “and also been told to keep a closer eye on you, Tuohay, and this Templar Diamond business.”

“Looking forward to your company, inspector.”

Frost glanced furtively at Tuohay. “Come with me for a minute.” He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper as he pulled Tuohay several feet from Sara. “Despite whatever the missus here may have told you, I’m the good guy. No doubt she’s relayed quite the tragic tale of the corrupt police investigator in the pocket of the archbishop who hired prostitutes to lie on the stand against her uncle. I’ve heard it before, and no doubt that Doctor Kearney was waxing your ears with the same. Rubbish, Tuohay! Those prostitutes were tellin’ the truth on the stand, and I did my work proper.”

“I appreciate your candor,” said Tuohay.

“So you’re alright with me.”

Tuohay drifted back towards Sara, his tone conversational. “You do know that Miss Hart is no longer staying with Miss Conall?”

Frost frowned. “Was I supposed to?”

“I have to be at the asylum before sunrise, Inspector Tuohay,” Sara said, her arms crossed against the growing cold. “If you and Inspector Frost have need of me, we should make it a brief meeting at my place. Either way, I am heading back.” She started towards the road.

“A nightcap, then?” Frost replied with a smirk.

Sara frowned.

“We will not intrude for long,” Tuohay promised, following after her. He removed a clove cigarette from his pocket and lit it, closing his eyes as the promise of tremors in his leg slowly subsided.

“Quite the habit you’ve got there,” Frost remarked. “You were shaking like a Sunday Quaker before you got a draw of those cloves.”

“Not just observant, but allegorical.”

Sara was walking ahead, and Frost took the opportunity to continue his private conversation with Tuohay. “Keep a sharp eye on that one there. Did you know that she ran away with her sister from her beloved Uncle Aiden after he became their guardian? They were gone for over nine months, disappeared—there were rumors of drunkenness and abuse.”

“No, I was not privy to that.”

“And you call yourself an investigator,” Frost snorted. “It’s all in the court documents. I suggest you read them, since it’s clear that Sara wasn’t sharing of the darker side of their history with you. May open your eyes to the real goings on around here.”

The small party continued up North Street in silence. The townhouses, set back behind vine-covered fences, remained hidden from view save for an occasional glow through the hedges. Arising from the trees behind the three companions, the spire of the Universalist Unitarian church struck at the night like a lance.

“Sara, when we were by the pond you mentioned your brother Richard’s death,” Tuohay said, tilting his face towards her. “Was Father Kearney close at hand during that time?”

“An interesting question,” Frost cut in from a few steps behind Sara. “What is the relevance, Tuohay?”

“I know why he is asking,” said Sara, her voice a whisper. “And the answer is yes, he was close at hand.”

Tuohay dug up a patch of dirt with his cane as he walked. “When I questioned you the first time, Miss Conall, I discovered that your family’s relocation to America was your Uncle Aiden’s burden. It was he who brought your mother and her children—Richard, Anna, yourself—to America, to follow him to a land where life would be better for you all.” A crimson light emphasized his hollow cheeks as he breathed his clove cigarette. He inhaled on the cigarette slowly, a sprinkling of red embers hurtling to the ground like falling stars. “But then again, he
was
a priest, and priests know things that ordinary people do not. Or so his sister—your mother—must have believed.”