Grace and Disgrace (3 page)

“Right.” Eldredge extinguished one of the lamps as Miss Conall looked on with a questioning look.

Tuohay followed her gaze. “Mr. Eldredge is quite a capable man. He is not an errand boy, mind you. He will be an indispensable aid to my work here.” He flicked the last of his cigarette into the cold hearth and leaned back in his chair, the expression on his face hidden by the thin shadow that accompanied the subtraction of the light. “And you have met Eliza, of course. The woman who set up this interview while I was sailing to Boston from across the sea.”

“Is she why you left Boston for Belfast? A jilted romance?” Sara’s smile was thin. “She was tense with excitement at the news of your return.”

Tuohay appeared puzzled at Sara’s remark. “Hardly. My abandonment was of an entirely different nature. I am surprised your uncle did not tell you of it.” He exhaled softly, as if releasing the matter from his mind. “But to stay on topic, let us start with your relation to the deceased brothers.”

“My uncles. Father Aiden Kearney and Uncle Rian Kearney.”

“Yes.”

“Are you here to investigate their deaths? Or are you here to find the Templar Diamond?”

Tuohay tapped his cane lightly against the floor. “And when, pray tell, did I mention the Templar Diamond?”

“You did not,” said Sara, brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes. “But Uncle Aiden did.
Surely
you know that, inspector.
Surely
that is the reason you have taken the trouble to come all the way across the ocean to speak with me. Because I have information that you want about the lost diamond.”

Tuohay steepled his fingers. “Let me set the stage for you, Miss Conall. This week, I took a steamship across the Atlantic in pursuit of an alleged criminal named Kip Crippen. I am following him because it is possible that he is linked to the disappearance of the Templar Diamond, which occurred in Belfast in 1896.”

Sara seemed to pay closer attention at the mention of Kip Crippen. “Go on, inspector.”

“The diamond was mysteriously thieved while in transit from St. Peter’s Cathedral to a safe house in the city. Stolen despite the fact that there were two decoy carriages—each with an impenetrable safe within—three safe house locations, a series of hand-picked, armed guards, and highly specialized personnel coordinating the efforts throughout the city. I should know,” Tuohay added sourly, “I was on detail in the Gaeltacht Quarter when word reached us that the diamond had disappeared.”

“That must have been embarrassing for the Constabulary,” said Sara.

“More than you know,” admitted Tuohay. “However, a few months ago, and nearly six years after the crime, your late uncle Father Kearney rekindled interest in the case when he claimed to have come across evidence about the diamond’s disappearance. He did not specify how he came across it, but evidently he did so while gathering information for his appeal against the archbishop of Boston.” Tuohay leaned his chin on his fingers. “It was me he initially contacted, by telegram. He wanted to tell someone he could trust that was in a position to help.”

Sara’s gaze narrowed. “Is that the only factor that brought you here? A correspondence from my uncle?”

“No.” Tuohay nodded at Eldredge, who produced the letter and handed it to his curious neighbor. The silver ink glimmered in the firelight as Sara perused the contents. She handed it back with a thoughtful frown, but did not comment on it further.

“And now let me set the stage for
you
, Inspector Tuohay,” she said. “As you are aware, my Uncle Aiden and his brother Rian were both found dead in their shared flat on Kneeland Street two months ago. It was ruled a double suicide, but I wonder at the pronouncement. Are they dead because of what Uncle Aiden discovered about the diamond? Are they dead because somehow it was exposed that he contacted the authorities across the sea by telegram? That he contacted
you
?”

Tuohay was silent for a moment. “I pray not.”

“Praying is merely despair masked as hope,” Sara scolded. “So let us speak plain. You are here to determine what, if anything, my uncle may have told me that can help you in your search for the diamond. As simple as that.”

“The death of your uncles is prominent in my mind, but when skinned to the bone, yes,” Tuohay acknowledged. “My official business is to locate the stolen diamond.”

Sara sighed as if burdened by the confirmation. “Then let us start with that.”

“I apologize if I appear short with you, gentleman,” Sara began, smoothing her dress again with her hands. “But you must understand that my experiences in Boston have left me both wary and weary.” Her Irish accent left even less distinction between the two words.

“There is no need to apologize,” Eldredge said with a helpful smile.

“Both of you as well as your friend Eliza Wilding were once known as the Sleuthhound Club. Harvard and Radcliffe graduates moonlighting as…what would you call it? Consulting detectives?”

“It was an interesting diversion, yes,” said Tuohay. “We ran the Sleuthhound club for a few years before I dropped out of medical school and entered the Boston constabularies, and a short span of years afterward that. Understand Miss Conall, it was twenty years ago and we were amateurs, at best.”

“Yes, and twenty years ago Uncle Aiden hired you to help with his investigations,” said Sara. “He used your information with his own to build his case against the archdiocese and the archbishop.”

“He employed our skills on a few occasions,” confirmed Eldredge, “and though we may have suspected his reasons, we were never
in the know
regarding his intentions. Most of our work was to perform interviews with parishioners that had claims against the Church. I think he came to us because we were discreet.”

“He trusted you,” Sara said, “and continued to, some twenty years later. That is why he telegraphed you, Inspector Tuohay.” She stared at the two men as if to challenge her statement.

“Yes, he relied upon me,” said Tuohay.

“You were among the very,
very
few that he trusted by the end,” said Sara, her voice dropping to a whisper. She let the thought linger for a moment before straightening herself, forcing a pleasant smile across her face.

“So let us begin at the beginning—”

A loud rap at the front door echoed from the hallway.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Tuohay asked.

Sara’s gaze narrowed. “No, are you?”

The three sat in wait as the room dropped into a silence. The second succession of knocking reverberated like a warning through the house.

“Perhaps I should get it,” Eldredge offered. “My presence, of any, will raise the least amount of suspicion.”

“None of us belong to this law firm,” said Tuohay, “so I am afraid suspicion may be aroused regardless of who answers.”

“It shall
not
be me.” Sara’s tone left little room for argument.

Tuohay began to rise, but Eldredge leapt up to block his path. “No, Jack. I can handle it.”

Tuohay nodded in concession, his leg buckling slightly as he slid back into his chair. Eldredge left the room, and the sound of the front door opening was followed by a nasally, staccato voice.

“It’s the
papers
,” Sara hissed, her eyes widening. Tuohay confirmed his agreement with a concerned nod.

Eldredge’s raised voice preceded the slamming of the front door, and several moments later he reappeared in the room. He quickly drew the curtains, causing Sara to raise a worried hand to her mouth.

“A journalist?”

“Yes, by the name of Mountain,” said Eldredge, concern lining his voice. “He writes for the
Boston Evening Traveler
. He had a tip that an investigator from Scotland Yard was meeting with a client of McBarronThayer’s tonight about the lost Templar Diamond, and wanted me to comment for the record.”

“How in the blazes did he hear that?” Tuohay thundered. “Misinformed though it may be, it is close enough to the truth.” He turned to Sara with a flash in his eyes. “Who have you told about this interview?”

“I should ask you the same, inspector,” Sara snapped.

“A moment, please,” said Eldredge. “Let us not reach for one another’s throats. There is more than a fair share of people that are aware of this meeting, if I am not mistaken.”

Tuohay nodded reluctantly. “True, old friend. The Boston authorities, for one.”

“And Mr. McBarron and Mr. Thayer, and perhaps some of McBarron’s staff,” Sara added. “As well as my brother, Sean.”

“And Eliza,” said Eldredge.

“The point is valid,” Tuohay said, raising his hand in surrender. “I apologize, Miss Conall. I should not have come at you like I did. It is not relevant at this moment
how
he heard, but simply that he did and is no doubt waiting somewhere nearby.”

“I do not want to be publicly associated with this investigation,” said Sara, lines of worry creasing her face. She turned to Eldredge. “You said nothing to the journalist?”

“Nothing that he can put in the paper,” Eldredge replied with an embarrassed smile.

Sara did not appear soothed. “The papers have been unkind to my family over the years.
Very
unkind. Even with my uncles’ recent death…I could not bear it.”

“We will see to it that you remain nameless,” Tuohay reassured her.

“Either we wait Mr. Mountain out or try to give him the slip,” mused Eldredge, tapping the back of his chair with his knuckles.

“I am certain you will think of something,” Sara said, a soft confidence returning to her voice. “But we are here for a reason. Let us get to that first.”

Eldredge frowned. “But the journalist—”

“Let us at least share something meaningful so we have something to hide from him,” Sara said, the corner of her lips curled into a small smile.

Eldredge returned to his seat as Tuohay took a long draw on his clove cigarette. Flicking the remainder into the cold hearth, he turned to Sara. “Am I to assume you have something meaningful to share, then?”

“I have two letters, the same as yours.”

“Two?” Tuohay’s curiosity was piqued.

Sara carefully removed two pieces of parchment from a purse at her feet. They were on folded black paper. She handed them to Tuohay, who opened them one at a time as Eldredge jostled over to look. The silver penmanship was unmistakable.

The letters were identical in script and design to Tuohay’s letter, save for the salutations and the indented clues.

Dear Miss Sara Conall….

…Your information is as follows:

You uncle Aiden rightly took the archbishop to trial, but was ruined for it. Take comfort that unearthing the diamond will lead to the downfall of those your uncle opposed.

A man named Jack Tuohay will come to America in search of the diamond. He will find you. If you assist him, he will assist you in uncovering the truth. 

Dear Father Aiden Kearney…

…Your information is as follows:

You seek redemption. A ray of light: your nemesis, Father Robert Donnelly of Plymouth, played a role in the crime of the Templar Diamond.

But it is evidence you need, not mere whisperings in silver lettering. Ask his former lover, she knows his secrets. She will help you, if you help her. Start with the codex.

Tuohay handed the letters back. “When did you receive these?”

“About five months ago,” Sara replied, tucking them back into her purse. “Uncle Aiden gave me his for safekeeping after I told him that I had received one as well.”

“What trial are the letters referring to?” Eldredge asked.

Looking up, Sara’s green eyes were stark against the pale electric light. “My uncle discovered serious wrongdoing in the Church during his tenure as a priest,” she replied, “but rather than being heeded, he was ignored. Over twenty years of service, he was jostled from parish to parish, and with each departure he took with him accusations against his brethren of nepotism, concubines, mismanagement of property, nonpayment of salary…. The list was as exhaustive as it was disturbing. At first he was careful in how he shared it, but by the end he was quite willing to make it entirely known to the public at large. The press referred to him as a rabble rouser, among other things. Eventually, it got to the point where the archbishop cast my uncle out for good by removing his priestly faculties, his very livelihood.”

“And this led to a trial?” Eldredge prompted.

Sara smoothed her dress with steady hands. “Yes. Uncle Aiden took Archbishop Walsh to trial for recompense. Not an ecclesiastic trial. A trial in the public courts. Such a thing had never been done in Boston before. Perhaps all of America.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “The trial was a sensation in the press, but a disaster for my uncle. The defense attorneys destroyed my uncle’s character with
lie after lie
. Prostitutes took the stand and claimed that Uncle Aiden had relations with them—they turned his
very claims
about corruption on himself!
He
became the sinner in the eyes of the public, the transgressor.” She laughed with unrestrained bitterness. “He was devastated by the loss of the trial... a shattered man, never again the same.”

When she looked up, her face was flushed. “But what is it to you, anyhow? You ask about the trial, but it is merely periphery. What about the
diamond
, you are wondering. You are staring at me, waiting ever so patiently. How does my little story about Uncle Aiden tie into your
primary
concern?”

Tuohay and Eldredge waited expectantly for Sara’s answer, but it was a question she put forth to Tuohay. “My invitation in silver ink said that you would find me, Inspector Tuohay, and you have. It goes on to say that if I assist you, you in turn will assist me. Is that true?”

“In any capacity possible, yes,” Tuohay replied.

“Then let me say this.” Sara’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Bregagh Road.”

Eldredge expressed a puzzled frown. “Bregagh Road?”

“Bregagh Road, near Belfast,” said Tuohay, his voice careful. “What about it?”

“It was close to my uncle’s seminary,” Sara replied.

“Yes, and?”

Sara leaned close to Tuohay. “You
know
he was a good man, inspector. You know that he was framed, mocked, ridiculed. Possibly
murdered
. The question is, how do I know that
you
are a good man? How do I know that you will right the wrong done to him, and not make this only about the diamond? How do I know that you are not simply a player in this strange game concocted by the black letters?”

“Why do you ask this of me?”

“Why would I help you otherwise?” Sara replied.

“Promising trust is not the same as earning it,” said Tuohay. “But I put forth my promise as a beginning.”

She considered Tuohay’s words for a moment and then spun on Eldredge with a charming smile—the kind of smile that could win a man to her side with little in the way of effort. “You asked about Bregagh Road, Mr. Eldredge. I will tell you of it.”

“As you please,” replied Eldredge, blushing slightly under Sara’s emerald gaze.

“Many years ago when in seminary, my uncle spent time volunteering his services at a home for destitute children along Bregagh Road. I still remember when he first told me about it—I could not have been more than seven at the time. ‘
It is full of children like you, Sara
’, he said. ‘
Only they are gravely ill in one manner or another, and are not long for this world
.’ I remember my hand warm in his grasp that morning, and the smell of his cologne.”

“He told me about a boy he met there,” she continued. “‘
Gregory was a young boy
,’ he said, ‘
and as young boys go, he was heedless of danger. On a misty morning in a small village along Bregagh Road, he and his brother had a scrap as brothers do.
’”

Sara’s voice had grown distant, as if to mark the vast expanse between present day and her childhood memory. “He told me that in their recklessness, young Gregory was pushed into the road by his older brother, who fell after him. ‘
The two of them barely had time to hear the carriage before it appeared out of the fog,’
he said,
‘Gregory was hit and instantly crippled. Unable to walk, unable to write, barely able to take food
’…. When my uncle first saw Gregory at the children’s home he was lying in a jagged little box, staring at the ceiling. Uncle Aiden spent many months with Gregory thereafter, and became close friends with him until God took the poor boy under his wing.”

Sara’s gaze returned to Tuohay and Eldredge. “I asked my uncle why he shared this miserable account of a crippled boy with me. And you, I am sure, are wondering the same about why I have shared it with you.”

“I am,” Eldredge confessed after a brief pause.

She looked at Tuohay’s cane, and then at the inspector himself. “Because those of us who can walk must do so for those of us that cannot.”

A long silence followed Sara’s final words, so much so that Eldredge finally leaned forward and asked tentatively, “Are you concluded?”