Grace and Disgrace (7 page)

Eldredge frowned. “Could
what
be that simple?”

But at that moment, Eliza grabbed the book and slipped back to her table. Eldredge’s scattered pages of analysis were left behind. “Miss Hart and the doctor return,” she hissed. Reaching her table, she snapped her newspaper up.

Eldredge gathered his notes in a hurried fashion as Tuohay watched the pair approach. Turning to Eldredge, he said, “All of this talk reminds me—I need you to investigate a name.”

“A name?” Eldredge whispered back, thrusting the notes under his chair.

“Colin Allotrope, an author on an essay for admission to seminary. The essay is called
Adoration of the Magi in Religious Art,
as I recall.”

Eldredge thought for a moment. “That essay we spotted in the loft of the law firm?”

“That is the one.”

“Adoration of the Magi,” Eldredge murmured, “one of the most famous scenes in Christianity. I wonder what the relevance is—” His question was cut short by a frown from Tuohay as Mary and the doctor arrived. The men stood.

Mary mustered a forced smile as she resumed her seat, followed by Tuohay and Eldredge. The doctor sat down heavily beside her, setting his leather briefcase at his feet.

“Inspector Frost detained us,” Dr. Kearney commenced in a strained tone.

Tuohay leaned forward. “In what manner?”

“Asking questions about why we were meeting with you.”
“And what did you tell him?” Tuohay asked.

“The truth, as far as it could go,” said the doctor. “You are representing the Royal Irish Constabulary on a case that involves my deceased brother, to whom both I and Miss Hart have a connection.”

“I see.”

“I fear Inspector Frost’s interference was difficult on Miss Hart.”

“I am fine, truly,” she protested.

“You will be as soon as the medicine begins to work,” Dr. Kearney said in a firm tone. “You have the most difficult details to relay yet, and I need to be assured that your frail constitution can handle it.”

“I took your damned medicine,” Mary muttered. “What else do you want?” She flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it.” The doctor turned his attention to Tuohay. “After our discussion, we presume you will act on our behalf to further investigate the wrongs against my brother Aiden. The wrongs that led to his and Rian’s death. You owe him that much.”

“Your refer to the double suicide.”

“Yes, clearly,” said the doctor. “You know of the details of their deaths, of course.”

“Yes, yes,” Tuohay replied, but there was a note of curiosity in his voice. “And I affirm that I will do my utmost to bring any wrongs against your brother to light. Now, what does Miss Hart have to share?”

Miss Hart frowned into her remaining gin. “Miss Dwyer.”

Tuohay tapped his cane against the floor. “Miss Dwyer?”

“A concubine who was close to Miss Hart,” said Dr. Kearney. “She was killed in cold blood last October, just four months ago. Two months before the suicide of my brothers.”

“Killed?” Eldredge gasped.

The doctor ignored him. “Trauma to the head by a blunt weapon,” he said. “She was under my care at the time, and so I was called to the scene. I was also present when she expired the next morning, and assisted with the post mortem.”

Tuohay raised his cane onto his lap. “And how does she pertain to the recent events you have shared?”

Mary looked up, her stare glassy-eyed. “She was paid to lie on the stand at the archbishop’s trial against Aiden Kearney, along with me and one other concubine.”

Tuohay straightened in his seat. “Are you alright? You look unwell.”

“It is the medication,” the doctor replied. “She needed it, after being accosted by Frost.” His tone bordered on defensive.

Mary smiled shyly. “One pill and a swallow of the good doctor’s tincture, and I’m better.” She leaned forward against the table. “Still want to hear what I have to say?”

“Of course,” said Tuohay, though he appeared troubled by Mary’s ability to focus.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Mary—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Sitting up straight, she turned back to Tuohay. “Sorry.” She blinked the daze from her eyes. “So—the trial. When word of the impending trial became known, there was…. a
reaction
from the Catholics of Boston. There were some in the church that were not going to let Aiden taint the archbishop with his filthy accusations. One night, about a month before the trial was to begin, I was approached by a man from the Boston police force. He claimed to be an inspector. He told me that I was going to testify against Father Kearney, and state
under oath
that Father Kearney frequented the house of prostitution on Hawkins Street where I had once worked. I was to state that I had relations with Father Kearney there on several occasions, and that he was known to take to the drink and grow violent at times. As the inspector put it, it was my Catholic duty to protect the Church from a lying, malicious scoundrel. But I saw it in another way. It was my opportunity to get revenge on Aiden Kearney, the man that had ruined my chance at a normal life. A
real
life.”

“The inspector that met with you…he was Inspector Frost.” Tuohay was eyeing Mary closely as he stated the name.

Mary’s bottom lip trembled. “Yes. It was—it was him that forced me to take the stand and lie about Aiden Kearney.”

Eldredge moaned. “Inspector Frost is a
criminal
?”

“Calm yourself, man.” Tuohay knocked the table with his knuckles. “Mary. Who were the other concubines?”

Mary exhaled, gathering her thoughts. “Katherine Dwyer, who I already mentioned. She was eighteen at the time of the trial. And Susan Lovelace. She was twenty-one. They both falsely testified that they had taken up relations with Father Kearney, just as I did. And like me, they were promised money and protection by Inspector Frost. But both of them are dead now.” A lump formed in Mary’s throat, and she covered her mouth as a sob hurtled forth. Several patrons turned from their evening musings with raised brows.

Doctor Kearney leaned forward, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I have reason to believe Mary is in danger. I did not want to bring her here for that reason, but I thought her story had to be told to someone… someone who can help us. And now the papers are running the story on the Templar Diamond, and the sudden appearance of Inspector Frost…” he shook his head. “It is attracting too much notice.”

Eldredge turned to Mary. “Where are you staying? Are you in a safe residence?”

“We are not inclined to share specifics,” Dr. Kearney replied. “Even with you. Suffice it to say she is in good hands.”

“I am safe with Sara Conall,” Mary confirmed. “Thank you for asking, Mr. Eldredge.”

“We must keep quiet about such details,” admonished Dr. Kearney.

“Your secret is safe with us,” Tuohay assured them. He turned to the doctor. “Regarding the case—clearly you believe that the recent death of this second concubine, Miss Kathryn Dwyer, is connected to the trial, and to Miss Hart. That is why you believe Miss Hart is in danger?”

“Precisely so. It is a conspiracy,” Dr. Kearney said, irritation still evident in his voice, “which is why we must take great care for our safety. In 1897, Inspector Frost was the man who carried out Father Donnelly’s request to have Mary committed to an asylum shortly after she testified at the trial.
And
he is the man that Miss Katherine Dwyer was on her way to see when she was killed last October.”

“Miss Dwyer was going to see Frost when she died? Do you have proof of this?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. That is where you come in, is it not?” He dropped his voice. “Though it is not proof, I
do
have Miss Kathryn Dwyer’s statement to me the morning she expired. She told me in her dying moments that she was on her way to meet with Inspector Frost when she was attacked. That is how I know that he was involved in her death. She told me she was going to see him
per his request
.”

“Was there anyone else there when she told you this?”

“No, I am afraid not.”

Eldredge spoke up. “If the trial was over three years ago, why was Miss Dwyer in contact with Inspector Frost as recently as October?”

“We had provided affidavits for an appeal,” Mary replied. “Katy—Kathryn Dwyer—and I took part in providing the statements to lawyers at McBarronThayer for Father Kearney. I knew we had done wrong by him at the trial three years ago, which was made clear to me the day I was put in the asylum by Robert. I was locked away for three years before Aiden Kearney found me, stating that he had received a letter. A black letter with silver writing, and that it said I would help him. That I had evidence against my Robert.”

“Father Donnelly,” Eldredge interrupted.

“Yes, Father Robert Donnelly. I told him it was true. I had evidence hidden away.”

“Did Aiden show you his silver-scripted letter?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you recognize the writing? Anything at all about it?”

Mary shook her head. “Not at all. And neither did Aiden, from what he told me. Said the letter came straight out of the blue, like a message from God. I thought that was overstating it a little bit.”

“It meant a lot to him,” the doctor commented.

Mary continued, “As soon as I told him my intention to admit to the truth and reveal the evidence, he had his brother,” she nodded in the direction of Doctor Kearney, “transfer me and Katy—Kathryn Dwyer—from Danvers to Medfield, where his niece Sara, a nurse, could look after us.”

“That is correct,” the doctor affirmed.

“It was not difficult to get Katy to come along with me,” Mary continued, “she had suffered as well over the three years. She and I provided the evidence and affidavits to Father Kearney’s lawyers, Mr. McBarron and Mr. Thayer, to be used as part of the appeals process. The lawyers and Father Kearney were both enthusiastic by the prospect of a successful appeal, or at least a new trial.” She shrugged as if not sure which approach they had been leaning towards.

“McBarron and Thayer, the lawyers for the original case,” Tuohay said. “Was anyone else present during the affidavits?”

“Only Father Kearney.”

“My brother and the two lawyers,” confirmed the doctor. “They had won an appeal, but it never came to fruition.”

“Because Father Aiden Kearney was dead by December, just over a month later,” said Tuohay.

“Yes.”

Mary turned to Doctor Kearney. “The evidence.”

Doctor Kearney set his briefcase on the table and snapped the clasps open. “I kept this at the front desk when we first arrived. I wanted to meet you first before handing these over.” He pulled a series of thin hardcover books from the case, bound together by twine. “These are second copies of the accounting books for the Plymouth parish during the years 1887 to 1898, all under Father Donnelly’s tenure. They were confiscated by Aiden during his investigation, and given to me in October for safekeeping, just as he gave the Goldman’s Codex to Sara. All of this originally came from Mary.”

Mary smiled sheepishly. “I knew after the trial things were going to get rough with my Robert, so I stashed away some collateral just before they collared me. Didn’t have time to do anything about it before I was stashed with the lunatics. Nobody listened to me after that.”

Tuohay returned to the doctor’s conversation thread. “So Father Kearney sensed he was in danger? Is that why he gave you the fiscal records, and the codex to Sara?”

“After the death of Kathryn Dwyer, he was certain of it.” The doctor pushed the books across the table to Tuohay. “Perhaps they will be of use.”

Eldredge turned to Tuohay. “I can review these, Jack.”

Tuohay nodded, and Eldredge dragged the books to his spot at the table.

Doctor Kearney stared at Tuohay for a long moment. “So what will you do next, Inspector?”

Tuohay turned to Miss Hart. “I would like to know more about the evidence.”

“I do not know any more than you do. I simply was aware of these things because Father Donnelly told me about them, and I told Father Kearney. It was because of me that he knew where to look.”

“So what would
you
have us do next, Mary?”

Surprise registered in Mary’s eyes at the question, but it quickly resolved into a hardened gaze. “I would have you find Katy Dwyer’s killer. And those who drove Aiden and Edward Kearney to commit suicide. I would have you root out the bastards, and put them away for good, before anyone else is hurt.
That
is what I would have you do.”

“Yes. But how so?”

“As I am sure you are already planning to do, start with Father Donnelly,” she said. “And there is something in it for you as well. My Robert told me once that he was connected to the disappearance of the Templar Diamond. That it was hidden away from prying eyes. And that six years after the crime, when attention on the diamond had grown cold, the three responsible for stealing it would convene upon these shores to claim their prize. That there would be some kind of puzzle that would reveal to them where it waited—that there was a letter, and a codebook. What a fool he was, to whisper such secrets in my ear and then cast me into the abyss,” she added, venom lacing her words. “But I
returned
.”