A June of Ordinary Murders (40 page)

Mallon interjected.

‘It happens that Alderman Fitzpatrick's home is the place of employment of this murdered woman, Sir. It's where she was last seen alive, at least that we know of. Detective Sergeant Swallow was duty bound to make inquiries there.'

Smith Berry shuffled the papers on the desk.

‘Duty has to be defined in different ways in different circumstances, as you know very well, Mr Mallon,' he said reasonably. ‘Swallow was planning to search the house, to question the servants, perhaps to question Mr Fitzpatrick himself, on foot of a warrant to be forwarded by you. There are absolutely no grounds for such a course of action. In addition to which, as I said, the detective sergeant and his colleague were belligerent and uncivil to Alderman Fitzpatrick and members of his staff.'

‘The application for the warrant hadn't reached me,' Mallon answered evenly. ‘Naturally, I would have consulted with your office before advancing it. I recognise that Alderman Fitzpatrick is an important public figure.'

‘I'm glad to hear that, Mr Mallon.' Smith Berry seemed to relax a little, sitting back in his chair. ‘Nonetheless, I believe we should be thankful that your detective inspector, Mr Boyle, spotted the application in early course and brought it to our attention.'

‘The point is, Sir, that nothing would have happened without my signature on the application. We hadn't reached that point. How, may I ask, am I to run the detective division if I am to have serious criminal inquiries simply lifted from my officers without consultation?'

Any relaxation that might have shown on the Assistant Under-Secretary's face vanished. Now his tone was testy.

‘Mr Mallon, there are situations in which I am obliged to exercise my authority without feeling myself constrained by what I would describe as polite arrangements. This is one such situation. I am not prepared to risk the possibility of scandal or controversy in or around Alderman Fitzpatrick at this time.'

Mallon chose his words carefully.

‘Sir, I don't question your right to take action as you describe. And I share, of course, your concerns that we avoid any public controversy that might embroil a public figure. But this is a murder inquiry and I believe you might have relied on my personal discretion and sense of duty to ensure that any police action would be undertaken with sensitivity.'

Smith Berry swept his papers to one side of the desk with an impatient sigh.

‘Dammit, Mallon, that wasn't happening in this case. Swallow and … whatever the detective officer's name is … practically broke into the house. They threatened the servant at the door, and Swallow was completely out of order in the manner in which he addressed the Alderman.'

Mallon knew it was time to cede some ground.

‘I'm sorry if that was the case. It shouldn't have happened and I will speak with Detective Sergeant Swallow about it. I should say it's not in character for him, Sir.'

Smith Berry took the cue and shrugged his shoulders as if in resignation. There would be no profit in having a row unnecessarily with the head of G Division. He was Mallon's boss, but he also knew that the Detective Chief Superintendent was highly thought of, not just by the Commissioner of Police, Sir David Harrel, who was influentially connected, but by Chief Secretary Balfour too.

‘Look, Mallon, we have the likely future King coming here on Monday. The bloody grocers and tavern-keepers and candlestick-makers that constitute the corporation of Dublin City want to snub him because of what happened back in the damned famine, before I was even born, you realise.'

He paused for breath.

‘We can't let that happen. The Queen herself won't even come to Ireland because she feels she's been insulted down the years, along with her late husband, by so-called public representatives here. Mind you, a lot of the same representatives make a damned good living from the government in one form or another.'

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again.

‘Do I have to spell it out? We need Fitzpatrick at this time because he's got the right credentials. He's a nationalist Alderman, the likely incoming Lord Mayor, an authentic Irish businessman who can be seen to run with Parnell and the nationalists but whose greater loyalty is to the Crown – and to us. We need him because he's the acceptable and plausible face of the Irish nation welcoming the representative of the monarch. He'll make the loyal address. He'll be using his Irish charm to persuade the prince that he's as welcome as the flowers in May. We're trying to keep a bloody empire together for God's sake. If we can't keep a small kingdom in order, what chance do we have?'

Mallon permitted himself a short laugh. ‘And do we think the future King will fall for this, Sir?'

‘It doesn't matter, Mallon.' Smith Berry's impatience was growing. ‘That's not the point. From everything I know he's a pleasant dolt. He'll hardly know whether he's in Scotland, Ireland or some damned island off the coast of India. What matters is that the thing is done right. That he comes in to Dublin, gets a good reception, eats a few dinners, gets a degree conferred, unveils a statue or two and then gets back on the bloody ship for home, safely.'

Mallon asked what he knew was the key question.

‘And what does Alderman Fitzpatrick expect to get from the government in return for his loyal performance, Sir?'

Smith Berry shrugged again. ‘Not a lot that wouldn't have come his way in any event. The Prince hands out a few knighthoods and other baubles. I think he might like to be
Sir
Thomas Fitzpatrick, although as a true nationalist he probably couldn't accept it. And we'll take care to see he gets some contracts for the supply of beef to the army, mainly in Egypt, I believe.'

Mallon nodded, hoping to convey a sense of understanding.

‘I see, Sir.' Then, after a moment, ‘And where does that leave the inquiry into the death of Sarah Hannin?'

‘Why, with Kelly of course. It's not that you can't be trusted, Mallon. But Swallow and his fellows down the line, that's a different story. So it's best to keep them out of the way, at least for the present. Kelly and his men will get to the bottom of it, but in a way that won't cause other problems.'

‘Time can be very important in such matters, Sir,' Mallon said. ‘It could happen that by the time Major Kelly and his men have completed their inquiries the guilty party – or parties – could have flown.'

Smith Berry waved his hand. ‘Oh, I know there's a risk, Mallon. But I think you should talk to Major Kelly. Pool your knowledge, as it were, at this stage. In fact, I believe he's available at this moment if you'd like to have a word.'

Without waiting for a response from Mallon he rang the bell on his desk. Almost immediately a side door into the office was opened and Kelly walked in. He looked as if he was prepared for a day in the country with a walking cane, straw hat and a lightweight flannel suit. He made a little semi-formal bow to Smith Berry and took a seat beside Mallon.

‘Gentlemen, I would be glad if you could smooth out any issues that have arisen over this Hannin investigation,' Smith Berry sounded reasonable and cool again.

He inclined towards Kelly. ‘Major Kelly, I believe it is accurate to say that Chief Superintendent Mallon now fully understands the sensitivities in this case and the reasons for transferring the investigation to your office. He is, however, concerned lest there be any faltering of the inquiry, and is anxious that you should co-operate with each other as fully as possible in order to bring this to a successful conclusion.'

Kelly extended his hands, palms upward, as if in a gesture of conciliation.

‘Of course, Sir, I'd be very glad to have whatever assistance the Detective Chief Superintendent and his men can offer, if they have made any progress on the matter. The file which was forwarded to my office was, well, shall we say, rather thin.'

Mallon felt his anger rising again. He had agreed to co-operate. He had been willing to put the breach of procedure aside. But now his work and the work of his department were being rubbished by this shadowy functionary from God-knows-where.

‘It would have been a good deal more substantial by now had my officers been allowed to proceed normally with their investigation,' Mallon said icily.

Kelly grimaced. ‘There wasn't much to show after almost 48 hours, Mr Mallon.'

Mallon stiffened. ‘Might I ask you, Major Kelly, just what are your credentials that enable you so confidently to offer opinions on the pace at which a particular murder inquiry should proceed?'

‘I did my time at Scotland Yard, Mr Mallon,' Kelly said testily. ‘You shouldn't misinterpret the fact that I choose to use my military title rather than my police rank. For a start, I wouldn't assume that this is a case of murder. The girl could have slipped into the water by accident.'

‘In God's name, have you not read the medical examiner's report?' Mallon shot back. ‘It's as plain as daylight that it wasn't an accident. She was bludgeoned to death.'

‘That's a matter of opinion.'

‘No it is not, Major Kelly. It is a fact. It's there in the clearest English in the hand of the medical examiner himself. What I'm hearing in this conversation is wishful thinking. You don't want to know about any murder here because it's inconvenient.'

Kelly was on his feet. ‘That's an outrageous allegation. It's a slander and it's insubordinate. The Assistant Under-Secretary for Security has spelled out very clearly how he wishes this case to be approached.'

Smith Berry raised a calming hand.

‘Please, gentlemen. This is inappropriate and unhelpful. Mr Mallon, I'm sure that Major Kelly did not mean to disparage your officers or your department. I would ask you to accept that and to accept the decision I have made. This investigation is to remain with Major Kelly. I assure you, he is an extremely experienced officer and the investigation will be in very good hands.'

Mallon knew his position was lost. He was a relatively powerless police official whose influence weighed little against the authority of Smith Berry and this shadowy creature sent from London, half soldier and half policeman.

‘Very well, Sir. I am aware that I am unable to stand against your decision. I have just one question to ask of Major Kelly to which I would like an answer.'

Kelly raised an eyebrow interrogatively. ‘Yes, Mr Mallon?'

‘I'd be glad to learn the name of your immediate superior at Scotland Yard,' he said conversationally. ‘I can say with certainty that I know every one of the senior officers in the crime departments. Was your boss Melville? Jenkinson? Waters? I'd want to be sure that the next time I am in touch there, I will know who to compliment for bringing you on so well in crime detection matters.'

Kelly glared at him in furious silence.

‘We have an offence in the DMP disciplinary code known as falsehood or prevarication,' Mallon said after a long, cold interval. ‘I don't think, Major Kelly, you'd do very well under it.'

THIRTY-THREE

Swallow instructed the driver to make fast time back to the Castle. ‘I'll do that, Sir,' the officer grinned. ‘I used to be a Rough Rider before I slowed down to this job. Get a good grip on the rail and sit tight.'

The uneven road was dusty and hot. He sped the car skilfully past the slow-moving traffic, mostly drays and farm-carts as well as a couple of horse-drawn trams. It was coming up on 4 o'clock when they reached the Castle.

The Mother Prioress had protested at first when the detectives said they would need to take the portmanteau suitcase and the personal belongings of the dead woman and child. If it proved necessary, Swallow told her for the second time, he would have a warrant from a magistrate to seize the evidence in an hour.

They might have an advantage for a while, he calculated. The murderer or murderers would not know that the victims had been identified. There might be an interval in which he could gain further information or secure evidence before they knew of the breakthrough.

He briefed Mossop as they travelled.

The portmanteau and personal effects were to be stored under lock and key at Exchange Court. At this time, the officers working on the case would not be informed that they had identified the dead woman and child. Nor would they be told that any link had been established to the late Ces Downes. The news would circulate quickly across the police network. Some constable would drop a careless word or collect a pound for tipping off a newspaper and any advantage would be lost.

Mossop would call in the surveillance reports from the G-men who had watched her house during the closing days of her life. Were there any reports of visits either by a woman and child or a man and child? Simultaneously, a confidential report was to be sought from the City of Liverpool police. What was known of Mrs Louise Thomas with an address at 37 Clarence Street?

Immediately the police side-car drew into the Lower Castle Yard, Swallow leaped down and took the stairs to Mallon's office. The clerk was verging on being obstructive, as usual. The chief was in a foul mood after a visit to the Upper Yard, he said. It might be best to stay out of his way.

‘Foul mood or not, he'll need to know what I have to tell him,' Swallow snapped. ‘Just go in and say I have news. I need ten minutes.'

When the clerk returned from the inner sanctum and held the door, Swallow realised that there was no exaggeration in what the officer had told him. Mallon was pacing the room in a cloud of tobacco smoke, one hand thrust deep in his trouser pocket, the other running agitatedly through his hair.

‘Come in … Swallow … come in.' It was as if, for a moment, he had forgotten his subordinate's name. He made no effort to invite Swallow to sit.

‘What it is, Sergeant? I assume your news is important?'

‘It's the Chapelizod Gate murders, Chief. I believe we have an identification of the dead woman. And I think it probably means trouble.'