Grace and Disgrace (15 page)

“You want to know if my family hated him. If we blamed him for Richard’s death. For our crippling poverty.”

“If I am to uncover the truth in this complicated case, it is imperative for me to understand the nature of all of Father Kearney’s relationships.” He coughed lightly and took a long drag of his cigarette. “Part of that information rests on how your family fared once they came to America, mainly because of their reliance upon him.”

“They fared badly,” said Frost.

Tuohay glared at the inspector.

“Inspector Frost is correct,” she acknowledged. “And yes, we grew to despise our Uncle Aiden for all the hardship he brought upon the family due to his lawsuit against the archbishop.”

“And yet you defend him now.”

“Because he was
right
. But my family does not easily forgive, not even me,” Sara admitted. “Perhaps it is our terrible tempers, which none of us save Richard were spared from getting.”

She stopped and pointed at a small cottage nestled in among a dozen others of its kind. A large iron-wrought fence stood between the road and the spattering of modest abodes. A gate was visible, a flickering Edison lamp playing chase with the surrounding night. “That is my home, the house closest to the gate. As an asylum nurse, my apartment is on the third floor. Usually, I live with three patients—of similar demeanors—who stay on the second floor. The first floor is where our daily tasks are performed.”

“And you can leave them alone?”

“Yes, as long as their rooms are locked,” Sara replied. “They are in a better state of mind. And this hospital is not like the others, inspector. It is progressive. Kinder.”

“Last time I checked, kindness didn’t cure insanity, or anything else for that matter,” Frost growled.

Sara ignored his comment. “There is only one patient present tonight, my sister Anna. Miss Hart was a second resident, but she was released by the hospital president this morning based on the professional opinion of my Uncle Sean, as I mentioned.”

“You live with your sister?” Tuohay inquired.

“We have lived together as nurse and patient for two years.”

“That is all fine and good,” Frost interrupted, “but is the door to your house usually left open?”

Surprise registered on Sara’s face. “No.” Her voice was cautious. “Look there, the first floor window is open as well.”

“Are you expecting visitors?” Frost asked.

“Through the window?” Sara said, incredulous. “Uncle Sean told me he was afraid for Mary’s safety, which is why he moved her from here this morning. What if he was right? What if—Anna!”

Tuohay dropped his hand to the holster of his Colt Derringer. “And you are certain you did not leave the door or window open?”

“I am
certain
of it!”

“Do you have housekeepers? Guests?”

Panic reached Sara’s emerald eyes. “Anna is the only one in there, and she is locked in her room.”

“Dangerous business, this is,” said Frost, brushing aside his long coat to reveal the barrel of a pistol at his belt. “Shall we, Tuohay?”

“Anna!” Sara swung the iron gate open. “God, please don’t let harm have come to her.”

“Stay here, Sara,” Tuohay ordered.

“I must be certain that she is safe,” Sara protested, “it is
my
house! If anything has happened to her…”

The men exchanged quick looks. Tuohay took a step towards the gate. “I’ll go in. Watch over Sara.”

Frost seemed disappointed by the notion. “Why you?”

“I have two weapons to your one,” Tuohay replied, indicating his cane and gun. With a dry smile he limped through the gate.

Frost whispered after him. “Are you certain? The intruder may still be in there.”

“Precisely the point.”

For a brief moment Frost seemed torn, but relented with a grunt.

Tuohay peered over his shoulder at Sara. “I will locate your sister directly.”

“Please, hurry,” Sara pleaded.

Tuohay limped through the dark yard. Silence descended like a blanket. Gathering his wits, he drew his pistol and held it close as he strode softly towards the front door, his cane sinking noiselessly into the grass with each step.

Reaching the entryway, he gently pulled on the door. It screeched on its hinges. Within, the house was deathly silent.

“And so goes the element of surprise.” Holding his breath, Tuohay stepped into the darkness with his gun at the ready.
 

The hall was deathly quiet as Tuohay crept through the inky blackness. A cool breeze filtered warily from an open window, the sound of rustling drapes causing a moment of alarm. Ribbons of moonlight settled like silken webs in the corner of a distant room, their point of entry indistinct.

A shift in the shadows caught Tuohay’s attention. He stared in the vicinity of the movement but could make nothing out. Clearing his throat in anticipation of speaking, he was startled at how the simple operation obtruded the silence.

A shadow darted through the broken light.

“You there!” Tuohay shouted. A loud crash shattered the silence. A door slammed.

Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the darkness like a thunderclap. Plaster exploded in a blinding cloud from the wall near Tuohay’s head. He fell to the ground in a heap, blinking debris from his eyes. His head throbbed as the pungent smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils.

His heart hammering in his chest, Tuohay reached for his pistol. A series of crashes shook like an earthquake from the far corner of the room. Like a voice from a fading dream, Tuohay heard Frost call his name from outside.

“I am alright!” Tuohay shouted, choking on the dust. “Stay with Sara!”

Cold sweat beaded against his forehead as silence resettled on the room like a shroud. The creak of a door to his left caused him to twist on his stomach. A doorway gaped in anticipation.

“I am an officer of the law!” Tuohay shouted, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “Put your weapon down and make yourself visible!”

Readying his pistol, Tuohay took a knee and eyed the darkness over an adjacent armchair. White moonbeams spilled in disarray through a barred window to the right, accenting the peculiar shapes of overturned furniture.

A form materialized from the shadows of a nearby chair. The chair was angled towards the cold hearth, partially hiding the entity from view. Tuohay froze, the sweat on his palm making the gun slick in his hands.

“
You there
,” he said, “slowly put your hands where I can see them.”

Silence met his demand.

“
Hands where I can see them
,” Tuohay repeated, but again the shadowed figure remained still in the darkness. Tuohay eyed his cane, just out of reach. Grasping the chair closest to him, he pulled himself into a standing position, his gun trained on the figure.

“I am approaching. I do not want to see any sudden movement from you.” With a grimace, Tuohay took a step forward and snatched his cane from the floor with the hand that had been steadying him. His leg buckled but he caught himself on the chair, nearly dropping his pistol in the process. He ignored the sweat dripping into his eyes as he took a second painful step, training his gun once again on the dark figure.

A moonlit face stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Kip Crippen,” Tuohay breathed. “By God.”

Tuohay took another step closer. Crippen did not move, did not blink. Two smoking bullet holes were burned through his frock coat at chest level, blood spilling from them in streams of violent red.

“Mr. Crippen—”

Crippen lunged at Tuohay, grabbing his arm with an iron grip. Tuohay cried in alarm as Crippen drew him near, his breath metallic blood . “He… said wait six years. But, he…is dead. Nowhere to turn....” Crippen stared at Tuohay with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “I n-needed to… needed….
betrayed
.”

Crippen gurgled, and his grip grew slack.

“Who did this to you?” Tuohay demanded, but Crippen stared into the darkness with unseeing eyes. “Crippen?”

The shuffle of footsteps in a back hallway was followed quickly by the slamming of a distant door. Stumbling through the darkness, Tuohay followed the direction of the noise. Reaching a door, he pulled it open. Beyond was a small moonlit yard bordered by a tree-laden hill. Movement within the trees caught his eye and he continued the pursuit, his lame leg pulling at him like an anchor.

Grim moonlight spilled across the open ground, ghastly pale. The ground was soft from a recent rain in the wild brush and undergrowth. Moving through the trees, Tuohay heard Frost shout his name again from the other side of the house, but he continued without response. The direction was taking him away from the hospital grounds and deeper into the surrounding wood.

A small water-filled gulley opened up before him, the banks slick with mud. Hearing the rustle of underbrush ahead, he waded in up to his knees.

The gully brought him to a thicker neck of the forest, the moonlight drawing away as the trees enclosed. Tuohay’s sense of direction abandoned him in the wood, but lights from the distant town acted as bearings, mere willow-the-wisps.

A shadow slipped between two trees up a small, tree-laden incline before him.

Dizzied from jagged breathing, he relied on his pistoled hand to steady his ascent. At the top, he came to a wall of thick brush and pushed through. Less than two breaths away a woman with her back to him knelt in the moonlight, her hair ragged and loose.

Tuohay stepped forward and the woman spun on him. Grasping frantically at the ground, she snatched something from the shadows and raised her hands shakily. A pistol trembled in her grasp.

Tuohay held his own weapon steady. “
Put it down
,” he ordered. “I am not here to harm you, but I will shoot if I must.”

Her eyes flashed with delirium. The woman squeezed her grip on the pistol.

“I say, put it down,” Tuohay repeated, side-stepping her slightly. Her pistol followed his path.

“I am taking a step closer,” he cautioned. “But I do not wish to harm—”

There was an audible click. She had pulled the trigger.

“Misfire!” Tuohay charged forward, batting the weapon from her hand with his cane. The woman cried in pain and clutched her wrist.

“Who are you?” he demanded, pulling her up by the arm. His breathing came in unnatural breaks as he held her in place. The moonlight played off her features where she stood, and for a confused moment Tuohay thought he was looking upon Sara, though an older and paler rendition. He realized the truth with a start. The woman in his grasp was Sara’s sister.

“I am not here to harm you, Anna,” he said. “Is that your name? Anna?”

“
Harm you. Anna. Anna
.” The woman’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Where? Where?”

Tuohay tried to hold her back, but her movements were frantic under his grip. “Please, Anna. Please, calm down.”

“
Please calm down
.
Please calm down
.” She dropped to all fours and looked up at him with a frenzied stare, her eyes filled with tears. Fire danced across her pale green eyes as her fingers closed around a stray object.

Tuohay gritted in pain as he bent towards the ground, his cane sinking into the forest floor. “What is that—”

“No!” Anna snapped at him, the object nestled tight. The gleam of silver faintly caught the moonlight.

“A rattle?” Tuohay’s breathing was jagged, but full of surprise.

Anna caressed the child’s toy with devotion. It was long, the handle nearly a hand in length, with a rounded head decorated with engravings and script. “My young one’s. My young one’s.” She shook it gently, the whisper of the sifting grains erasing the worried creases of her brow.

Tuohay exhaled slowly. “Anna. I must ask you—did you use a gun…that gun on the ground…to shoot a man in your house tonight?”

Anna did not respond.

“Did you shoot at me in the house?” He indicated the gun on the ground again.

“
Did you shoot at me.
” Her voice was little more than a rasp. “Dark. Terrible sounds.
Terrible sounds
.” A tortured cry rose from her throat, piercing the air.

Kneeling with a grimace, he picked up Anna’s gun and examined it. The barrel was warm. He opened the chamber. “This gun has been shot recently.”

“I-I don’t remember.” She clutched her forehead and moaned.

“You do not recall?”

“
You do not recall
,” she mimicked, lashing out with her arms. Abruptly she was huddled and shivering.

Tuohay remained silent, his face impassive. His attention was suddenly diverted by the appearance of scattered lights from the distant road. Voices followed in ghostly echoes.

“Come with me.” Tuohay headed back with Anna in tow. They returned to the house and entered through the back door as two uniformed constables entered from the front, Sara and Frost steps behind.

“We are in here,” Tuohay called out. Sara rushed to the kitchen, the lantern light from one of the constables bounding to and fro off the walls. Frost entered behind her, but turned towards the parlor.

Sara embraced her sister for a long moment before releasing her. She drew two chairs forward and put Anna in one while taking the second for herself. “
Conas atá tú
?”

Anna broke into an eerie cadence, her eyes fixed on Sara. “
Your lover is dead. What do you know? Anna, Anna. Where did it go
?”

“None of that!” Sara hissed, squeezing Anna’s hand roughly. Tuohay watched with growing curiosity until Frost’s voice pulled his attention away.   

“My God,” Frost thundered from the parlor. “It’s Crippen!”

Frost barreled into the kitchen, grabbing Tuohay roughly by the arm. The two Medfield officers, who up to that moment had been watching Anna with undisguised interest, rushed past Frost to the parlor.

“What happened, Tuohay?” Frost demanded, his tobacco breath hot against Tuohay’s cheek.

A request came from one of the officers. “Sir! If you will.”

“Come on.” Tuohay led Frost into the parlor where the constables waited. One stayed near the body as the second one approached. The young man was cloaked in a high-collared, dark blue coat lined with wool and silver buttons, and sported a matching navy-blue cylindrical hat. He had his baton at the ready, his curled moustache bristling with nervous tension.

“Who are you, sir?” he asked Tuohay.

“This here is Inspector Jack Tuohay of the Royal Irish Constabulary,” Frost replied for him, “he is currently operating locally with the approval of the Massachusetts Police Commissioner.” Frost turned to Tuohay. “Did you drop that poor bastard?”

“Crippen was already dying when I found him,” said Tuohay. “But just so. The blood was fresh, the smell of gunpowder on his shirt strong. It could only have been minutes.”

“Sir. There is a hole in the wall.” The second constable raised his lantern to the location of the wall where the bullet had just missed Tuohay’s head. The hole was the size of a small fist.

The first constable turned to Tuohay. “Care to explain, sir?”

“I was shot at.”

“I thought you said the man was dead when you entered.”

“Obviously I was not shot at by him, was I?”

The young constable cleared his throat. “Is that dead man the same Crippen who was mentioned in the papers? The Irish jewel thief who was killed in the ‘Boston Wharf Chase’, as they’re callin’ it?”

“The very one,” Frost replied. “Though it’s clear the chap wasn’t killed after all, though I swear I hit him.” He looked at Tuohay. “No question of it now, though.”

“Sir, there is a crowd forming on the road outside,” the second constable said, peering out the window.

“Blast. The press won’t be far behind,” grumbled Frost. “Damnable leeches.”

“Handle it,” the first constable ordered. As his partner exited the front door, he turned to Tuohay and Frost, his gaze uncertain.

A sob broke from Anna, diverting their attention. Frost slapped the constable’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Tuohay took a moment to endure the pins and needles in his leg. Gritting his teeth, he followed them back to the kitchen. Sara was lighting a gas lamp, flooding the room with a hissing white light.

Frost tugged at his moustache as he turned back to Tuohay. “Care to explain what happened?”

“The event was quite extraordinary,” Tuohay said. The men were still out of earshot of the women, and Tuohay’s account of events was kept to a strong whisper. 

“Sara’s sister had this.” Tuohay produced Anna’s pistol. “She pulled the trigger, and I thought it misfired. But it appears it had already been expended.”

“A Webley,” Frost remarked, eyeing the short-barreled gun.

“It is a British Bulldog Revolver, to be precise,” said Tuohay. “A very nice piece for hiding in coat pockets. Crippen was known to carry one.”

“What in the blazes was she doing with it?”

“One question of many.” In the light of the gas lamp Tuohay’s eyes caught the disheveled state of the cottage for the first time. Cabinet doors hung open, furniture was at strange angles, odds and ends lay scattered aimlessly about. Two new officers moved into the parlor with a lantern, one of them kneeling before the body.

“Someone was at it hard,” Tuohay remarked.