Grace and Disgrace (16 page)

Frost took in the scene. “Aye. Crippen, I’d say. But for what?”

“He’s looking for information on the diamond.”

The constable perked up at that. “Diamond? The Templar Diamond?”

Frost ignored the question. “So why would he come here?”

Sara had returned to the bench Anna was sitting at, and Frost approached. He pressed the question to Sara. “Miss Conall, if you know something about all of this, it would be best that you shared it.”

“I do not know anything.” She held Anna’s hand in her own.

“Nothing connected to the diamond? Nothing your Uncle Aiden uncovered that would lure Kip Crippen here, to where you live?”

“No.” Sara looked up, her emerald gaze unwavering. She turned to Anna, her brows knitting with concern. “Why is my sister’s wrist bruised?”

Tuohay removed his top hat. “I had to take a regrettable course of action against her, I am afraid.”

Sara’s face colored. “Course of action against her? Of what nature?”

“To be frank, a striking blow with my cane, though the brunt of it was fortunately dealt to this, which was pointed at my chest at the time.” Tuohay revealed the pistol to Sara.

Sara stared at it with incomprehension. She spun on Anna. “What were you doing with that? Where did you get it?”

“Perhaps the man in the parlor with two bullets in his chest can tell us,” replied Frost. More voices were coming from outside now, and a great collection of lights could be seen through the windows flooding towards the front door.

Sara blinked. There was fear in her eyes. “Anna,
what have you done
? I was gone no longer than thirty minutes, and your door was locked. How….?” She choked on her tears.

Tuohay turned to the constable. “You best help those men protect the crime scene.”

The constable hesitated for a moment, but leaped into action as the front door swung open, unleashing a cacophony of new voices. 

Tuohay bent close to Sara. “Where is Mary Hart now?”             

“Mary Hart?” Sara looked at Tuohay as if the question was incomprehensible.

“I still need to see her, and in a moment we will all be taken for questioning by the Medfield constabulary.”

“Do you think she is in danger?”

“I do.”

After another moment, she answered in a whisper of her own. “She is being looked after by one of the lawyers, Mr. Stuart Thayer—the same that recently left the firm of McBarronThayer. And by an old friend of Uncle Aiden’s, an old war hero. Sergeant Michael McNamara. Both men live in the town of Foxborough. I believe she is staying with the sergeant.”

Frost used the moment to address Anna. “Madam, if you would be so kind. My name is Inspector Frost, and I would like to ask just a few questions. For starters, what do you remember about tonight? Did a man break into your room?”

“
Inspector Frost. Inspector Frost. Gets his way at any cost
.” Anna stared blankly ahead.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Frost spat.

“Leave her be,” Sara snapped back. “It is her condition. She cannot control what she says, and has memory lapses. Especially when she is distressed. If that man broke in here and came upon her, and in her fragile state…” Sara’s voice trailed away into a sob. She looked up at Frost, her eyes burning. “But she remembers your face well enough, I’d expect. The man who forced those girls to lie under oath about our uncle!”

Frost turned away, his face red. “Damn it all,” he muttered. He looked at Tuohay, and then turned back to Sara, anger lining his voice. “You need to realize that I was in the right. For all our sakes.”

Sara’s eyes were hard. “Do not cast our lot with yours.”

One of the constables returned. A small cast of uniformed men were bustling about in the parlor, the room ablaze in their collective lantern light. “We will have to take you all to the precinct,” the constable stated. “Especially that one, there.” He pointed at Anna.

Tuohay nodded. “Of course.” He turned to Sara. “It will be alright.”

“Alright?” Sara laughed mockingly. She looked up, and the burden of her sorrow was stripped bare in her fiery glare. “The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind small, they say. Be patient, they say. Justice
will
come. And do you know what
I
say? I say, the mills grind not by God’s hands but in the hands of wicked men.” Her voice rose with anger. “What proof do I have of redemption in this bleak world? Where can you point me to God’s intervention for the sake of the poor, the neglected, the
mistreated
? No, no.” She laughed bitterly. “My Uncle Aiden, a
man of God
, used to say that things would be well again someday, that our neighbors would not scorn us like lepers forever. That his bout was not with the Church, but with
bad men
within the Church. That his effort was
pure
in the eyes of God, and God’s grace would see us through until the truth was revealed.

“But Uncle Aiden was wrong. There is no truth except the rancid flour that men produce in their mills of lies. Uncle Aiden’s actions turned us into lepers, and turned Anna into what she is now. My poor sister…” She turned to Anna, her rage releasing in full. “What did you do, Anna? There is a dead man in our parlor.
What did you do
?”

Sara turned her fury on Frost. “I am done waiting for the mills of justice to grind down the lies. I will use my heel and happily grind the liars myself.”

A number of officers appeared at that moment, gently asking Sara and Anna to prepare to come with them. Frost guided Tuohay away by the shoulder. “Come along. She’s in a fiery mood.”

“Give me a moment.” Tuohay limped back to the parlor to attend his attention to the slumped body of Crippen, which was now well lit by several lanterns at its feet. A constable that had been inspecting the body stood at Tuohay’s approach, holding a glittering object in his hand.

“You found that in his pocket?” Tuohay asked.

The constable instinctively closed his hand and stepped away, looking for a senior officer. His voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen. “Sir? Sir? Take a look at this…”

The green sparkle had been sufficient for Tuohay. “Father Donnelly’s missing emerald ring,” he murmured. “What were you doing with that, Crippen?”

Crippen’s slouching body remained silent, the once crimson stains at the chest nearly black, the wide eyes staring vacantly into space. Tuohay tore his gaze away, settling it upon Anna in the near distance who was being shuttled out by the constables. In the opposite direction, a man in an olive trench coat with a notepad was at the front door, conversing with another of the Medfield officers.

Tuohay turned his attention back to the corpse. “Kip Crippen. One of the brilliant minds behind the theft of the Templar Diamond. You created quite a stir for me and the Belfast RIC. Yet despite it all, this was not the end you deserved.”

Tuohay sensed a presence, a chill along the back of his neck. Turning, he saw Sara glaring at him from the kitchen archway. He made his way back to her, his bad leg nearly buckling from pain and fatigue. She was wearing her coat, her hood drawn. She looked up at him sullenly.

“You are right, Sara,” Tuohay said to her. “The mills of justice grind slowly. But they grind fine, and none escape unscathed. Not Father Donnelly, not Kip Crippen. Not any of us, when the time of retribution comes.”
 

The red of morning spilled into the cramped telegraph office of the train depot through a single window, casting a soft light on the aged man sitting behind the telegraph. The wood-and-metal communication device, positioned at the center of a sturdy table, was well past its prime but well cared for, a cacophony of gleaming copper plates, cylinders, and gears rising from the polished wood like a miniature bastion. A thin piece of white ribbon slid from the copper components, ready to be snatched up by the attentive operator. His fingers rested near a series of black and white keys embedded in the side of the device like those of a piano, each marked with corresponding numbers and letters.

Tuohay collected a telegraph from the operator, who went back to sipping from a tin mug of black coffee.

              The Western Union Telegraph Company

              RECEIVED at Medfield Station Depot   713 AM.

Eldredge returns tomorrow morning. He wire
s“
Colin Allotrope born 1883. Parents unknown. Educated in Lowell convent. Graduated BC Highschool. Attends Boston College. Possible benefactor involved in upbringing.”

Eliza.
 

              The Western Union Telegraph Company

              RECEIVED at Medfield Station Depot   716 AM.

Delay with autopsy until today. I will be present. What news from Medfield?

Eliza.

Tuohay handed the operator his response, who took to the keyboard with severity. The room tapped to life with a series of correspondences, each one bracketed by several unobtrusive minutes of coffee and clove cigarettes. 

              The Western Union Telegraph Company

              RECEIVED at Boston MA     726 AM.

M. H. not in Medfield. Apparently Foxboro. I.F. arrived unexpectedly. Crippen also arrived with a cold demeanor. Late edition will carry it. Taking 744 train to find M.H. Requesting a place to breathe for a night.

Jack.

              The Western Union Telegraph Company

              RECEIVED at Medfield Station Depot   737 AM.

Right. The Cocasset House is good for a diversion. Stayed there for a performance. Try it.

Eliza.

              The Western Union Telegraph Company

              RECEIVED at Medfield Station Depot   742 AM.

Additional request. Need data on Sergeant Michael McNamara. Foxboro. Repeat wire him urgent about my visit. Departing now. Send next correspondence to Foxboro Depot.

Jack.

*

The shrill whistle of the South Framingham express pierced the slumbering hollow like a warning, startling a flock of sparrows into flight. The clap of the tracks reverberated along the forest floor as the train approached, trailing its ever-present coal truck and passenger cabins; a dark blue first-class carriage with white trim led three burgundy second-class carriages and an unornamented tan luggage van.

The four-car express rambled into a leaf-strewn farming community cloven in two by the tracks, the habitants of which greeted the habitual thrice-daily arrival of the express with little fanfare. The early-rising farmers, their cheeks ruddy from hours of work in the fields, took a moment to straighten their backs and peer at the passing fancy.

Seated within the last of the sparsely populated second-class carriages, the two men took little notice of the passing countryside. The train passed with a hollow clatter from firm earth to a vacant bridge.

Tuohay glanced at the paper on his lap and grimaced for the fourth time at the morning’s headlines.

A GHOST IN MEDFIELD

BODY OF IRISH JEWEL THIEF FOUND

in
LUNATIC ASYLUM

A dead man Returns. Gunshots fired in Asylum. Kip Crippen Found with two bullet wounds to the chest. Questions posed to lead investigators. Scotland Yard involved.

“Why do they keep on about Scotland Yard?” Reaching into his pocket, Tuohay pulled out his silver flask, his eyes reverting back to the man across from him. The scent of whiskey rose from the container as he unscrewed the cap. “Would you care to join me, Inspector Frost?”

Frost was humming a tune under his breath, which he immediately ceased. “That flask of yours is a more common sight than the hat on your head,” he said brusquely, his square jaw set firm. He nodded towards Tuohay’s cane. “I wonder which crutch of yours is the more frequently used.”

“Civility is a strong point of yours, I see.”

Frost took the flask and downed a mouthful of the liquor. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he handed the flask back. “Better? I prefer ginger beer, myself.”

“To your health,” Tuohay said, taking a taste before slipping the flask back into his pocket. He eyed Frost. “Last night was quite the adventure.”

Frost frowned. “Quite.” He peered at Tuohay curiously. “Who did you wire this morning from the train station? I saw you pay to have a telegram or two sent.”

“A bit inquisitive?”

“A bit, but it’s in my blood.”

“Mine as well. I was sending a message to my cohorts, Mr. Eldredge and Miss Wilding. With them on the case, it is important that we remain accessible to one another.”

“Speakin’ of the missus, is that Eliza Wilding overly particular? She’s a looker, but should have been snatched up long before now.”

“I have not the slightest inkling,” said Tuohay.

“Come now. Surely you have inquired, or at least wondered.”

Touhay’s mouth tightened at the corners. “We have a professional relationship.”

Frost laughed. “Right. Well, your loss, if you ask me.”

“On the contrary,” said Tuohay. “She is charming, yes. But it is her skills of observation that make her valuable to the team.”

Frost snorted. “Well she hasn’t observed
me
, yet. Not in the way that would benefit her most.”

“And let us hope that day never comes.”

Frost grunted.

“Read this.” Tuohay offered, drawing a piece of paper from his vest pocket. Frost squinted at it, then produced a pair of wire rim glasses to read it by. “It says,
How long ago
?” Frost frowned. “What’s the meanin’ of that?”

“It means,
how long ago
did you first start spying on me?” Tuohay’s eyes remained locked on Frost.

“Why the bloody hell did you have me
read
your question?” Frost boomed.

“Are you avoiding the answer?”

Frost’s face was as emotionless as stone. If he was taken off-guard by Tuohay’s remark, he hid it well within his sturdy features. “You best explain yourself, and quick-like.”

“I recommend that we drop our pretenses.”

“My business is entirely professional—”

“I did not state otherwise. It is perfectly reasonable for an inspector to work covertly, including shadowing others. I should know.”

“All the same, it is not so.”

“
Adoration of the Magi.
”

Frost stared at Tuohay blankly.

“The three Magi discovering Jesus by following the Star of Bethlehem,” Tuohay spoke in patient tones. “Do not look so perplexed, Inspector Frost.
Adoration of the Magi
is in reference to an essay I observed in the loft of the law firm of McBarronThayer.”

Frost shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“For starters, I have deduced that the copy I saw was in your possession.” Tuohay paused to regard his companion before continuing. “First of all, a pair of wire rim glasses identical to those you are wearing now were resting on the essay.”

Frost scoffed and returned the glasses back to his pocket. “Those cheap things? They can be found at any dime store.”

“Granted. But the essay was resting open on a desk in the loft of the law firm. Next to a ginger beer, with the scent of perique lingering in the air.”

“Perique.”

“A peculiar type of tobacco. I noticed that you smoke it in your pipe, but not your cigarettes.”

“Me and a thousand others, to be certain.”

“Most interestingly, the loft had a peculiar vent through which sound from the drawing room was easily discernable. A strategic point for eavesdropping, I would say.”

Frost appeared restless. “I do not see where I come into this.”

“You see, the original telegram for the interview stated that it would take place ‘in the loft room’.
Loft room
? Does not exactly roll off the tongue. But the Seymore M.
Left room
, otherwise the drawing room at McBarronThayer, is more logical.”

“So what? You went to the wrong room, is that the point?”

“You do not have to play coy, Inspector Frost. You know the truth will come out.”

The glint of challenge was in Frost’s eyes. “Prove it.”

“A simple typographical error in our telegram directed Mr. Eldredge and me to the loft, where you were positioned to spy on the interview. As a precaution, there was meant to be a warning of our arrival—the doorbell. However, it never rang, and therefore it was not until the last moment that you heard us unexpectedly coming up the stairs. Enough time to duck out or hide, but not to collect your things.”

“There are a hundred other reasonable explanations other than that far-fetched concoction,” Frost replied.

“And yet, I just now heard you humming the melancholy tune Sara played on the piano the night of the interview.”

“That was not what I was humming,” Frost retorted.

“No? How do you know, if you weren’t there to hear it?”

The slightest twitch of Frost’s lip revealed his surprise.

“I can verify my theory with either Mr. McBarron or Mr. Thayer,” said Tuohay, his eyebrow arched. “I am sure the authorities, meaning
you
, would have spoken to them prior to setting up this secret observation in their law firm.”

“Perhaps it was the other way around,” Frost muttered. “Perhaps the law firm
asked
me to observe.”

“Was that the way of it?”

Frost fumbled in his pocket for his pipe, grumbling. “So you have me. Why deny it? I will be frank and admit to being interested in your actions, Inspector Tuohay. There was a reason I was assigned as your liaison to catch Crippen, and why I am here now. As soon as your fellows at the RIC contacted the Boston precinct about your imminent arrival, the local brass got interested in the case.” Frost shrugged. “And so they put me on it. I’m a loyal gumshoe. The Boston authorities don’t want to be left in the dark on this Templar Diamond business, and I’m carrying the torch for ‘em.”

“They do not want to be
left behind
on this Templar Diamond business is a more accurate statement. It will be quite a sensation once we find it. The kind of sensation that comes with promotions and acclaim—or embarrassment if it is found by a foreign field agent right under the nose of the local authorities.”

“Can you blame ‘em? The stone is one of the most valuable treasures in the waking world. There will be headlines for days, weeks even, when it’s found.”

“It would have been just as simple to let me know,” replied Tuohay. “I would not have boxed the local brass out.”

“No?” Frost arched an eyebrow. “It’s our turf. If the diamond is here, one of our guys needs to find it. Plain and simple. I’m here with you for that reason, and for another. I’ve got my eye on
you
, inspector. I know about the probation you are on, and why. And unless a gun is pointed at my head, here I stay.”

“Fine. So what were you doing with the essay?”

Frost stuck the pipe in his mouth and produced a flame from his lighter. “Can’t you tell me, inspector?”

“
Adoration of the Magi in Religious Art, Oil on Canvas, Mural, and Stained Glass.
How does the essay help?”

Frost eyed Tuohay over a cloud of smoke reeking of spiced tobacco. “The piece itself is meaningless. I’m interested in the author.”

“Why?”

“He is the illegitimate child of Father Donnelly’s late nephew, Abrams Valentine. Remember the young man in the painting over the mantelpiece in Father Donnelly’s study?”

Tuohay murmured, “The nagging in my head.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Tuohay pulled Eliza’s telegram from his pocket and reread it.