Grace and Disgrace (28 page)

“Gads, it is stuffy in here,” Eldredge remarked, tugging at his collar as he entered. In only a few moments beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

“You’ve got that right,” Eliza consented, removing her jacket as she looked around.

They were situated in the parlor of a three-room flat consisting of two separate bedrooms and the parlor, which by appearances also functioned as the kitchen. Two windows at either end of the apartment allowed enough light to see by, though it was gray and shadowed. 

A cast iron stove with six burners sat in the corner of the room with copper pans arranged upon it, but it was not responsible for the heat. On the wall above, a wooden shelf held a variety of spices and oils, and several iron cooking utensils hung from it in tidy fashion. A basket of pressed laundry sat in a corner.

“There are vents in the floor,” Eliza said, pointing at an iron grating in the floor. She bent near it with her hands. “It’s like an inferno coming through.”

“The furnace is in the basement,” said Sara. “The building was renovated a few years ago, which included new piping for heat. I remember my uncle talking about it with great satisfaction when it was installed.”

“A centralized heating source for the tenants. Quite the amenity,” commented Eldredge.

“When it is not driving you from your own apartment,” Eliza muttered.

“Uncle Sean?” Sara left the group where they stood and wandered towards the bedrooms, calling out her uncle’s name.

Tuohay turned to his companions. “Look around.”

They got to work quickly, separating their focuses on varying parts of the apartment. They had only begun to look when Sara appeared in the doorway of the one of the bedrooms, her face pale.

“Inspector, you may want to see this.”

Tuohay turned to the others. “Keep at it.” He limped towards Sara, trying to decipher the gravity of the concern etched across her face. Coming upon her, he was surprised to find her trembling. “What is it?”

Sara pointed into the room beyond. It was a small affair with a single bed and nightstand, a candle perched upon it. The window was closed and curtained, casting a shadow across the chamber. Despite the gloom, the object of Sara’s apprehension was clearly distinguishable.

Tuohay entered the bedroom. “A wheelchair?”

“He does not own a wheelchair,” said Sara.

A sinking feeling struck Tuohay. “Can one walk here from the hospital?”

“Quite easily,” said Sara. “It is only a few blocks away.”

Tuohay reached the wheelchair and noticed the white sheet draped across it. It was smeared with blood. “An autopsy sheet,” he whispered. His eyes flashed across the room, a sense of urgency filling his senses. Sara raised her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp.

“Do you think…did he—”

“I do not know what to think just yet,” Tuohay responded, checking the closet and brushing the sheets on the bed aside with his cane. Satisfied that the room was otherwise empty, he strode out, his cane clattering against the floor. Sara stood in the corner of the doorway, pale as a ghost.

Eliza was the first to notice Tuohay’s perturbed state. “What is it, Jack?”

Tuohay was already in the second bedroom, this one similar but lived in. He rummaged through the closet and bed, discovering nothing. He turned to the doorway where Eliza leaned in, a question on her face.

“There is a wheelchair in the other room—from the hospital. If the body was stolen last night…”

“What better way to sneak a body out of a hospital,” Eliza finished, her cheeks flushing—though from the heat or the revelation it was hard to tell. “Doctor Kearney stole the body and wheeled it here under the cover of darkness. But…where is it?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tuohay cautioned.

Sara covered her mouth as a sob issued forth. “There must be some other explanation.”

“Well, we’ve found a few things of our own,” said Eliza, indicating the common room with a jerk of her thumb.

“Lead the way,” Tuohay urged, following Eliza back to where Eldredge was hunched over a table, casting an eye over items that had been unearthed from nearby bookcases and desk drawers.

“What have you got?” said Tuohay, the resolve in his voice unmistakable.

“A few items of note,” said Eldredge. “First, there’s this.” He pointed a pudgy finger at a stack of paper bound by a metal clip. The familiar title read:
Essay for Admission. Adoration of the Magi in Religious Art: Restoration Practices of Oil on Canvas, Mural, and Stained Glass. Authored by Colin Allotrope
of
Great House, Trinitarians of Mary.

“The same essay we found in the loft of the law office,” said Tuohay.

“Not the exact same. A draft sent by the seminary, addressed to Doctor Kearney. And there is a note in the back.” Eldredge flipped to the last page and pointed at a script in flowing handwriting.

Dear Doctor Kearney,

Young Colin Allotrope has been accepted to seminary. Here is a copy of his work, which was received with high praise. Your generosity as a beneficiary for the boy has borne fruit. We are blessed that you remained his supporter, albeit anonymously.

In faith, Sister Agatha.

“Then, quite intriguingly, there are these.” Eldredge directed Tuohay’s attention to a small black cardboard container that had been wrapped in a red ribbon. The ribbon was undone, and Eldredge removed the lid to expose a pile of black cardstock with white borders beneath. He lifted one up and handed it to Tuohay.

“This is same paper that the
Invitations to a Chase
were scripted on,” Tuohay remarked. “Notice the white border is devoid of the winged serpents, which indicates they were personally added to the invitations by the author.”

“But the most compelling is this,” said Eliza, picking up a black leather-bound journal. “It was locked in his desk. Easy lock to pick, of course.” She fanned through the pages, all of which were chock full of notes and sketches. Nearly halfway into the journal she stopped at a page. The words I am my brothers keeper were sketched across it, the formatting nearly identical to the etching discovered in the Kearney’s apartment.

“There are notes in here about how his brothers’ flat looked when Doctor Kearney discovered their bodies. It is not at
all
as he described it on the record.” She offered the journal to Tuohay.

Tuohay took it and scanned the contents. “So he lied to us about the state of the scene concerning Aiden and Rian’s death.”

“If the journal entry is legitimate, he must have.”

“Not just that,” Eliza added. “He would have physically changed it to what the authorities were shown to what he claimed the scene to look like.”

Tuohay was silent for a moment, the discoveries slowly settling in. “I need a minute to sort this out.”

“Not sure if that’s the best idea in this heat, Jack,” Eliza replied, taking one of the black stock cards to fan her face. “Can we close that vent or something?”

“Jack! Look at this.” Eldredge’s nose was buried in the nativity essay, his spectacles dangling at the edge of his nose. He turned the book around so the others could see it. A sketch of a stained glass window took up most of the page, bracketed on the top and bottom with scrawling verbiage relevant to the drawing’s significance, including the date and artist of the stained glass it represented. The colors were done with soft pastel.

It was a replica of the nativity scene, but with alterations. An open faced stable was positioned in the bottom center of the sketch, a warm golden glow emanating from an indistinct light source within. Surrounding the stables were stone buildings with circular roofs and oblong windows, the edifices various shades of blue in the moonlight. Rows of fingernail-shaped trees were presented along the bottom half of the sketch, lending emerald and evergreen hues. Over the village the top half of the sky was filled with stars, cascading white against a black background.

But the stables were empty except for a woman draped in blue. No wise men, shepherds, or Joseph. No child. The light within the stables, though blurry, seemed to emanate from beneath her feet.

Under the drawing in scrawling black letters, was the word
Revelation
.

Eldredge tapped the word with his finger. “That is what caused me to pause on this sketch.”

“What does the essay say about it?” Eliza asked.

“Colin Allotrope’s essay states that this invaluable stained glass window, called
Revelation
, belonged to an old stone church nestled in the Wicklow Mountains of Glendalough in Northern Ireland, and is over six hundred years old. While it is not a scene of the Nativity, it has been included in his Nativity essay for two reasons. First, the scene
does
signify the birth of the savior, and second, it represents a restoration project that Colin Allotrope was part of.”

Tuohay stared at the sketch. “Which was?”

“Rescuing
Revelation
from the crumbling church in Glendalough by transferring the stained glass, piece by piece, to St. John’s seminary near Boston, and rebuilding it there. The project ran from 1894-1897. And, believe it or not, it was initiated by Father Abrams Valentine.”

“Father Donnelly’s nephew,” Eliza exclaimed.

“And Colin’s father, though we do not know if the boy knew that or not,” added Tuohay. “Does it say anything about Father Abrams role in this project?”

“Simply that he brokered the deal behind the scenes with priests in Ireland and America regarding the transfer of this priceless piece of art before sickness took him from the work. He was not alive to witness the completed restoration in 1897.”

“He allegedly died before it was completed,” Tuohay mused.

“There may be more evidence in the apartment if we look longer,” Eldredge added. “It is a small space, and these items were not difficult to find.”

“Fellas—I don’t think we have that kind of time.” Something had caught Eliza’s eye out the window, and she leaned close to the glass. “Unless I’m seeing things, I’d say Inspector Frost just got off the El, and he’s heading this way with a pair of constables at his side. And by heading this way, I mean they’re here.”

Tuohay cursed under his breath.

“I know what the serpent means.” The statement was soft, almost hollow, and laced with faint sorrow. The others, having forgotten Sara’s presence, turned with surprise to face her.

“You’ll have to explain it later,” said Tuohay. “Leave the evidence for Inspector Frost,” he directed Eliza and Eldredge. They gathered their coats as Tuohay nodded to Sara, who opened the door to the hallway. As they stepped quietly out, a flush of cool air washed across them.

Distant voices rose from the staircase down the hallway.

“They are coming up the stairs,” Eldredge warned, wiping the perspiration from his face.

“The lift.” Tuohay limped towards it, and waited as the others boarded. The voices in the hallway reached a crescendo as Sara brought the lift to life with the gears. It rumbled under their feet and began to slowly descend.

After a moment, Eliza turned to Tuohay. “What about Mary Hart? What about…her body?”

In the same instant, Eldredge wiped his forehead, muttering a complaint about the heat in the apartment.

“My God” Tuohay grabbed the lift’s handle and shifted the indicated destination an additional floor down.

Eliza stared at Tuohay. “What are you doing?”

“Taking us to the basement.”

A few moments later, the lift shuddered to a halt. The opening beyond the gate was nearly pitch black, with only a distant electric torch providing light in the cavernous space. Tuohay slammed the gate open and limped onto the earthen floor of the basement. As the others exited, Tuohay took a moment to turn over his shoulder. “Send the lift up to the first floor.”

Eliza saw to it as Tuohay delved into the darkness, the others close at his heels. The knocking of pipes, creaking of boards, and occasional rush of running water filled the darkness, each whisper and hiss bringing the building to life in their imaginations.

A hollow, groaning whoosh rose from the darkness ahead, and continued to grow louder as they neared. The relative warmth of the basement increased exponentially with the sound until the heat was palpable, dry and crackling like a hot summer’s day off their faces. 

From the darkness the source of the whooshing heat materialized like a metallic giant. They had entered what appeared to be a small tunnel without realizing it, pipes wrapping like snakes above their heads to disappear into the bowels of the building above. The tunnel was in fact two looming furnaces designed to lean inwards on each other, the heat produced by the fire in their vast rectangular bellies connected by two massive pipes above, from which smaller pipes split off like arteries bearing the edifice’s lifeblood.

A light flared to life, creating a small globe around Tuohay’s outstretched hand. He held his lighter forth, the light passing by the puzzled faces before him. Eliza had rejoined the group, the rumbling of the ascending lift echoing in the darkness.