Shadows of Deceit (30 page)

“Steve or someone else forced him to divulge this address.”

He took a deep sigh,

“He’s dead isn’t he?”

“I can’t say for certain Darlath, but yes, I think he may be.”

Harry stood up just as Darlath turned with tears running down his cheeks,

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Who would have wanted Andrew dead? Who could have done…”

there was a long pause as Darlath sobbed,

“Jesus, it’s my Dad isn’t it? He wanted to stop us?”

“I don’t know but he wouldn’t have carried it out himself.”

“Steve would do it for him, and take great pleasure from it.”

“Darlath, don’t jump to conclusions, the Police need to find who did it.”

Darlath slumped back into an armchair and cried. After a few moments Harry ventured his next question,

“Darlath, there is something that needs to be explained before we decide what to do next. You need to tell me why you had brought the money here, this wasn’t as we planned?”

“I know.”

He got to his feet and paused, trying desperately to provide a plausible explanation.

“You see, Andrew thought it best to hide the cash here first. He thought it would be safer out of Glasgow. Then we could all descend here and share it out at a later date.”

Harry guessed this was a lie but was unable to probe deeper for at that very moment the front door knocker was rapped loudly and persistently.

“Who the hell?” Harry looked out of the window,

“There’s two Policemen!”

He went to the passageway and turned to run to the back door only to be confronted by three Military Policemen in uniform standing in the kitchen.

“Steady on sir, best wait until we let the local constabulary in.”

One of the M.P.s unlocked the front door to let them in.

“In here please.” The senior officer said directing everyone into the sitting room,

“And who would you be sir?”

Darlath had remained standing.

“My name is Darlath Cassidy. I come under the jurisdiction of the government of the Irish Free State”

“Well that will need to be determined sir. And you’re?”

“Harry Davies.”

One of the M.P.’s moved forward and stood in front of Harry,

“Harry Davies I’m arresting you for being absent without leave from His Majesty’s Armed Forces.”

The M.P. moved closer and fixed handcuffs on Harry’s wrists.

“We will accompany you to the local Police Station where your identity will be formally checked.”

The senior Police officer addressed Darlath.

“You are also under arrest until we check your full identity at the Station. It is likely that you’ll both remain in our custody overnight. We need to find out why you are here in this property, indeed in this part of the country.”

The senior M.P. looked at Harry,

“Assuming your identity is correct you will then be taken to Catterick Garrison for Court Martialling proceedings to start.”

The two captives were not allowed to speak to each on the car journey to Peebles Police Station. There they were separated; Harry was ushered into a cell with Darlath remaining in the charge room waiting for his identity to be proven. Darlath’s reason for being at the house was accepted, he was to meet up with a friend who owned the property. The police had no reason to keep him and so at three the next afternoon he was released without charge. Darlath eventually took a slow train back to Glasgow to locate his father. He hadn’t slept overnight and was drawn, unwashed and overcome by grief.

Harry slept fitfully through what remained of the night. He received a hot meal at lunchtime brought to him by the duty sergeant,

“Here we are, it’s the best we can do. Cooked and brought by the manageress of the local café. Liver, cabbage and spuds.”

“Thanks, I’m grateful. Any news on how long I’m to stay here?”

“No not yet. The M.P.’s are still checking records somewhere in town.”

Harry remained in the cell throughout that day and the next night. He kept piecing together in his mind the events of the previous day.

Later in the morning he asked a warden, “Is there any chance I could ‘phone my fiancé?”

“No sorry, but I’ll bring some paper, you can write a note and I’ll make sure it’s posted.”

It was the hardest letter Harry had ever had to write and because he guessed the police would want to check the contents, there was no way he could reveal what he knew about Andrew.

‘Dear Eileen, I’m sorry that you must have been worried about me these past few days. I did try and ring you but since then I’ve been arrested by M.P.s.

Please try not to worry, I always intended to go back and face the music, but it happened perhaps a little sooner than we’d expected. I met up with Darlath and I’m told that he has since been released. He will be able to explain everything to you.

I understand that I’m to go to Catterick so you may be able to write to me there, I should like that. Did you manage to talk to Dermot about selling the cottage?

Once I know exactly where and when the Courts Martial will be held I’ll get the authorities to contact you so you can follow up the proceedings and verdict.

Despite this sudden loss of freedom I actually feel quite chirpy about the future, our future together that is. Please write and update me with any news when you can.

I love you Eileen. My best love to you. Harry.’

Harry was eventually taken to the ‘charge room’ to be interviewed. The duty sergeant sat next to an M.P. that Harry didn’t recognise from the previous day.

“This M.P. is Sergeant Green, we have confirmed your identity so this constabulary will formally hand you over to the Military Police. Sergeant Green here will escort you down to Catterick. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Sergeant Green was a powerfully built six footer, about the same age as Harry but much stockier and a lot fitter. His pock marked face, strong jaw line and high cheekbones belied the fact that he was softly spoken and well educated,

“It’s handcuffs all the way.”

“It’s what I expected. If I tried to run you’d soon catch me anyway.”

Green smiled as the Police Sergeant presented papers for him to sign.

“Now Mr Davies you need to sign for your possessions.”

Harry quickly scrawled his name and took back his watch and wallet. Green then applied the handcuffs,

“You can put your mac over them when we’re at the railway station. That way the public won’t see that you are in fact under arrest.”

“I’m obliged, thanks.”

February 24
th
1943

The death of Dermot by natural causes at a hotel in Northumberland was notified to Tommy Bunn at his garage in Glasgow. He passed on the news to the others. A few days later Eileen was still undecided whether she would attend the funeral. Tommy rang her again,

“Do you want to go; I can take you down if you want?”

“No, I’ve decided I shan’t be going, I’ve not been too well these past few days. But thanks anyway Tommy.”

“I was sorry to hear about your flat and what happened.”

“Yes, it belonged to Dermot. After he discovered that Harry and I knew all about Darlath and Andrew he turned a bit sour towards me. He gave me a week’s notice to quit.”

“But now with him gone wouldn’t Darlath let you stay on?”

“He probably would, but no Tommy, I don’t want to stay there anymore. Too many things have changed.”

“You mean with Harry being arrested? I understand. And you’re staying with Wemyss at the moment?”

“Yes, he was kind enough to take me in at such short notice.”

“Have you heard from Harry?”

“I had a letter from Peebles, the Police Station, but that’s all so far. It’s all been a terrible mess hasn’t it?”

“It’s been dreadful Eileen.”

After the conversation was over Eileen returned to her bed to recuperate following her visit to the woman in Shettleston the previous day. She had confided to Wemyss about her situation and it was he who had taken her to and from Shettleston…

“How many weeks is it?” The women asked.

“It’s over twelve maybe fifteen, thereabouts.”

Eileen said as she was shown into one of the bedrooms,

“At my age I thought I was passed all this, I don’t know what went wrong.”

Eileen allowed the woman to complete the intrusion and much later in the day after severe cramps and bleeding the evacuation of her uterus began.

“It would have been a girl.” The woman said.

Wemyss who had paid for the abortion of Harry’s child collected Eileen.

In the late afternoon of Dermot’s funeral Tommy and Darlath found time to sit down together.

“I’m very sorry Darlath …”

Tommy was finding it difficult to convey the right words.

“- you know with your Dad going and Andrew as well. Tell me do you have any immediate plans for what you’ll do now?”

“Thanks Tom. You may not know this but I have just resigned from my job in Dublin. I need to spend time here sorting out my Fathers businesses. Some of his work became intertwined with Andrews so the lawyers will be occupied for many years to come I think.”

“Darlath stop me if this question is out of order, but did Andrew have any relatives that his estate may go to?”

“There isn’t anyone except a second cousin that apparently lives in Canada I believe. But Andrew never kept in touch with him and didn’t know if he was still alive. But as Andrew never made a will the Solicitors are trying to trace him over there, and that could take many years!”

“Oh I see.” Said Tommy.

“Tom, I need to put a question to you. I’m aware that the counterfeit money was passed on to my Father to hold in his lock up. And I know that he was uncomfortable about storing it, but I don’t know what happened afterwards?”

Tommy moved forward in his chair and lowered his voice,

“It was all disposed of. You see, soon after Andrew’s death your father became very concerned, knowing that some of their businesses were linked, he feared the Police would also want to interview him in depth and perhaps search his premises. He didn’t want that risk and he asked me to get rid of it.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Within two days of Andrews’s death I met your Father and took the stuff back to my garage initially. As there happened to be a Freemasons meeting arranged for that evening I took the notes and threw them into the furnace. Our garage is in the same street and I’m a key holder so it was easy for me to arrive early and dispose of it.’

“So it all went up in flames?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I’m glad Tom. That last project was perhaps too big for us. Better to get rid of the evidence.”

“And just to complete the story I crushed the tin trunks and left them on a bomb site somewhere in the city!”

Darlath was early for the appointment at his solicitors and was requested to sit and wait. He busied himself reading the local newspaper for about twenty minutes.

“Darlath Cassidy,” The receptionist came back in,

“Mr Auldgirth will see you now.”

He followed her through a narrow dark corridor into the Solicitor’s Office.

“Please sit down Mr Cassidy.”

At the reading of Dermot’s ‘Will’ Darlath discovered that despite their recent difficulties most of his father’s substantial wealth and property would pass to him.

“My Father never had the time or health needed to enjoy the money he had made over the years in both his letting businesses and other projects.”

The solicitor looked up from his desk,

“In my line of work you hear of these situations quite often, it is always sad. That is the way of the world I’m afraid. But now I have to inform you that you are the main beneficiary Mr Cassidy, except for a few bequests your Father made.

The details are as follows, ‘five percent of his estate to go to the Freemasons Charitable Funds, five to the Magdalene Homes and five to the Glasgow School of Art’. The details are here for you to read.”

The Solicitor, a large man in a black suit, stiff white shirt with a winged collar and tie looked impassively at his new client.

“The Magdalene Homes, I don’t understand?”

“It’s clearly designated here sir.”

Darlath was shown the document entry.

“As you will see there is also a reference there to a codicil that Mr Cassidy, I’m sorry, the late Mr Cassidy, has requested us to expand upon at this meeting today.”

Darlath leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on the desk eager to listen.

This sudden movement somewhat alarmed the Solicitor who instinctively moved his chair backwards in order to retain what he felt was the ‘correct’ space between them.