The Eloquence of the Dead

by Conor Brady

  Major Nigel Kelly, the head of the secret service group established to report directly to the Assistant Under-Secretary, stood by the window, staring down into the Lower Yard. Swallow and Kelly had clashed in the past. Swallow detested Kelly, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

  ‘Sergeant Swallow,’ West Ridgeway greeted him solemnly, pointing to a vacant chair beside John Mallon.

  ‘It appears that we have a situation on our hands that is potentially very serious for the government. Mr Mallon has briefed us. Is there any further news from London?’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s none that’s either conclusive or very helpful, Sir.’

  ‘I’ve briefed the meeting on the purpose of your London visit as well as what happened last night in County Meath,’ Mallon said. ‘Would you take us on from there?’

  ‘I hoped to find the principal mischief maker, the top man, in London,’ Swallow explained. ‘Shaftoe had undertaken to identify him for me. But Shaftoe’s dead, shot almost in my sight.’

  West Ridgeway nodded. ‘Do you suspect that there was a leak somewhere? Was this top man, as you call him, tipped off?’

  ‘It’s hard to say with certainty, Sir, but it looks like it.’

  ‘Outrageous,’ Kelly said, turning from the window.

  West Ridgeway gestured him to silence.

  ‘That would be a matter of the utmost seriousness, but as of now it is only speculation. Go through last evening’s events in County Meath, Sergeant.’

  ‘Cutting it short, Sir, the RIC found the Clintons on this farm at Clonlar. It’s not far from the town of Trim. Mrs Clinton’s home place, it turns out. She says she took the coins from the husband. So the next question is: where did he get them? And then, while we’re interviewing her, he hangs himself out in the barn at the back of the house.’

  Mallon raised a hand to pause the narrative. Swallow could hear shouted commands below in the Yard at the changing of the guard at the Justice Gate.

  ‘Mrs Clinton told Sergeant Swallow enough to confirm his original suspicion,’ Mallon said. ‘Clinton was engaged in conveyancing the assets of the Mount Gessel estate, and he was stripping off valuables as he did so. That’s how he got the coins. It seems likely that he also misappropriated the Gessel family silver and arranged for it to find its way into Pollock’s basement.’

  West Ridgeway nodded.

  ‘It’s a pity that Clinton isn’t around to tell us more. I still can’t see how this connects to the murder of Ambrose Pollock.’

  Smith Berry waved a hand impatiently.

  ‘With respect, Sir, the Pollocks don’t matter. What’s at issue here is a challenge to the government’s policies. The Devil knows, it’s been hard enough to get the Land Leaguers and the landlords to agree to anything.’

  ‘Oh, I can understand Sergeant Swallow’s concern about the Pollock murder.’ Kelly’s tone was mocking. ‘He’s a policeman first and last. A squalid murder in a squalid laneway by definition engages his interest. He’s hardly worried about government policy.’

  Mallon shot Kelly an icy look.

  ‘You seem to forget that I too am a policeman, Major Kelly. The sergeant and I are well aware of the importance of the land transfer programme. But so far the only crime that we can say for certain has been committed is the murder of Ambrose Pollock. Are you suggesting that we should be indifferent to murder?’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ West Ridgeway raised his hands. ‘This isn’t very helpful. I need to determine our actions from this point and to do so swiftly.’

  He swivelled to Mallon.

  ‘Chief Superintendent, please summarise what you know and what you suspect. And make the distinction clear between the two.’

  ‘Very well, Sir,’ Mallon shifted a little in his chair. ‘I’ll start with the murder of Ambrose Pollock. It’s a reasonable surmise that his death had something to do with the fact that he had several thousands of pounds worth of stolen silver in his premises. That silver came from the Gessel estate in Galway. The family and their solicitors locally have no idea how it ended up in Pollock’s possession. They believed it had been sold as part of the estate and its effects. We’re fairly sure it was misappropriated by Arthur Clinton. He somehow arranged for it to be diverted to Pollock’s.’

  ‘Gessel,’ West Ridgeway said. ‘I know Sir Richard Gessel at the Cabinet Office. Is that the same family?’

  ‘Distantly related,’ Mallon said. ‘I know Sir Richard too. He’s not a member of the immediate Mount Gessel family.’

  He gestured towards Swallow.

  ‘The detective sergeant has told us how Arthur Clinton died by his own hand. We know that he worked on the conveyancing of the Gessel estate. It seems that he also misappropriated a collection of rare coins, some of which were sold to Greenberg’s of Capel Street by his wife.’

  He paused.

  ‘Then we have the information passed by the late Teddy Shaftoe to Sergeant Swallow. He says he was sent to Dublin from London with his accomplice Darby in order to find out who had sold the coins and to recover them, using force if necessary.’

  He raised his hands in a gesture of finality.

  ‘That’s what we know as fact, no more, no less. Now, if I may, I’ll speculate on what we suspect and try to draw it all together.’

  ‘Please do so.’

  ‘It’s my belief that Shaftoe’s information was essentially correct. Clinton’s firm are the Dublin agents who handled the break up and transfer of the Gessel estate. I believe that he was engaged in some sort of plan with other persons to defraud the Crown and perhaps other parties. I suspect that somehow Ambrose Pollock was involved as well and that he was killed, perhaps in a dispute among thieves, perhaps for some other reason that we can’t yet ascertain.’

  ‘There’s rather a lot that you people haven’t ascertained,’ Kelly shot in.

  Mallon glared.

  ‘Pollock’s sister Phoebe remains missing. In spite of the best efforts of G-Division, and the police in general, no trace of her has been found. We don’t know. We don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.’

  ‘Finally,’ he allowed his gaze to swivel across the room, ‘I will be more forthright than Sergeant Swallow. I believe that there is a security breach somewhere at senior level, probably within the Castle here. Last night an attempt was made at her home in Sussex on the life of Lady Margaret Gessel. She’ll be an important witness and a key source of information if we succeed in bringing charges in these matters.’

  He raised a hand in reassurance.

  ‘Thankfully, the attempt was unsuccessful and rather than becoming a victim, she shot and killed the intruder. It seems she’s well accustomed to the use of firearms. My colleagues at Great Scotland Yard have identified him as a known criminal from the East End of London.’

  ‘What do you propose we do now, Mr Mallon?’ West Ridgeway asked quietly.

  ‘As a first step, I believe we need to secure and examine all the documentation relating to the breaking up of the Gessel estate. Depending on what we find, I believe we’ll have to question particular people who have been involved in the processes. I’d start with the files in the offices of Keogh, Sheridan and James.’

  ‘That can be done in either of two ways,’ Smith Berry offered. ‘We can get an order of the court to search and seize, or we can ask for their co-operation.’

  ‘I’d very strongly urge that we get a court order,’ Mallon said. ‘If we start a process of negotiation it will take time, and it would tip off people with things to hide.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with John,’ West Ridgeway said. ‘What else should we be doing, Chief Superintendent?’

  ‘A land transfer, as I understand it, requires three official documents for completion: a certified map, a title deed and a certificate of purchase. I’d want to examine these in relation to all of the property transfers at Mount Gessel. So I’ll require warrants for Keogh, Sheridan and James, the Land Office and probably a couple of banks.’

  Kelly snorted. />
  ‘Is that all? You want to invade most of the administrative and commercial institutions across the city? It would take every man under my command and every second solicitor and accountant on the Crown payroll to do it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t intend that it be done by your men or by Crown solicitors or accountants, Major Kelly. I would intend that it be done by officers of G-Division, directly under the supervision of Detective Sergeant Swallow.’

  Kelly threw his hands in the air.

  ‘You’re saying you don’t trust Crown officials, Mr Mallon. And I’m saying I doubt if G-men would have the competence to do the sort of job you’re talking about.’

  ‘I believe our men can do it,’ Swallow interjected. ‘In G-Division we’ve got some of the best analytical minds I’ve come across in my career.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment,’ Kelly sneered.

  ‘I’m going to go along with Mr Mallon’s argument,’ West Ridgeway said. He turned to Mallon. ‘How long will you need?’

  Mallon shrugged. ‘If I get my court order, I’ll deploy my men today. I’d estimate there’s a week’s work in it.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Mallon. Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘Two things, Sir. I want to arrest Mrs Clinton for further questioning. It’ll be a bit of a ruse, but Sergeant Swallow believes she has more to tell us. I’d like to get her out of her mother’s house and into Exchange Court for a while.’

  ‘Gentle pressure?’

  ‘If you put it that way, yes.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘With your agreement, I’d like to ask Lady Gessel to return to Dublin for a short time to assist us. If we find evidence of dirty work in the transfer of her property, she’s the person most likely to recognise it.’

  ‘I agree. There will be costs, I’m sure. She’ll have to be offered decent accommodation and so on, given her position and her connections. We’ll make sure that’s taken care of if you let us have the details. I have to say I’d rather look forward to meeting this lady who’s such a crack shot.’

  SIXTY-ONE

  Swallow disliked the United Services Club.

  Its membership extended to military and naval personnel, both serving and retired. It could never fully make up its mind up about policemen, although it welcomed senior officers from the Colonies, like Lafeyre. As he had learned on previous visits there as Harry Lafeyre’s guest, however, the food was good. He wasn’t particular.

  It was a ten-minute walk from the Castle to the club on St Stephen’s Green. Although he was glad to get the freshness of the street air after the hotel, he felt the October chill was sharper than in recent days. Dublin certainly felt colder than London, Swallow reflected. Even in the short walk from the hotel, a blast of icy air blew in from the east. Swallow was happy to reach the warmth of the club.

  The waiter offered them a table at the window overlooking the Green.

  ‘Business is slow,’ Lafeyre remarked ruefully, glancing around the dining-room.

  ‘You said you might have something important to tell me,’ Swallow got to the point without ceremony.

  Lafeyre drew his watch. ‘I’m expecting something from Scollan. He’ll probably arrive while we’re eating. So, tell me about London,’ he said. ‘What did you think of it?’

  ‘Noisy, crowded, dirty – but quite a place if you had the time to enjoy it.’ He wondered if he should say something to Lafeyre about Jenkinson’s job offer.

  ‘Will they make any progress on the shooting of this fellow Shaftoe?’ Lafeyre asked. ‘From what you say, the fellow who killed him must have been a professional.’

  ‘It isn’t looking good. The witnesses were poor. I think it all happened so quickly that even if they wanted to be helpful they mightn’t have much to tell.’

  ‘Sounds like a waste of time,’ Lafeyre said, tapping the wine list to indicate that he wanted a bottle of the house claret. ‘Did you get to do any sightseeing? Bit of a shame to get to London and not see the place.’

  ‘By coincidence I met someone who knows it well. She might be described as an expert guide.’

  ‘She?’ Lafeyre raised an interrogative eyebrow.

  ‘Katherine Greenberg. She’s in Lily’s painting class. And she’s the woman who bought the tetradrachms from Grace Clinton.’

  ‘I know who she is. Lily told me,’ Lafeyre said cautiously. ‘Was that just coincidence?’

  ‘Of course. She goes to London on business. I literally almost bumped into her in Hatton Garden.’

  ‘I see.’

  The silence that followed might have been broken if Swallow wanted to expand on the encounter. He remained silent.

  ‘And I got a job offer,’ he said instead.

  ‘A job? Well done. At Scotland Yard?’ Lafeyre seemed impressed.

  ‘Yes. They want men for the Special Irish Branch. It’d be attractive money-wise, and they’d honour my DMP service for pension purposes.’

  ‘Will you take it?’

  ‘I’m going to think about it. There isn’t much prospect of advancement here, is there?’

  ‘That’s a matter you have to judge carefully,’ Lafeyre said.

  He seemed to want to change the subject.

  ‘Have you decided what you want to eat?’

  They ordered mutton broth, to be followed by loin of pork. The waiter poured the claret for them.

  ‘What are you going to do about Maria?’ Lafeyre asked as they finished their soup. ‘You may tell me it’s not my business, and if I were asking as her sister’s fiancé you’d be right to do so. But I’m not, I’m asking as your friend.’

  Swallow sipped the claret. ‘I’m not sure it’s appropriate that I “do” anything, Harry. She seems to be enjoying the company of Mr Weldon very much, and I don’t see myself having any right to cut across that.’

  Lafeyre clattered his soup spoon into his plate, exasperated.

  ‘For God’s sake, you’ve a few years on me in age, but your seniority hasn’t imparted much sense. Does it have to be spelled out to you that she took up an invitation from Weldon just to send a message out to you?’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I can’t see it as clearly as that. What I see is that she showed me the door. So I’ve set up with my sister in Heytesbury Street and I’m doing fine there, thank you very much.’

  Lafeyre shook his head as if in despair. He reached for the claret bottle as a familiar voice called.

  ‘Lafeyre, Swallow, how’s the battle against crime?’

  As if on cue, George Weldon strode across the dining-room towards them. He had detached himself from a threesome who had occupied a table down the room.

  There were handshakes all round. Weldon jerked a thumb in the direction of his companions.

  ‘Some colleagues in from Whitehall. I’ve to keep them fed and watered,’ he laughed.

  Lafeyre smiled. ‘They won’t do badly here. The mutton broth will keep the chill out, I promise.’

  Weldon’s expression was serious. ‘I hear there’s been squads of your fellows all over the city for the past couple of days,’ he said to Swallow. ‘What on earth is going on?’

  ‘Stolen property,’ Swallow answered, not untruthfully. ‘Quite a lot of it.’

  Weldon nodded as he retreated to join his colleagues. ‘I see. I hope you get to the bottom of the problem.’

  ‘We’ll do our best, Mr Weldon,’ Swallow said with forced pleasantness. ‘Isn’t that all any of us can do, in any walk of life?’

  The waiter came to their table.

  ‘Dr Lafeyre, your driver is in the lobby. He says he has a message for you.’

  Lafeyre threw down his napkin.

  ‘I’ll need a few minutes,’ he told Swallow. ‘Help yourself to the claret.’

  When he returned, Swallow could see that he looked pleased.

  ‘You’d best finish up your wine and come outside with me. You’ll need to see something outside in the carriage.’

  When they were seated in
the brougham, Lafeyre reached into his bag. He drew out a file and laid in on the seat beside Swallow.

  ‘Open that.’

  The file contained four photographic images of finger-marks.

  ‘What do you make of those?’

  ‘I can see that they’re not the same, just like yesterday. They’re quite different in fact. And they’re small, as you said. I assume they’re women’s marks.’

  ‘Well done. The pictures on the left are the marks left by two different women at the scene of Ambrose Pollock’s murder.

  Now Lafeyre was grinning.

  ‘So, my dear Sergeant, I have to tell you that the first photograph on the right shows the fingerprint of Phoebe Pollock. I lifted comparisons from the glass top of the dressing-table in her room. It matches the more sticky marks, if I can use the term again. Phoebe Pollock was at the murder scene some time after Ambrose was killed. But this other mark tells us that another woman left her finger-marks on the iron weight at the time he was killed.’

  Swallow stared at the pattern of loops, whorls and points.

  Lafeyere reached into the bag again and produced two more prints. He laid each one side by side with the first set.

  ‘You can see that those match,’ he said, indicating the prints on the right. ‘Those are the mark left by Phoebe Pollock along with her fingerprint as I have recorded it from her belongings.’

  He tapped the other print.

  ‘And the second photograph on the right is the fingerprint of Katherine Greenberg. It does not at all resemble either of the marks left at the murder scene. Katherine Greenberg can be eliminated from the investigation.’

  Swallow was speechless.

  ‘Eliminated? Are you telling me…?’ he finally spluttered, ‘ … that you decided Katherine Greenberg was a suspect and that you took her fingerprints?’

  ‘Yes and yes,’ Lafeyre said. ‘She had to be a suspect. She and Pollock were linked by stolen property from Mount Gessel. It turns out that she had come into possession of it inadvertently, but we only had her word and that of her father for that. So I managed to get her fingerprints surreptitiously. She never knew she was a suspect, and she need never know now. She’s in the clear.’