The Trust

by Ronald H. Balson

  He took a folded piece of paper and a pen out of his pocket. “Sign it, Liam, and then I’ll let you go.”

  “Riley, please.”

  “Sign it!” he screamed.

  “Okay. Okay. Give it to me.”

  He stepped forward to hand me the paper. It was my opening. I knocked the barrel to the side and leveled Riley with a left cross. His head hit the wooden floor and he was out cold. I sat him in the chair and tied his hands.

  “You’re an asshole, Liam!” he said when he opened his eyes. “You’ve ruined everyone’s life including your own!” He started crying. “Conor’s right, you’re a rat. You’ll always be a rat. And here you are, turning on your family again.”

  I stood there looking at him and shaking my head.

  “What are you going to do now?” he said. “Are you going to kill me? You should. You really should. Put me out of my misery. My life’s not worth a damn anymore.”

  “No, I’m not going to kill you, Riley. Believe it or not, I still think of you as a brother. We’re going to wait until McLaughlin gets here and then you’re going to help us catch Penters.”

  He went into a frenzied laugh. “Wait for McLaughlin? That’s funny. We’ll be waiting a long time. I smashed your phone, Liam.” Then he heard the car door slam. “What?”

  I shook my head. He was pitiful. He looked like he could just slump down and melt into the floorboards. McLaughlin came in and I handed the shotgun to him. “Riley wants to chat with us about his boss, Ross Penters. He thinks Penters may be the one we’re looking for.” Riley’s head was lowered. He was sobbing. “And then he needs a room for the night.”

  “Ross Penters?” McLaughlin said. “Get in line, everyone’s looking for him.” He pulled back the bolt on the shotgun. “There are no cartridges, Liam. The rifle’s not loaded.”

  “I wasn’t going to shoot you, Liam,” Riley said quietly. “I just needed you to sign the transfer. Without the stock, there’ll be more killings. You have to stop Penters.”

  I looked at the shotgun and shook my head. All that over an unloaded gun. But it made me feel better. As crazy as he seemed, as far as he was out over the edge, Riley never intended to do me any harm.

  “The Office of Financial Regulation has had a subpoena outstanding for the last month and they haven’t caught Penters,” McLaughlin said. “No one knows where he is. OFR thinks he’s left the country.”

  “Riley thinks he can reach him,” I said. “We have something Penters wants: Fergus’s stock certificate. Riley tells me that Penters wants to use the stock to secure a loan to Global, and as you might imagine, it’s unlikely that his motives are pure. I think there was a plan for these guys to skip out on the loan and plant themselves somewhere far, far away. Right, Riley?”

  He nodded.

  “Riley also told me that he wants to do everything he can to help us catch Penters and stop the violence, right, Riley?”

  He nodded again.

  “Mr. Taggart,” McLaughlin said to Riley, “you’re lucky. I advised Liam not to come out here, that it was too dangerous, but he was confident in your relationship. And after holding a gun on him, he still wants to help you. This may be your only chance to do yourself some good. Help us bring in Penters. I’ll give you a nice clean room while you think about it. You look like you could use one.”

  Riley looked at me with the eyes of wayward child. “Would you really help me, Liam? After all I’ve done? Did you mean it? Can you see me through this?”

  “I did mean it and I’ll do everything I can.”

  * * *

  WHEN I RETURNED TO Fortress Deirdre, I saw two officers—one in a patrol car at the end of the driveway and one on the front porch—nicely dressed in body armor. Catherine was relieved to see me and threw her arms around me. “Thank God. Is everything in one piece?”

  “Everything but my phone. Riley’s now McLaughlin’s houseguest. We’re going to question him first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “It was dangerous though, wasn’t it? I was right, wasn’t I?”

  I nodded. “You’re always right. Poor Riley is a mess. He’s been hiding out for four days in a dilapidated fishing shack, high on amphetamines. He’s also in the middle of a nervous breakdown. He had an empty shotgun pointed at me for an hour.” I shook my head. “It’s really quite sad. He’s in way over his head and now he’s totally lost. I feel bad for him. He says his boss is the one behind all the killings.”

  “Why?”

  Again I shook my head. I think I’d been shaking my head more in Northern Ireland over the past two months than I had in my entire life in America. It was that kind of place. “Riley insists that all the violence has been over the stock certificate. Maybe Penters has a contact inside the bank who will actually loan him money on the stock, I don’t know. McLaughlin wants to use the stock as bait to grab Penters.”

  “Do you think Riley’s right? Is it Penters?”

  “It fits. Everything falls into place. According to Riley, he’s ruthless. He has the money to finance the crimes. He has a strong motive. If he can’t get the stock transferred over, he intends to kill off the beneficiaries one by one until Riley’s the only one left. It all makes sense.”

  Catherine looked like she wasn’t convinced. “There’s some pieces in this puzzle that don’t fit,” she said. “In order for Riley to inherit the stock, he would have to be the last man standing. How would Riley and Penters accomplish that?”

  “They’re picking them off one at a time. First Fergus, then Eamon, then an attempt is made on Deirdre, then Robert. Don’t you see that progression?”

  “And Janie and Conor, they’re going to kill them as well?”

  “Both of them said they didn’t care if Riley got the stock. Maybe their deaths aren’t necessary.”

  “What about the McGregor Trust?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how they were going to deal with that. I don’t know who Bridget McGregor is or was. It could just be a foundation, a charity.”

  “Why would Penters hire someone to firebomb our house? How does that advance their cause?”

  “It gets me out of Northern Ireland. Riley sees me as the stumbling block. If Conor became the trustee, he would gladly hand over the stock. Riley admitted to me that he was the one who ransacked my hotel room and slashed my tires. He even said he made the prank phone calls to you. It was all in an effort to get me out of Antrim. But he denies responsibility for the firebomb. He says that was Penters.”

  Catherine scrunched up her face, a clear sign she didn’t accept my explanations. “Annie said that she and Fergus sat at the computer and researched names from the Troubles. Fergus had her clip two newspaper articles, one on Seamus McManus and one on Sean Lefferty. Why would Fergus do that? There must be something about those two people. Shouldn’t we know more about them before we decide it’s Penters?”

  “What more do you need to know? McLaughlin has searched for a McManus or a Lefferty and come up empty. They don’t exist. Penters is a big break in the case. Why don’t you see that?”

  “I have to tell you, Liam, I’ve had experience with white-collar criminals. They may be heartless thieves, they may defraud their best friends and steal their grandmother’s pension money, but they’re not the kind that firebomb houses or hire snipers. And the ones I know, the financial criminals I’ve met, do not have the detached coldness to stand in front of a living, breathing person and fire a bullet into his heart. That’s a whole different mentality. Look at Riley; just as desperate as it gets and he doesn’t have any bullets in his gun. At this time I’m not buying into the financial guy.”

  I love Catherine. No one thinks like she does. She has visceral logic. If something feels wrong to her, it usually is and she finds out why. I’m going to tell McLaughlin we need to keep the door open and follow up on McManus and Lefferty.

  THIRTY-TWO

  WHEN I WALKED INTO PSNI headquarters Saturday morning, McLaughlin was waiting for me in his office. “Riley’s i
n the interrogation room. He’s scared. I don’t know where he got the courage to confront you with a shotgun.”

  “In a pill.”

  “Well, right now he’s shaking like a leaf.” We walked down the hall and looked through the one-way mirror. Riley was fidgeting and tapping his foot.

  “So, you think he can lure Ross Penters into the open with the stock certificate?” McLaughlin said.

  “Riley thinks it’s in play. He believes there’s still a plan to pledge the stock.”

  McLaughlin smiled. “Let’s see what we can do. Let me go in first. I want to make sure he knows what he’s up against.”

  I watched from behind the glass as McLaughlin entered the room. Riley turned his head. He was obviously full of shame and unable to make eye contact. “I don’t have to talk to you, Inspector. I know my rights. I have the right to immediate access to counsel. I want to talk to a solicitor.”

  “I think you should, Riley,” McLaughlin said. “You’ll need a good attorney for all the charges against you. But you can hire the Lord High Commissioner and you’re still going to serve a life sentence. Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, intimidation, coercion, and those are just the crimes you committed against Liam in one afternoon. Add to that conspiracy to murder, arson, attempted murder, murder for hire, and well, you understand, things aren’t looking too good.”

  “I didn’t do any of that, except hold an empty shotgun on Liam. I want to talk to Cooney.”

  “I don’t blame you. He’s done a great job for you so far. How’s that working out for you in Judge McNulty’s courtroom?”

  “I’m not talking.”

  “How about listening? I don’t believe the statute says anything about having an attorney present before any conducting any listening. Here’s the deal. Even for a man in as much trouble as you, opportunity knocks and a door can open, but only for a very short time. If I were sitting in your chair, chained to the table, peeing in my trousers, I would want to hear about that opportunity.”

  That was enough time for me, standing behind the glass. McLaughlin had suitably scared him and I thought I could talk him into helping us. “Listen to him, Riley,” I said as I entered the room. “There’s a good chance the court would look favorably on a person who cooperated. Farrell, don’t judges in Northern Ireland have discretion to lower sentences if an accused person shows remorse and cooperates with the police?”

  “They do indeed. Happens all the time. If Riley were to help bring in a fugitive like Penters, I would expect there to be a significant difference in the number of years he was separated from his wife and children.”

  “You asked me to help you, Riley,” I said. “Well, the best help I can give you is to tell you to cooperate. Farrell, if he cooperates, I’m not going to press charges against him for the nonsense at the fishing shack or the phone calls to my house. The only beef Riley will face is the financial one and if he flips on Penters, can we get him probation?”

  “It’s up to the prosecutors and courts. I can’t make any promises, but if he helps us catch Penters, I’d go along with it. Listen to him, Riley. Your cousin is making you a hell of an offer.”

  “What do I have to do?” he said softly.

  McLaughlin smiled. “Are you in contact with Penters?”

  Riley nodded. “We exchange emails and I have his cell phone number. Sometimes he’ll pick up, but not always. He always reads his emails.”

  “Did he know that you were going to meet with Liam?”

  “No. Actually, I was surprised when Liam agreed to show up.”

  “All right, I want you to email Penters. Tell him you got the certificate.”

  “Then what? He’s going to want proof.”

  “That’s not a problem. Liam, don’t you have the physical stock certificate?”

  “I do.”

  McLaughlin left the room to get Riley’s cell phone and Riley turned to face me. “I don’t know how to thank you, Liam, you’re a great friend. I wouldn’t have done the same. I don’t have your strength of character. Never did.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just grab Penters, and then we’ll work on getting your life back on track.”

  He started to tear up again. “It’s just like the time when I took Mike Kelly’s bike, do you remember that?”

  I had to laugh. “I do. You were mad at Kelly because he embarrassed you in front of Maggie Dunn.”

  Riley nodded. “My father was going to whip my bum, but you stepped in and pleaded for me. You bailed me out, just like now.”

  I did remember that. Fergus was furious, but he lightened up when I told him what had happened. “Riley, let me ask you a question. Did Uncle Fergus know Ross Penters? Had he ever met him?”

  “No. Ross is a very private man.”

  “Can you describe Mr. Penters for me?”

  Riley shrugged. “Nothing special. He’s kind of skinny with a full head of white hair that covers his ears. He’s very tan because he plays a lot of tennis. He’s in pretty good shape for a sixty-year-old man.”

  “How tall is he?”

  “I don’t know. A little under two meters. A little taller than Inspector McLaughlin.” I did the math: that would make him six-two or -three.

  “Can you tell me why your father would let this stranger walk up to him and stick a gun in his chest?”

  “No, how would I know? I wasn’t there.”

  McLaughlin brought Riley’s cell phone and laid it on the table. “Email Penters and tell him you have the certificate. Nothing more.”

  McLaughlin looked over Riley’s shoulder as he composed the email. He nodded his approval and the message was sent. “Now we wait.”

  Riley was taken back to his cell and I sat with McLaughlin. I mentioned Catherine’s analysis, that she doubted that the killer was a financial criminal. I also told him what Annie had said about McManus and Lefferty.

  He shook his head. “I think chasing Penters is a much better use of our time than looking for someone related to McManus or Lefferty. So far, we haven’t come across any relatives of either family in Northern Ireland. There’s just that one Lefferty who lives in New Jersey. He has a family, no record with the police and he hasn’t been back here in twenty years. I think you are looking at a dead-end. I believe McLaughlin’s first theory of relativity has been validated again.”

  “I hope you’re right, and I hope we catch Penters and solve the case, but my wife has uncanny instincts and Penters doesn’t feel right to her.”

  “I prefer to rely on criminals who are sitting in my jail who point their fingers at other criminals who will soon be sitting in my jail more than relying on uncanny instincts, if you’ll pardon my obstinacy.”

  I smiled. “You don’t know my Catherine. She’s been right in the past.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  I ADDED EXTRA DISTANCE to my Sunday morning run in a futile effort to work off the calories I was sure to ingest at Deirdre’s special Sunday dinner. There was an Irish mist in the air and my run was pleasant and cooling as I hoofed it toward the village of Templepatrick. I estimated the round trip to be eleven miles and I was gassed and soaking wet when I returned. During my run, one thought kept going through my mind. It was Thomas Walker’s description of the man who bought the pictures—tall, taller than McLaughlin, with a white cap and plenty of money.

  When I asked Riley to describe Penters, he said he was very tan, thin, tall and had a full head of white hair covering his ears. Wouldn’t some of those features stand out to Walker as well? Why wouldn’t Walker remember a tan face and a full head of white hair, even if the guy wore a cap? Catherine discounted a white-collar criminal like Penters, and she had great instincts. If not Penters, then who? Conor wasn’t that tall, I’ve never seen him in a cap and as mercurial as he was, I didn’t think he was a killer. Charles was tall enough. He could have worn a white golf cap, like the one he gave to me. Was Walker describing a man like Charles? Maybe, but Charles had never done anything to make me think he was a
suspect. What possible motive could he have?

  Charles didn’t need the money. Charles had his own business unrelated to Global. As far as I could tell, Riley and Charles weren’t even friendly, let alone business partners or coconspirators. The only connection Charles had to the Taggarts was Janie. He didn’t even attend the Sunday dinners. Was he mad because my uncle didn’t like him? Annie didn’t like him either. Maybe a lot of people don’t like him. He’s a pompous jerk.

  I tried hard to think of reasons why Charles could be a suspect, but I couldn’t come up with any. I just had that feeling. Catherine told me to have faith in my instincts and so did my uncle in my dream. I decided to get Charles’s picture and show it to Walker. The best place to take a picture would be Deirdre’s Sunday dinner. I had to make sure he would be there.

  When I returned to the house, I called Janie. I hate that I’m so deceptive, duplicitous and dishonest, but hell, that’s my job. “Janie, it’s Liam.”

  “Please don’t tell me you have more bad news.”

  “Oh no, not at all. I was calling to make sure you were coming to dinner tonight.”

  “Deirdre’s Sunday dinner? I wouldn’t miss it. I need to see my dad, and besides, I want to meet Catherine and your little baby.”

  “Terrific. Is Charles coming with you?”

  “I doubt it. He never comes to the Sunday dinners. You know, Uncle Fergus never made him feel welcome.”

  “So I heard, but I want Catherine to meet him. I had such a nice time going to the country club with you two, I told her all about it. She’d love to meet Charles.”

  “Really? Well, I’ll see if I can horse collar him and bring him out.”

  * * *

  I FINISHED MY SHOWER and went down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a light meal. What is it with the Irish and their breakfasts? Two eggs and a grapefruit would have suited me just fine, but Deirdre laid a plate on the table that had to weigh ten pounds. Sausage, potatoes, pudding, tomatoes, eggs, bacon and black bread. Jam and butter on the side. Large cup of Americano. She stood there proudly and smiled.