Last Rights

by James Green

  ‘Does the bishop approve of this chaplaincy?’

  ‘Yes, without Church approval I couldn’t and wouldn’t be doing this work.’

  ‘But if the people who come here are actually…’

  He still had to fish for words which wouldn’t offend so Sr Gray helped him out.

  ‘In sexual relationships?’

  ‘That’s definitely against the rules for Catholics, so doesn’t this chaplaincy seem to sort of approve of Catholics who break the rules?’

  ‘I don’t ask what the nature of anyone’s relationship is, and people, quite sensibly, don’t volunteer the information.’

  Jimmy understood that alright. It sounded like it used to be in the Met: ‘Don’t tell me and I’ll not ask, that way we all stay happy.’ Only in the Met it wasn’t queers, it was villains, and the relationship wasn’t sex, it was money, and plenty of it. Jimmy knew, he’d made enough himself while his colleagues turned a blind eye.

  ‘OK, we’ll leave it there for the time being. Who am I seeing tomorrow?’

  ‘There’s Laura, the student who first brought Marvin. She’s very keen to meet you and help. Then Peter, he’s a music teacher, and Anton. He’s an actor, when he’s working that is. At the moment he’s in telesales.’

  Jimmy stood up.

  ‘Fine. How do you want me to do it?’

  ‘Do it?’

  ‘The interviews.’

  ‘How would you normally do it?’

  ‘One at a time, in here at this desk. I’d want you present.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that will work.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Peter and Anton are going to be here on their lunch breaks and they only have an hour. Including travelling. You’ll have about half an hour for both, so if you talk to them one at a time I don’t think you’ll get very far. Laura’s a student, so depending on lectures she could come earlier, I suppose, or later.’

  Jimmy didn’t care. They weren’t going to tell him anything except background stuff. They weren’t a priority. The art dealer was the one he wanted to talk to now. McBride had said it was about paintings, so an art dealer popping up couldn’t just be a coincidence. That had to be where McBride wanted him to get to, and she wanted him there without anyone else getting even a whiff of stolen art. Credit where credit’s due, he thought, she’s a devious bitch but a damn clever one.

  ‘OK, I’ll see them all together. That art dealer, Somerset… What did you say his first name was?’

  ‘Thurlow.’

  ‘How would I contact him?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve no idea except that he’s from New York. Do you think he might be important?’

  ‘No, but I like to keep track of everything. OK, I’ll be back tomorrow for twelve thirty.’

  She stood up and held out her hand.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Costello. I feel so much better now someone is looking into this.’

  Jimmy took her hand and tried to smile but it didn’t take so he gave up. ‘Pleased to be of help.’

  ‘I’ll walk down with you.’

  They left the office and at once Jimmy noticed the sound of voices coming from downstairs. Once on the stairs he saw that about half the tables were occupied. There must have been about thirty people there.

  Sr Gray must have noticed the surprise on his face.

  ‘No, Mr Costello, these people aren’t part of the Outreach - at least, a few of them are, but not many. It’s just that this is a popular place for some of the office workers to take their lunch. It’s comfortable and we do an excellent light menu.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I thought…’

  ‘I know what you thought, Mr Costello, but you were wrong.’

  They reached the front door. ‘Please understand, Mr Costello, I do appreciate your helping in this and, for what it’s worth, I think I know what an effort you are making.’

  There was nothing Jimmy could think of to say so he pulled the door open and left.

  Outside he felt better. He was getting back to the world he knew, a world he could deal with. OK, he’d been wrong about the people having lunch. But he wasn’t wrong about Brinkmeyer’s suicide, and he wasn’t wrong about Thurlow Somerset being the reason he was here. About those he was he was right, right on the button.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Mr. Costello.’

  The voice carried across the hotel lobby as Jimmy walked towards the lifts. Jimmy looked across to Reception. The young man behind the desk beckoned to him. He went across.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You have a message. A Mr Brinkmeyer called and asked that you should be told that he will call again. He said you’d know what it was about.’

  ‘Thanks. What time did he call?’

  The young man checked a slip of paper.

  ‘Two fifteen, forty-five minutes ago.’

  ‘Did he leave a number?’

  ‘No, but he said that if you were out when he called he would call back regularly until he got you. I guess it’s important.’

  ‘I guess it must be. Thanks.’

  Jimmy went to the elevator.

  So, perhaps Pa Brinkmeyer wasn’t the hard nut Ma Brinkmeyer was and he cared about how and why his son died. Jimmy went up to his suite, made himself a cup of tea and sat by the phone. He hadn’t been waiting many minutes when it rang. It was Brinkmeyer.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Costello, thank you for taking this call. I’m sorry about what happened when you called this morning and I would like to explain, but not over the phone. Could we meet?’

  ‘Sure, where and when?’

  ‘Would you mind if I first ask you how you are involved with my son’s death?’

  ‘Sr Gray asked me to look into it. She doesn’t think it was suicide. Do you know Sr Gray?’

  ‘My son spoke of her, he thought highly of her and the work she did, but we never met. You say Sr Gray asked you to look into my son’s death. Are you a detective?’

  ‘No, not a policeman of any sort. I’m a friend of a friend.’

  The voice took on a doubtful tone, as if Brinkmeyer was thinking the call might have been a mistake.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No you don’t and I can explain, but I don’t want to explain over the phone either. If you want to meet we’ll meet. I’ll tell you why I’m involved then. If you want to, you can tell me your side of things.’

  Brinkmeyer brightened.

  ‘Thank you. Can you come to Seattle? I’m afraid it’s impossible for me to come to Vancouver and I have to fly out to India the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘How long would it take for me to get to Seattle?’

  ‘If you fly you’ll be here in less than an hour. I could meet you at the airport.’

  Jimmy worked out times.

  ‘I’ve got meetings tomorrow at lunchtime. I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon. I don’t know how often flights are. I’ll have to…’

  ‘I’ve checked.’ There was a pause while he must have looked at something. ‘There’s a flight at four twenty. Could you make that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It gets in at five ten.’

  ‘Fine, how will we know each other?’

  ‘I’ll have my driver waiting outside Arrivals displaying your name. He’ll bring you to the car and we can talk while he drives around.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  There was a short pause.

  ‘Thank you for what you’re doing, Mr Costello.’

  ‘Keep the thanks until you know what I’m doing.’

  And Jimmy put the phone down.

  If Pa Brinkmeyer hadn’t given up on his son, and it looked like he hadn’t, then that would explain where Marvin’s money came from. Was that good or bad? Jimmy wasn’t sure. If it was coming from his father it meant the money was straight and that closed down his most promising line of enquiry. But if Pa Brinkmeyer wanted to talk that put representing the parents, or at least the father, back into the frame. And there was still Thurlow So
merset.

  OK, that was tomorrow sorted, interviews at lunchtime then a plane to Seattle in the afternoon. Now it was time to go out, have a beer or maybe two, take in some sights and look around for a place to have dinner. Somewhere down by the waterfront again. He liked the waterfront. He would go somewhere and have fish. He would find somewhere he could get something really special. It was just a feeling of course, he couldn’t be sure, but he felt this town was going to be good to him if he gave it half a chance.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Next morning Jimmy stood drinking a cup of tea by the window of his suite looking out over Vancouver. The sun was shining again. The previous evening he’d found a restaurant on Coal Harbour Quay which was in a great location, overlooking the water. He’d eaten wild salmon that had been baked on a cedar plank. It was good, he’d thought, not great, but definitely on the good side. Tonight he would try somewhere else and have something different. Maybe he would have a look at Chinatown. He was enjoying discovering a new city, the more he found out about it the more he liked it. His mobile on the coffee table began ringing. He looked at his watch. It was eight thirty.

  He went and answered the phone.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who is speaking, please?’

  ‘It’s the man who’s answering the phone. Who’s that?’

  ‘This is the Vancouver police.’ The voice let it sink in, then continued. ‘Would you tell me your name, sir?’

  The voice was extra-polite but behind the politeness Jimmy recognised a copper who wanted to know something and knew how to get told, so he didn’t try to mess about.

  ‘Costello, James Costello. What’s this about?’

  ‘Do you know a Sr Lucy Gray?’

  Jimmy put his cup down. He knew what was coming from the tone of the voice but he still went ahead and asked.

  ‘Is she alright?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir.’

  ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Sr Gray is dead.’

  ‘An accident?’

  ‘We cannot comment on the cause of death at this time.’ Jimmy didn’t say anything.The voice waited then went on. ‘We would like to talk to you, Mr Costello.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll get a taxi to your station. Where are you based?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, we’d like to come and talk to you. Where are you staying?’

  ‘I’m at the Rosedale on Robson. When do you want to come?’

  ‘We’ll be with you around ten if that’s OK.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  And the phone went dead. Jimmy put the mobile down and went back to the window but he wasn’t thinking about the view. This was turning nasty. A student blowing his head off was one thing. Nuns getting killed was something else. Was it tied in to the Brinkmeyer thing? He was fairly sure it had to be. Shit, if this was dangerous, McBride should bloody well have told him.

  He made a call. It was answered as soon as it rang. Did McBride live in her office?

  ‘The Gray woman is dead. She died some time last night.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  There was no surprise or even concern in McBride’s voice.

  ‘I’ve just had the police on. Did you know something like this might happen?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you think it might?’

  ‘No.’

  Jimmy persisted, you had to nail her down tight to get anywhere.

  ‘Did you have any idea at all that there could be violence?’

  ‘No, none at all. It appears I have underestimated the situation. How are your enquiries going?’

  If Gray’s death had had any effect on her she was doing a first-class job of hiding it.

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve turned up an art dealer from New York who knew the suicide. Is the art dealer where you wanted me to get?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you couldn’t just tell me?’

  ‘You needed a reason for being there and asking questions and you had to be convincing. If you arrived and started asking questions about the art dealer you would have got nowhere, believe me. This way, my way, you’ve been asked by a friend in London to help out with a student’s death which may or may not have been suicide. Sr Philomena will back up that story and so will Sr Gray,’ she paused, ‘at least she would have if she hadn’t…’

  There was a pause so Jimmy finished the sentence for her.

  ‘Died.’

  ‘Mr. Costello, I regret the death of Sr Gray, it is most unfortunate. But I don’t want the art side of this to get into anyone’s hands, not anyone at all beyond those who are already involved. It could be most damaging.’

  ‘And how many are there, already involved?’

  ‘That we know of, I count four so far, don’t you? Sr Gray, Sr Philomena, the art dealer and you.’

  ‘And you, which makes five, and whoever got you involved, six, and whoever told them, seven, and…’

  ‘Mr. Costello, no good purpose will be served by your being facetious. What else have you done?’

  ‘I’ve arranged to fly down to Seattle this afternoon to meet the dead kid’s dad and I was supposed to meet some people who knew Marvin at lunchtime today although I doubt they can tell me much that will be of use.’

  ‘See them anyway if you can. Even if they have no worthwhile information it will help your cover story. Well, it seems you have got to where I wanted you to be. From now on it’s up to you.’

  ‘What about the Gray woman?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what about her. The police are coming here to interview me this morning about her sudden death. If it turns out she’s been murdered you can forget the whole thing. I’m on the first plane back to Rome. Two people involved in this have already died, I don’t want to be next.’

  ‘There will be no next. Brinkmeyer committed suicide and we don’t know yet how or why Sr Gray died. Whatever happened to Sr Gray I doubt anything will happen to you.’

  ‘Oh you doubt that, do you? Look, I was the one who got a knife stuck in him in Santander where there was going to be no violence. I’m not taking any chances of a repeat.’

  ‘Sr Gray’s death is regrettable and was quite unforeseen, but she had served her purpose as far as our involvement is concerned so it need have no further bearing on the matter. See the young man’s friends, meet with Mr Brinkmeyer, then there’s one more thing I need you to do in Vancouver. When you’ve done that I want you to go to New York and see the art dealer and get the job finished.’

  ‘You’re a cold bitch, you know that?’

  ‘Vulgar abuse will help neither of us, Mr Costello. The job needs doing and, as always, you’ve made an excellent start. Just keep on and get it done.’

  There it was again – get it done. Suddenly Jimmy was tired of being pushed.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Then I may have to make a call to someone and inform them that unfortunately I am no longer able to guarantee your continued discretion. I’m sure you understand.’

  There hadn’t even been a pause for thought, she had the answer right to hand. She’d obviously given it some thought.

  Jimmy didn’t say anything straight away. Would she really do it? If she did he was a dead man. Would she hand him over to the Israelis? She didn’t kill people and, if you put aside her methods, he’d always looked on her as being on the side of the angels. But he couldn’t put aside her methods because he was one of them, and people did get killed even if she didn’t do the killing.

  ‘You really mean that? You’d give me to the Israelis?’

  ‘Why say it unless I meant it?’

  Jimmy had known since the Copenhagen business that she could get him by the balls any time she wanted. It was only now he understood how strong her grip could be when she did. He gave up. It was a doubt against a certainty, he might get hurt if he stayed, but he’d be dead if he left and went back to Rome.

  He’d stay, but
he’d be very careful and take no chances.

  ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do but I’m not sticking my neck out. What is it you want me to do here before I hop off to New York?’

  ‘Make an appointment to see a Mr Felton Crosby, he works for the Vancouver Diocese. Wait one moment and I can give you his number.’ Jimmy waited until she came back on and gave him a number. ‘I will speak to him so he will be expecting you. He will tell you how this all started.’

  ‘And will that be everything?’

  ‘No, not everything. If I had everything I wouldn’t have needed to send you, would I? But once you have spoken to Mr Crosby you will know as much as I do. After that I expect you to find out if the paintings really are stolen masterpieces as Brinkmeyer said. If they are, I need to know how the Church got involved and how the matter can be satisfactorily resolved.’

  ‘And the Gray woman?’

  ‘Leave it to the police. It’s none of our business.’ Jimmy didn’t say anything. ‘I mean it, Mr Costello, don’t get side-tracked. Remember what I said to you before you left Rome, stick only to the job in hand.’

  Jimmy put the phone down and waited for a while. It didn’t ring. He took a drink of his tea. It was cold so he took it to the sink and poured it away. Then he phoned reception.

  ‘I’m flying to Seattle this afternoon at around four, for a meeting. I’ll want to come back this evening. Could you find out if there’s a flight I could get?’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll get some breakfast and then pick up what you’ve got.’

  He thought about the call from the police. They must have got his number through Gray’s mobile. All they would want to do was check him out. He wouldn’t have anything to worry about from that quarter. He was a friend of a friend doing a favour. It would be the truth, it just wouldn’t be the whole truth.

  He went down and had breakfast, then went to reception.

  ‘There’s an Air Canada direct flight at seven thirty-five or a Northwest flight at eight fifteen. After that…’

  ‘That’s OK. One of those will do fine. Thanks.’

  Jimmy went back up to his suite. In less than an hour the police would be knocking on his door. He knew what he would tell them but he still had a lot of thinking to do. If the Gray woman’s death turned out to be murder then whoever did it was involved with Brinkmeyer and the stolen art. The art was what it was all about and it was serious enough for Marvin to kill himself and maybe for Sr Gray to get murdered, if she was murdered. But if he wanted information quickly about how Gray died the only people who could tell him were the police. He needed to think of some way of interviewing them while they were busy interviewing him. And he had to believe in what he was doing, if he tried to put on an act then… well. Like McBride had said often enough, they both knew what sort of actor he was. So Jimmy went to the window and started thinking.