by Rhys Bowen
“Why, Cousin Bamey, you startled me,” I said. “Is something the matter?” He kept on coming until he was only inches away from me. I cried out in alarm as he reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Do you mind telling me who the hell you are and what you are doing in my house?” he demanded.
The way he was glaring at me was frightening. This was the other Barney Flynn, the one whohad been described more than once as ruthless.
“Cousin Barney, what on earth has possessed you?” I fought to stay calm. “What are you talking about?”
This morning’s mail brought a letter from my family in Ireland.” He almost spat the words. “Lots of news, including a tidbit about my dear cousin Molly who has now been in the convent for the past two years. What do you have to say to that? Or do Mother Superiors let their nuns out on little jaunts across die Atlantic these days?”
I realized that I was alone in the woods with a man who had possibly killed two women and was no fool. What Itoldhim had to be as close to the truth as I could manage without alarming him.
“Senator Flynn, I'm deeply sorry for deceiving you and I ask your forgiveness,”I said. “My motive was entirely in your interest.”
“Go on.” His eyes were still glaring at me.
“I'm a sort of private investigator,” I said. “I was sent here to spy on the Sorensen Sisters. The New York Police thought that they were charlatans but nobody had been able to catch them at their tricks until now. Since my face was not known to any of you, it was thought I might just have a chance of exposing them.”
“And did you?”
“They left in a hurry, didn't they?” I asked. “Ifoundout enough to make them uncomfortable but probably not enough to prosecute them.”
“Would it not have been more correct to let me in on the secret? It is my house, after all.”
“For all we knew the entire household was composed of devotees of the sisters who would not have taken kindly to my efforts to expose diem.”
He nodded as if this made sense, but his eyes never left my face for a second, nor did he let go of my wrist.
“If you had completed your assignment, what made you stay on after they had departed? How do I know you're not a thief or some damned magazine reporter?”
“If you want proof of my credentials, I can show you my card. I have associates with the New York Police who can vouch for me. And as to why I stayed on—if you remember, I became sick the day the sisters departed. So sick that I wondered whether they had put a hex on me.”
He looked at me and suddenly he laughed. “You're a rum one, and that’s the truth. Full of Irish blarney. So are you telling me you're not from Ireland after all?”
“Oh no, sir, I'm newly arrived from Ireland, only not from a convent.”
I saw his expression change in a way that made me uneasy. “Not from a convent, eh? That much was obvious. And not a relative either. Well, that does change the situation, doesn't it? And nobody need know except for the two of us.”
He jerked me into his arms. I was so surprised and taken off guard that I didn't have time to react before he was kissing me roughly. I tried to push him away but he was like an animal, grabbing at me, attacking me.
“Stop it! Leave me alone!” I managed to gasp as I wrenched my mouth free of him. “Your poor wife is not yet cold. Holy Mother of God—have you no shame?”
“My poor wife kept me out of her bed for five long years,” he muttered. I could feel his heart thudding against my chest. “And I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” His hands started moving down my body. He was panting like a caged beast.
“Barney, stop this, please,” I pleaded. “Youll regret this later.”
“No, I won't. I haven't regretted one moment’s pleasure in my life so far and you owe me some return for my hospitality, Miss Whoever-you-are.”
With that he attempted to throw me down onto the grass. I tried to bring up my knee but was trapped by my own petticoats. It was as if the scene with Justin Hartley was replaying itself in front of my eyes.
“I owe you nothing,” I shouted, hoping in vain that someone would hear me. “Get away from me this instant. I'll summon the police and have you arrested!”
“I don't think so. The police are in my pocket. You should know that And there isn't a woman yet who has been dissatisfied with my lovemaking—and a whole string of them who can vouch for me.”
He was still attempting to throw me down, while I fought to get free of him. I tried to bring my hands up to his face but he grabbed my wrists easily in his big hands. A large oak tree was behind us and he forced me up against it, nuzzling at my neck and grunting as his knee thrust in between my legs and he triedtopull up my skirt.
“Damned stupid skirts,” he muttered.
I couldn't have agreed with him more. If women wore sensible clothing, diey'd be able to defend themselves better in the first place. I was just about thinking that there was no hopeforme when an indignant voice demanded, “Bamey—what in God’s name are you doing? Have you lost your senses, man?” And Joe Rimes stood behind us. He grabbed at Barney and dragged him away from me.
“You must be out of your mind, man. Your own cousin?” Joe took my arm. “I'm sorry, my dear. The Senator is out of his mind with grief—”
“She’s not my cousin, she’s an imposter.” Bamey was still breathing heavily. “She’s a little spy, that’s what she is.”
“What do you mean, a spy?” Joe’s voice was suddenly sharp. His grip on my arm tightened.
“An investigator, sent here to spy on us.”
“Good God. By whom?”
“The police, so it seems.”
Then get rid of her. Now. While we've got the chance.”
“What do you mean, getridof her?”
“What I say. Find a large rock and drop her into the river and no one will be any the wiser.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You're crazy, Joe,” Bamey shot him a look of alarm. “We're not killing anybody. We'll pay her off. That works.”
“Like the last one, you mean? Money didn't keep her away, did it? She kept coming back, didn't she? And she threatened to let out the secret too. If I hadn't—-”
Barney turned on him abruptly. “What are you talking about, Joe? When did she threaten to tell?”
“When she was here last week. She wanted to see you. I warded her off with promises that you'd meet her later.”
Barney was staring at him. “And then, Joe? What happened then?”
“She had to go. She was a constant danger to you. She didn't leam her lesson.”
“So you followed her and pushed her off the cliff?”
“You couldn't afford another scandal, Barney. Any breath of scandal now and theyll not reelect you. And nobody can prove that herfallwasn't an accident.”
They stood staring at each other and I could see Bamey trying to digest the weight and implications of what he had just learned. Joe Rimes’s grip was still firm on my upper arm. I considered breaking free and making a run for it.
“I can't believe you'd do a thing like that, Joe,” Bamey said at last. “How many years have I known you, and I still can't believe it of you.”
Joe Rimes glanced across at me. “Oh, it’s easy enough after the first time,” he said. “I won't have any trouble with this one.”
I realized instantly that my one hope was to get Bamey onto my side as an ally against Joe Rimes. “And what about Theresa?” I demanded. “Did you kill her too?”
Rimes smiled then. “Like I said, it’s easy after the first time. The first time the guilt bums at your very soul, but when you realize that you're damned already, what does it matter? You can't bum in hellfire more than once.”
Barney let out a roar of rage and grabbed him by the lapels. “You killed my wife?”
Joe dropped his hold on my arm and put his hands up to defend himself against Barney’s onslaught. “Oh come on, Barney. Don't try to preten
d that you wanted to be married to her any longer. What kind of marriage was it? If she'd satisfied you, you wouldn't have had to keep grabbing anything in skirts that walked past you. I did you a good turn. You should be thanking me.”
Thanking you?” He started shaking Joe Rimes as if he were a rag doll. I began to back away.
“You're crazy,” I heard Bamey spit out the words.
“I'm not the crazy one,” Rimes shouted. “Your wife was. You were tied to a madwoman. And if you'd let her be hypnotized by that quack, she'd have told him everything—about the child, about Margie McAlister—everything!”
“You killed my wife.” Barney’s voice dropped to a whisper and he let go of Joe Rimes.
“She didn't suffer, Bamey,” Rimes said quietly, putting his hand on Barney’s shoulder. “She went the best way possible. She fell asleep and didn't wake up. Isn't that what you wanted for her? And there will be an added bonus. You'll get the sympathy vote again. Poor Bamey Flynn whom tragedy keeps striking but who soldiers on bravely, in spite of everything.”
“Wait a minute.” Bamey looked up suddenly. There was total silence apart from the sound of two men breathing and the gurgle of the river passing the rocks. “My son . . . my boy. . . . Was that the first time,Joe? Tell me that wasn't the first time.”
Joe Rimes’s red face flushed the color of beetroot. His eyes darted around wildly. “For you, Bamey I did it for you. You were behind in the polls, weren't you?”
Bamey went for him again like a madman. “You killed my child because I was behind in the polls? What kind of depraved monster are you?” He struck Joe a great blow to the head, sending him sprawling.
“I didn't want to hurt him, Bamey.” Joe Rimes started to blubber as he staggered back to his feet. “I swear I didn't want any harm to come to the child. I arranged the whole thing with Morell. I'd put a sedative in the child’s milk and I'd bring him to Morell. After that it was up to him. He'd hide the child where he couldn't be found. He'd collect the money and be well on his way out of the country when the child’s hiding place was revealed. He was a good man. The boy liked him. I knew he'd take good care of the boy.”
“But he didn't, did he? He buried my son alive and left him to die.” Barney’s voice broke and he turned his face away to hide his emotion.
“How was I to know the stupid policeman would shoot him before he could tell us where the child was? You should never have brought in the police. The note told you not to. You were warned.”
“And whose idea was it to bury him?”
“Mine. Morell didn't want to, but I said it had to look terrible. It had to evoke public sympathy and make every parent’s heart stop beating from fear. Morell said he'd make sure the child stayed asleep and had plenty of air. He'd take care of everything, he said.” Rimes gave a great, heaving sob. “God, Bamey, do you think I haven't suffered a million times over? I'd have done anything to take back what I did—anything.”
“Get away from me.” Bamey yelled and gave him a great shove. “Get out of my sight now, before I tear you apart with my bare hands!”
“But I did it for you, Barney,” Joe said again. “I've devoted my entire life to your career. You'd never have gotten elected in the first place if it hadn't been for me. I only wanted what was best for you.”
“You're a depraved monster, Rimes.” Bamey was screaming now, half out of his mind with fury. “You make me sick. Start running before I call the police. The least I can do is give you a head start.”
Rimes spotted me, still standing within reach in the dappled shade. “We have to get rid of the girl, Barney. Don't you see that? She knows everything now. She’s dangerous. She can ruin you if the truth comes out.”
They were standing between me and the path to die house. I considered trying to run to the Van Gelders and Daniel, but I knew diey'd soon catch me. It was so tempting to promise them that I'd keep my mouth shut and behave like a good little girl, but I couldn't.
Then I heard Bamey say, There has been enough killing, Rimes. No one else is going to die to keep me in the damned Senate. I'm resigning today. I'm selling Adare and taking my daughter abroad. I'm through with public life.”
“No. No, you can't.” Rimes’s voice was shrill. “I won't let you. Not after all this. Not after everything I did for you. I'd rather have you dead first.”
He pulled a gun from hisrightpocket and aimed it at Barney. But before he could pull the trigger, I heard footsteps crashing through the undergrowth and Daniel came running toward us.
“Daniel, he’s got a gun!” I screamed as a shot whizzed past Daniel’s head.
“Hold it right there,” Daniel shouted and produced a gun of his own. “Drop the gun at once.”
But instead Joe Rimes leaped at me with remarkable agility for his size and dragged me in front of him, his arm tightly around my throat. “She’s coming with me,” he said. “Stay back. Don't try to follow us.”
He started dragging me backward down the slope, toward the river. His grip on me was so tight that I couldn't breathe and I coughed and choked as I fought for air. Lights flashed in front of my eyes. I was only half aware of Barney and Daniel watching helplessly as I was borne away, Daniel’s gun at the ready, but aimed directly at me. Slowly, carefully, Rimes pulled me down the steps to the landing stage, then he yanked me like a rag doll into the skiff, which rocked wildly and I thought would tip us both into the water. But he managed to right it and cast off while he kept me in front of him. He took an oar and gave a mighty shove, sending us out into the current.
The current was flowing fast through these narrows and bore us out into the stream. With one hand around my neck and the other clutching his gun, Joe Rimes couldn't use the oars and had to rely on the strength of the current to bear us away. I had no idea where he might be taking us. I don't think he knew either. Rocks approached and he had to put down his gun while he picked up an oar to fend them off, but he was still holding my throat too tightly and I couldn't turn my head to see where he had placed the gun.
When at last we were far from either bank, he threw me down onto the floor of the boat and waved the gun at me. “No funny business, understand? You lie there and don't move. I need both hands for the oars but I've still got the gun right here if I need it.”
Then he started to row. He was not a man of athletic build and his rowing was terrible. He jerked, splashed and caught crabs. After a few minutes his face was bright red. Sweat streamed down it, and he was puffing and panting. The current was still strong and swept us between towering banks. If we didn't hit a rockfirstor weren't swept into the undergrowth along the shoreline, we'd probably make it to the Tappan Zee—that wide lake into which the Hudson spreads. But I didn't know what Joe would do without help of the current. I knew that he couldn't row all the way to New York City and I was afraid that he'd decide he had to get rid of me—or that the police would start shooting at the boat. I remembered too well the last occasion when a police bullet had caused an unexpected tragedy.
I glanced up at him, wondering if he could be reasoned with. Then I reminded myself that this was a man who had caused three deaths and for whom a fourth killing would be no problem. And I had heard his full confession. I could never be let go alive.
I lay there on the floor of the boat, my eyes going from Joe Rimes’sfaceto the gun. It lay on the seat beside him, within easy reach of hisrighthand. I'd have no chance of reaching itfirst. My one hope would be totipthe boat over and throw us both into the water. But with the swirling current and the rocks, I didn't like our chances. I didn't think drowning wouldn't be a preferable death to being shot.
We continued. The shoreline began to open out. We were almost to the Tappan Zee. The midday sun came out from behind hazy clouds and beat down on us. Joe was clearly tiring at the oars. Then suddenly a loud siren brought me up to my knees and made Joe jump and spin around. The pleasure steamer had left its dock in Peekskill and was bearing down on us, closing rapidly in the narrow stream. Joe grabbed the oars and
fought to row us out of harm’s way. But the more he struggled, the more he splashed, and we were getting nowhere. Then he reached forward for a mighty pull, missed the water entirely and went over backward. This was my chance. I scrambled to my knees. The gun had disappeared somewhere beneath Joe. One oar had floated away. The steamer was closing on us rapidly. The siren sounded again and warning shouts came to us over the thrashing of the two great paddle wheels. Joe struggled to right himself, and came up, grasping for the remaining oar.
The giant bow cast a shadow over the rowboat as it loomed above us. I could hear women screaming.
“Jump!” I screamed and dived into the water.
“1 can't swim!” Joe’s voice came to me as I broke the surface.
I could hear shouts and bells as the steamer changed course and the bow swung to the left of the rowboat. For a moment it looked as if it might pass him by. I was still too near those mighty paddle wheels and had no wish to be dragged under them. I felt my wet skirts wrapping themselves around my legs as I attempted to swim away. I turned on my back, hitched up my skirts and kicked out. The current caught me and swept me out of harm’s way.
I raised my head and watched as the prow of the steamer grazed the rowboat. Then the great wheel approached him. At first it seemed that it too would pass him by. Instead, it drew the small boat in, like afishermanreeling in his catch. Joe threw himself down as the boat was tossed around, then dragged into the path of the wheel. It rose up andflippedbefore the blades came down on it. On the bridge above the captain cut the engine, but it was too late. The wheel had smashed thetinycraft to matchwood. I waited for Joe’s body to appear, but it didn't.
Thirty-two
Minutes later I was on board the steamer, wrapped in a blanket and sipping brandy from a flask. We waited in midstream until a police launch boarded us, having been summoned from Riverside by Daniel. I had hoped to see Daniel himself, but Joe Rimes had taken the only boat at Adare. Daniel would probably have to drive to the nearest public ferry, and that would take time.
