Irish Secrets

by Paula Martin

  Saturday 8:15 a.m.: Have you disappeared off the face of the earth? Call me.

  Saturday 4:30 p.m.: Wherever you are, you need to know this. You were right, and we've got them. Congratulations!

  He stared at his phone. Congratulations? What on earth had happened?

  Chapter 26

  Once he cleared customs, Ryan found a seat near the coffee bar, and dialled Enya's number.

  "And about time, too," Enya said. "I've been trying to contact you."

  "I've been in New York since last Wednesday. Arrived back here about an hour ago and found your texts. What's happened?"

  She laughed. "Where do I start? Friday morning, I suppose. Would you believe a seven year old found Caitlyn Connolly's jewellery?"

  "Is that right? Where was it?"

  "At the cottage."

  Resigned to her telling him the jewellery had been discovered in Dublin or even Belfast, he mentally shook himself. "The cottage?"

  "Wake up, Ryan. Yes, the cottage. The one you suspected all along was being used to hide stolen goods. You were right."

  "Hold on a minute. How did a seven year old find it? I searched all the boxes, and the jewellery wasn't there."

  "That's because it was stuffed in a gap between the stones, and the girl found it during a scavenger hunt. Anyway, they called the Clifden Gardai, and Joe Byrne brought the packages to us. One of them had a beautiful set of fingerprints, and it didn't take long to check the database and find they belonged to George Mannion aka Seamus Flaherty aka Johnny O'Toole. Three convictions in the past for possession of stolen goods, but he's slippery, moves around, Athlone, Cavan, Monaghan, with different names in each place."

  "Monaghan? Wasn't that where—?"

  "You're catching on quickly. Yes, Johnny O'Toole's taxi business in Monaghan closed down soon after the route from there to Belfast was compromised, and Johnny disappeared. No prizes for guessing where he started his next business, with a new alias."

  His jet-lagged brain finally jumped into gear. "Clifden? As Tom Wild?"

  "Correct.

  Relief and elation swept through him. At least he'd got something right. "So he was Mister Big, after all? I thought he was probably small fry."

  "And you were correct. He was a middleman, the local fence. He'd been using the cottage since the beginning of the year. That's where they hid the stuff before it was sent up to Belfast."

  "Who's 'they'?"

  "Mannion aka Wild's little band of thieves, and we've rounded them up, five of them, including one who had a temp job as a room steward at Waterside. They parked a couple of miles further along the road, cut down to the beach, and then up the path from there to the cottage. Usually two at a time, so they looked like ordinary hikers except, of course, they weren't carrying their lunches or waterproofs in their backpacks."

  "So what happened when Conor started work on the cottage in June?"

  "Life became more difficult, of course, which was why Mick Leary turned up and asked Conor to employ one of his mates, ostensibly as a labourer, but his real job would have been to make sure the goods were hidden. Once Conor refused, Wild halted all deliveries to the cottage."

  Ryan nodded. "That explains why I found nothing during all my midnight visits there, but what about the big stash in the electric cable boxes?"

  "That was the final consignment. Wild knew the renovation was almost complete, so he instructed all his thieves to take whatever goods they were holding to the cottage before midnight. That was the Saturday night when someone saw lights in the cottage."

  "And presumably he collected the stuff sometime on Sunday?"

  "Yes. Your theory was right. He couldn't find any other storage area locally, so decided to move on elsewhere, hence his shock announcement to his drivers that he was closing the taxi office. He stripped the office, headed out to Roscommon, as you already know, dropped off the load, and hightailed it across to Dublin."

  "What about the jewellery that was stuffed in the wall?"

  "A classic example of no honour among thieves. He intended to pick that up later and pocket the proceeds himself."

  "But that was over three weeks ago. Why didn't he collect it?"

  Enya chuckled. "He had what might euphemistically be called an 'accident' when he denied all knowledge of any jewellery. His right kneecap was shattered by low velocity gunshot two days after he returned to Dublin. He's been hospitalised since then, which is why we were able to find him so easily."

  "Did he tell you who shot him?"

  "Mick Leary."

  Ryan almost dropped his phone. "Are you telling me all this was organised by Leary?"

  "Leary's not bright enough to organise a blaze in a match factory. He was a middleman, too, working for the Cullen brothers in Belfast. Three of them, big houses, expensive cars, plenty of money to throw around, far more than they would have from their car repair business. The police there have suspected them for a long time of being involved with cross-border trading in stolen goods, but have never been able to pin anything on them. They keep their hands clean, of course, while each of them oversees middlemen in various places in the Republic. So our small town thief Mick Leary had illusions of becoming one of the big boys when Shane Cullen told him to liaise with Tom Wild. He rounded up some of his Connemara mates, who then worked for Tom. Oh, and your other theory was right, too, Ryan."

  "Which theory?"

  "One of the Cullens got Mick his job on the ferries, and he transferred the goods from one car to another on board. All under instruction from the Cullens, of course."

  "Did Tom Wild – Mannion – tell you all this?"

  "He didn't know anything about the Cullens. His only contacts were the taxi driver in Roscommon and Mick Leary. The Belfast police arrested Leary, and he squealed like the proverbial pig when they accused him of being the ringleader of the stolen goods racket, and told him he'd go down for at least twenty years."

  "And Mannion and his band of thieves?"

  "They'll probably all get between five and fifteen years as part of an organised operation. Not sure about the Cullens, but it's up to the Belfast police to make a case against them. As far as we're concerned here in Galway, the case is closed. Dublin takes over now, but you'll probably be called to give evidence."

  "Okay, I can do that, of course, but—"

  "But what?"

  "I've been having a serious think about my future, especially after messing up this last assignment, and—"

  Enya interrupted him. "Before you go any further, let me say two things. Firstly, although it seemed like a disaster at first, you didn't mess up. It was your groundwork that enabled us to pull everything together, so don't beat yourself up about that. In fact, you could be due a commendation from the Belfast police for giving them the evidence to nail the Cullen brothers. Secondly, when are you reporting for duty again at the Bureau?"

  "In about an hour from now."

  "In that case, don't make any decisions before you meet with Detective Chief Superintendent Heaney."

  Ryan grimaced. "He was not best pleased when I last saw him."

  "Things have changed since then, and I think you might be interested in what he has to say."

  * * * * *

  Kara jiggled baby Lewis on her knee as she sat in the lounge with Jenna on Sunday morning. Jenna's baby was becoming more alert, and she loved the small sounds he made, as if he was experimenting with his voice while his big blue eyes studied her intently.

  "See, his mouth quirked then," she said. "I'm sure he's trying to smile."

  Jenna laughed. "Guy thought he was smiling yesterday, and the baby books say the first genuine smile comes between four and six weeks. Lewis is four weeks old tomorrow, so maybe he's practising his smile."

  Kara nodded. "It seems ages ago now since you went into labour."

  The last month had seemed more like six months. The shock of discovering Ryan was a Garda detective had lessened, and her anger had subsided. Maybe he had lied to her, but his reason
s were poles apart from Mark Rankin's lies, and she knew enough about police work to understand that a detective working undercover had to maintain his secret.

  Accepting the reasons for his deception, however, did nothing to ease the heartache that felt like a heavy weight inside her. She tried his phone number several times, but came to the conclusion it had been disconnected, and she knew there was no point in contacting either Clifden or Galway Garda stations. They wouldn't give her any information about him, and he could be anywhere now, maybe already working on a new assignment. Every time her phone rang, her heart leapt, hoping it was Ryan calling her, but it never was.

  With a small sigh, she diverted her thoughts. "What time will Guy arrive back here with his mom?"

  Jenna glanced at her watch. "The flight was due to land about eight, and he called to say it was on time, so, assuming there were no delays through immigration and customs, they should be here between midday and one o'clock. Any minute now, I guess."

  "She'll be so thrilled to see Lewis."

  "Especially as she was on vacation in Hawaii when he was born. He wasn't due until last week, remember?"

  Kara leant forward to kiss the baby's cheek. "But here he is, all gorgeous and – ugh, stinky, too. Lewis James Sinclair, you've filled your diaper again, haven't you?"

  "Kara, you're in Ireland. We call them nappies here. Hand him over. I won't ask you to change him."

  Laughing, Kara passed the baby to Jenna and, as she did so, caught sight of a car turning around the bend in the drive. "Guy's here now, Jenna."

  "In that case, I need to clean up Master Lewis before he meets his grandmother. Go and let them in, Kara."

  Kara went to open the front door, and smiled when her aunt Helen, Guy's mom, got out of the car. Her jaw dropped when two other people climbed out from the back seat.

  Stunned into immobility for a few seconds, she recovered and rushed forward.

  "Mom! Dad! I never expected—"

  Guy laughed. "Surprise, hey?"

  "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

  Alistair Stewart gave her a bear hug. "We wanted to surprise you, honey."

  Kara turned to hug her mother. "I can hardly believe this. Oh, I'm so happy you're here."

  Linda smiled. "We have a lot to tell you, but let's go inside first. I've heard so much about Mist Na Mara, and I'm dying to see it all and, of course, Helen can't wait to see her grandson."

  "Take them down to the staffroom," Guy said. "I called Maggie about ten minutes ago, and she'll bring you some tea there."

  While Guy and her father unloaded the bags, Kara took her mother and aunt into the house, and Linda gazed around the large hallway. "Oh my, this is beautiful."

  Helen smiled. "I told you it was a dream of a house, didn't I? I'm not surprised Guy and Jenna decided to live here."

  "I'll give you the guided tour later, Mom," Kara said, "but I'm sure you'd all like a drink first. Jenna's just gone to change Lewis's diaper," she added. "She didn't want to present you with a smelly grandson, Aunt Helen."

  She took them down the corridor to the staffroom, just as Maggie appeared with a tray containing tea, coffee, and fruit juice. Alistair joined them, and she was pouring the tea when Guy poked his head around the door. "Mom, Lewis is clean and sweet-smelling again, so if you want to come upstairs to see him?"

  Helen jumped up. "Yes, of course. I'll have my tea later, Kara."

  "She'll love him at first glance," Kara said to her mother after Helen had gone out. "He's such a cute baby." She handed the cups of tea to her parents. "I still can't believe this is actually happening. I never thought you would ever come to Ireland."

  "Sit down, honey, and we'll tell you why we're here," Alistair said. "And you may want to put your tea down, too."

  Kara's heart-rate tripled as she sat down. "It's not bad news, is it? Is Matt okay?"

  Linda smiled. "It's not bad news, and Matthew is fine. The fact is – well, I've come to meet my birth parents."

  Chapter 27

  Kara stared at her mother. She was sure she'd heard wrongly. "Your parents?"

  "Margaret and Jon? Those are their names aren’t they?"

  "Yes, but—" She shook her head. "I don't understand. You said you didn't want to know anything about her."

  "I didn't, but I think I should explain why I wouldn't listen to you." Linda paused and took a deep breath. "I didn't know I was adopted until I was ten. It came as a shock, of course, although at that age I didn't really understand all the implications. I remember asking who my mother was, and they said she lived in Ireland but hadn't been able to look after me. It was only later that I started to wonder more about that. Had she not been able to look after me? Or did she not want me anyway?"

  "Didn't you ask Grandma more about her?"

  "Only once, when I was eighteen. I asked where I was born and why my mother couldn't look after me. She said I was born at a home for unmarried mothers and then she looked at me, and I'll never forget the hurt expression in her eyes when she said, If you want to search for her, then of course we'll support you, but I hoped we were enough for you. After that, I never asked anything more, because yes, they'd brought me up and lavished their love on me. They were my parents, not some nameless woman in Ireland and whoever she slept with."

  Kara nodded. "I guess I can understand that. Grandma and Granddad had earned your love and loyalty."

  "You're right, and that's why I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, even though there were times when I felt a deep sense of loss, of not knowing who I really was or where I came from."

  "That was part of the reason I started this search," Kara admitted. "I wanted to know more about my roots, and my Irish heritage. Of course, I was one step away from the loyalty you felt toward your mom and dad." Her forehead creased. "But once they both died, you still didn't want to know, did you?"

  Linda shook her head. "No, because I was scared."

  "Scared? Why?"

  "Think about it, honey. I've spent most of my life thinking my birth mother rejected me. What if you found her, and it turned out she didn't want to know me? That would be an even bigger rejection, wouldn't it? When you said you'd found her, I still couldn't get past that fear. Not even when your dad told me what had happened and how she was forced to give me up for adoption."

  Kara turned to her father. "You told Mom? How do you know about what happened to Margaret?"

  Alistair hesitated for a moment. "Someone came to see me and told me the whole story, but, as your mom says, even that didn't make any difference, at least not for a couple of days."

  She looked back at her mother. "What made you change your mind?"

  Linda gave her a shaky smile. "The photo of you with Margaret and Jon. I only glanced briefly at it when your dad first showed it to me, but he left it on the bookcase in the dining room, and when I picked it up and studied it, I – well, I started to cry when I saw Margaret was holding Peter Rabbit."

  Kara struggled to understand. "You've seen a photo of me with Margaret and Jon?" She stopped when another astonishing thought penetrated her mind and the fog cleared. "Dad, was it Ryan who came to see you?"

  Alistair held up his hands and shook his head. "I promised confidentiality, Kara."

  "It must have been him, but I don't understand why he—"

  She glanced around as the door opened and Guy looked in. "Kara, would you like to take your mom and dad to the lounge? Two people are very anxious to meet you, Aunt Linda."

  Kara stared at him. "Margaret and Jon?" she breathed. "They're here?"

  "Arrived less than five minutes ago. This has taken some planning, believe me, but I think we've timed it perfectly."

  Linda stood and gave a small smile. "I'm quite nervous now."

  Kara gripped her mother's shaking hand. "Don't be. They're a lovely couple, Mom."

  She led her along the corridor to the hallway, and opened the wide oak door that led into the lounge.

  Margaret and Jon sat stiffly o
n one of the dark red couches, and turned as Kara went into the room.

  "Margaret, Jon, I'm just so happy—" Her voice cracked as tears flooded her eyes. "This is my mom. Your daughter."

  Jon stood, and Margaret rose more unsteadily, her blue eyes wide. "Aileen? Linda, I mean?"

  Kara gasped as her mother pulled a knitted rabbit from the pocket of her jacket.

  "I – I think you made this for me," Linda said.

  Margaret's hand went to her mouth, and Jon pressed his arm around his wife. "Oh my, oh my," she whispered. "You still have him. You still have Peter Rabbit."

  "I called him Pee, and I wouldn't go to bed without him for many years."

  All Kara remembered of the next few minutes was her mom clasped in her parents' embrace, with the three of them weeping and smiling at the same time. Her own sobs shuddered through her, and even more so when her father hugged her.

  "You've achieved a miracle, darling," he said. "I never thought I'd ever see this day."

  She buried her wet face against his shoulder. "Neither did I."

  Eventually, they all wiped their cheeks and blew their noses, and Kara sat on one couch with her father, while Linda sat between her parents, her hands clutching theirs.

  Kara shook her head. "I can hardly believe this is really happening."