The City of Shadows

by Michael Russell

  Stefan let her find her way back to the present before he continued. ‘A boat to England’s a common solution. It happens every day.’

  ‘Not Susan. And there was already a solution, wasn’t there?’

  ‘She’d made arrangements with Keller?’

  ‘It was the priest who knew about him. He did the arranging.’

  Stefan couldn’t hide his look of surprise. It seemed to irritate her.

  ‘I didn’t mean to shock you, Sergeant.’

  ‘Shock would be overstating it, Miss Rosen.’ He smiled wryly.

  ‘Anyway, he knew where to go. He told her it was a proper clinic too, with a proper doctor. And he was going to pay for it all, she said.’

  ‘A gentleman as well as a scholar. It’s not what you’d expect.’

  ‘I don’t know. How do priests usually deal with these things?’

  ‘I don’t know either, Miss Rosen. I’m very rarely on my knees.’

  ‘That’s reassuring at least.’

  ‘So Susan wrote to you about the abortion?’

  ‘I had one letter telling me it was happening. Then she wrote to me again, the day before she went to the clinic. That was at the end of July. She was going on the twenty-sixth. I didn’t know it when I got that letter of course, but she disappeared the day after she sent it. And that’s all there is. No one knows where she went. No one’s seen her since.’

  Stefan took this in.

  ‘Did she seem distressed about what was happening?’

  ‘I don’t think so. And I’d have known, even if she’d been putting on a brave face. It was something she had to do. She wasn’t jumping for joy, Sergeant, but I’d say the strongest feeling she had – was about drawing a line under it.’

  Hannah dropped her head as she had done before, when she felt she was talking about Susan’s feelings in a way that didn’t quite fit a conversation with a policeman. Her hair fell forward each time and she brushed it out of her eyes, looking back up at Stefan with a slightly awkward combination of forthrightness and reserve. And each time, as their eyes met again, he was conscious that she was trusting him with her feelings as well as the facts. He somehow knew she didn’t do that easily. It happened of course, when people had no one else to talk to, when they’d bottled things up inside that they couldn’t tell anyone. As a policeman you relied on that sometimes. But this was different. At least he wanted it to be different. The sound of conversation and laughter all around him in Grace’s had faded away completely. Hannah spoke softly, but by now her words were all he heard. And he was conscious that he didn’t want her to stop talking to him.

  ‘So, do you think this abortion happened?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it? She said she was going the next day.’

  ‘Isn’t it something she might have changed her mind about suddenly?’

  She shook her head.

  Stefan decided to take that at face value for the time being.

  ‘What did she tell you about Hugo Keller?’

  ‘She just knew what he did and that he did it in Merrion Square.’

  ‘And the priest set it all up?’

  ‘I told you. He was paying for it.’

  ‘So who is this priest?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t found him yet.’

  He took note of the determination in those words; she would find him.

  ‘So your friend, who told you everything, didn’t tell you his name?’

  ‘When it started she almost liked the cloak and dagger element. It was as if she was breaking all the rules at once.’ There was the hint of a smile again, as Hannah thought about the friend she knew so well. Then she shrugged. ‘And she had a genuine desire to protect him. She was in love with him. She wanted to protect herself too.’ Hannah laughed. ‘Susan liked breaking the rules but she hated getting caught. She wouldn’t have called herself a practising Jew, but the idea of what people would say – an affair, with a goy, who was a Roman Catholic priest.’ She stopped. She wanted to keep laughing about her friend’s foibles, but all of a sudden it felt like another way of hiding her fear. Even what she was saying didn’t seem so funny now. ‘It wouldn’t have been nice. We Jews may have been the victims of everyone else’s prejudice, but we can find plenty of our own, Sergeant.’

  ‘When you contacted Mr Field, what did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him what she’d said in her letters.’

  ‘The affair, the abortion, the priest?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he passed the information on to the Guards?’

  She nodded, slowly.

  ‘That couldn’t have been easy for him.’

  ‘I talked to him last week when I got home. He didn’t want to see me really.’ She paused. ‘I don’t know which was worse, his daughter disappearing, or what he found out about her afterwards, from me.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit harsh?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘All right, so what happened?’

  ‘The Guards didn’t come back to him for weeks. He went to Rathmines every day, and every day they said they’d be in touch when they had any information. Only there never was any. In the end they told him they had no reason to suspect foul play. Do you have a manual for those phrases? Anyway, it was the same story as before, there was only one conclusion. Susan couldn’t face him after what had happened. She did what that sort of girl does. She got the boat to England. But they did think, sooner or later, she’d contact him. That sort of girl usually does – eventually.’

  ‘Did they talk to the priest? Did they talk to Keller?’

  ‘No. The priest was a figment of her imagination, or just a lie. The man must have been married and she made up the priest because she couldn’t deal with the shame. A Jewish woman wouldn’t understand what the vow of celibacy really meant, and how unlikely an affair with a priest was, you see. As for abortions, the inspector said Mr Field could rest assured such things didn’t happen in Ireland. That was, sadly, why some women, now what was it again, oh yes, why some women took the boat to England.’

  Stefan made no attempt to explain away what had happened. He couldn’t. He didn’t want the contempt in Hannah’s voice directed at him.

  ‘What were you going to ask Mr Keller?’

  ‘If my friend had arrived for her abortion, what happened then, oh, and who the priest was who paid for it all. That would have been a start.’

  ‘And do you imagine he’d have told you?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s when you walked in.’

  ‘I don’t think your conversation with Keller would have lasted long.’

  ‘Why not? I’d just paid him for an abortion. I would have been happy to say that very loudly and very publicly. All I needed was information.’

  ‘The events of this evening make it clear Mr Keller isn’t without friends. He’s also a criminal who keeps a revolver in his desk drawer.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about him shooting me. Perhaps I should have.’ She was laughing at him. It didn’t seem there was much she was afraid of.

  ‘So you’ve got a man, the priest. An appointment for a miscarriage. Let’s assume she went. You don’t think he’d have gone with her?’

  ‘They’d stopped seeing each other. She didn’t say he was going.’

  ‘Then there’s Keller, who’s unlikely to tell anybody anything. And Susan, who no one’s seen since July. It’s hard to know what it really says.’

  ‘I think I know.’ She held his gaze, unwavering now.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It says Susan’s dead.’

  He didn’t answer. Instead he reached across the table and took Hannah’s hand. She nodded. It was answer enough. She had known for a long time now, however much she had tried to persuade herself it couldn’t be true. Even as she spoke the words she still hoped Stefan would tell her she was wrong. And it would have been easy for him to. It was what he was meant to do as a detective, at least till there was evidence to prove otherwise. A
nd there was no evidence at all, of anything. Not that anyone had really looked for any yet. But he had a sense of where looking was going to lead already. It was the total absence of facts that made pushing aside Hannah Rosen’s simple statement hard. Hannah knew her friend. It wasn’t a fact but it was as close to one as made no difference. He couldn’t tell her he didn’t understand what Susan Field’s silence was. It was the silence of the grave.

  4. Stephen’s Green

  The lights were still on in the house at twenty-five Merrion Square. It was almost ten o’clock. The uniformed officer Stefan Gillespie had left there was still on the steps. Garda Liam Dwyer had the collar of his coat turned up, his cap pulled down. Smoke hovered in front of his face. He was cold and hungry and pissed off. He should have ended his shift three hours ago.

  ‘I can’t let you go in, Sarge, sorry.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘Sergeant Lynch. It’s a Special Branch operation now.’

  ‘A serious business then, Liam. Is he inside?’

  ‘They’ve gone for a pint.’

  ‘I can see why they would. It’s thirsty work keeping the nation safe.’

  ‘No one goes in. That’s Sergeant Lynch’s orders.’

  ‘So what’s Jimmy Lynch up to in there?’

  ‘How do I know? I’m out here.’

  ‘There’s no fooling him, is there, Dessie?’

  ‘He’s got Special Branch orders, he needs to be on his toes, Sarge.’

  ‘You can piss off, Dessie. I’ve been here since this afternoon.’

  ‘Maybe they’ll bring you back a bottle of stout,’ laughed Dessie.

  ‘I hope you’re not thinking about putting in for any overtime from Inspector Donaldson when you get back to Pearse Street.’ Stefan shook his head with a look of mock concern. ‘He’s not happy about those two at all, especially Detective Sergeant Lynch. I’d say he had the holy water out when they left the station, and maybe the bell, book and candle. Will we go back and tell him you’re taking your orders from Special Branch now, Liam?

  Garda Dwyer felt that a little more cooperation would be no bad thing.

  ‘They’ve been looking for something, Sarge,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Jimmy and Seán Óg?’

  ‘And the German feller. They were turning the place inside out.’

  ‘You know what they were looking for?’

  ‘I can’t see through the front door, not being a detective.’

  Stefan smiled, but ignored the sarcasm.

  ‘Where’s Keller now?’ he snapped.

  ‘He went with them, Sarge. Not to the pub though.’

  Stefan could see he knew where Hugo Keller was.

  Dwyer smiled. ‘Any fags? I’m on my last one.’

  ‘I’m sure Dessie’s got some, Liam,’ replied Stefan.

  Begrudgingly Dessie MacMahon pulled twenty Sweet Afton from his pocket. As he opened the packet, Stefan took it and handed it to Dwyer.

  ‘Hey, I’ve only just bought those!’

  Liam Dwyer lit a cigarette from the stub in his mouth. He put the packet of Sweet Afton into his pocket and dropped the stub to the ground.

  ‘You’re not the gouger they crack you up to be, Dessie.’

  ‘So Keller’s not with Lynch?’ Stefan returned to the matter in hand.

  ‘He was off to the Shelbourne for a drink. There’s a Christmas party on, every German in Dublin. Jimmy Lynch said they’d see him back here.’

  ‘Well, it’s a pity we didn’t know there was a party. I’m sure the inspector would have told us to back off on the raid if someone had said. But they’re always the lads for a bit of Christmas spirit in Special Branch.’

  ‘How much longer do I stand here, Sarge? Can’t someone take over?’

  Stefan laughed. ‘You’ll have to ask Sergeant Lynch that, Liam.’

  The Shelbourne Hotel was warm and welcoming. Two flags still flew over the brightly lit entrance, looking out on to Stephen’s Green – the Nazi swastika and the Irish tricolour. As Detective Sergeant Gillespie and Garda MacMahon entered the frayed-at-the-edges splendour of the Shelbourne lobby the top-hatted doorman smiled. He also gave a quick, warning glance to the porter at his desk. He knew who they were. Detectives didn’t just call in there for a drink. The porter emerged from behind the desk with the same barely disguised combination of welcome and wariness.

  ‘Anything I can help you with, Mr Gillespie?’

  ‘There will be, Anto. When I’ve worked out what it is I’ll tell you.’

  They walked towards the doors that opened into the dining room, which had been taken over for the evening by the German Christmas party. Stefan stopped and peered into the room. It was festooned with red and white and black swastika flags and red and white Christmas decorations. Inside there was a buzz of loud and cheerful German conversation. Men, women and children filled the tables and milled around amidst the debris of an almost completed meal. Just then a loud ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ boomed across the lobby. As Stefan and Dessie turned, they saw a fat, bearded figure in red, with a bulging sack over his shoulder, heading towards the dining room and the party. He was accompanied by a middle-aged elf in green and gold and a Brunhilde-like maiden, flaxen plaits and all, in German peasant costume. They also carried sacks of presents. The two detectives stepped back. Santa Claus and his companions burst into the dining room to the sound of applause. Children clustered round Santy as he fought his way through the crowd. Stefan turned to the porter, still hovering a little way behind them.

  ‘Hugo Keller, do you know him?’

  ‘Mr Keller, of course.’

  ‘Is he in there? I can’t see him.’

  ‘He’ll be in the bar. He was just now.’

  They moved on towards the Horseshoe Bar.

  ‘It’s hardly likely Keller isn’t going to notice us,’ remarked Dessie.

  ‘I’d say you’re right.’

  ‘But aren’t we meant to be leaving him alone? Inspector Donaldson said the case is dead. And didn’t Lynch tell us to keep our noses out of it?’

  ‘Which case is that?’

  ‘What do you mean which case is that?’

  ‘This is about a missing woman. Susan Field. Twenty-three. Student at UCD. Lived in Little Jerusalem. Sixteen Lennox Street. She disappeared five months ago. We’re trying to trace her last known movements and find out who was the last person to see her. It’s a cold trail though. It’s bound to be after all this time. I’ve got a hunch Herr Keller might be able to help us.’

  ‘And where did all that come from?’

  ‘Hannah Rosen. She’s a friend of Susan Field’s.’

  ‘The woman –’

  ‘The woman we arrested at Keller’s house, the one who wasn’t having an abortion after all, and the one DS Lynch dumped on Mother Eustacia.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound much like leaving Keller alone.’

  ‘But this is a different inquiry altogether. We only want some help.’

  ‘What’s this missing woman got to do with Special Branch?’ Dessie didn’t like the sound of it. When Stefan started following his nose you never got much sense of where it would lead. But experience had taught the guard that it usually meant trouble. There didn’t seem any doubt about that here.

  ‘Nothing I should think. We don’t want to tread on those fellers’ toes.’

  As they pushed their way into the small bar it was packed. People were spilling out into the hallway. Inside much of the conversation was in German, loud and enthusiastic and fuelled by large quantities of highly proofed Christmas cheer. The detectives squeezed through to the bar, Stefan apologising in festive German. Dessie caught the barman’s eye.

  ‘A hot whiskey.’

  ‘That’ll be two!’ called Stefan.

  The barman poured two whiskeys and topped them up with hot water from the kettle. Stefan was trying to locate Keller. Dessie took the drinks and moved his hand towards the wallet in his jacket pocket. It was a gesture. He didn’t intend to pay and the barma
n didn’t expect him to. He simply waved his hand. It was on the house. It always was. Stefan pushed his way through the noisy crowd again, exchanging more Christmas greetings in German as he went. Then he stopped, close to a corner table where Hugo Keller sat with two other people. There was a sharp-featured, middle-aged man with balding, close-cropped hair and thick-rimmed circular glasses, and a younger man, with a shock of dark hair, wearing a brown suit that bore a small swastika emblem on one lapel. The two older men were arguing. It wasn’t comfortable and it certainly wasn’t festive. But they spoke quietly and it was impossible for Stefan to pick up even a few of the words. The younger man sat back, smoking a Turkish cigarette, with an expression of impatience. Keller became aware someone was watching him. He looked up.

  Hugo Keller was surprised, but it was only seconds before the same look of supercilious self-confidence he had shown when he was arrested reappeared. The other two looked at Sergeant Gillespie too. They had no idea who he was. Keller fired some kind of explanation, unheard over the melee. The older man in glasses looked even more ill-tempered. He was distinctly put out by the explanation. The three got up abruptly. Stefan smiled at the abortionist and raised his glass. ‘Fröhliche Weihnachten!’ The Christmas greeting spread through the bar, until even the three men trying to leave were forced to respond to the people around them wishing them a Merry Christmas. Hugo Keller was only a few feet from Stefan, who was still irritated by the smirk of invulnerability that hung about his smile. ‘Did you find what you were looking for, Herr Doktor Keller?’ He stressed ‘Doktor’. The smirk disappeared. Stefan had thrown these words out on a whim, but he had got something back. Whatever was being searched for at twenty-five Merrion Square, it hadn’t been found. Then Keller was gone. The detectives downed the whiskeys and pushed their way back through the crowd to the hotel lobby. As they extricated themselves at last from the bar, the three Germans were ahead of them, just turning into the dining room.

  People were stepping aside for Father Christmas and his entourage, now emerging from the party, their task completed. Chriskindl continued to call out ‘Ho, Ho, Ho,’ and ‘Herzliche Weihnachtsgrüsse!’ He reached into his pocket and handed small Nazi lapel pins to anyone sitting in the hotel lobby or passing through it. He grabbed Stefan’s reluctant hand and thrust one into it. The policemen carried on to the doors that opened into the party. All around children were playing with their gifts from Santy, at the tables, on the floor. Several of them ran out into the lobby chasing a boy who held a model fighter plane over his head, all making rat-tat-tat machine gun noises.