Frank had his back to them, dusting the back of the bar, when they walked into the pub. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly slammed it shut. Charlie knew her expression was the reason for his silence, but she didn’t care. The bartender simply nodded as they walked past him on their way to the office.
‘Did you have another purpose today, Mr. Simm Simmons?’ Charlie asked as she watched him lower his long frame into a not-too-solid chair.
‘I was hoping you would answer more questions for me, but it doesn’t look like you’re in the mood.’
‘No, I’m not in the mood, but if it’ll give you a purpose in life, I’d be willing to do it.’
‘How generous of you.’
Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘Could we start please? I have other things to do.’
‘All right. How about we start with Frank?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have to start somewhere. Is that a good enough reason?’
Charlie sighed. She had to get over her irritation with this guy. If she cooperated he would be out of her hair all the sooner, and maybe as a bonus they would find out what was going on with the mysterious letters.
‘Frank started working here five years ago as a part-time student. Now he works here full-time. What else can I say? He’s a great guy, a good worker, dependable, loyal, and a good friend.’
‘Is that it? You’re just friends, nothing else?’
‘Nothing else.’
‘Is he single?’
‘He’s not married, but he has a significant other.’
‘Does she live with him?’
‘He.’
‘What?’
‘It’s a he, and yes, he lives with him.’
‘Okay, what’s the name of his partner?’
‘Paul.’
‘Can you give me any more information about him?’
‘What else do you need to know? He’s tall; he has blond hair, a straight nose, all his own teeth.’
‘What does he do for a living?’
‘He works in the warehouse at a transport company, a lot of shift work. He’s a nice guy. What possible impact can this have on your investigation, Mr. Simm Simmons?’
‘I don’t know at this point, but anything can be significant, and it’s Simm, please.’
‘All right, Mr. Simm Please, you can continue with your I’m-going-nowhere-with-this questioning.’
Charlie watched as the detective stared at his notes, his jaw flexing. She grudgingly admitted he was good. She had pushed a lot of buttons, and he was still in control of his temper. Barely in control, but he was doing better than she would have under the same circumstances.
‘Okay, so Frank is the greatest guy in the world, you’re the most popular woman in Montreal, and there’s no one on this earth who would want to bother you. So why are you getting the letters?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what you’re supposed to find out for me.’
‘Exactly. With absolutely no help from you.’
He snapped his notebook shut and stood up.
‘I’ll be in touch.’
Charlie winced as the door slammed shut behind him.
Chapter 10:
‘I should give it up. I don’t need the money that badly, and I absolutely don’t need the aggravation.’
He jabbed the computer keys harder than necessary, typing with his index fingers.
‘Why do I have to get clients like this? What the hell did I do to deserve her?’ Simm glared around the empty room as if looking for someone to answer his questions.
A few additional hard jabs, and he shook his head in frustration. He sucked in some air and let it out deliberately. He had to refocus, but it wasn’t easy. Not only was he annoyed by the roadblocks in his investigation, which were primarily caused by his client, but said client still bothered him on a personal front. Too many memories resurfaced when he saw her, and it added to his level of irritation.
‘I’m getting nowhere. I’m outta here.’
Simm shut off the computer, grabbed his jacket, and locked up the office for the night.
As he drove out of the parking lot, intending to go home, something made him turn in the opposite direction. He went a few streets over and was glad to discover a little luck was with him when he found a precious parking spot near his destination.
There was merely a small sign above the door to prove the place existed, and in the dark, it wasn’t very visible. It was also faded from years of rough weather, but the words ‘Ye Old Irish Pub’ could still be seen if you squinted hard enough.
The interior was as dark as the exterior, but not quite as dreary. It wasn’t crowded, which was to be expected for a weeknight, but Simm knew they did a decent business on weekends. As he looked around, he recognized most of the people in the room. He didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not.
‘Well, if it isn’t Simm himself,’ boomed a loud voice with a halfway decent Irish accent for someone who had never set foot on the Emerald Isle. He also had red hair and a beard, giving him a somewhat leprechaunish look, a dash of authenticity.
‘Hey, Danny Boy, how’s it going?’
‘Grand, Simm, just grand. Set your arse down on that stool, and I’ll pour you a cool one.’
The man’s real name was Daniel Bergeron, and he was of French Canadian descent, but he insisted on being called Danny Boy. As a reminder to the customers, the song of the same name played several times a day over the bar’s speakers.
‘It’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence,’ the man said as he poured a glass of Guinness and set it in front of Simm. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Would you believe I was lonely?’
‘Ye missed me old mug, did ya now?’
‘How could I not?’ Simm answered with a grin.
Simm made small talk with the pub owner for a few minutes, catching up on the news, which was actually just more of the same.
‘Have you ever heard of Butler’s Pub?’ Simm asked.
‘Over on Drummond?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Yeah, I know it. It used to be O’Reilly’s way back when.’
‘Until it was bought by Charlene Butler.’
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘What do you mean by ‘something like that’?’
Daniel shrugged his shoulders.
‘I don’t know. There was some connection there. She was tied to O’Reilly somehow.’ He glanced to each side before leaning over to speak to Simm in a low voice. ‘Actually, Jim O’Reilly was tied to a lot of things in Montreal, and most of it wasn’t legal.’
This was an interesting development, Simm thought. He was disappointed in himself for not looking further into the background of the pub. But, at least he had the forethought to talk to his contacts. All was not lost.
‘Is Charlie also tied to things that are not quite legal?’
‘Hmm, I can’t say. I haven’t heard anything, but that doesn’t mean she walks the straight and narrow. From what I hear, she has a good business going.’
‘Yeah, she does.’
‘You doin’ a job that involves her?’
‘Something like that. See you around, Danny Boy. Thanks for the info.’
The older man nodded and moved along the bar to serve another customer, a regular by the look of him, as Simm made his way to the door.
Outside, he zipped up his jacket against the cool Montr
eal night. He had some interesting information to think about, and he wanted to get online.
Chapter 11:
Charlie stepped onto the walkway in front of her apartment building. She was later than usual today and in a hurry. She stopped, wondering if she had remembered to bring the form for the renewal of her permit. She had worked on it at home, and planned to finish it today.
As she dug around in her tote bag, trying to control an unusually energetic Harley, who was straining on his leash, she heard a familiar voice.
‘Hey, big guy, how’s it goin’?’
Charlie scowled at the big man bent over petting her dog.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Good morning to you too,’ Simm said, straightening. Charlie was forced to look up and squint against the sunlight beaming at her from behind his head.
‘Good morning. Why are you here?’
‘You live here. I wanted to talk to you. I came here. It’s pretty simple.’
‘I’m on my way to work.’
‘Fine. I’ll give you a lift and we can talk on the way.’
‘I like to walk. Harley likes to walk.’
‘Harley, you want to go in the car?’
The little dog cocked his head to the side and wagged his tail furiously, his squat little body shivering with excitement.
‘I think he wants to go in the car.’
Charlie was impressed by Simm’s keen power of observation.
‘He does that anytime anyone asks him a question,’ she explained patiently.
‘Harley, let’s go in the car,’ Simm said, turning and heading to a beige, older-model Toyota Corolla sedan.
Harley ran after him, pulling Charlie along with surprising strength for a small dog. As soon as the passenger-side door opened, Harley jumped in and sat on the seat, his tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. Charlie tugged on his leash, but the dog dug his paws in stubbornly and jumped on Simm’s lap almost before the man had a chance to settle into the driver’s seat. Laughing, Simm gestured to the now-empty passenger seat.
‘Hop in. I don’t think Harley wants to walk.’
Charlie sent her supposedly loyal pet a dirty look as she lowered herself into the car and pulled the door shut. Again, she tugged on his leash to pull the dog onto her lap. He was reluctant, but quickly realized the advantage he would have by putting his front paws on the dash, giving him an unrestricted view during this rare, joyous event.
‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’ Charlie asked, as Simm eased the car into traffic.
‘I just wanted a little more history about you and the bar.’
‘There’s not much more to give you. I’ve owned it for eight years, and it keeps me busy. What else is there to know?’
‘Are the mortgage payments tough to make?’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘It could be pertinent.’
‘I don’t see how.’
‘What bank holds the mortgage?’
‘That’s personal information.’
Charlie braced herself to keep from falling against Simm, caught off-guard by the rapid swerving of the car. Harley slid off her knee and scrambled to regain his foothold. They jolted to a stop in a parking lot, and there was a moment of stunned silence after the engine was shut off.
‘What the hell?’ Charlie exclaimed, regaining her senses.
‘Yeah, exactly, what the hell?’
The composed person Charlie thought she was dealing with turned in his seat to glare at her, his expression angry.
‘You don’t have a mortgage, do you, Charlie?’
‘I…’
‘You never did. Why? Because the business was given to you, wasn’t it? You inherited it from a man old enough to be your father. So why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Jim O’Reilly?’
‘Oh no you don’t!’ she shouted. ‘Don’t you dare go where you’re trying to go. That is unacceptable. Jim was like a second father to me, and I won’t allow you to besmirch his memory with your dirty innuendos. He was a good man, and I loved him.’
Charlie was furious. What business did he have snooping into her life? And then to insinuate that her relationship with Jim O’Reilly was anything other than what it was, she wanted to hit him. Several times. Instead, she tried to gather a whimpering Harley in her arms, grab her purse, and open the door at the same time. When she heard the locks snap shut on all the doors, she whirled to face him.
‘Stop being an ass. I don’t give a shit what you think about me, but just so you know, you’re fired.’
‘What’s your problem? You must be hiding something if you don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t like talking about my personal life. It’s none of your business.’
‘Someone has made it his business. And if you want to find out who it is, you’re going to have to share a bit of it with me. I can’t keep working blind.’
Charlie took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. On one level, she knew he was right, but on another level, it irked to have someone snooping into her private business. Yet Simm was a professional snoop. She would learn to cope with it. She gritted her teeth and rolled her shoulders.
‘Okay. I inherited the pub from Jim O’Reilly. He was my father’s friend, and I worked at the bar part-time while I was a student. When I finished school, I started full-time. I loved it, and I had a knack for it. Jim taught me everything he knew. When he was diagnosed with cancer, I took over running the place for him, and he left it to me when he died. That’s all there is.’
‘What about his son? Do you think he resented the fact that the business was left to someone else besides him?’
‘Terry? No, of course not. He was already a little too familiar with bars. Now he can’t go near them. Too much temptation.’
‘It doesn’t matter. He could’ve hired someone to run it for him. He could’ve hired you. At least he would be earning some money.’
‘He has a job. You don’t have to worry about Terry. His dad didn’t leave him destitute. He’s doing all right for himself, and he’s perfectly happy.’
‘So, let’s say, financially, he’s healthy. It’s still gotta hurt when your dad hands the family business over to someone else, especially someone who’s not even related.’
‘I may not be a blood relative, but like I said, Jim was like a second father to me. Ergo, I was like a daughter to him. Terry and I get along fine. He doesn’t resent me in the least.’
Simm merely looked at her and nodded. He seemed to be either holding back judgement, or preparing for another attack.
‘What about the West End Gang?’
Attack, it was. Charlie fumed. This was why she didn’t discuss her private life with anyone. It continually led to stupid misinterpretations.
‘You were having fun with your research, weren’t you?’
‘Since you weren’t sharing, I had to do research. You could’ve saved me a lot of time and trouble, but it’s your dime, and you want to pay it.’
‘Jim’s involvement with the West End Gang ended many years before he died. I was a young child at the time. He was clean.’
‘After he served time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you believe that? It’s usually pretty hard to dissociate yourself from those organizations.’
‘The Irish Mafia isn’t the same as the Italian Mafia. They don’t have the same structure. Anyway, Jim was a small player for them. He did his time and didn’t want to go back. He had a so
n and a future to think of.’
‘Do you think anyone within the Gang would still have hard feelings against Jim?’
‘No, of course not. Why would they? It’s been years. If there were any hard feelings, they would have dealt with them long ago. And why me? I had nothing to do with it.’
‘I’m exploring possibilities. And there seems to be a lot of them.’
‘None among the ones you’ve presented to me so far.’
‘That’s what you think. With a bit of extra digging, I may come up with something else.’
Chapter 12:
Charlie put the scene behind her. She should have known Simm would discover the truth about Jim and the pub, but she was convinced it was a dead end. At least now it was in the open, and they could move on to something else.
Besides, a day had passed, and it was difficult to be bad-tempered when the scent of lilac blossoms was heavy in the air. People she met on the street smiled and enjoyed the season after a long, cold winter. Even Harley, who was happy year-round, had an extra little bounce in his step.
They showed up at the pub late morning. As she tossed her purse onto her desk, she spotted the pile of mail on her desk. One of the items was a conspicuously large brown envelope, something she didn’t commonly receive.
Hesitantly, Charlie removed the package from the pile. It was heavy and thick, obviously lined with bubble wrap. Her name and address was typed on a sticker, but there was no return address. Her skin chilled.
She circled her desk and fumbled with the drawer, trying to find a pair of scissors. Getting a grip on them, she picked up the envelope again, and noticed the writing on the back.
Dear Charlene,
My name is Mike. You don’t know me. I could have grown up next to you. Maybe you would have been kind to me, smiled at me, given me candy on Halloween. Maybe we would have been friends. But, we’ll never know, will we?
Charlie stared at the note, puzzled, for several moments. What the hell was in here? What was it about? She thought about asking Frank to open it for her, but that seemed like a wimpy thing to do. It was only a package, after all. It wasn’t as if something living would jump out at her.
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