Sins of the Fathers

by A. J. McCarthy

  Flynn had aged since the last time Simm had seen him, looking much older than his forty-five years. His once thick, curly hair was now graying and thin. The same description could be given to the rest of his appearance. Flynn, although not particularly tall, had been a heavyset man, but any excess had disappeared, and his skin was drooping and sallow. He looked like a cancer patient, but Simm knew the change was the result of prison life. This was Flynn’s first incarceration, and it wasn’t looking good on him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Not happy to see me, Flynn? I thought you’d be thrilled to have a visitor.’

  ‘You’re not a cop anymore. You have no business being here.’

  ‘I have some questions for you. About Jim O’Reilly,’ Simm said, ignoring his remark about his former profession.

  ‘O’Reilly? He’s dead.’

  ‘I know he’s dead, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions.’

  ‘I didn’t know him too good.’

  ‘What did he do for the gang?’

  ‘Why should I tell you anything? You can’t do nothin’ for me.’

  Simm had expected this. Giving information to the authorities worked under the barter system, and Flynn was aware Simm didn’t have much influence since he had left the police force.

  ‘I can still put in a good word for you.’

  ‘Who cares what you have to say now? You’re a nobody.’

  ‘Not true. I still have lots of connections. How do you think I got this room?’

  The prisoner narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the room, as if just realizing where he was. When his gaze returned to Simm, his attitude had changed.

  ‘I’m up for parole in six months.’

  ‘I’ll send them a letter. But I need something that will move my case along.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What did Jim do for the gang?’ he repeated.

  ‘Small stuff. He went down for money laundering.’

  ‘What do you know about his bar on Drummond?’

  ‘Not much. He didn’t own that one when he was with the Gang.’

  ‘Did he do any dealing?’

  ‘No, just small stuff, like I said. He would’ve gotten off on the other stuff, but he wouldn’t turn, so he had to do the time.’

  ‘Loyal, was he?’

  ‘Yeah. Or scared. He had a wife and kid.’

  ‘Anybody have a beef against him?’

  ‘Not that I know of. He got along with everybody.’

  ‘Do you know Charlene Butler?’

  His face scrunched up tightly until he resembled a raisin.

  ‘Nope. Who’s she?’

  ‘Who was O’Reilly’s boss?’ Simm asked.

  ‘Kelly, but he’s dead.’

  ‘Who could I talk to that would give me further information about O’Reilly? Someone close to him.’

  ‘He was pretty tight with Sullivan at one time. I think that’s why he could walk away without being touched.’

  ‘Marty Sullivan?’

  ‘The one and only.’

  Chapter: 26:

  The drive home went by quickly. Simm was so preoccupied with thoughts of his meeting with John Flynn he didn’t notice the time. He couldn’t leave the prisoner without promising once again to send a letter of recommendation to the parole board on behalf of Flynn. Simm would see through on his promise, but he didn’t know if it would bear fruit for John. Simm knew Flynn had committed murder on multiple occasions, even though he had only been convicted for one. He was a dangerous felon who had a solid membership in a powerful criminal organization. Those facts alone would keep him in prison for at least twenty-five years, and a letter from a private investigator would do little to help him.

  For Simm, the most disturbing element about the interview was the news that he would have to deal face-to-face with Sullivan to get more information about Jim O’Reilly. The idea of sitting down with the head of the Irish Mafia to discuss a former colleague of his was not very palatable. Just getting access to the man would be a major feat. The miracle Jamie had performed to get him into the Donnacona prison was small potatoes compared to what it would take to get a meeting with Marty Sullivan.

  Flynn had given him the name of another person to contact, someone who could perhaps set it up for him, but Simm would do his research first. He wouldn’t put his life into the hands of a total stranger, especially someone who also happened to be a mobster.

  In the interim, he wanted to pay a visit to Mrs. O’Reilly. If Charlie’s information was correct, and Terry said the same, the wife of the mobster probably couldn’t communicate with him. But Simm had to see for himself. Charlie had mentioned which home Sylvie O’Reilly lived in, and he made the decision to go see her first thing in the morning.

  He checked the clock on the dashboard of his car. It was three fifteen. He would stop at the pub and check on Charlie, even though he knew it wasn’t necessary. Frank was more than capable of protecting her, but Simm thought he could use a beer right about now.

  The pub was moderately quiet, but since it was manned entirely by Charlie and Frank, they were busy. Simm didn’t mind not having their attention. He didn’t need anyone to keep him company. He enjoyed sitting, sipping his beer, and watching Charlie at work. She definitely had a knack for this business. She could mix drinks, pour beer, and carry on a lively conversation with everyone, all simultaneously. Looking at the men lined up at the bar, Simm estimated more than half of them were more than half in love with her.

  It occurred to him he may also fall into the same category.

  He shook his head and looked at his beer glass in confusion. He had just had one so far. He shouldn’t have such strange thoughts only partway through his first beer.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Simm looked up guiltily at the sound of Charlie’s voice. He hoped his thoughts weren’t transparent.

  ‘Nothing. Just having a beer.’

  ‘Where were you today?’

  ‘Quebec City.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I had to go see someone for a case.’

  ‘My case?’

  ‘I told you I have other cases.’

  ‘I was under the impression I was the only one in your life.’

  Her smile was teasing, but Simm was uncomfortable with the comment. His smile was more of a grimace.

  ‘So, when will you let me in on what you’re doing?’ she continued.

  ‘Need-to-know, remember?’

  Her eyes flashed with irritation. She leaned across the counter and answered through gritted teeth.

  ‘This is my case. I have to know.’

  Simm heard someone calling her name from the opposite end of the bar. He caught a glimpse of the warm, customer-oriented smile before she turned her back to him and went to tend her client. He knew it was just a temporary reprieve. She would come back at him at the end of the day.

  Chapter 27:

  The huge glass windows on the facade of the building reflected the lush, green lawns and the flowering shrubs. Simm half expected to see a valet offer to park his car for him, but he eased his old Toyota smoothly into a spot with a Mercedes on his left and a Porsche on his right.

  The reception area was just as impressive. The space, which was manned by one woman dressed in white, was the size of a basketball court. The ceilings were twenty feet high, topped with a frosted glass skylight. All the furnishings were made of a rich mahogany wood and included a huge reception desk, four chairs, and a few tables on which
magazines were methodically stacked. The rest was open space. Simm felt like he was in a swanky lawyer’s office, not a home for the aged and infirm. It made him wish he had worn dress trousers instead of jeans with a small rip in the back pocket.

  The woman in white didn’t seem to mind his attire. She welcomed him with a warm and gracious smile.

  ‘I’d like to see Mrs. Sylvie O’Reilly please?’

  ‘No problem,’ the woman answered with an oh-so-patient smile. When asked, he explained he was an old friend of the family and was in the area. Apparently satisfied with his answer, she said, ‘I’ll call for someone to come and get you. It won’t be long if you’d like to have a seat.’

  Simm didn’t sit. He gazed around him at the rich furnishings and the doubtlessly expensive artwork on the walls, and wondered how much money Jim O’Reilly had left behind if his estate could bankroll a setup like this. After having seen Terry’s situation, he knew the younger O’Reilly wasn’t footing this bill.

  He heard the faint sound of padded footsteps behind him and turned to see a young man dressed in a pristine white uniform with creases sharp enough to slice cheese. He also had a smile that displayed several thousand dollars’ worth of dental work.

  ‘Madame O’Reilly? Venez avec moi, monsieur.’

  Simm did as the man said and followed him along a wide corridor of high ceilings, cream-colored walls, and wood railings. After a short elevator ride to the second floor and a shorter walk along another hallway, he was shown into a suite of rooms that were larger than his entire apartment. Within those rooms, he was escorted to a sitting area complete with a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a beautifully-maintained flower garden.

  Sitting in a chair facing the windows was an elderly woman. From the back, Simm saw she had a full head of silver-white hair. Her shoulders were thin, draped with a royal blue shawl. Simm went around to face her as the man in the white uniform pulled a stuffed Victorian-style chair over to accommodate him. He thanked the man and settled into the chair. He heard the soft footsteps heading for the door as he stared at the woman before him.

  Simm knew she must have been a beauty when she was young. She still had the look about her, despite the fact that her face was wrinkled and spotted. Her mouth was slack on one side, and she had a handkerchief clasped in her hand that she periodically used to wipe drool off her face.

  Her eyes were pale blue, almost violet, and had doubtlessly been one of her best features in her youth. They were still filled with curiosity and intelligence. Simm was surprised she wasn’t concerned about a strange man coming to visit her. Apparently, Sylvie O’Reilly didn’t have many worries. Considering the circumstances under which she lived, it was hardly surprising.

  ‘Hello, Mrs. O’Reilly,’ he began.

  She slowly nodded her head.

  Simm introduced himself as a private investigator and said he had a few questions to ask her. He explained that he didn’t want to tire her, and he would ask questions that would require exclusively a nod or a shake of her head. The look of curiosity increased as he spoke.

  ‘I want to ask you a few questions about your family. I know your husband had connections to the Irish Mafia in his early days. He was convicted of money laundering and went to jail for a few years. When he was released, he gave up his work for the Gang and lived a normal existence with his family. Is that information correct?’

  The older woman didn’t move. She seemed to be frozen in place, and her expression could only be described as wary.

  ‘Do you remember Charlene Butler?’

  Sylvie O’Reilly’s gaze dashed between Simm and the windows a few times before focusing on the wall ahead of her.

  ‘I assume you do, since her family and yours had a long association. Her father was a good friend of your husband, wasn’t he?’

  Simm waited for a nod, or some kind of reaction, but nothing came. Instead, her gaze hardened, and he had the feeling she was almost in full shut-off mode.

  ‘And you got along well with Mrs. Butler, didn’t you?’ Nothing. ‘What about your son? Did he and Charlene always get along well?’

  Her hand wiped unsteadily at the drool, which dripped from her mouth at a faster pace. There was definitely fear in her eyes now. Simm couldn’t slow down. He didn’t know how much more time he had before someone would come to check on her.

  ‘Why did your husband leave Charlene the business, instead of your son?’

  Her hands trembled violently.

  ‘Do you know of anyone who would wish Charlene harm?’

  Simm knew she couldn’t answer these questions with a nod, but he wanted a reaction.

  Her eyebrows drew together in surprise, and he knew he had thrown her off. The trembling in her hands slowed somewhat, but she continued to wipe at her mouth. He suspected she would like to ask him a few questions of her own. The first one would probably be whether Charlene was dead or alive. He decided not to enlighten her. Despite her regal good looks and the beautiful surroundings she lived in, Simm had difficulty warming to Mrs. O’Reilly.

  Chapter 28:

  Simm left the retirement home with more questions than answers, but nevertheless it was a worthwhile visit. It gave him a better impression of the O’Reilly family. It was evident both the drunken son and the holier-than-thou wife resented and perhaps hated Charlie Butler. This wasn’t surprising, since the son had been pushed aside in the old man’s will, and the mother likely sided with the son. But Simm sensed Sylvie O’Reilly was afraid of something. Was she afraid he would discover a deep, dark secret about the family? Did she fear for her own safety or her reputation? Was she afraid on behalf of her son? Did she suspect Terry was involved in the mysterious letters and perhaps had a more malicious plan for Charlie?

  All of those questions gave Simm a lot to consider, but he also had to speak to Charlie about the wife of her mentor. He stopped for lunch on the way, choosing to arrive at the pub mid-afternoon when Charlie would have time to talk to him.

  He found her in the back room, frowning at a pile of papers.

  ‘What’s wrong? Did you get another letter?’

  ‘No, I’m paying bills. Again. They just don’t stop.’

  Simm let out his breath slowly.

  ‘It has to be done,’ he said.

  ‘I know, but I’d love someone else to do it. It’d be less painful.’

  ‘I have some questions for you.’

  ‘Shoot,’ she said, pushing aside the papers with relish.

  ‘Talk to me about Sylvie O’Reilly.’

  ‘What about her? I already told you everything. She had a stroke and she’s living in a home now, unable to talk or take care of herself. It’s very sad.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘At Jim’s funeral.’

  ‘What was she like when she was well?’

  ‘She was beautiful, quite refined, and quiet. She was almost the polar opposite of Jim. He was loud and boisterous, someone who was more comfortable at a tailgate party than at a tea party, but as they say, opposites attract.

  ‘You never went to see her at the retirement home?’

  ‘No, Terry told me he was the only person allowed to go see her.’

  Simm thought about how easy it had been for him to visit the woman.

  ‘I was there today.’

  Charlie’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘I did. I said I was a friend of the family. I was told the woman could only nod her head to answer yes or no, and I said I was fine with that.’

  ‘You talked to her? How did she seem?’ Charlie said, sittin
g on the edge of her chair.

  ‘Apart from the fact that she can’t talk, and she isn’t very mobile, she looked healthy. She has all her wits about her.’

  ‘What did you ask her?’

  Simm didn’t hold anything back this time around. He told Charlie what he had asked Sylvie O’Reilly, and he described her reactions. Charlie leaned back in her chair as he talked, an expression of disbelief on her face.

  ‘I don’t understand. Why would she react like that?’

  That was what Simm wondered. What was the old woman afraid of?

  ‘Do you know anything about this place where she lives?’

  ‘No, not at all. Is it nice?’

  ‘Nice would be one word to describe it, but you could also say luxurious, lavish, ritzy, snazzy, fancy-shmancy, the list goes on.’

  Charlie’s eyes widened again.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I googled it as I was having lunch. That place costs more per month than I earn in six. Jim’s estate must have been worth a heap of money if it can pay for a home like that for an indeterminate amount of time.’

  Charlie stared at him as if he had told her Sylvie O’Reilly was a prostitute in her free time. She shook her head.

  ‘It’s impossible. I know Jim did okay. This place was debt-free, but it was all he had besides the few investments he left to Terry. His house went to Sylvie, and I guess it was sold to pay for her care, but it wouldn’t have been enough for her to live in that type of luxury.’

  ‘Someone’s paying for it. If it isn’t the estate, who is it? And why?’

  Chapter 29:

  Charlie was more than a little perplexed. Things didn’t match up. How could Simm get in to see Sylvie so effortlessly when she had been told it was only immediate family who could visit? Why was Sylvie living in such a posh place? Immediately after Simm left, she went online to check out the website belonging to Sunset Residences. It was an exercise she had never considered doing before today. What she found shocked her. It looked like a five-star resort hotel with all the bells and whistles. She could never imagine Jim and Sylvie being able to afford a place like that.