The car rental agency wasn’t far. Simm took care of the paperwork as Charlie chatted with, and charmed, one of the clerks. They got directions to where they wanted to go and went to the parking lot to get their car, a small European model. There was a moment of confusion when Charlie went to climb in the right-side door only to see a steering wheel.
‘Oh, I forgot,’ she said. ‘We have to drive on the opposite of the road. Can you do that?’
‘Why wouldn’t I? How difficult can it be?’ Simm replied, still feeling frustrated.
He intended to give every impression he knew what he was doing, but the car had a manual transmission, the stick-shift was on the left, and within seconds he was disoriented. They moved at a snail’s pace, and he heard little exclamations of concern coming from the passenger seat.
‘Stop it,’ he snapped.
‘I can’t help it. Don’t you notice all the people honking at you?’
‘Of course, I do. I’m not deaf, but I don’t feel like having an accident either. And you’re not helping to keep me focused.’
‘Sorry. What can I do to help?’’
‘Keep quiet.’
That lasted a few seconds.
‘Oh my God! You’re going the wrong way.’
‘No, I’m going the right way, which is the opposite way. Be quiet!’
He was in a roundabout, driving in the opposite direction from what he was accustomed, and not quite sure how to get out without running into someone. He felt a trickle of sweat creep down his spine.
Finally, he saw his chance, made it out, and onto a street. He had no idea if it was the right street, but at least he was no longer turning in circles. He pulled over and checked the GPS signal on his phone. Letting out a breath of relief, he glanced over at Charlie. She stared straight ahead, her hand holding on to the handle above the door as if the roof of the car was threatening to leave them.
‘We’re okay. We’re going in the right direction,’ he assured her.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, without saying a word.
‘Why don’t you help me out with this?’ he said, handing her his phone. ‘Just listen to whatever it says, and you can navigate.’
Charlie took the phone from his hand, looking at it dubiously.
‘It’s okay. It won’t blow up or anything. Haven’t you ever used a GPS before?’
‘No. I’ve never gone anywhere unfamiliar before.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll love it.’
Simm put the little car in gear, and moved along the road at a faster speed, feeling more at ease.
Within a few minutes, he didn’t see anything to be at ease about. The farther they drove the less appealing were their surroundings. The buildings took on a shabby look, weeds growing on the few patches of ground visible underneath the garbage. Paint and plaster peeled from walls, and graffiti covered most surfaces.
Once again pulling over, Simm locked the car doors and took the phone from Charlie to see the name of the street they were on. They weren’t that far from their destination, with only another block and a half to go.
They stopped in front of 157 Gosford Street, and Simm’s heart sank even further. It was one of the more rundown buildings on the street, and that was hard to beat. Windowpanes were broken, and the door was missing a hinge. There was a cord with one end tied to the doorknob and the other end tied to a nail hammered in the exterior wall to keep the door from falling on the sidewalk.
He glanced at Charlie. Her jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide.
‘Stay behind me,’ he warned.
He heard Charlie’s footsteps crunching on the stones behind him as he approached the house. He knocked lightly on the dilapidated door. There was no sound from inside. He put his left hand on the door to hold it in place, and he knocked noisily with his right. This time, he heard a crash, followed by a loud voice. The words were indistinguishable, but the tone was clearly unhappy.
The dirty curtain on the other side of the door was pushed aside, and a man with long, greasy hair and bloodshot eyes peered through the cracks in the glass.
‘What do ya want? Do ya have ta make enough racket to raise the divil?’
‘Are you Aidan Connelly?’ Simm asked.
‘Aidan Connelly? What the hell would ya want with Aidan Connelly now?’
‘Are you him?’
‘Of course not. Do I look like an old man to ya?’
Simm held his tongue. The man may not be old, but it was very hard to tell from the unhealthy lines on his face and the stoop of his shoulders.
‘So, you know him then? Could you tell me how I could find him?’
‘I don’t know him well. He used to live here. I haven’t got the foggiest where he is now.’
He plucked a cigarette out of his pocket, and for a moment, Simm had difficulty seeing his face through the cloud of smoke as he lit it. He squinted first at Simm, then leaned over to get a better look at Charlie, who was half-hidden behind Simm. The man’s face broke into a grin, revealing yellow and black teeth.
‘Who’s lookin’ for him? The little lass here?’
‘We happen to know a friend of his, and we thought we’d look him up.’
‘Ya don’t say now. Who would this friend be?’
‘I’d prefer to speak to Mr. Connelly about it myself. Could you tell me how to find him?’
‘Let me know where I can find ya, and if I happen to see him, I can tell him where to go.’
‘I tell you what, we’ll come back here tomorrow around the same time. Just tell Mr. Connelly we’re friends of Jim O’Reilly.’
The man’s eyes narrowed. The curtain fell back into place without another word being spoken.
Chapter 44:
It took them a little longer than it should have to get back to the hotel.
‘I don’t remember going on this street on the way over. Are you sure you’re not lost?’
‘I know exactly where I am,’ Simm answered.
‘But, I thought the hotel was in the other direction.’
‘It is.’
‘Simm, what’s wrong with you? Do you want me to drive?’
‘I think someone’s following us. I’m trying to lose them. No, don’t turn around. Just look in the side mirror. It’s a black Volkswagen.’
‘What? Have you seen the number of Volkswagens here? And black? Most of them are black.’
‘Yeah, well this one has a dent on the right-hand side and the guy’s wearing a hat. He obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing if he’s trying not to be noticed.’
‘Do you think he’s the guy from Connelly’s house?’
‘No, this guy doesn’t have long hair. It’s someone else.’
‘I don’t see him.’
‘That’s because he’s not there. I think I lost him.’
Charlie looked closely at Simm. She wondered if jet lag or stress was getting to him. He could be imagining someone was following them. But she noticed they were again in familiar territory and approaching the hotel.
‘Maybe we should have a rest when we get there. A real one this time, no running off.’
Her suggestion was accepted without argument, and she wondered if he was legitimately tired, or if he was up to something. She, on the other hand, was almost too tired to care. The lack of sleep on the way across the ocean had caught up to her. The excitement of the arrival and the search for Aidan Connelly had worn off, and all she wanted was a bed.
Once in her room, she quietly slipped off her shoes before she tugged back the cove
rs and slid between the sheets. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. For all she cared at this point, Simm could spend his day running all over Ireland without her.
Two hours later, a heavy knocking on the door woke her. Groggily, she staggered out of bed and pulled open the door. Strangely, there was no one on the other side, but she still heard knocking. Slapping her forehead, she shut the door and went to the adjoining doors. There she found Simm, leaning against the door jamb.
‘You were sleeping soundly. I was about to knock down the door.’
‘I was tired. Did you sleep?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes skeptically at him. After a bit of rest, she was back to caring whether he tried to disappear without her or not.
‘Like a log. Now I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I spoke to the guy out front. He gave me a suggestion.’
‘What should I wear?’
‘What you’re wearing now.’
‘Give me a sec.’
She went into the bathroom, ran a brush through her hair, and checked her makeup. It would have to do. She knew Simm wouldn’t be patient enough to wait much longer. When she stepped out of the bathroom, he slid his gaze over her, but made no comment other than, ‘Let’s go’.
The car ride to their destination was short enough they could easily have walked it, but Charlie guessed Simm was extra cautious about them being out on the street, especially after his earlier suspicions about being followed.
Considering it was a Tuesday night, the pub was more crowded and noisier than Charlie would have thought, but she was instantly charmed. The atmosphere was warm and congenial. It had the same style of mahogany furnishings as she had back home, but with a touch of something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was something that would make her want to return time and again, and she itched to discover what it was so she could copy it.
‘Welcome to our humble pub. What might ya be looking for? Something to quench yer thirst? Or do ya have a hole in yer gizzard that needs to be filled?’
Charlie turned to the source of the welcome, and faced a middle-aged, red-haired man, a little on the short side, with a well-rounded belly. She returned his warm smile.
‘We’d like a bit of both.’
‘Ah now, I can tell by yer lovely wee accent yer not from around these parts. Where might ya be hailing from?’
‘Montreal, Canada.’
‘Isn’t that grand? We love our Canadians, we do. Come and sit yerself down, and I’ll get someone to help ya.’
They were swiftly seated at a table in the center of the room, with many nods and smiles from people along the way. A few seconds later, they were greeted by a pretty, young woman with long, auburn hair and a bright smile. It seemed to Charlie the smile was directed at Simm a little longer than it was at her.
Charlie ordered the traditional Irish stew while Simm asked for the fish and chips, which were highly recommended by the waitress. They soon had two glasses of Guinness set before them to drink while they waited and that seemed to be the signal for the locals to engage them in conversation. Charlie wondered if they were the only out-of-towners in the bar. She felt like a new arrival at the zoo, everyone curious about who they were and where they came from.
‘Would you happen to know someone by the name of Aidan Connelly?’ Simm asked to no one in particular, apparently deciding to take advantage of the local intelligence.
‘Would that be Tim Connelly’s lad?’ asked an older man to Charlie’s right.
Before Simm could answer, someone else said, ‘No, Tim’s lad was called Andy, not Aidan. It must be old Sonny’s lad.’
‘Is he a young fella?’
‘He should be in his sixties, I think.’
‘Oh now, that’s another story. I don’t remember an Aidan around here.’
There was a lot of head-shaking and mumbling. Most had to take another gulp of Guinness to help revive their memories.
‘Are ya sure the name’s Connelly? I know an Aidan Conway,’ one ventured.
‘No, it’s definitely Connelly,’ Simm responded.
‘If the lass is looking for a man, I could give her a hand,’ offered a rough-looking man in his fifties, with uncombed hair and large gaps in his mouth that had once held teeth. His remark was greeted with raucous laughter.
‘Take a jump and run, Dan. You with a face like a horse’s arse, do ya think she’d be interested?’ The waitress set the plates in front of them, her scowl promptly turning to a brilliant smile for Simm. ‘Here ya go. Get that inta ya now.’
The group around them quieted and concentrated on their task at hand, which seemed to be polishing off as many pints of Guinness as they could before they had to go home. Simm and Charlie dug into their meal, and it was every bit as good as expected. They were finishing up when a chair was pulled up to their table and the pub owner sat with them, introducing himself as Harry O’Shea.
‘How was that then?’
‘Delicious,’ Charlie answered. ‘I’d like to serve something like this at home. You wouldn’t be interested in coming to work in a pub in Canada, would you?’
‘Oh, ya have a business now, do ya?’
Charlie explained about the pub and was summarily offered the recipe for the Irish stew, but no plans for immigrating.
‘I hear you’re lookin’ for an Aidan Connelly.’
Simm leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
‘Do you know him?’ he asked.
‘Not personally, no. But I heard of one who used to be not far from here. He’s gone now.’
‘Gone as in moved, or gone as in dead?’ Simm said.
‘The last I heard he was alive, but ya never know with that sort.’
‘What sort would that be?’ Simm asked.
The man leaned ahead, and both Charlie and Simm did the same, all of them meeting in the middle.
‘He was involved in some sort of shady business, maybe even the Mafia.’
Charlie studied Simm to see his reaction, but he remained stone-faced.
‘You don’t have any idea where he is? Or who could help us find him?’ Simm asked.
‘Well, I’m thinkin’ maybe Tom O’Brien could be of some help. Ya could find him over on East 24th street. He’s an old retired Guard, and he likes to keep up on what’s happening with his past cases. Could be this Aidan fella was one of them.’
‘That’s a great help. If you could give me his exact address, we could look him up.’
‘No problem there. And ya can tell him I sent ya. That’ll help. He’s a regular here.’
Chapter 45:
Charlie felt a little tipsy when they eventually left the pub. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but she figured you couldn’t come to Ireland and not drink a Guinness in an authentic Irish pub. She’d be laughed out of her own pub at home if she neglected the task. And it had tasted good, seemingly better than the same brand at home.
Simm, however, was his usual controlled self. His body weight, being larger, allowed him to indulge a bit more without having any of the effects. When Charlie weaved a little on the way to the elevator, he caught her elbow to steady her.
‘I’m okay. The floor was a little uneven there,’ she reassured him.
‘Uh huh.’
‘Do you have your key?’ he asked, as they stopped outside her door.
‘It’s somewhere in here,’ she said, rifling through her bag.
Simm took her arm and gently tugged her to his door, pulling out his key card.
‘You can go through the adjoining door.’
He pushed open the door, hesitated a split-second, and shoved her behind him.
‘Stay here.’
‘What’s wrong?’
Simm swung around, lowered his face to hers, and hissed, ‘Stay here!’
Charlie, suddenly stone sober, knew he was very serious, and, for once, she didn’t plan to disobey him. He noiselessly slid past the door and peered around the room before moving into the bathroom. Charlie heard the shower curtain being moved aside before Simm came back out, snagged her wrist, and tugged her into the room, shutting the door behind her.
She had her first glimpse of what had alerted Simm. The room was ransacked. The covers were lying on the floor alongside the bed. The drawers were pulled out of the dresser and turned upside down. His bag was overturned on the floor. Glancing into the bathroom, she saw little was disturbed, probably because a can of shaving cream, a toothbrush, and toothpaste were hard to search.
That’s when it occurred to her that her room had likely been searched also. She opened her mouth to mention it to Simm when she noticed him staring at the adjoining door. It was slightly ajar.
‘Stay over there,’ he said quietly, pointing to the corner near the closed door of his room.
She complied without a word. She was quite happy to let him go first.
The door opened soundlessly, and Simm slipped through. A minute later, he reappeared, looking grim.
‘They went through your room too.’
Charlie grimaced, not surprised, but she had been holding on to a kernel of hope.
‘Who do you think ‘they’ are?’ she asked, as she stepped over the threshold.
‘I don’t know, but it’s obviously connected to Mr. Connelly.’
Charlie’s room had been searched in the same manner as Simm’s. The bathroom was worse. Her makeup and toiletry bags were emptied into the sink, and a few things were broken. Unlike Simm’s room, a message was left in hers. On the bathroom mirror, using her red lipstick, someone had written ‘GO HOME’.
Sins of the Fathers Page 16
