Sins of the Fathers

by A. J. McCarthy

  ‘I’ll take that as another yes.’

  Sylvie whimpered like a frightened dog.

  ‘Simm, maybe you should let up on her.’ Charlie was worried she would have another stroke, this one in front of them, but he ignored her and continued with his questioning.

  ‘What are you worried about? Do you think Marty will hurt you? I doubt it. You’re an old woman who’s unable to talk. You wouldn’t make much of a witness, or a victim. Are you worried about Terry?’

  This created another reaction. Tears came to her eyes and ran down her papery cheeks.

  ‘Mrs. O’Reilly, I’ll make a deal with you. Sullivan will never know we were here if you help us trace those babies. I’m sure someone like Jim kept records. Where are they?’

  Chapter 63:

  ‘I had to do it.’

  ‘You were too rough. You went too far,’ Charlie insisted.

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘For now. What if she dies today of a stroke, or a heart attack?’

  ‘She’s a little shook up, but at least we got something useful from the whole thing. It’ll help to ease her conscience, and she’ll rest easier.’

  ‘Boy, you sure know how to rationalize your behavior.’

  ‘I tell you what, why don’t you go to work and let me do the investigating?’

  ‘Ha. You’re trying to get rid of me.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s having a problem with this.’

  He was right, but Charlie wouldn’t admit it. She wanted to stay involved. And he was right about something else. They had received valuable information from Sylvie O’Reilly. Simm’s hunch that Jim had kept a record of the adoptions was right. Through a series of yes-and-no-answer questions, they found out it was hidden somewhere at the pub. The exact location was still a mystery, but at least they had something with which they could work.

  They had also pinpointed Sylvie’s benefactor. Also going on a hunch, Simm had made her admit Sullivan was the person paying her way. She was living in extreme comfort because he had bought her silence. It wasn’t just Terry she was worried for; she knew her luxurious surroundings were on the line.

  Charlie had her work cut out for her. She wouldn’t rest until she found that journal. Already, she was itching to get back to Butler’s Pub, and the downtown traffic was frustrating in the extreme.

  ‘You know, if you turned left here, and went down Sherbrooke Street, we may get there faster.’

  ‘Taking a detour won’t get us there faster.’

  ‘But there’s construction ahead.’

  ‘Take a deep breath and relax. That journal isn’t going anywhere.’

  Charlie huffed out a breath.

  While Simm was looking for a parking spot, she gripped the door handle.

  ‘Let me off here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.’ The door slammed behind her before he said a word.

  ‘Where’s your sidekick?’ asked Frank, as she barrelled into the bar.

  ‘Parking. I’ll be in the office if you’re looking for me.’

  She noticed Frank’s baffled face as she stalked by, but she wasn’t in the mood to explain.

  In her office, she picked up Harley to receive his enthusiastic welcome as she gazed around the room. When she had taken over the business, she hadn’t made any changes to the layout. The furniture and cabinets were as they had been at the time of Jim’s death. She tried to remember if she had ever done a cleanup of the files, but she couldn’t recall, which likely meant she hadn’t.

  There were only two cabinets, but there were at least five large boxes filled with documents. Knowing Jim, he had kept every scrap of paper since he had started the business. Going through all of that paperwork wouldn’t be a picnic, but it would surely be a challenge, and one that was long overdue. There was no time like the present to get started.

  Twenty minutes later, when Simm joined her in the office, she was going through the first box.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she asked.

  ‘I was chatting with Frank.’

  ‘You filled him in?’

  ‘I let him know you’ll be preoccupied for the next little while.’

  ‘You find this amusing?’ she said, noticing the smirk.

  ‘You’re like a freight train. God forbid someone should step out in front of you.’

  ‘You’d better heed your own warning.’

  ‘I was going to give you a hand.’

  ‘Then take that other box. Anything that’s over six years old can go in the garbage.’

  They worked side by side for hours without a break. Most of the boxes were deemed to be trash. Next, they tackled the filing cabinets with almost the same result. They contacted a company to come and shred all the old documents.

  But they still hadn’t found a journal.

  Charlie dropped into a chair and ran her dusty hands through her hair.

  ‘It would’ve been too easy.’

  ‘It was a long shot that Jim would have left it someplace so obvious, but we had to look.’

  The door opened and Frank came into the room.

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘None,’ Charlie said. ‘He must have a secret hiding place somewhere.’

  ‘It could be anywhere, maybe not even in this building,’ Frank suggested.

  ‘No, Sylvie told Simm it was here.’

  ‘She could be lying.’

  Charlie shrugged, hardly able to lift her shoulders.

  ‘Anything’s possible, but I think she was too scared to lie.’

  ‘How about a break?’ Simm suggested.

  ‘You can take a break. I’m going to keep looking. Help me move these boxes away from the wall. I’ll check for hiding spots.’

  The walls were done in seventies-style dark wood paneling. Charlie easily imagined a secret panel lifting off to reveal a treasure trove.

  Simm and Frank moved the boxes, and then pitched in to tap on the walls and search for traces of an opening. By the time that was done, to no avail, it was time to open the pub and get to work.

  Simm saluted them and strolled to the door, assuring Charlie he would be back to get her later that night.

  Chapter 64:

  ‘I read the article about Simm’s dad. That’s really something, isn’t it? I don’t remember any of that,’ Frank said.

  ‘I remember something about a rich guy going to prison for fraud, but I didn’t remember his name, and I never made the connection to Simm.’

  Frank and Charlie were alone in the pub, setting up for the afternoon crowd. The previous day, Charlie had mentioned briefly to Frank that Simm’s father had passed away, but she hadn’t given him any further details.

  ‘I guess that’s why Simm hates him so much,’ Frank said.

  ‘I think there are quite a few reasons. At least, that’s the impression I have.’

  ‘I don’t feel so bad about my father now,’ he said, smiling sheepishly.

  Charlie gave a short laugh.

  ‘You and me both. I guess we can’t choose our families, can we? We have to make do with what we have.’

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Both heads swiveled toward the entrance. Frank and Charlie exchanged a guilty glance when Simm appeared. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and Charlie decided a distraction was in order.

  ‘What do you think of the new look?’

  ‘What new look?’ he said, shifting his gaze around the bar.

  ‘Not the pub. Me,’ Ch
arlie answered.

  Simm stared at her, perplexed, for a moment before looking at Frank for help.

  Charlie noticed Frank motioning to his head, making Simm take a good look at her.

  ‘You changed your hair,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘What did I do to it?’

  His gaze streaked to Frank again before returning to her triumphantly.

  ‘You cut it.’

  ‘Great. You’ve graduated from the Frank Hill School of Sign Language.’

  ‘You should know better than to ask a guy a loaded question like that.’

  Charlie didn’t care if he had noticed her hair or not, she just wanted to change his mind, but Frank wasn’t on the same track as her.

  ‘Sorry to hear about your father, Simm.’

  The animation dropped away from Simm’s face. Charlie shot Frank a warning look and tried to salvage the situation.

  ‘How about a beer? On the house.’

  ‘No, it`s a little early. I just stopped by to see if I could help you look for the journal.’

  Charlie couldn’t hold back.

  ‘Simm, you shouldn’t be working on that right now. Why don’t you go see your family?’

  ‘I don’t need to see them, and they certainly don’t need to see me. I won’t be much of a comfort to them.’

  Charlie couldn’t help but agree with that statement. His hatred for his father was palpable. Anyone who was grief-stricken would not find any sympathy in Simm’s presence.

  ‘Alright, if you insist, we’ll go to the office and look some more.’

  Charlie and Simm worked for an hour, looking through both physical and computer files, in almost complete silence, but it was far from being a companionable silence. Even with an impassive expression and without saying a word, the tension rolled off Simm in waves. Charlie gave in to her inner demons.

  ‘Simm, I read the newspaper article. I know about your father’s past.’

  He remained silent, but his jaw clenched rigidly.

  ‘It must have been very difficult,’ she continued. ‘And, I understand how you could be bitter toward your father.’

  ‘You don’t understand anything, Charlie. Nothing at all. You don’t know what he was like. You don’t know what my life was like. You know nothing, and I don’t want to talk about this right now.’

  Simm stood and went to the door. Charlie was quick to follow, and caught up to him as his hand gripped the door knob. She grabbed his elbow and felt his arm jerk. For a split second, she thought he would take a swing at her. He seemed angry enough to do it.

  ‘I’m sorry. I promise I won’t talk about it anymore. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

  He closed his eyes for a couple of beats, exhaled deeply, and turned to her.

  ‘Give it a rest. Please.’

  ‘I will. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I gotta go.’

  A few hours later, Charlie was in the office when Frank knocked on the door and came in without waiting for an answer.

  ‘Simm’s brother is here.’

  Charlie jumped from her chair and headed for the door.

  ‘Is Simm around?’ she asked as she hurried past Frank.

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Good.’

  In the main bar, Charlie approached the man who looked so much like Simm, yet didn’t look like him at all.

  ‘Walt, it’s so nice to see you again,’ she said, taking his hand in hers. ‘Please accept my sympathies on the passing of your father.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Charlie saw a flash of sadness on his face before being quickly replaced by concern. ‘Have you seen Simm? I went by his place and he’s not there. He’s not answering his phone either. I’m getting a little worried about him.’

  Charlie wasn’t worried. She knew he was hiding away from his family.

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll undoubtedly drop by later. Is there a message I can give him?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to him, but if not, could you please let him know the details for the funeral service?’

  ‘Of course, I’ll tell him.’

  After Walt Simmons left, Charlie noted on a napkin the location and date of the funeral so she wouldn’t forget. But, remembering the details would be easier than passing them along to Simm.

  Chapter 65:

  Charlene,

  Where have you been? I missed you. I thought you didn’t take vacations. Did the new man in your life make you change your ways?

  My name is Nick. We’ve never met, but I know you very well. I would have liked to travel and see the world, especially Ireland. I feel I have an affinity with that country. Your roots are there also, aren’t they? We should plan a trip together some time soon.

  It was in the regular mail, as usual. Charlie set it aside after reading it, and continued opening her mail. She stopped, a half-opened envelope in her hand, and thought about what she had just done. Or rather, what she hadn’t done. She hadn’t panicked, gone running out to see Frank, or called Simm. And, she wasn’t on the phone with the cops.

  When had it become commonplace? When had it stopped scaring her? She thought about her experiences in Ireland, which had been truly terrifying. Receiving letters was easier to digest than having a bag thrown over your head and being kidnapped, not knowing if you would survive or not.

  Also, she felt more in control now. They had found some answers, and she was confident it was simply a matter of time before they had all of them. And another little piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place. The letter-writer knew she had been to Ireland. She was certain that was what he was trying to tell her, and he thought the message would scare her. She refused to play into his hands.

  Her cell phone chirped beside her elbow. It was Simm, texting her. Sometimes she thought he was psychic. He seemed to know when to show up or contact her.

  She responded to his casual inquiry with a text saying she had received another letter. Before she set her phone on the desk, it was ringing. She smiled at his predictability.

  ‘What did it say?’

  She read the brief note to him, and shared her thoughts.

  ‘You’re right. It’s someone close. I’ll be right over.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’m okay.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me? It’s someone close enough to you to know what you’re up to.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Maybe you’re not…’

  He ended the call without finishing his sentence.

  Charlie shrugged off Simm’s pessimism. The person had always been close, right from the start, and she had never been bodily harmed. She was beginning to think it was a case of psychological harassment, pure and simple. While this was still unacceptable, she wouldn’t give in to it. They would find this person, and they would discover the motivation behind the letters.

  Meanwhile, she had a business to run. She had lost another morning looking for the mysterious journal. Now, she had finished the miserable task of bookkeeping, so she was free to work behind the bar. It was a Friday, and it would be busy.

  It was, in fact, hopping. The weather was nice, people were in the summertime mood, and they wanted to socialize. The outside patio was overflowing onto the sidewalk, and when that was too much, the inside filled up also. Charlie didn’t have any time to think about letters or journals. Around one o’clock in the morning, it slowed down. She grabbed a stool and sat for a minute with a cold glass of water.

  The neighbouring stool scraped against the ceramic floor and she recognized Simm’s boots fr
om the corner of her eye.

  ‘Lazing around again, Butler?’

  ‘Funny guy.’

  ‘Big night?’

  ‘Very. Still is. I’m just grabbing a few minutes.’

  ‘Even Frank has worked up a sweat,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the bartender.

  ‘He’s the best. I’ll get you a beer.’

  Simm grasped her arm before she stood up.

  ‘There’s no rush. Sit for a bit. Did you look for the journal again today?’

  ‘I did, with no luck, but I’m not giving up.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would.’

  Charlie stood and headed for the bar. She couldn’t let Frank handle it alone. She poured a beer for Simm and set it in front of him before heading outside to take orders from the customers enjoying the warm summer evening.

  When she came back in and stood beside the bar to recite the drink orders to Frank, she glanced at the mirror behind one of the smaller shelves at the bar, but she didn’t see her reflection. Instead a memory flashed before her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Frank asked.

  Charlie shook her head to clear it.

  ‘Nothing. Why?’

  ‘You look like you saw a ghost.’

  ‘I did.’

  Suddenly, the night couldn’t end soon enough. She looked around the room and gauged the crowd. There was another two hours before they had to legally close up shop. Was it possible they would clear out sooner? She could only hope.

  ‘Hey, slow down. What’s got into you?’ Frank said, a concerned look on his face.

  ‘I’m helping you. You should be grateful.’

  Charlie knew of only one way to make time go faster and that was to keep busy.

  ‘I’m glad to have the help, but you don’t have to knock yourself out.’

  ‘There’s lots to do. People are thirsty.’

  She turned to see Simm looking at her with a puzzled expression. She knew she was going overboard, but it was either that or go crazy.