Sins of the Fathers

by A. J. McCarthy

  ‘Now what?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Now we go to bed. Tomorrow’s another day.’

  ‘No, I mean, now what do we do? I left my apartment after it was invaded, and we came here to be safe. Now he knows where we are, so where do we go?’

  ‘Nowhere. We’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Simm had contained his emotions for the past few hours, but he was angry. He didn’t like feeling violated, and he could tell the guy was escalating. He was more worried than ever for Charlie’s safety, and he was more determined than ever to find the person responsible. This had gone on long enough.

  The next morning, they continued the cleanup, filling large garbage bags with trashed papers and broken pottery. Luckily, Simm only had a few plants in the apartment and no knick-knacks, or it would have taken much longer to tidy.

  His laptop and his television would have to be replaced. He had the habit of backing up his hard drive every day, so the information was safe, but he wasn’t happy about having to go through all the bother of buying and configuring a new computer.

  Charlie’s cell phone rang mid-morning, and Simm could tell by the look on her face something was wrong. When she disconnected the call and looked at him, her face was white.

  ‘He went to Butler’s from here,’ she said, her voice trembling.

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’

  ‘I’ll kill him. If I ever get my hands on this guy, I’ll kill him.’

  ‘A lot of damage?’

  ‘Yes. He was searching for the hiding place.’

  They both turned and stared at the innocent-looking journal peeking out of her bag. Jim’s need to document his misdeeds had caused havoc.

  Chapter 70:

  Charlie’s blood simmered on low all the way to the pub, and she made an extra effort to keep it from boiling over. Police cars were parked in front of the property and she spotted Frank pacing on the sidewalk when they pulled up. When her friend heard the car, he swung around and rushed to open Charlie’s door.

  She wanted to get inside and see the damage as soon as possible, but getting past Frank was like walking through a steel beam. He grabbed her by the shoulders and bent his head to look her in the eye.

  ‘Listen to me. It can all be fixed. The important thing is no one was hurt.’

  His platitudes warned her the sight wouldn’t be pretty, and she felt her blood heating up another notch.

  ‘Let me by.’

  ‘I just want you to stay calm.’

  ‘I’m calm, but I won’t be much longer if you don’t let me by.’

  Frank looked at Simm with an expression she found difficult to interpret. It could have been a cry for help.

  Her anger turned to shock as she stepped through the door. There was no longer a mirror behind the bar. Actually, there was nothing behind the bar; no mirror, no shelves, no bottles. The floor, however was covered in broken glass and wood splinters. The place reeked of alcohol. The hole where the journal had rested for so many years was exposed and empty.

  Whether the perpetrator had discovered this at the beginning or the end of his rampage, she didn’t know, but he had covered all his bases. There were holes punched in many spots in the walls, and the furniture was overturned, most of it broken.

  Her office was another matter. All the boxes Charlie and Simm had sorted through and put aside for shredding were upended. Every document was strewn over the floor and desktop. It was as if it had snowed papers overnight. There were many hours ahead of her to put everything back in place.

  She clenched her hands and held back a scream. She kept telling herself Frank was right, to date no one had been hurt. But, someday, somehow, someone would be, if she ever got her hands on him.

  ‘Frank?’

  He appeared in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t look at him.

  ‘Did you forget to set the alarm last night?’

  ‘No, it was set.’

  Her head swiveled toward him.

  ‘It was? How did he get in?’

  One of the cops stepped into view. ‘The alarm wasn’t tampered with.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ she said. ‘He’d have to know the code to get through.’ Her gaze shifted from the cop to Frank. ‘How could that be?’

  ‘I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t,’ Frank said. ‘I’ve never given the code to anyone. As far as I know, just you and I know it.’

  ‘A sophisticated burglar can bypass alarm systems,’ the cop offered.

  ‘I didn’t think this guy was that sophisticated.’

  She looked at Simm to see if he agreed with her statement.

  ‘He’s smart enough to cover his tracks, but he doesn’t seem to be a whiz kid. To date, it’s just been regular down-and-dirty break-ins and anonymous letters,’ Simm said.

  ‘Then, either it’s not the same guy, or he got help from someone,’ Charlie said.

  ‘It’s the same guy, I’m sure of it,’ Simm answered.

  Charlie threw herself into her office chair and ran her hands over her face. She felt like crying with anger and frustration, but she wouldn’t give into it. She had never turned her back on a challenge before, and she wouldn’t start now.

  For obvious reasons, Charlie had to shut down the pub. From then on, she was inundated with insurance adjusters, police officers, and construction workers. She turned down offers from drop-by interior decorators trying to sell her a whole new look. She liked her old look, and so did her clients. Many of them stopped by and were dismayed to hear the news their favorite haunt had been vandalised.

  Every day, Charlie was there from early morning until late at night, cleaning up after the vandal and cleaning up after the workers. She was like a bull dog, pushing everyone to work faster and harder. It was embarrassing for anyone else to stop and take a break, so the repairs and renovations progressed at top speed.

  Frank was by her side most of the time. Simm did his part, but from time to time, he excused himself from the work detail with the excuse of having other business to take care of. She let him go without a fuss.

  One evening, Simm showed up as Charlie was sweeping sawdust left behind by the workers. He settled onto a bar stool and watched her work.

  ‘You could grab a broom and help me,’ she suggested.

  ‘I could, but I’m tired.’

  Charlie stopped what she was doing and gave him a suspicious look.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied, shrugging. ‘I guess I’m just feeling a bit down these days. It doesn’t happen often, but I guess I’m just impatient for things to return to normal.’

  ‘Most people would feel that way after the loss of a family member.’

  Simm scowled. ‘It has nothing to do with my father’s death.’

  ‘It’s me you’re talking to. It’s okay to admit it.’

  ‘Charlie, stop it. I’m telling you it has nothing to do with my father. It’s the case. I’d like it to be over and done with.’

  Charlie didn’t know what to think about that statement. Was he tired of dealing with her? She grasped the broom once again and concentrated on sweeping the floor.

  ‘You and me both,’ she muttered as a response.

  ‘What do you see happening after all this is over?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean us.’

  ‘Us?’ she said, stopping in her tracks and turning to him.

  ‘Yes, us. Don’t you think there could be an ‘us’?’

  Charlie was stunned. Simm had never given
any indication he was interested in her as anything other than a client. She stood in the middle of the room, her broom propped in front of her, firmly gripped in her two hands.

  ‘I guess I was wrong then,’ he said, getting to his feet.

  ‘Wait! Don’t go. It’s just that…you caught me off-guard…I didn’t…I mean I never thought that you thought…’ She relinquished the broom and went to sit on a stool beside him. ‘Simm, I’m not throwing away the idea of an ‘us’, it’s just that I didn’t think you were the slightest bit interested, and with everything going on…’

  He held up his hand.

  ‘I know. With everything going on, the timing’s far from right. You’re dealing with a lot of stress and upset. That’s why I’m anxious for things to return to normal, so we can start dealing with each other without all the other stuff hanging over our heads. It hasn’t been easy, above all with the sleeping arrangement,’ he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

  Charlie would have to get used to the idea that Simm wanted to have a relationship with her. The feelings inside her were growing hopeful, and she was also in a hurry to close the case, for several reasons now.

  With a small smile, she leaned over and gave Simm a kiss.

  Chapter 71:

  She had done it again. Simm didn’t know how it had happened, but he had started the day determined not to be anywhere near his father’s funeral, and now he stood at the front of the church with the rest of his family, shaking hands with a steady stream of visitors expressing their sympathy at this difficult time. Yes, it was difficult, but not for the reasons they seemed to think. The vast majority of the people were complete strangers to him, and he suspected most of them were there more out of curiosity than anything else.

  He glanced over to the fifth pew from the front. Charlie wore the same dress she had worn to visit Marty Sullivan. He suspected it was the only dress she owned. She looked so innocent, no one looking at her would suspect she was a witch capable of making a hard-headed man change his mind completely from one minute to the next. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be. But here he was, wearing his only suit, feeling so constricted he could hardly breathe.

  Standing beside him was his brother, who had turned the stoic look in to a whole new style. He looked like he scarcely hung on to his emotions, but Simm knew his brother was probably just as happy as he was to see the old man dead, maybe even happier, since he stood to inherit quite a large amount of money. Simm didn’t have to worry about that. He had been written out of his father’s will many years ago.

  His sister blubbered to his left. She was very good in that role also. He guessed she had spent the last few days alternating between practicing her crying technique to counting the ways she would spend her inheritance.

  His stepmother was a cross between his brother and sister, discreetly wiping away the odd tear while appearing strong. She was a beautiful woman, twenty years younger than her late husband, and she had preserved herself well with his father’s money.

  Simm looked at his watch, not bothering to hide the fact that he was impatient for this to be over. He flicked another glance at Charlie and hoped she got the hint she owed him big time. Her begging and pleading had pushed him to come here solely to get her to leave him alone. One of these days, he would learn to say no to her.

  The service began and was thankfully kept to a brief version. The priest had also been instructed to keep it brief at the graveside, and before the last rose was laid on the casket, Simm walked away with Charlie hurrying after him in her wobbly heels.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘You can’t go home. There’s a reception at your family’s house.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘You have to go. Your brother and sister need you.’

  ‘They don’t need me.’

  ‘Okay, maybe they don’t need you, but wouldn’t it be nice to spend time with them. You can catch up on old times.’

  ‘Yeah, we can reminisce about the prison visits to see our father.’

  ‘You never visited him in prison.’

  ‘You’re right, I didn’t. They did.’

  She stumbled beside him, and he grabbed her elbow to steady her. He also slowed his pace. They didn’t need to have a twisted ankle on top of everything else.

  ‘If you go to see them today, maybe they’ll leave you alone after that. You can get all the unpleasantness over with in one day, instead of spreading it out.’

  Simm stopped walking, looked heavenward, and then shifted his gaze to Charlie.

  ‘Why do you have to make sense?’

  She smiled.

  ‘It’s just the way I am.’

  Chapter 72:

  Charlie had never been inside a house so huge. She had considered Jim and Sylvie O’Reilly’s house a mansion, but it looked like the servant’s quarters compared to this place. Winston Simmons had made serious money in printing and real estate, and hadn’t lost any of it while he was in prison for fraud. He must have had very good lawyers and money managers.

  The main living room of the house was crowded and people spilled into the hallways, the other sitting rooms, and outside into the gardens. Charlie stood by the buffet table looking over the astounding selection of food when she felt a presence beside her. She looked up to see Susan, Simm’s sister, smiling at her.

  ‘Charlie, I finally have a chance to speak to you. I’m so happy you could make it today.’

  Charlie didn’t want to mention she was the sole reason Simm had made it that day.

  ‘You have such a lovely home, and this buffet is something else,’ she said instead.

  ‘Yes, well, my stepmother can take the credit for the buffet and the home.’

  ‘This isn’t where you grew up?’

  ‘Oh no, that house was sold. My stepmother chose this one and had it remodeled. It’s so big, we can all live here without getting in each other’s way.’

  ‘I guess,’ she said wryly.

  Charlie glanced around and noticed Simm on the far side of the room, deep in conversation with an older man. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  ‘Susan, I was curious about something. I don’t know anyone here of course, and I wondered if Simm’s friend Helen was here.’

  The color drained from Susan’s face, and Charlie was afraid the woman would faint at her feet. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish gasping on the deck of a boat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said, grabbing Susan’s arm to steady her. ‘I said something wrong, didn’t I?’

  Susan looked frantically around the room, and when her gaze fell on her brother, she turned to Charlie, her eyes still wide.

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘No, all I know is he had a girlfriend named Helen.’

  ‘Yes, he did, but she’s dead. She committed suicide.’

  It was Charlie’s turn to sway. That wasn’t the answer she had expected. Her eyes automatically swung to Simm, standing tall above the crowd. He stared back at her, and when he saw the look on her face, his expression darkened, and his gaze swung to his sister accusingly. Susan excused herself and left the room like all the bats of hell were behind her.

  Chapter 73:

  The silence in the car was strained. A mere ten minutes had passed since Susan’s revelation. Simm had stalked over to her and announced they were leaving. Charlie was too stunned to argue. They made their way out of the mansion, Simm grimly saying a few hurried words to people as he tried to leave the house un-assaulted by friends and acquaintances.

  Charlie
gripped her seat with white fingers as Simm drove away from his father’s home and took the ramp to the highway leading back to downtown Montreal.

  Suddenly, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

  ‘Do you have to be so goddamned nosy?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was a big deal.’

  ‘If I don’t want to talk about it, it’s because it’s a big deal.’

  ‘I understand some things are painful to talk about, but sometimes it helps.’

  Simm veered right to take the next exit. Charlie had no idea where he was going, but she was smart enough not to comment. He drove into a donut shop parking lot, stopped the car, and shut the ignition. He released his seatbelt and turned to face her.

  ‘Okay, ask away, Charlie. What else do you want to know?’

  ‘Not like this. I want you to talk to me because you want to share things with me, share your life. And I don’t want you to be angry.’

  His hands ran through his hair and down over his face. He grasped his tie and wrenched it from around his neck. Next the top buttons of his shirt were undone.

  ‘Okay, I’m better now,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘And I’m less angry. So, I’m going to tell you my story. All of it.’

  ‘Simm…’

  ‘No, I want to finish this. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, my father was a bastard, and that’s the politest word I can think of. It was about money and status for him. We had to behave like rich kids, we had to be snobs, and we had to consider ourselves better than everyone else. That was drilled into us. Thankfully, our mother drilled it into us to be good people and to think of others. Somehow, that came to the forefront most of the time.’

  ‘But you were young when she died.’

  ‘Yes, we were, but we spent a lot of time with our grandparents who were truly good people, and they influenced us. It was through my grandparents that I met Helen. She was a girl who lived on the property next to them. She wasn’t rich. Her parents were ordinary people with ordinary jobs, and she went to an ordinary school. She was like a breath of fresh air for me. She was lovely, down-to-earth, and the best thing that could’ve happened to me at that age.’