Irish Lace

by Andrew M. Greeley

  “Why did you have her under surveillance?”

  I turned to Cindy like someone appearing before a Senate investigating committee.

  “Do I have to answer that, Counselor?”

  “Of course you don’t have to. You may if you wish.”

  “Because someone had made threats of sexual violence against her.”

  “I’ll look into this matter, Cindy. It sounds pretty thin to me. I’ll have Slim come talk to you.”

  “Aren’t I the lucky one! First, I see my client. Then, I warn you, if she is not released by noon, I will carry out all my threats and I’ll stop by 26th and California for a writ of habeas corpus.”

  “You know I don’t yield to threats, Cindy.”

  “We’ll see about that. Now, I want to talk to my client.”

  “I’ll arrange for that.”

  “NOW!”

  “I said I’ll arrange for that.”

  “Mary Jane,” Cindy said to the reporter who had asked her about her children, “is everyone staying around?”

  “Sure, we’re all supposed to get pictures of the alleged perpetrators being taken off to the concentration camp at 26th and California.”

  “How soon do I have to call a press conference to get what I say on the noon news?”

  Smart girl, my big sister.

  “Are you going after Zack?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Most of us will want to do it live. It’s a great lead. What’s the story?”

  “I represent one of the alleged perpetrators. She’s got an ironclad alibi. Moreover, she is not illegal but has a Morrison visa which Zack has lifted, a clear violation of due process of law.”

  “I’ll spread it around, Cindy. The guys will love it.”

  “I thought they might.”

  A cop appeared, asked Cindy if she was the attorney for Ms. McGrail and conducted us to an interrogation room like those you see on NYPD Blue, a walless concrete cell with a wooden table and three uncomfortable wooden chairs.

  We waited another fifteen minutes before they delivered Nuala to us.

  She looked terrible, if one dares to say that about such a beautiful woman. She reminded me of the pictures one sees of Bosnian refugee women staggering down a road after an air raid—ashen, exhausted, confused. She was wearing shorts and sweatshirt and sandals.

  Tears poured down her dirty face at the sight of us. She ran into my arms and then embraced Cindy.

  “Holy Mother of God, am I glad to see you two!”

  “I propose to act as your attorney, Nuala. Do you approve?”

  “I’ve been praying all morning that you’d be coming.”

  “They read you your rights? You had the right to phone a lawyer?”

  “The man read us something, but so fast we couldn’t hear it.”

  “Typical,” Cindy made a mark on her yellow legal-size notepad, without which lawyers, as everyone knows, cannot travel.

  “It was terrible frightening. Late at night. There’s a loud knock on the friggin’ door, and before we can answer, don’t the guards—I mean the police—come rushing in and tell us we’re all under arrest. Most of us thought it was a terrible dream—and being summer, none of us are wearing all that much. They tell us to dress and they half-watch us as we do it and say terrible things. Then they drag us down here. And aren’t the television cameras grinding away when we get out of their lorry? This disgusting man named O’Hara shouts at us that we’re common criminals and will be treated as such, and then they throw us into cells and lock us up. Didn’t I think that the friggin’ Black and Tans had come to Chicago?”

  She collapsed again in my arms.

  Cindy reassured her, “I intend to have you out of here shortly after noon. You were at Grand Beach all weekend. You couldn’t have been involved in stealing the Monets from the Armacost Gallery. Moreover, you were home in bed when the alleged conspiracy meeting happened on Thursday night. Finally, you are not an illegal alien. I intend to constrain the state’s attorney to return your Morrison visa, which he has lifted illegally.”

  “How will you be doing that?”

  “Just wait and see. You’ll enjoy it.”

  Nuala continued to cling to me. I helped her over to a chair, sat down next to her, and took her hand firmly in mine.

  My head continued to pound.

  “Officer,” Cindy said, as she opened the door, “Would you ask Mr. Keegan to come in here, please?”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Hurley.”

  “Slim Keegan”—she turned to us—“is an ugly, slimy, vile mound of flesh who, for some reason, the State’s Attorney for Cook County thinks is a genius at negotiation. I assume—and indeed almost hope—that he will stall. Then,” she said with a broad grin, “future sister-in-law, I’ll put on a show for you that is the equivalent of yours on the tennis court.”

  Nuala turned purple and refused to look in my direction.

  “You may be a bit premature in that appellation, Cindy,” I said mildly.

  Nuala turned yet more purple. She still would not look at me, but I saw that she was smiling. Good enough for her.

  “We’ll see … ah, I note the advent of the all-wise Deputy First Assistant State’s Attorney Keegan … . Slim, this is my client, Ms. McGrail whom you have arrested illegally and whose right to due process of law you have violated. The gentleman is Dermot Michael Coyne, who, in addition to being a distinguished and famous literary figure, is also my brother.”

  “Yeah? What’s he doing here?”

  “Slim” Keegan was every bit as ugly as Cindy had said, only more so. He collapsed into a chair, which he overflowed, sighed loudly, pulled his already-open tie more open, and glared at me.

  “He has certain information that you and your lord and master should take into account before you decide to hold my client any longer.”

  I yielded my chair to my sister, leaned against the wall, and tried to look ominous.

  “Yeah, well, Cindy, I hate to disappoint an old friend like you, but it doesn’t look too good for your client. She’s an illegal, and she’s involved in a conspiracy to rob art galleries. So I say we continue to hold her prior to arraignment.”

  “Obviously, Mr. O’Hara didn’t rehearse our conversation with you. Item: Ms. McGrail is not an illegal, but has a valid Morrison visa which your office has lifted illegally. Item: She was in Michigan all last weekend where she was seen by scores of witnesses, including an auxiliary bishop of this archdiocese. Item: At the time of the alleged theft, she was participating at a wiener roast in full view of at least a dozen adults. Item: When this alleged conspiracy meeting took place, Ms. McGrail was home in bed. I presume that, for an attorney of your perspicacity, I don’t have to outline the motions for relief I can enter against your office.”

  “Who are these people in Michigan?”

  “My family.”

  “Yeah. I’m not impressed.”

  “If it comes to that, I suspect a judge will be.”

  “And this proof that she wasn’t at the meeting?”

  Cindy cocked an eyebrow at me. I took a deep breath and hoped that Cindy’s alleged future sister-in-law would not go ballistic in my direction.

  “Last week a gentleman approached me at the Tricolor Pub—and please note the proper pronunciation of that name, Mr. Keegan—and made certain vile threats of sexual assault against Ms. McGrail. Since she had worked for, uh, with me in Dublin on certain matters and since she was very new in this country, I thought it proper to make sure that she was properly protected. I therefore hired Reliable Security to guard her. It is my impression that the off-duty cops who work for Reliable would like nothing better than to shove certain materials up the various orifices of you and Mr. O’Hara, and therefore will be delighted to testify that Ms. McGrail never left her apartment after returning from her interlude of singing at the Tricolor.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who is this guy who allegedly made the threats?”

/>   “Billy Hernon,” Nuala supplied the name.

  “Yeah? He’s involved in this art-heist business, too?”

  “Since your boss didn’t mention him this morning, I presume you have not apprehended him.”

  “We’ll get him. IRA slime.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah … . Tricolor, huh? Cheap, dirty pub,” Slim said with a loud sigh.

  In fact, it was more than a sigh. His breathing came in heavy and exhausted gasps, doubtless the result of the necessity of dragging his outsize body around.

  “The singing, however, is excellent!”

  Cindy was laughing, Nuala Anne was looking at me with eyes shining proudly. So I wasn’t in trouble.

  “You have no probable cause to hold her,” Cindy proclaimed like a judge ruling from the bench.

  Though seated in a chair, which I thought might break at any moment, his breathing became more labored. Unless he changed his lifestyle, Slim didn’t have many years of life left. He should cut down on all his big (well-done) steaks and mountains of mashed potatoes. However, I would not tell him so.

  He struggled to his feet.

  “I say fuck it all. We’ll hold her.”

  “Any special reason?”

  “We gotta check out all this shit of yours.”

  “You expect to find that my family did not see her at Grand Beach all weekend and that the Reliable Security people cannot verify that she did not go to your precious meeting? You do not believe there is probable cause to release her—and return her Morrison visa?”

  “I say we check out all your shit.”

  “You could release her and if my statements do not hold up, you could then rearrest her.”

  “Well, we’re not going to do that.”

  “I see. And I say, Slim, that you’re on very thin ice in this matter.”

  “Fuck you!” he said with a noisy belch, and lumbered out of the room.

  “Charming fellow,” I said.

  “Yes, indeed,” Cindy agreed.

  “This is a friggin’ terrible country with men like him and those who pulled us out of bed with hardly any clothes on last night.”

  “In many ways,” Cindy said, “you’re right, Nuala. Yet every country has criminal-justice personnel like the ones you have had the great misfortune to encounter today. However, I know of no other country in the world—not even Germany, where they let madmen who cut up teenage tennis stars go back out on the street—where relief from men like that can be obtained so quickly.”

  Nuala nodded dubiously.

  “Wait and see. Unless O’Hara comes up with stronger evidence than he has against all your friends, he’ll have to release them in another couple of days, which is more than would happen in your native land, future sister-in-law.”

  Nuala blushed again and averted her eyes from me. However she didn’t argue against the appellation.

  PROPOSE TO HER TODAY, the Adversary said, having appeared out of nowhere as he usually does. SHE CERTAINLY ISN’T GOING TO REFUSE. THAT’LL SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS.

  “You gotta be kidding,” I told him.

  LOOK, ASSHOLE, PEOPLE DON’T MEET THEIR TRUE LOVES AT THE TIMES THEY THINK ARE APPROPRIATE. THEY MEET THEM WHEN GOD WANTS THEM TO MEET THEM.

  “You sound like Prester George.”

  YOU KNOW I’M AN INTERNALIZED PRESTER GEORGE.

  I banished him. He went reluctantly.

  Nuala, who naturally was unaware of this internal dialogue with my internalized brother, nodded in agreement with Cindy.

  “Sure, isn’t that the truth? They can hold you a long time under the Official Secrets Act without making any charges at all. I’m sorry for attacking this wonderful country. I’m not meself this morning.”

  Cindy glanced at her watch.

  “I must go meet my friends in the media. Tell you what, Dermot, why don’t you and herself watch television from here?”

  “No TV.”

  “We’ll get one.”

  She opened the door to the concrete room and said to the African-American cop lounging at the door, “Albert, can you do me a big favor? I’m about to have a press conference. Would you be able to bring in a TV set so that my brother and Ms. McGrail can watch the conference?”

  “Sure thing, Cindy. I think most of our folks will want to watch in person, so we won’t need the set.”

  Cindy left for her press conference. Albert came in with a small color set, turned it on, adjusted the rabbit ears, and said, “I’ve put in on Channel 9. It gets the best reception. And they’ll certainly carry your sister’s press conference. Great lady, your sister.”

  “Amen! It’s good that Channel 9 comes through clearly here. That way you can watch the Cub games.”

  “They’re a little discouraging aren’t they, Mr. Coyne?”

  “Dermot,” I said, “and we must all have faith.”

  We both chuckled and then he left the room. I turned to face Nuala Anne’s inevitable first question.

  “What is Reliable Security, Derm?”

  “It’s a company which provides a wide range of private security services. Does the things cops can’t do because they’re too busy filling out forms. Nice thing is that most of its people are cops, of both genders, moonlighting part time. So they do the things they would like to do—protect people—and get paid for it, which helps their wives or husbands and their families.”

  “Isn’t that a grand idea?” She nodded her head vigorously. “I suppose we have something like that in Ireland?”

  “Securicor, I think.”

  “And you hired them to take care of me?”

  “Your man frightened me a little.”

  “Wasn’t that kind and thoughtful of you, Dermot Michael?”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Sure, at another time, wouldn’t I have screamed something terrible about your interfering with me life?”

  She grinned up at me, a tentative little-girl leprechaun—and the leprechaun’s pot of gold in her smile!

  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Well, I’m terrible grateful anyway. And Dermot …?

  “Some of the times when I’m screaming something terrible and making a gobshite of meself, all you have to do is tell me to fock off and I’ll shut up.”

  “Eventually.”

  She laughed and threw her arms around me and hugged me ferociously.

  “I love you something awful, Dermot Michael Coyne.”

  The Adversary had been correct. If I had said to her, then and there, something like “Would you ever accept that title, me sister wanted to give you?” we would have left the Area Six lockup an engaged couple.

  I simply couldn’t take advantage of her present misery. No way. However, I knew now that I wouldn’t ever be rejected.

  Small help that was.

  An anchorperson babbled for a moment; then Cindy appeared on the screen.

  “Och, doesn’t your sister look beautiful with her pretty face and her lovely hair, Derm?”

  “She does, Nuala. But there’s more to the show than that.”

  I had seen Cindy play such games before and had a vague idea of what might happen.

  “Good afternoon,” she began. “My name is Cynthia Coyne Hurley. I have the honor to represent Ms. Nuala Anne McGrail, who is one of those accused by the state’s attorney this morning. I believe that there is a prima facie case that my client could not have been involved either in the Armacost Gallery theft itself or in the alleged conspiracy meeting. In the first matter, she spent the weekend at Grand Beach, Michigan, and was seen by many people through the week, at Mass and in other activities. When the crime was allegedly committed, she was in plain sight of twelve adults and many children on the beach at a wiener roast. At the time of the purported meeting, she was under the protection of a high-quality security firm because of threats which had been made on her physical safety. The agents of that firm will testify that she was in her apartment during the entire time of the m
eeting and did not leave until the following morning. Moreover, she is a legal alien with a so-called Morrison visa which Mr. O’Hara’s people have illegally removed from her possession.

  “I have attempted to negotiate with Mr. O’Hara concerning her release. I have so far been unsuccessful. Therefore I will seek a writ of habeas corpus this afternoon. Moreover, Mr. O’Hara has defamed her in reckless disregard of the truth by asserting that she is an illegal alien even though she had a valid visa about which he knew. Since this was done on a superchannel, among other stations, the defamation can be assumed to have been national. Accordingly I will file a suit in the Federal District Court for Northern Illinois, charging that Mr. O’Hara did willingly and maliciously defame Ms. McGrail by charging her with a crime, namely immigrating illegally to this country. Finally, I will also seek an order from the same District Court commanding Mr. O’Hara to return Ms. McGrail’s visa, which he has taken from her without due process of the law. I will hold in reserve a damage suit against Mr. O’Hara for false arrest.”

  Ms. McGrail jumped up and down, clapped her hands, and did a little dance.

  “Isn’t she a grand woman, Dermot Michael? Ah, don’t I wish I had that presence?”

  I took a big chance.

  “She does law, Nuala; you do song. Both of you have enormous presence when you’re doing your thing.”

  “Law is more important,” she said rather lamely.

  “Woman, it is not.”

  “Shush, Derm, let’s listen to what herself is saying.”

  “You ask why Mr. O’Hara insists on holding my client? Beats me. You’ll have to ask him.”

  Bemused smile.

  “The other alleged perpetrators? I represent only Ms. McGrail. So far I have heard no evidence to persuade me that there are grounds for even a misdemeanor charge.”

  “When do you expect your client to be released?”

  “Immediately, if not sooner.”

  “With whom was she staying in Michigan?”

  “With my family.”

  “why, Cindy?”

  “She and one of my siblings cooperated in solving a mystery in Ireland. There is a possibility of a romantic attachment there.”

  “Humph!” Nuala snorted.

  She did not seem particularly upset.

  I didn’t say a frigging word. Everyone was closing in on me.