The City of Strangers. Michael Russell
an ordinary Irish family then.’
‘Well, there was definitely something wrong upstairs,’ said Dessie. ‘She’d come out of a convalescent home six weeks ago. She’d been in there a month. For the rest, according to Doctor Harris. Superintendent Gregory likes to refer to him as the “estranged” husband. They were all a bit strange if you ask me. Anyway, the doctor says she was very highly strung. Fragile nerves. She needed rests like that quite a lot. This time it was after she’d broken into the old fella’s house and stolen a canteen of cutlery. She locked herself in her bedroom with it for three days.’
‘When did the marriage break up?’
‘They hadn’t lived together since Owen Harris was seven. That’s when they were all here. The old man’s in Pembroke Road now. He owns the house in Herbert Place too. She didn’t have any money. He kept the both of them.’
‘So Owen Harris had a row with his mammy and killed her?’ Stefan frowned. ‘And that’s it. What did she do, throw one plate too many at him?’
‘Maybe we’ll find out when we get him back,’ replied Sergeant MacMahon. ‘The maid says they were rowing about money. He wanted some and she wouldn’t give it to him. It was to do with this theatre tour in America, the Gate. The actors had to stump up their own fares. So that’s what he needed it for.’
‘And she wasn’t having it?’
‘There wasn’t a lot of spare money about. She lived on what her husband gave her. He wouldn’t be a man to throw it about, so they say.’
‘But there was money, wasn’t there?’ continued Stefan.
‘There was a bit Mrs Harris had from working for the Hospitals’ Sweepstake. She did a lot of that, but they only paid her expenses. It’s meant to be charity. She had an office in a room at the back of the house, and a secretary came in sometimes to do a bit of typing. That’s it. There wouldn’t have been any sort of living in it at all. Money was the main topic of conversation at Herbert Place, well, how Mrs Harris never had any was.’
‘She had a brand new car!’
‘She did so,’ said Dessie, ‘and in a shoebox on top of the wardrobe in her bedroom, she had a box with six hundred and seventeen pounds in it.’
‘That doesn’t make much sense.’
Dessie shrugged; it didn’t.
‘So where did that come from?’
‘Same place as the car.’
‘Doctor Harris didn’t buy her that then?’
‘No. She bought it herself.’
‘And –’
‘And what? Nobody seems bothered about it at the Castle.’
Stefan was surprised. He would have wanted to know.
‘So Harris killed his mother because she wouldn’t give him the money he wanted, and then left six hundred pounds sitting on top of the wardrobe?’
‘The assumption is he didn’t know it was there.’
‘But he did get the money to pay for the boat to New York?’
Sergeant MacMahon shrugged again. Although he had offered no opinions, Stefan knew that he didn’t think much of the investigation.
‘Couldn’t he have got that from the father?’
‘No. The old man thinks he’s a waster. As for the acting, it’s a joke as far as he’s concerned. I’ve only seen the old feller once. Superintendent Gregory brought him to Herbert Place. I wouldn’t say he had much to do with them any more, the lad or his mother. He gave them both an allowance of some sort, as little as he could get away with, that’s the word.’
Stefan Gillespie was looking down at the hedge and the tyre tracks.
‘Did anyone know she had money?’
‘She was always short. Bills were never paid. But she had cash when she wanted it. No one else is very interested in what the maid had to say, but Mrs Harris bought clothes she never wore and paid a lot for them. She was fond of fur as well. And when she bought the Austin Seven she paid cash. When she went out to a restaurant with her friends she didn’t just go anywhere. And she always paid her share too.’
‘You got on well with the maid, did you?’ smiled Stefan.
‘They had her sitting around at Dublin Castle long enough.’
‘So where does she think the money came from?’
‘I wasn’t in on any of the interviews.’
‘But you asked her, Dessie, come on!’
‘She doesn’t have much doubt about it. The old lady was fiddling the Sweepstake. She collected up the money that came in from abroad. It went to a post office box, but the post office delivered it to Herbert Place. Some days there’d be sackfuls, from all over, England, America, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, cheques, postal orders, and cash. Hundreds of pounds. She took the cheques into a bank in Baggot Street, cashed the postal orders, and then delivered it all to the Sweepstake office. She kept accounts, but I don’t know how they were checked. It wouldn’t have been hard to skim a bit off.’
‘And Superintendent Gregory isn’t looking at that?’ asked Stefan.
‘They’ve decided they know what happened. The eejit son killed her and chucked her in the sea. It’s as far as anyone needs to look. Or wants to.’
Stefan was puzzled, even after everything Dessie had said.
‘And how many detectives are there on this?’
‘They’re looking for the body, Sarge.’ Dessie laughed again. He was still calling Stefan ‘Sarge’, though he was now a sergeant himself; old habits. He was enjoying this conversation; old habits, old times. ‘Nobody’s got any doubt about what happened. I don’t know whether Owen Harris really thinks he’s coming home for a chat, but I’d say he could be coming back for the long drop. As for the Sweepstake business, it’s nothing to do with anything, I’ve been told. I’m not saying they’ve got it wrong, but no one wants to know any more. If he was here he must have been here with the body.’
Stefan nodded. Maybe there were other things to find out. Maybe for some reason there were things to find out that nobody really wanted to look into. But there were enough facts to make it hard to see beyond Owen Harris killing his mother and dumping her body out here.
He looked at the sea for a moment. He knew the smell of all this now. There were people who mattered in it. There were lids to be kept on things. There was a show to put on at New York’s World’s Fair that was far more important than a squalid and brutal murder in Ireland. There were reputations riding on it. There were newspaper headlines that Ireland’s hard-earned money had bought. Now there was the country’s Hospitals’ Sweepstake too; it brought in money the country didn’t have, to pay for hospitals it desperately needed, money from all over the world; it was money that would dry up in the face of newspaper headlines about laziness, incompetence, fraud. Stefan could see now why the investigation was in the hands of the Special Branch.
There was a crime to solve that seemed to have an easy, ready solution. But it had to be solved in a way that meant it was contained and controlled. Special Branch was there to make sure there was no spillage. He was a part of the politics now.
The Garda Commissioner was sending him to New York because he could bring Harris back to Ireland with the lid firmly on; without giving him the slightest idea he might be coming home to hang.
‘Enjoying yourself, Sergeant Gillespie?’
Stefan turned at the sound of a voice behind him. Introductions were unnecessary. Superintendent Gregory knew who he was, that was clear.
‘It’ll be a treat for you, coming all the way to Dublin on the train.’