Michael Russell - The City of Shadows

The inspector sniffed. The Blueshirts, under the leadership of Eoin O’Duffy, the first Garda Commissioner and almost the first man President de Valera sacked on taking office in 1932, had been banned a year ago. They had threatened to march on Dublin in the same way Mussolini’s Blackshirts marched on Rome. After the ban the sale of blue shirts had declined rapidly, and the movement had faded away. But there were plenty of Gardai whose sympathies lay with O’Duffy and the march that never was, and James Donaldson had been one of them, however quiet he kept about that now.

‘Cat fights are common enough in the queer fraternity I’d say. The man wouldn’t want to be pointing his finger at friends, even after all this time.’

‘I think I need to take the Blueshirts seriously, sir.’

‘I don’t know where you’ll find any Blueshirts now, but you might want to remember that the majority of them were ex-soldiers who served this country well, whatever the views of the current regime. I would be careful about stirring up the past, and on the back of what’s probably a pack of lies.’

‘Susan Field.’ Stefan wouldn’t let Donaldson avoid this any longer.

‘We’ve been here already, Sergeant. I’m well aware that it comes back to Keller.’

‘I can’t question Keller. I don’t know where he is. I did speak to Sheila Hogan, his nurse. But that was after Jimmy Lynch had had a go and put her in the Mater.’

Donaldson ignored the last remark.

‘Didn’t she say she’d never seen the woman?’

‘That doesn’t mean a bloody thing. There was a foetus.’

‘I know that Gillespie. Obviously you’ve established the woman was pregnant.’

‘She wrote a letter that said she was having an abortion!’

‘Yes, there are questions to ask, Sergeant, I do accept that. And I will pass a request up the line for the German police to try to locate Herr Keller.’

Stefan looked at his tight-lipped superior and shook his head.

‘He was driven to Dun Laoghaire by the head of the Nazi Party here. With friends like that, not to mention our own Special Branch, I don’t think we’ll hear much back. That leaves us with one witness — Father Byrne.’

Inspector Donaldson might sideline the references to Adolf Mahr and Special Branch, but Byrne was another matter. However much he wanted to ignore it he knew he couldn’t. And so he had already tackled the problem.

‘I understand that and I have spoken to Monsignor Fitzpatrick.’

Stefan was surprised. The smile on Donaldson’s face was troubling.

‘You should have asked me before speaking to him yourself.’

‘I wanted to find out where Byrne was. It was the shortest route.’

‘That wasn’t a decision for you to make, Gillespie.’

‘It was a simple question, sir.’

‘It was a series of scandalous allegations against a priest!’

‘I have good reason to believe Francis Byrne was the man Susan Field was having an affair with, that he was the father of her child and, according to her letters, that he was the man who arranged for her abortion with Hugo Keller. He also paid for it. That makes him one of the last people to see Miss Field alive. And he left the country within a few days of her disappearing.’

It was more troubling that the inspector seemed untroubled by this.

‘As I said, I have spoken to Monsignor Fitzpatrick.’

‘So when do I get to question your man Byrne?’

‘Everything you’ve said about Father Byrne is speculation.’

‘I don’t think so, sir.’

James Donaldson frowned. It was there again, ‘sir’, as a kind of insult.

‘The woman never even mentions his name in these letters.’

‘Come on, how many priests did she know at UCD?’

Donaldson’s tight lips grew even tighter.

‘She was pregnant, Sergeant. Sadly we know that was true. As for the rest, a woman in that sort of trouble might come up with any kind of story. Shame does strange things, particularly to women. She may not even have known who the father of the child was. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman has fantasised about a good man being the father of an illegitimate child. Monsignor Fitzpatrick has no doubt about Father Byrne’s integrity. He is a fine man and a fine priest. He knows him. The man lived in his house!’

Stefan stared at the inspector. He had already heard this. Hadn’t another policeman said the same thing to Susan’s father? But he doubted it could have been said with such conviction. He struggled to keep the word ‘bollocks’ in his mouth, but there wasn’t another word that would do.

‘I didn’t pick the questions, sir. I just need to ask them. And the man I need to ask is Father Byrne, sir. He’s the only witness there is now.’

‘I understand. That’s exactly what I’ve said to the monsignor.’

‘Does than mean Father Byrne is coming back to Ireland?’

‘Not in the foreseeable future.’

‘Then shouldn’t I be going to him in Danzig?’

‘I hardly think we’ll be sending you to the Baltic, Sergeant Gillespie.’ Donaldson laughed. Reluctant as he had been to enter into this, it was done. It hadn’t been so hard after all. Detective sergeants could be controlled.

‘Monsignor Fitzpatrick will speak to Father Byrne. He can telephone him if necessary. I suggest you draw up a list of questions and we can send them straight off. If the letter is sent via London the air mail system will have it in Danzig in less than twenty-four hours. Let’s deal with this speculation head on, Sergeant. Let’s get it out of the way and clear the air.’

It was not often that real determination showed in Inspector Donaldson’s face, but Stefan recognised it when he saw it. There would be no argument. If the inspector had, even for a second, wondered about the relationship between Father Francis Byrne and Susan Field, Monsignor Fitzpatrick had demonstrated, with infectious infallibility, that there really was nothing to wonder about. The list of written questions was an empty gesture. It meant that the investigation had already reached a dead end.

There was a mug of tea waiting on Stefan’s desk when he returned. Dessie MacMahon didn’t have to be in Donaldson’s office to work out what was happening. The inspector knew there was a priest in it now all right; he was as agitated as hell. Hadn’t he been to Mass twice that day already? But it wasn’t the first thing Dessie said when Stefan returned.

‘ She was in to see you.’

Stefan ignored the smile that went with it; Dessie didn’t miss a thing.

‘When?’

‘An hour ago maybe. She waited a bit, then she had to go.’

For once Stefan was glad Hannah hadn’t stayed. Everything she might have anticipated about the way Francis Byrne was going to be treated had just happened. If anything it was worse. Not only had Donaldson decided that Susan Field never did have an affair with the priest, the man would be questioned by post. Stefan had two bodies, two murders, and nowhere to go. He reached across the desk for a file. It wasn’t there. He had been looking at it when the summons from Inspector Donaldson came. He looked round, puzzled, then saw some sheets of paper on the floor. He bent and picked them up. As he put them back he peered at the desk again. Things were not where he had left them. His desk was the exact opposite of the tip that was Dessie’s. He knew where everything was; except now it wasn’t, not quite.

‘Here’s an odd thing, Sarge.’ Dessie leant back. ‘Billy Donnelly.’

‘What about him?’

‘Six months for getting his cock out in a jacks.’

‘You said. That’s not so odd, is it?’

Stefan was still looking down, frowning.

‘Have you been looking for something over here, Dessie?’