Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

The parlor was large, comfortable, and old world. There was an open fireplace with a vase of chrysanthemums in it. An old TV stood pushed away in a corner on a trolley, attached to a DVD player and an old video machine. A large crucifix dominated the room over the fireplace. There was one bookcase and most of the volumes were hardbacks on the subject of Catholic Theology.

Two large, leather armchairs and a leather sofa were arranged around the fire. They looked out of place in that room, and expensive. I sat in one of the chairs and Dehan sat on the sofa.

Father O’Neil came bustling in in his cassock, muttering that ‘that was sorted’, and settled himself in the remaining chair. He smiled at us each in turn and asked, “Now, how can I help you? You wanted to ask me about Sean?”

“Anything you can tell us, Father. I believe he did a lot of charitable work here.”

He nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, indeed. He was one in a million. Nothing, nothing, was too much trouble for him. He had a very good job over in Brooklyn, at a very distinguished law firm. But he devoted every spare minute of his time to helping those in need. He was a true Christian and no mistake.”

Dehan was watching him like a cat watching a mouse hole.

I nodded. “Did he ever confide in you with regard to the cases he was handling?” He hesitated and I added, “In particular, the pro bono work did on behalf of the needy.”

His face became grave. “He did, Detective.” He frowned at us both and looked confused. “But you must know that Sean has been missing for, oh… ten years at least.”

Dehan said, “To be precise, Father, twelve years and three months. He went missing in January 2005.”

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then looked at me. “So you are looking into his disappearance?”

I weighed it up in my mind for a moment, made a decision, and said, “We are looking into his murder, Father.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus…” He crossed himself and said a quick prayer. “I had a feeling… When he just disappeared like that, with no explanation, it was just, not like him.”

I waited. I felt Dehan glance at me. Finally, I said, “The cases, Father? We believe one of the cases he was working on might have had something to do with his death.”

Mrs. Doyle came in carrying a tray and set it on a table by the window. She smiled at me as though she’d done something naughty but she knew I was going to let her off with a light spanking, and said, “Now, who’s going to have nice cup of tea, and some fresh biscuits? My own recipe—you can’t say no!”

We all agreed we couldn’t and she took her sweet time distributing the fruits of her labor. When she left, Father O’Neil smiled beatifically after her and said, “Truly, I do not know what I would do without that woman.”

Dehan dunked her biscuit as though she was trying to drown it and said, “Did Sean ever confide in you, Father, regarding any of the cases he was involved in just before his disappearance?”

He heaved a huge sigh.

I said, “I am beginning to get the impression, Father, that this is a subject you are uncomfortable discussing.”

He grimaced at his tea, like he didn’t really want it. “Of course you are quite right, Detective Stone, and I must apologize. The matter is not as simple as it might seem.”

“What is it that makes it complicated?” I asked the question, but I was pretty sure I knew what the answer was going to be. He didn’t disappoint me.

“The Irish community in the Bronx, in New York as a whole, is a complex one. There are many loyalties, and occasionally those loyalties come into conflict…”

Dehan said, “Can we move from generalities to specifics, Father?”

“Yes. He did confide in me, and seek my guidance, regarding some of the cases in which he was engaged. Especially those cases he took on which were on behalf of the needy.”

“Is there any case in particular that he mentioned at that time, that you felt might have threatened his life?”

He looked sick and drained. “The Tiffany Street squat. Sean was brave to the point of recklessness. If he saw just one person suffering injustice, he had to act. He had to do something.”

There was an edge to Dehan’s voice. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not, except that life is rarely that simple. Conor Hagan is a very powerful, and dangerous man. I am sure you are well aware of him, and what he is capable of.” He gave a small laugh and nodded several times. “What people are less aware of is the good he does for the Irish community. Things are very rarely black and white, Detective Dehan.”

“Putting people on the street doesn’t sound much like benefiting the community. Or were they not Irish?”

He glanced at her resentfully. “Some of them were indeed Irish. Others were Mexican. There were people of all colors and races. But that was not the point. The point was that Conor Hagan was going to develop that plot for the benefit of the community. Perhaps he was not following the letter of the law, and perhaps people would have been made temporarily homeless…”

“In January, in New York.”

“Indeed, but left to his own way of doing things, Conor would have made sure that those people he evicted were taken care of. But Sean, he had to play Galahad. He had to go charging in, and upset the apple cart.” He saw the way we were looking at him and made a hasty retreat. “Don’t get me wrong. I had the greatest admiration for Sean, and for everything he