Hush Now, Don't You Cry(37)

I stood waiting for someone to come, listening for voices but the house remained silent, apart from the wind that moaned softly down a chimney. Chief Prescott had been in the kitchen with the servants so I started down the passage that led to the rear of the house. Halfway along this hallway I heard men’s voices coming from behind one of the many doors. I put my ear to the door, trying to discern whether one of those voices belonged to Chief Prescott. I thought I recognized Joseph Hannan’s blustering manner and hesitated to barge in on him, when he had made it so clear that he wanted Daniel and myself off the premises as soon as possible.

I jumped guiltily as I heard footsteps behind me and spun around to see a footman coming toward me, carrying a tray containing a silver coffeepot and cups. He looked at me curiously.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked in a voice that still had a trace of Irish brogue.

“I was trying to hear whether Chief Prescott was in this room,” I said. “Are you bringing that coffee for him?”

“I believe he is in there with Mr. Joseph,” the young man said, staring at me impassively. I could see him trying to judge from my appearance whether I was a guest or someone of lesser rank and whether he needed to treat me with deference. Of course I had been out in the wind and up and down a cliff so I’m sure the first impression was not too good.

“Is he expecting you, miss?” he asked flatly. “Do you have a message for him?”

“I wish to speak with him immediately concerning the alderman,” I replied in my haughtiest voice. “Kindly announce me when you take in the coffee.”

“Whom shall I say is calling?” he asked.

“Mrs. Sullivan. My husband and I are staying in the guest cottage. We were invited by the alderman himself,” I said. “And I have already made the acquaintance of Police Chief Prescott this morning.”

His fair Celtic face flushed. “Very well, ma’am. I’ll ascertain whether he and Mr. Joseph wish to be disturbed. If you’ll just wait here.”

He opened the door. “A Mrs. Sullivan is here and wishes to speak to Chief Prescott,” he said grandly.

“What does she want? We’re busy,” Joseph Hannan said.

I wasn’t going to stand meekly in the passage while they discussed me and what I might want. I walked into the room. It was a gentleman’s study, with leather chairs, a mahogany desk, and a wall of leather-bound books. It looked so perfect that I couldn’t help wondering whether Brian Hannan had purchased the whole thing from an English stately home and had it shipped across. Joseph Hannan and Chief Prescott were sitting across from each other in leather armchairs. They both looked decidedly displeased to see me.

“This won’t take a moment of your time,” I said, addressing myself to the police chief. “But I’ve discovered something that may be important for your investigation.”

“You have? What is it?”

“I was taking a stroll around the grounds,” I said, “and the wind became rather strong so I decided to take refuge in the little gazebo. Imagine my surprise when I saw a tray on the bench. There was a decanter on it, and a glass, half full. I presume your men must have mentioned it to you, but on the off chance that they hadn’t, I thought I’d better.”

“Yes, well thank you, Mrs. Sullivan,” the police chief said. “Good of you.” His expression made it clear that nobody had told him about it but he wasn’t about to lose face by admitting it.

“A tray with a decanter on it, you say?” Joseph Hannan asked.

“And it looks as if it had been placed there recently,” I added.

“And how would you know that?” Joseph Hannan asked in what I took to be a patronizing voice.

I still kept my gaze directed toward the police chief as I answered. “Because there are a good many leaves lying on the bench and none on the tray. So I wondered who might have gone to have a quiet drink alone there, and when that was.”

“Interestingly enough, that ties in with what I was just telling you,” Joseph Hannan said to the police chief. “That would make perfect sense. Brian arrived last evening and the first thing he needed was a drink before he faced us. But he didn’t want any fuss from us so he took it off to the gazebo where he could drink in peace.”

My gaze went from the police chief to Joseph Hannan and back again.

“Mr. Hannan had just this minute mentioned to me that his brother had begun drinking rather heavily and that the family was trying to stop him before it was too late,” Chief Prescott said.

“Nobody enjoys a good Irish whiskey more than I do,” Joseph Hannan said, “but with Brian it was beginning to take over his life. Threatening all he’d worked for all these years—the business, his political ambitions. Naturally we tried to help him. My wife and daughter are part of the temperance movement so you can imagine how they lit into him any time they saw him with a glass. Poor man, they gave him hell.” He gave a wry smile.