Hush Now, Don't You Cry(91)

“And Sam?”

She paused, then shook her head. “No, Sam was not there and when he finally joined us, I remember that he looked—well, flustered.” She turned to stare at me. “What are you trying to prove? That one of us pushed the child off the cliff? It’s absurd. She was adored. We all loved her. Her death almost broke the family apart. Irene’s never been the same since. Uncle Brian suffered deep melancholy … in fact I believe that was what started his drinking.” She started to move away from me. “No, Mrs. Sullivan. You should leave this alone. Bringing it up to this family would only open old wounds and frankly you are barking up the wrong tree.”





Thirty-one

I set off for New York City in the gray light of dawn. I had slipped out of bed without waking Daniel and dressed in the bathroom. I had mentioned to Mrs. Sullivan the night before that I was going to see if I could arrange transportation to get Daniel back to New York, as I felt he’d recover faster in his own bed. She agreed with this sentiment and promised to take good care of her son until I returned. Sid and Gus had agreed to come over to keep Daniel company if necessary, so I felt he was in good hands.

It was a pretty journey along the coast with wisps of fog clinging to marshes and inlets, flights of wild duck rising into the dawn sky and small fishing boats going out to the ocean to be swallowed into mist. On another occasion I would have enjoyed just watching the scenery go by. but I was wound tighter than a watch spring. I was taking a huge risk, going to New York with no particular destination in mind and with little hope of accomplishing anything. When I thought of the family I had to agree with Eliza. Brian Hannan was more valuable to them alive than dead. Again I toyed with the idea of the outsider. There was still that man at the gate. He had obviously come from New York and seemed to have followed Brian Hannan from there. But if he wanted to see him so badly why not see him before he left for Newport? Was it possible he had been sent to kill Alderman Hannan by someone who wanted him out of the way?

I considered Tammany Hall and that overheard remark that they were relieved Hannan was no longer around to meddle in the election of Charlie. Had Charlie Murphy sent someone to follow Brian Hannan and make sure he never returned to New York? It seemed like a good possibility, but one that I could never hope to prove. That would have to wait for Daniel. He had the influence and the clout to get the truth out of tough Irish political bosses. I would be brushed away like an annoying gnat.

So what did I really hope to achieve in New York? I took out my little notepad and pencil. The alderman’s house, perhaps? Would they know of any family upsets, and more to the point, would they tell me? I could maybe find out from Alderman Hannan’s attorney who would inherit and whether he had recently made a new will. I could find out from his office whether there were any recent problems in his professional or political life. But the more I thought of it, I always came back to the family. There had to have been a good reason that Brian Hannan summoned his entire family to a deserted beach town in the middle of October and just happened to invite a top New York police detective at the same time. He had wanted Daniel to observe something or help him figure out something that weekend, I was sure.

“I think I might have gotten it wrong,” was all I had to go on. No indication what “it” was. But something to do with his family. And it occurred to me that if he’d confided in anyone it would have been to his secretary or attorney. I’d try both of them.

I arrived at the Grand Central Terminal at the same time as thousands of workers and businessmen. After the quiet of Newport the noise and smells of the city were overwhelming and I fought my way through the crowds to the station for the elevated railway. I had decided that my first stop should be at the alderman’s mansion on the Upper East Side, since that was my only destination in that direction. Also I was a little early to visit his office. So I hopped aboard the Third Avenue elevated railway and alighted at Sixty-seventh Street. The alderman’s house was on Sixty-sixth, just across the street from the Astors. He had certainly moved into the realm of the Four Hundred, and judging from the magnificent facade of the white-trimmed brick mansion, he had made more money than most of them. I adjusted my hat and took a deep breath before I rapped on the front door. The maid who opened it ushered me into a small anteroom where I was joined almost immediately by the butler, Soames. I introduced myself to that very proper English gentleman and explained that I had been the alderman’s guest. I had come to town and suspected that they had heard little about what was going on at the cottage.