A reason to kill, p.21
A Reason To Kill, page 21
And I had Willy.
He glanced at his watch. Their time was running out. What a wretched little mouse, he thought, while watching the finale to the display of hysterics William Connors had just indulged in. Beechen longed for the lush green countryside of his homeland and the peace of never seeing a Connors again. But this wasn’t about to happen. Several times he’d attempted to make the break from the Connors’, each time he’d found himself with no choice but to return. Mostly it was the money problem—he didn’t have any. There was also his father-in-law. No way would Raymond Connors allow a divorce to tarnish his Catholic family status—he didn’t give a damn if it was the eighties.
Now this…Raymond Connors might forgive a contrite wayward son who he’d be certain another man corrupted. But he would see that other vile creature destroyed, especially if that creature happened to be his faggot son-in-law. The man he considered a deviate who destroyed his darling daughter’s life by turning her into an alcoholic.
The once grand stud, Beechen snickered to himself, mounting any pretty young female he could. Now Raymond was an old codger and saw himself as holier than thou—the hypocrite. If Raymond ever discovered Shelia had confided so much in him when she was drunk out of her skull. He felt a cold chill. If the Connors’ ever suspected the things he knew his odds for a long life might be abruptly shortened.
“Really Will.” He attempted to keep the disgust from his voice. How could he have ever found such a despicable creature engaging? “This display of emotion is uncalled for. We must maintain clear heads if we are going to weather this out.” He walked over to the bed Connors was still rolling about on and bent to pat his back.
William Connors spun and grabbed Beechen’s hand. Pressing the palm to his own lips, he kissed it as he moaned, “How can you be so calm. God, Jim do you realize what this means?”
Beechen drew his hand away and stepped back with a nod. He tried to smile sadly but had difficulty maintaining the proper look. “It simply means, lad, that for spell we will have to do Devlin’s bidding. He holds all the cards now; but it won’t last forever.”
“What exactly did he say? The bastard. How did he catch us? How could you be so dumb to admit it?”
“Will, really,” Beechen said to halt the tirade. “I can’t be expected to answer you if you rant on like that.” He went to the bathroom and returned with wet washcloth. “Here.” He handed it over and continued on while the other man wiped his tear stained face. “First, let me assure you had I been able to talk my way out I would have.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t feasible. Devlin has dates and places and pictures. He’s been aware of our relationship for some time.”
He moved to a chair putting as much distance as possible between them. The last thing he desired was for William to again attempt to seduce him.
“So what do we do now?” Connors continued to rub the wet cloth across his reddened face.
“What we are told. I stay in that hellhole in New Mexico playing nursemaid to my darling wife and you, lad, stay out. You don’t even sniff the same air as I do until I figure out what to do about Devlin.”
“Oh, God, Jim, how long?”
“I don’t know, Will. I don’t think it was our activities that bothered Devlin. No, it was our relationship, albeit through marriage, still it could be viewed as incestuous and be useful to John’s opposition.”
Connors leaped up and hurried across the room. Dropping to his knees, his face fell into Beechen’s lap and he rolled it back and forth. The heat from his open mouth penetrated his thin summer slacks and caused a reaction he didn’t want. Grasping Connors’ shoulders he shoved him back. “We haven’t time for this.”
Connors gabbed at his upper thighs; his fingers dug into Beechen’s flesh as he pleaded, “Let’s spend this last night together—there has never been anyone else for me, you know that!”
Careful to hold his true feelings in check, Beechen disengaged Connors’ hands and gently pushed him away while he got to his own feet. “I know that luv. But we can’t chance being together not even for a few hours. We have no way of knowing how close we are being watched. I am not so brash as to break my word to Devlin. He gave me an hour.” He tried not to sound relieved. “Time is almost up. You stay here until you can put a good front on. Like all things, darling, this will end.”
“I’ll kill the bastard!” William Connors jumped up, then threw himself back on the bed and pounded it in frustration as James Beechen left.
Chapter 39
New York, 1982
Ann Ryan parked her auto beside the sturdy black sedan. For all the years she had known him, Thomas Devlin never owned anything but sturdy black sedans, she smiled as she thought that, and slipped out of her own sports car to make her way past his vehicle to the side door. She hit the remote that brought the garage door down to hide the cars from view.
Mr. Thomas Devlin never did anything flashy. He never owned anything flashy. It was like he wanted to always blend in and never to be noticed.
Her key fit perfectly and the door swung inward welcoming her to a cool dark interior. It was a relief after the blazing sun and sand of her weekend at the beach. But then her fingers unconsciously reached for the light switch. She flicked it. Nothing?
She flicked it again. Nothing? With the heavy drapes drawn, the room remained in total darkness. Suddenly a strange queasiness came over her—she flicked the light switch up and down nervously as she called, “Tom—Tom?”
She stood just inside the door and stared into the room. Where in hell was he—he knew I was coming. Why in hell didn’t the electricity work? What’s the matter with me—it’s daylight out, I’ve been here a zillion times, all I have to do is walk over and pull the drapes—
Still in the doorway she screamed, “Tom!” as the connecting door to the hall swung open.
“What are you yelling for?” A shadow stepped to the end table. Abruptly the glow from a lamp cast a gentle light in the room. Thomas Devlin stood looking at her like she’d lost her wits.
Ann’s laughter verged on hysteria. She tossed her shoulder bag on a chair and ran across the room to throw her arms around his neck. “Oh God.” She clung to him. “Tom, I was just suddenly so frightened.”
He held her close as he questioned, “Why? Did something happen?”
“It was so dark…The light…” and then she felt really foolish and giggled.
“The light?” His eyes followed hers to the overhead fixture and he replied the obvious. “The bulb blew. Actually I went to the mudroom.” He pulled something from the pocket of his robe. “To get a replacement.”
“Please.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and moved out and away from him as she said, “Replace it. I came here to relax and instead I nearly go into shock. Guess I’m just so strung out.”
Ann flopped on the couch and watched as the man mounted a small stepladder. She withdrew a cigarette from the package on the table and noticed a slight tremble still affected her hands as she lit it.
The job accomplished he stepped down and folded the ladder. “How did your weekend go?” He asked as he made his way to the small bar to prepare Ann’s Old Fashioned.
“You can double up on that,” she said with a deep sigh. “I could probably use straight whiskey. I do wish you had showed up. Oh, Tom it’s so sad. They have Shelia over-medicated to the point she’s a zombie.”
“The family must feel it’s for the best. She’s been giving them a rough time. Several bad auto accidents…if she wasn’t a Connors she’d be cold turkeying it in a Mexican jail. I clocked more air hours over the desert than in my office the past year. The first big mistake was trying to hide her away in Clovis. She can’t handle the loneliness. Then cutting off her local supply only made her head over the border.”
She took her drink from Tom’s hand as he joined her on the sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t you feel any pity for her?” She wanted to ask him if he had ever really loved a woman. She thought about the way he looked, so strong and sure of himself, and wondered why she had never felt physically attracted to him.
“Annie, you’ll never understand the way it was with Shelia. Hell, I don’t understand. Fancy me trying to explain it to you. Drink your drink, lass. “
“One guess who did show.” She frowned as she remembered Catherine’s excuses for neglecting to inform her he would be there. Of course Catherine had sworn she didn’t expect him. ‘Michael has a way of popping in. He’s family you know.’
“Can’t imagine.” He said and turned his face to bury his nose in her hair. “I called you last night. There wasn’t any answer.”
“I was with Michael.”
“You…are…a damn fool.” His voice didn’t so much as lift. He moved a few inches away and stared into her face. He raised his fingertips to his forehead in a flippant salute. “Farewell, again, beautiful dreamer.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” She said and handed him her glass. “It seems to have a hole in the bottom.”
She watched the stiffness in his back as he moved away. Her own voice took on a caustic rumble that surprised her. “I’ve done the marriage bit. Believe me, Tom; I was much happier in the years as Michael’s mistress than those rotten months as Jeffery’s bride. I didn’t see myself as a twenty-four-seven hostess and sex-on-demand wife.”
“Now who’s being theatrical?” He handed her the fresh drink but didn’t reclaim his seat. Instead he ambled back to lean on the bar. “I don’t get it. Jeffery gave you everything you could have wanted from Mike.”
“Not everything. But that’s personal.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot, Jeffery doesn’t have a bitchy kid to drive you insane. He doesn’t hold you close one minute and chase you off with a stick the next.”
“Shut up!” Instant anger sent the heat rushing through Ann. How dare he, Tom, of all people, say something like that? She jumped up the rage filling her voice. “Better yet, since you worry so much about me, would you like to marry me?”
“Sorry, girl, I’m not into sadistic pleasure. You want someone to whip you it won’t be me.”
She started to cry. Foolish silly tears, but she couldn’t stop the onrush. Then he was holding her. “Annie, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just hate for you to get tied up in a nothing situation with Mike again.”
“I love him. I can’t help myself.” She buried her face in Thomas’ chest. In his arms she could feel secure for a little while. Why couldn’t she just love Thomas, want him the way she wanted Michael. Why was she blubbering like an idiot? This damn depression she was suffering.
That English doctor had warned her it might happen and if it did she needed to talk it out. How? Did he think she could just call her mommy, or a best friend? How could she tell anyone she’d rid herself of a problem that might have made her divorce difficult? Jeffery had been so understanding and unemotional about the whole business. It was simply that their marriage had been a mistake. He could see that himself. Would he have felt that way if he knew she was carrying his child?
“Annie, you know you’re damn important to me. I can sense you a have a big time problem. It’s been bothering you since you came home—so it’s not just Mike. Why don’t you lay it on me? Maybe I can help?”
The trembling started in her face and then her whole body was shaking as if the temperature had dropped to zero. The only thing warm were the tears in her eyes. “An abortion,” she gagged and nearly screamed, “I killed my own child just to rid myself of Jeffery.”
Thomas held her as she forced out the excuses for what she’d done between sobs. “If Jeffery knew he might have fought the divorce. Prevented me from leaving the country. I didn’t want to have a child without a father. What if Jeffery wanted custody?”
He didn’t ask questions, didn’t offer advice nor denounce her. He simply held her.
Chapter 40
Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1982
High velocity shells sang in the air, their song accompanied by the noise and thick gray smoke of homemade petrol bombs smashing into brick walls. A scalding hail of burning embers, like angry bugs, nipped at the terrified young teens.
Amy O’Neill, the reason for their peril, screeched as she struggled to break free of the clutching youth, who was trying to keep her covered by his light jacket. In desperation, Neil Cary kicked Amy’s legs out from under her. As she fell, he flung his larger body on top of the small girl pinning her to the ground.
The four had pursued the racing army lorries for a lark. It had been mostly Deirdre O’Neill’s urging that sent them moving closer towards the action when the soldiers piled out and began converging on the noisy crowd. When the soldiers began firing over the heads of the mob, Amy panicked. As she fled directly into the no-man’s land between the two warring factions her young friends gave chase. Capturing the howling girl, they ducked into an alley. Now they were stuck.
His adolescent cheeks smeared with soot, Kevin Henry fought to contain his terror as their haven quickly turned into a trap. “Dee!” he yelled over the racket of guns and deafening explosions, “Sure, now what? You got us into this.”
“Me!” Deirdre turned belligerent to mask her own fear. “If that gutless wonder didn’t run.” She kicked out at the sobbing Amy. Having forced Amy to the ground, Neil still held her there. Turning in time, he caught Deirdre’s kick on his own hip sparing Amy.
“Ouch! Damn!” Neil swore and tightened his grip on Amy. “Suppose that’s gonna help matters?” He yelled up into Deirdre’s face. While above an erupting firebomb showered them with burning gasoline.
Deirdre’s denim jacket burst into flames. Kevin yanked off his woolen sweater throwing it over her and dragging her down as he beat at the flames while their howls grew in volume.
“Shut up!” Came a gruff order. “Bloody little idiots.” Strong arms caught up Amy and swung her over a shoulder as another man grasped the collars of the two boys, pulling them to their feet and shoving them face first against a wall. “Lass burnt bad?” was called to a third man.
“Na, lad was quick.” This man knelt beside Deirdre. “Ya more scared than hurt.” He grinned at her for the struggle to hide fear in her young face had a comic appeal. “Can you stand lass?”
Deirdre bit down on her lower lip to hold back the sobs and bravely shook her head yes. Then her eyes betrayed her and flooded with tears as she began to shake uncontrollably. “No matter,” he said. “I’ll tote ya,” He lifted her about the waist and her arms went around his neck. Her cheek pressed into his neck while her long legs barely cleared the ground, but the man managed to move with her towards the end of the alley.
“Get a move on,” growled his companion who was none too gently shoving the boys along. He had them pressed tight to the building and was taking the brunt of the falling debris on his own back. “Cover us Quinn,” he barked. Amy had already disappeared through a doorway handed off to another and Quinn, was returning to aid the man who staggered under the weight of the larger girl. The boys were shoved in after Amy. Then Deirdre saw the man called Quinn lifted straight back as if an invisible fist had slammed him in the chest.
He stared at her. His mouth fell open in a splash of bubbling blood. In the center of his forehead, from a hole rimmed in black, his brains leaked out. Deirdre fainted.
~~~
Sometime later, she found herself gazing up at a white ceiling. She shifted her eyes to the worried man’s face and whispered. “Papa, did I get hurt real bad? Will I be scarred?”
Gently Liam O’Neill ran his fingers through the girl’s cropped hair. “You’ll be fine lass,” he said. “You’ve only a few surface burns and some nasty bruises. And badly singed hair.” This seemed to concern him the most right then as he said aloud to himself, “I have to call Michael, tell him of the accident.”
“Amy? My friends?”
“Better off then you, girl. They’ve already been taken home.”
“Quinn?”
“And who’s Quinn?”
“They shot him papa.” Remembering the pain so apparent in that dying man’s face, she could not control the tears and she sobbed. “All he was doing was helping us.”
“Dede!” Her grandfather’s concern sharpened his tone. “You’ve got that a trifle off center. Mind you, I’m grateful, damn grateful, they saw you youngsters and took time to bring you out. But those men were responsible for what happened. And the man who died, Quinn, now that you’ve given him a name.”
“No Papa! You can’t tell them!” She attempted to sit up but he gently pushed her back as she begged, “please Papa, don’t tell them.”
“Holy Mother, girl, what harm can his name do him now?”
“Papa, they all helped us or the Army might have killed us too.”
“The name will not come from me. But Dede, three British soldiers died in that riot today. The law will do all in their power to uncover those men even to questioning you children. You feel you owe them; will your friends be as loyal? Neil and Kevin are Protestant?”
A confident smile creased Deirdre’s mouth and she said, “They’ll not squeal.”
Liam O’Neill tried to explain. “Lass, you don’t understand what took place out there.”
“I—”
“Wait! You listen.” A lifetime of frustration caused the anger in his tone.
“The RUC went into that neighborhood with the express purpose of arresting one man. That man was a criminal and that is their job. Why did the mob form? Because those men did it deliberately. They were using the crowd to cover a crime. They were attempting to silence the RUC’s prisoner. If the Army hadn’t intervened the police would have been torn apart. And more the pity, not only didn’t those men accomplish what they set out to do, they were the cause of eight people dying and a score or more injured for nothing.”
