The complaint from Archbishop’s House to Sir David Harrel, the commissioner of the Dublin Metropolitan Police, came forty-eight hours later. Swallow was surprised it had taken so long.
’It doesn’t worry me.’ Mallon dropped the commissioner’s minute onto the desk. ‘And don’t let it worry you either. Willie has to make a stink about one of his priests being questioned. But I have to go through the motions for the commissioner.’
Dublin’s new Roman Catholic archbishop, William Walsh, just three years in the post, had already shown himself to be fiercely assertive of the rights of his Church and his clergy.
He had given the go-ahead for the construction of a palatial residence at Drumcondra to replace the four-storey Georgian house on Rutland Square, which his predecessors had found adequate as a base from which to direct their flock. Scores of acres of land were being bought up by the Catholic Church close to the location of the new episcopal palace. There would be colleges, seminaries and training centres for priests and teachers. And it was common knowledge that he was seeking a site upon which to construct a new cathedral that would put the city’s two Protestant cathedrals, Christ Church and St Patrick’s, in the shade.
Swallow sat opposite Mallon’s desk in the Lower Yard office.
‘I understand that, chief. What does Commissioner Harrel say?’
Mallon picked up the minute. He grinned mirthlessly.
‘He’s had a strong note from the archbishop. Willie claims that any Crown officer questioning one of his priests is acting outside the law. And he’s outraged that the slightest suspicion should be attached by “low-ranking detectives from Dublin Castle” to one of God’s anointed ministers. Scandal and innuendo. You can imagine the rest. So tell me, Swallow, what were you doing interviewing this Father Cavendish?’
Swallow recounted his interview with the dead girl’s brother and his suspicions about the priest.
‘You might have told me you were going to interview him under caution,’ Mallon grumbled.
‘Actually, I did tell you I was going to interview a suspect, chief,’ Swallow answered. ‘But I must have forgotten to say who it was.’
Mallon’s eyes narrowed.
‘You mean you didn’t tell me because you thought it better I didn’t know.’
‘Ah, you’ve enough on your mind, chief. So how are you going to reply?’
‘I know what I’d like to say, but first I’d like to hear what you have to tell me. At all events, I need a full briefing on the investigation.’
‘There isn’t much progress, I’m afraid. No new witnesses. Nothing coming in from the usual informants around the city. The footprints at the scene show a size nine shoe or boot. No nails or studs, so probably a city dweller. We’ve interviewed her employer at the New Vienna. The German fellow, Werner. Can’t say I warmed to him. He says she had become troublesome at work, but there doesn’t seem to have been anything that could have led to violence. The investigating team is interviewing the employees one by one, of course.’
He flicked to the next page of his notebook.
‘The girl’s brother, Dan, is telling us the story that led me to Father Cavendish. Dan left work half an hour before she was attacked, but he said he was still at work at midnight. He’s not a bad lad, just twenty, very intense. He seems to be some sort of a religious enthusiast. He keeps quoting scripture and God’s laws. He’s political too. He says he’s a member of the Gaelic Union. Uses his Irish name, Domhnal Ó Flanbharra. I know it from the surveillance reports. He turns up at Land League meetings too. Low-level stuff, but active. He says he left work to walk Alice home, but missed her in the fog, and that he met a friend at Huband Bridge. We’re checking on that one, and if his version is confirmed it makes it unlikely that he would have been in the vicinity of Blackberry Lane when the attack took place.’
‘Hmmm . . . why would he want to walk the sister home? Was that usual?’
‘That goes to the issue, chief. He says that Alice was being bothered by this Father Cavendish. He says he wanted to protect Alice from him. He says there was some sort of unhealthy relationship between the priest and the girl.’
Mallon cocked his head.
‘Go on.’
‘But then Father Cavendish tells us that he was worried about Dan having some sort of obsession about the girl. He says he tried to place himself as some sort of a guardian or saviour to her. Dan says he bought her books and took her to the parochial house for lessons in voice projection, as he called it. It involved a degree of physical contact. She eventually realised it wasn’t innocent and told him she wouldn’t visit any more. Then he started intercepting her on her way home from work. He more or less persecuted her, if the brother is to be believed. Eventually the brother decided to confront him. He says he believes the priest attacked the girl.’
Mallon nodded.
‘He gave a statement?’
‘For what it’s worth, yes.’
‘A brave enough stand for a young man to take against his local priest. But it’s a long way from making Father Cavendish a murderer. You interviewed him under caution, I gather.’
‘Yes, sir. There’s nothing positively linking Father Cavendish to the killing. But there could be motive, and there was opportunity.’
‘Explain.’
‘When Mossop and I interviewed him he said he was absent from the parochial house answering a sick call around the time Alice Flannery was attacked. He says he was at a house on Belgrave Square. Mossop has checked with the family. He was there all right, administering the Last Rites to an elderly lady. But they gave Mossop contradictory versions of what time he came and went. He could have been at Blackberry Lane around midnight.’
Mallon scratched pensively at his beard.
‘Hmm. He wouldn’t be the first young man in the priesthood to find that the vow of chastity isn’t so easy to keep. It’s led more than a few of them into trouble. What do you make of him?’
‘He’s intelligent, as you’d expect. A handsome young man. I could see him breaking young ladies’ hearts if he weren’t wearing a clerical collar. Maybe even if he was. He’s confident too, as you’d expect. Strong on his priestly privileges. He told me he wasn’t answerable to any law other than canon law. So I came back on him fairly sharply on that. I got the sense though that behind the bluster and the confidence he’s not keen on having trouble with us. When I pushed him, he gave ground.’
‘You pushed him?’ Mallon raised an eyebrow, tapping the archbishop’s letter. ‘Is that what I’m to take from His Grace’s note here? How exactly did you “push” him, Swallow?’
There was no point in dissembling.
‘I, ah, gave him sight of my accoutrements, chief.’
Mallon drew a breath.
‘You’re telling me you threatened him with handcuffs?’
‘In a manner of speaking, sir, yes.’
Mallon raised his hands to his forehead and leaned forward on his desk, his fingers massaging his temples for perhaps a minute in silence.
‘Please, Swallow . . . in the very unlikely event that you’re ever interviewing Archbishop Walsh or the Pope or anyone like that, could I ask that you’d tell me first? And that you’d leave your handcuffs behind.’
‘Yes, chief. Of course, chief.’
‘Now, tell me,’ Mallon fingered the commissioner’s note, ‘how you intend to move forward on this.’
‘We’re doing a full review of evidence tomorrow after the crime conference. But to be honest we haven’t got a lot in hand. It’s possible but unlikely, I think, that it was a random attack. We’ve eliminated the two soldiers that found her. The priest’s a possible suspect. So is the brother. But we don’t have a clear motive. Either of them could have been close to the scene. They both take a size nine in shoes, so either of them could have left the imprint at the scene. So unless we get something else, I think we’ll have to re-interview and increase the pressure if necessary.’
Mallon nodded.
‘I agree. I’ll advise the commissioner accordingly. And he’ll have to tell His Grace the archbishop that there may be more unpleasantness ahead for Father Cavendish.’
Swallow stood.
‘Two other things, sir. One relating to the job; the other totally personal and unrelated to the case. If I may, sir.’
Mallon looked puzzled for a moment.
‘Yes, go ahead, Swallow. What’s the job issue?’
‘Just to say that we’re continuing to search around the offices for the protection logs but so far we haven’t had a lot of luck. I wanted you to know that we’re doing all we can.’
Mallon looked him in the eye.
‘Yes, Swallow, thank you. I understand exactly what you’re saying to me. I’ve already had a further query this morning from the office of the assistant under-secretary. I’ve assured him that no stone is being left unturned in the search. And what’s the other matter you want to raise?’
Swallow grinned.
‘You’ve told me often enough that I should, ah . . . pop the question to Mrs Walsh. So I’ve done it. And we’re tying the knot down at Merchants’ Quay on Saturday. Maria, the soon to be Mrs Swallow, and I would be honoured if you and Mrs Mallon might be in attendance.’
Mallon’s face broke into a smile that Swallow rarely associated with the man who headed G-Division.
‘Swallow, my friend, I knew that underneath all that Kildare bone-headedness there was a spark of intelligence. I’m glad to hear of this. She’s a fine woman, and I can tell you that you’re making no mistake. Mrs Mallon and I’ll be there with the greatest of pleasure.’