‘I need to have another talk with Charlie Vanucchi, throw everything we have at him, and tell him that unless he can give us the killer of Nellie Byrne, he’s in the shit—if you’ll pardon my expression, chief.’
Mallon nodded at Swallow’s suggestion. Swallow had told him about his conversation with Vanucchi after the girl’s funeral in Glasnevin and the intelligence picked up by ‘Duck’ Boyle about the money she had supposedly inherited from Ces Downes.
‘The ladies of the night over in Monto aren’t usually good at holding on to money,’ Mallon mused. ‘God help them; it’s hard earned and easily spent.’
‘That’s true, chief,’ Swallow agreed. ‘But Nellie Byrne was a bit different. We know that she was associated with some of the Fenian lads. She’d turn up at Land League meetings. Mostly the ladies over there don’t give a toss for politics.’
‘Fair point,’ Mallon conceded.
‘She was close to Ces, so she’d have been known to all of Vanucchi’s gang going in and out of Ces’s house. So which of them might have known that Ces left her a bit of money? That’s the question,’ Swallow said.
‘Boyle’s got a dangerously high opinion of himself as a detective, but he isn’t often wrong in his information,’ Mallon said. ‘If he’s got a whisper that one of Vanucchi’s men killed her, it’s likely to be on the mark. So if we take Vanucchi in, what do we have on him to concentrate his mind, so to speak?’
‘I wouldn’t propose to take him in, at least not now.’
‘I’d get more out of him in a quiet conversation with a bit of threat behind it. We tolerate a lot of his carry-on because we get a good flow of information from him. But I can tie him in to a score of burglaries in Rathmines and Rathgar where he fenced the proceeds. I can link him to the gang that robbed Morrison’s jeweller’s in Exchequer Street in September. I can line him up with a whole series of thefts down on the docks—furs, Scotch whisky, a consignment of Swiss watches bound for a jeweller’s in Grafton Street. So I think an informal discussion, if I can use the term, would be likely to concentrate his mind, to use your own phrase.’
‘But could you get convictions for him on any of those?’
‘With respect, chief, that’s beside the point. We might never get enough evidence before a court. But we could shift him out of his rather comfortable living arrangements and have him remanded to Mountjoy Prison for a year while his case is being prepared. He wouldn’t like that. Not one little bit.’
‘He’d try for bail,’ Mallon countered.
‘He could. But he wouldn’t get it with the character reference I’d put before the judge.’
Mallon smiled.
‘I could probably add a few lines to it myself. I agree. So go ahead and do it.’
Swallow stood to go.
‘Any follow up from the powers that be after our visit from Major Kelly and his merry men, sir?’
Mallon shook his head.
‘Not a word. But I wouldn’t expect it over Christmas. The chief secretary and the under-secretary are gone to England and won’t be back until next week. Kelly might be gone himself. I think London is home for him. But we haven’t heard the last of them, you can be sure.’
‘You kept a very cool head with Kelly, if you’ll allow me to pay you a compliment, chief,’ Swallow said.
‘I have to,’ Mallon said simply. ‘It’s open warfare now between us. The English are determined to find some way of taking Parnell down, even if it means bloodshed and mayhem here. They can’t understand why people like you and me are reluctant to go along with that.’ He sighed. ‘So there aren’t any marks for past efficiency, or loyalty, or even an acknowledgement that Irishmen might know more about how to manage Ireland’s affairs than wealthy blow-ins from Scotland.’
It was a tacit reference to Chief Secretary Balfour, Swallow knew. Balfour’s family owned famously rich estates in Scotland. That John Mallon would utter such sentiments, even in private, was a measure of his frustration and anger.
Later that evening a chambermaid from the Dolphin Hotel on Essex Street, a minute’s walk from Exchange Court, dropped a plain envelope into the letterbox of Charlie Vanucchi’s house in Pimlico. Because she too lived in Pimlico she was an ideal secret courier between Swallow and his informant. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper upon which Swallow had written the letter ‘H’ and the number ‘21’. When Charlie Vanucchi read the sheet, he knew that Swallow wanted him to come to Hanrahan’s of Stoneybatter at nine o’clock.
When Swallow arrived he found Vanucchi waiting in the public bar at Hanrahan’s, impeccably groomed, as usual, and wearing his fine worsted overcoat. He joined him in a casual manner that to any observer would have suggested nothing more than a coincidental encounter.
‘Mr Swallow, I didn’t expect to meet you here,’ Vanucchi called aloud. ‘What will you have?’
‘A Tullamore would be grand, Charlie.’
‘A large Tullamore here,’ Vanucchi called to the barman. ‘And another large Power’s for myself.’
Swallow waited until the drinks were served. He raised his glass to Vanucchi.
‘Cheers, Charlie. Your good health.’
Vanucchi raised his glass.
‘And yours, Mr Swallow. And a happy New Year to you.’
Swallow came directly to the point.
‘We’ve got good information that someone in your outfit was responsible for the murder of Nellie Byrne, or Helena Moyles as you might know her better, in Chapel Court in November. We know she had money left to her by Ces Downes. Someone went to try to get hold of it. We know it’s in a bank book or a post office book. You can probably tell me who that person is.’
Vanucchi sipped at his Power’s. His expression seemed to be one of genuine surprise, Swallow reckoned.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Swallow. I told you, Nellie was good to Ces. But I don’t know anythin’ about money bein’ left to her. I swear it.’
Swallow grimaced.
‘Well, Charlie, someone took the view that they were entitled to whatever Ces had left behind. So you’d best come up pretty fast with a candidate. I’m under pressure from Chief Mallon to present a result on this. So go and find out. Then let me know.’
Vanucchi shook his head.
‘I don’t know. I can only do me best, Mr Swallow. But it’ll take a bit o’ time. If you’re tellin’ me that one of our lads did for Nellie, I’d be very upset. Angry, like. I wouldn’t let it pass. Gimme a couple a days to get to the bottom of it.’
Swallow threw back what remained of his Tullamore.
‘Right, Charlie. That’s your job now. And let me be very direct with you. In the ordinary course I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. We’ve been very useful to each other in the past. But I need an answer on this one. And if you don’t come up with it, you’re going to find yourself quick as a wink in the Bridewell, then into Mountjoy. I can put you down for ten years without the slightest bother at all, Charlie. Are we clear then?’
Vanucchi winced visibly.
‘Mr Swallow, you’ve absolutely no call to start takin’ that sort of attitude with me. I’ll do what I can. I always do. You know that. But I can’t say I’ll come back with what you want on this one. Will you give me a couple of weeks?’
Swallow patted the back of the gang leader’s hand.
‘I’ll give you one week, Charlie. And I know you’ll do your best with that. I just hope for your own sake that it’s good enough now.’