“Gangs, sir?”
Joseph folded his arms. “In our business we are subject to constant demands for protection money, and threats if we don’t pay up. Brian refused to be intimidated. In fact this accident, the tunnel cave in a few weeks ago, was highly suspect, in my opinion. The police were investigating and it’s possible that Brian named names. Gang leaders don’t like squealers. This might have been payback.”
“Interesting, sir.” Prescott scribbled in his notebook. “I’ll definitely bear that in mind. Because if it’s not someone convenient like a gang member, then it has to be someone highly inconvenient—like a family member, for instance.” He looked around us—deliberately, slowly. “So if any one of you knows the real reason that Brian Hannan assembled you here at this time, it would be wise to tell me right away, because I will find out eventually.”
Silence. Again the family members looked down, not wishing to meet another’s eye. I studied them, noticing Father Patrick’s gaze go from Joseph to Terrence and back again. Maybe Daniel had been correct in his supposition that this gathering had something to do with money, squandering of funds. Had Joseph and his son been cooking the books, or in some way betrayed Brian’s trust, so that he was about to announce he was cutting them out of the family business? Joseph knew about Brian’s fondness for drink. Had he placed the tray where he knew Brian would find it?
And Terrence—someone who resembled Terrence in stature had crept out of those French doors at about the right time for a rendezvous with his uncle in the gazebo. Terrence who was clearly considered to be a black sheep in this family. It was Joseph who spoke first.
“The accusation is preposterous. You would not find a more close-knit family than ours. Brian was the patriarch. He earned and received love and respect from each of us. We’d still have been living in a fourth-floor tenement on Cherry Street if it hadn’t been for his hard work and enterprise. Do you think we’re not mindful of that?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure this is very hard to hear, but in my profession we are taught to start with the obvious. And to me the obvious is that Mr. Hannan summons his family here at a strange time of year and he is poisoned. What would you think if you were in my place?”
“I’d think it was time to start looking beyond the obvious,” Joseph said sharply. “Find out who wished my brother ill, who had a grudge to settle, especially among the criminal classes.”
We looked up as one of the maids came running back across the lawn, the ribbons in her cap flying out behind her. “Alice is bringing the rest of the servants, ma’am,” she said to Irene, “but I couldn’t find Mrs. McCreedy anywhere. Nobody’s seen her.”
I felt a jolt of fear go through me. I remembered all too clearly when nobody had seen Mr. Hannan although it was supposed he had arrived. And I’d come to appreciate that Mrs. McCreedy was a woman living on her nerves. Something had severely rattled her even before Mr. Hannan had died. I suspected she knew something she hadn’t told us about this visit and had feared something might go wrong.
“Might she have stepped out?” Police Chief Prescott said. “It is, as you pointed out, Sunday afternoon when servants do like to visit their families.”
“But she helped to carry out the tea things,” Eliza said, “and we’ve been out here since. We’d have seen anybody going past toward the gate.”
Eliza turned to the maid. “Go and look again, Sarah. Perhaps she is taking a nap in her room. She does get up extremely early.”
It struck me that this was an unusual thing for a woman of her station to say. I’m sure the thought never crossed Irene’s mind that servants might need to take naps or indeed had to get up awfully early.
I got to my own feet. “I’ll go and help her, if you like. It is an awfully big house.”
I think Joseph was about to protest when Chief Prescott said, “Good of you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
So I went. As well as my nagging fear that something had happened to her, I realized that this would be my one chance to look around the house for myself. I don’t know exactly what I expected to find, but I was still morbidly curious about that tower. As the maid and I went in, we passed the other servants filing out through the front door.
“Has any of you seen Mrs. McCreedy?” I asked.
“I have. She helped carry out the table about half an hour ago,” the footman said.
“But since then?”
They shook their heads.
“She may be in her room,” one of the local girls said.
They went on their way, out toward the lawn. I looked at the maid. “Where is her room, Sarah?”
“I’m not quite sure, ma’am. Up on the top floor with the rest of the servants, I presume.”