The Celtic Riddle (18 page)

After passing this first hurdle, I went upstairs to the library, an
attractive room on the second floor, with walls of blue, stripped back
to the original coat of paint, by the look of them, and lined with
legal tomes by the yard. The centerpiece of the room was a marble
fireplace that sported two carved rams heads, one on each side of the
mantelpiece, and over it, a somewhat Italianate fresco of a country
scene, probably dating to the early- to middle-eighteenth century. On
the walls to either side of the fireplace, white plaster plaques
depicted a blindfolded Justice, appropriately enough, robes flowing,
scales in balance.

A large table had been placed in the middle of the room under an
interesting chandelier with blue colored glass sprinkled through it to
match the walls. It was here, I decided, that the lawyers or their
assistants did their research, judging from the volumes in piles on the
surface, seated in carved and intricately decorated armchairs that I
believe are sometimes called Chinese Chippendale. Several choice
mezzotint portraits had been hung on the walls, and placed about the
room were some rather handsome pieces of furniture. Every piece was
exquisite and chosen with impeccable taste or, to be more precise,
taste very similar to mine.

A lovely period, Georgian, I thought. Some of the decorative touches
were a trifle ornate for my taste, but overall the proportions were so
pleasing, everything so elegant, I was quite enchanted.

My favorite object of all was the attractively worn Aubusson carpet.
I like old carpets. They make me wonder about all the feet that have
crossed them, the conversations that have taken place above them, the
ghosts that still haunt them. This one was particularly fine in that
regard, a worn patch where some heavy furniture had been placed for a
long time, the hint of a well-travelled path, from one room to another
perhaps.

Whoever had renovated and decorated the place had done so with
meticulous attention to detail, a real sympathy for the Irish Georgian
style, and a thoroughly lavish budget. I could only just imagine how
much it would cost to accomplish the look. It was very impressive, and
a little intimidating, and I decided this was intentional. If the fee
schedule you were given upon entry to the building didn't deter you,
then this room might prove an effective winnowing process for all but
the spectacularly financially endowed or, like me, the profoundly
stubborn. After a few minutes here, one would be either impressed and
prepared to pay big for Tweedledum and Tweedledee's clearly exceptional
services, or would have skulked away, convinced one couldn't afford
them. I stayed the course, hoping I wouldn't have to take out a second
mortgage on my house, or worse yet sell my half-interest in Greenhalgh
& McClintoch, to pay the fees.

After several minutes of cooling my heels and being suitably cowed
by the decor, I heard footsteps and voices coming down the stairs from
above, someone more important than I, apparently, then a few minutes
later, footsteps coming up the stairs, and Deirdre entered with the tea
tray. We were both surprised to see each other.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, cups rattling and the tray
precariously balanced. I immediately remembered my promise in Dingle
Town that I wouldn't follow her to Dublin. But how was I to know?

"I'm here to see one of the solicitors about Alex Stewart's
inheritance," I said in my most soothing tones, reaching out to steady
the tray. "It's lovely to see you again, Deirdre. I'm delighted to see
that you've been able to find some employment right away. I hope
everything is working out well for you."

"Yes, thank you," she said regaining her composure. "Would you like
a cup of tea and a biscuit?" She poured tea from a silver tea service
into two faintly iridescent cream-colored cups, Beleek most likely,
mine clear, and another drowned in milk. Seconds later, the solicitor
entered the room.

I rose from my chair. "Mr…" I began. Which one was it? McCafferty or
McGlynn, I wondered, frantically. Tweedledum or Tweedledee?

"Ms. McClintoch, I'm Charles McCafferty," he said, I extending his
hand. "Thank you, Deirdre. You may leave us. How may I be of service?"
he said looking first at me and then at his watch. Was it my
imagination, or could I hear a meter ticking away?

He was dressed just as formally as he had been that day at Second
Chance, dark three-piece suit, white shirt with impeccably starched
collar, silk tie and puff, this time in a classic maroon with a crest
of some kind. I wondered what his partner was wearing, maroon tie with
stripes perhaps? He smelled nice, though, a subtle cologne that made me
think of fresh sea breezes blowing across fields of heather, and
leather armchairs in front of roaring fires.

Get a grip, Lara, I told myself. "Thank you for seeing me on such
short notice," I said, shaking his hand.

"A pleasure," he said graciously, gesturing me toward a chair, and
sitting opposite me.

For several minutes, it was all business. We talked about Irish
taxes, land ownership by foreign residents, the question of the
right-of-way across Byrne's land, and so on, all things Alex might
legitimately need to know. McCafferty made a few notes with his
expensive but refined fountain pen, in a little notebook with
gold-edged pages and a leather cover, and from time to time dispensed
advice which, considering how much we'd have to pay for it, I hoped
would be useful for Alex.

I had a rather delicate matter I wanted to discuss with him, and it
took me a minute or two to work my way around to it. It was a subject
on which Alex seemed surprisingly passive, but I was not about to give
in. "The Byrne family has indicated that they may be contesting the
Will in an effort to get Rose Cottage back," I said finally. "I don't
want to put you in a bad position," I added, "and I know you have
represented Mr. Byrne's interests for some time, but whose side would
you be on, in that regard? And if not ours, could you recommend another
solicitor? We don't know anyone here, of course."

"The heirs would sue the estate, and as executor of that estate, I
would be obliged to defend it," he said. "We would enlist the services
of a barrister, of course, to represent us in court. I sincerely hope
it will not come to that, however. I think that would be quite
unfortunate. And so, yes, I would be on your side, to use your
terminology."

"Thank you," I said, rising from my seat. "By the way, what happens
to the money that would have been paid to John Herlihy and Michael
Davis?"

"Unfortunately, Mr. Stewart does not benefit," he said.

"I assumed that," I persisted, "but who does?" This was, after all,
one of the things I'd come to Dublin to learn.

"Essentially, the money reverts to the family and is allocated
amongst them. There's a very complicated formula," he added, giving me
a don't-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it look. I believe he was
actually flirting with me.

I wanted to say, "try me," but instead took a different approach and
flirted right back. "Your offices are just wonderful. Georgian, isn't
it?" I said looking about me. "Did you restore the place yourself?" My
words were quite sincere, although my motives were not. On the
assumption that he must be very proud of the decor, I was hoping to
soften him up in order to angle my way around to a number of other
questions I had.

Charles perked up immediately. "Yes," he replied. "My partner, Ryan
McGlynn, and I found this house in terrible disrepair. Shocking,
really, it was so badly damaged. We've been working at it for years
now. We found some skilled craftsmen, and we've been doing it a little
at a time, acquiring the furniture piece by piece. The original paint,
you know," he added.

"I thought it must be," I said, giving him what I hoped was my most
attentive look. "The carpet is my favorite," I added. "Aubusson, isn't
it?"

"Yes. Mine too," he agreed. "There is something about carpets, isn't
there? I like to think about the people who walked on them over the
years."

I was quite nonplussed. The law offices of Mc-Cafferty and McGlynn
were just about the last place I'd expect to find a kindred spirit. It
made me see him in a whole new light, and I momentarily forgot what I'd
come to Dublin to find out, and instead found myself trying to
recollect whether or not he was wearing a wedding ring. He wasn't. It's
not conclusive, of course, but a good start.

"Do you use all four floors as offices?" I asked.

"Three," he said. "Ryan and I have our offices on the next floor up.
We meet with our clients either in our offices or here. Ryan has a flat
on the fourth floor. I live in Ballsbridge," he added. I had no idea
where that was, but I assumed I was supposed to be impressed.

"With your spouse and family?" I asked. Admittedly, subtlety is not
my long suit.

"Regrettably, I have neither," he replied, with a slight smile.

"Nor I," I said. We held each other's glance a little longer than
necessary. He was very attractive in many ways, with a faint hint of
gray at the temples, and a nice build, about my age, or a little
younger.

"Tell me about this piece," I said, breaking away and pointing to a
piece of furniture against one wall. I knew perfectly well what it was,
this being my business after all, a rather handsome writing cabinet
dating to about the mid-1700s, I'd have said, but I didn't want the
conversation to end. I'll admit I enjoy a little flirtation from time
to time. It is, after all, in the right circumstances, perfectly
harmless and rather pleasurable to let someone know you find them
attractive, and to enjoy their admiration in return. It was all very
formal, of course. I was Ms. McClintoch, he Mr. McCafferty, but it made
it all the more fun, somehow.

I told him I owned an antiques shop in Toronto.

"Do you indeed!" he exclaimed. "Then please permit me to give you a
little tour. Everything here is authentic to the time, the real thing
where possible," he said, gesturing toward the chairs and sliding his
hand across the fabric in a way I found quite suggestive. He had nice
hands, I noticed. He then pointed out each object in the room and gave
a little of its history, where he'd found it, what great family had
owned it, what it cost him. I tried to look impressed, which was not
difficult, because frankly, I was. When I wasn't making eye contact
with him, and enjoying the way he touched everything, I was mentally
launching a new line in the shop-Irish Georgian-complete with
accompanying design service to make sure our clients got the look just
right. It was a good, no a great, idea: Irish anything was in style,
thanks to some pseudo-Celtic dancers and singers very much in vogue. I
was a little unsure how to get the look of the original paint, but I
knew someone who could do it, if I could bring myself to ask him:
Clive, who'd been my first employee, a designer, before I made the
mistake of marrying him. That problem aside, I thought I had a
sure-fire winner, although some of the sums McCafferty mentioned as
purchase prices were daunting.

If I could find fault with McCafferty's offices at all, it was that
it was all too perfect. People who decorate like this don't just sweat
the details, they are obsessed by them. I found myself longing for a
jarring note, an object out of place or out of time, so he'd seem more
human to me, somehow. There wasn't one. I have customers like this,
whose requirement for authenticity is absolute, and who, in many ways,
keep me in business. Personally I prefer a little more relaxed
approach, more mixing of complementary styles. Moira, whose taste in
decorating is best described as eclectic-she changes the decor in her
salon cum spa about every six months, often with my help, making her
not only my best friend, but the shop's best advertisement-would call
the offices of McCafferty and McGlynn the product of a diseased mind.
Maybe he'd become too set in his ways as a bachelor, I thought.

Needless to say, I did not voice my opinion in this regard. "You've
done a wonderful job restoring the place," I said. "You are obviously
successful at everything you do. You have your pick of clients," I went
on. "People like Eamon Byrne. I am most grateful you took time out of
your busy schedule to see me."

"I'm delighted to have been of assistance," he said,
self-consciously straightening his lovely tie. He was enjoying every
minute of this, just as I was.

"And very kind of you to give Deirdre Flood employment," I said. "I
was delighted to see that she'd landed on her feet."

"Not at all," he replied. "Dreadful business, those deaths. The poor
dear was quite terrified. I'm glad I could help her out, under the
circumstances."

"He must have been a challenging client, Eamon Byrne, I mean," I
said, prattling on, "judging from that video. Not the easiest man in
the world to get along with. I never met him, of course, but Alex
Stewart knew him a number of years ago, when he was in the merchant
marine. Did you know him long?"

"No," he replied, rather tersely. I waited for further
clarification, saying nothing, but just looking at him. It's an old
reporter's trick, I'm told, leaving a long enough silence that the
interrogated person feels compelled to fill it. Finally he said, "We
took over from his former solicitor about five years ago."

Too bad, I thought: not long enough to know about an old family
curse. "What business was he in? Byrne Enterprises, I mean."

"Many things. It was a group of several different businesses. Land
holdings, originally. He owned large tracts of boglands. Very
profitable."

"Are bogs profitable?" I said. I was genuinely surprised.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "Quite. Peat is a major source of fuel here
in Ireland. There is a huge commercial operation, of course: Bord na
Mona. But there are smaller, private ones as well. Eamon Byrne leased
out parcels of bog property for three months at a time. Renters cut as
much peat as they can for fuel, and take it away to heat their homes,
then Byrne rented the property out again to the next person. He had
huge land holdings, so the supply was never exhausted, and there was a
very nice, steady income. He used that to branch out into other
businesses. Import/export for one. Medical supplies, for another. All
very successful."