The Dirty Dubliner: A Dan Delaney Mystery

Chapter One

Uncovering a Rookie

Delaney sat at his desk after reviewing another three months of disgustingly sloppy petty-crime’s reports. He dropped his head back in his chair to stretch his neck and ease his discomfort. He was feeling bored and dejected after spending almost every waking hour of the past three years of his life on his last homicide. Nothing important had crossed his desk since, despite the fact that he had received a hundred calls and letters from various police forces and grateful citizens who couldn’t wait for his help.

At least I don’t have to investigate these, he thought with a sense of relief as he brought his mind back to the task in front of him. Being a newly appointed Police Commissioner has its advantages.

But Dan Delaney had no intention of becoming a passive political appointee. He intended to personally manage the entire force in Dublin and had no intentions of acting as a public relations icon for the benefit of dirty cops or secret underhanded businessmen. He had no plans to give up critical investigations and was very clear about his expectations when they forced the position on him.

Commissioner Delaney was a self-driven man with the discipline of God, and despite his age of 61, enjoyed the good looks needed to wow most everyone. He knew it, but didn’t bother to use his famous smile, and heart-felt amiability unless it was on someone he truly desired to be with on a more intimate basis. He knew what made him attractive. It wasn’t just good looks, but it was an internal fortitude to resist temptation that made him irresistible. He could never be tempted to cross a line when the safety of his citizens was an issue. He had decided that no matter what he did in his life, he would use his strength to make things right. He wanted that on his tombstone---Here lies a man who worked to make things right for others. He assumed he was born with a God-given gift of understanding and recognition of other men’s weaknesses---their lust for money, power, and women.

Of course, that’s not to say that he wasn’t one of the most desirable bachelors in town after the end of each marriage. Most of the time women chased after him, and he was easily caught. His big problem was he rarely wanted to be with anyone, and was comfortable in his own skin thinking through complex cases---and secretly praying---very secretly---because of some unknown fear that kept him up at nights.

He refocused on the work in front of him and separated the files into three piles. The first was a stack of cases he believed had been fully developed and accurately reported. He threw them into a box with a lid that said Closed while making a note of his deputy’s inventive ID codes.

Deputy Commissioner Joe Murphy was an old friend who had come through World War II with him. In Delaney’s mind, he had to be one of the finest administrators ever born. Joe had assigned each guard a color code based on the years of experience on the force, the number of cases the officer had closed, complimentary reports from the public as well as complaints, and the education of the officer. He was always looking for correlations of one kind or another. He was working on identifying training, but hadn’t coded it yet for the personnel files. The one thing Delaney noticed was that one out of every three of the properly reported cases was completed by a rookie---known by a small, round, dark blue sticker. Murphy used a green dot for highest number of closed cases per month, and a gold sticker, the one rarely used for those with higher education credentials. This particular officer is someone very hungry to move up the ladder quickly or someone who is afraid of failure, he thought. He glanced down at the name of the reporting cop and it was a woman, named Joyce Moynihan. He wondered why he had overlooked the fact that a woman was one of the rookies appointed to his department and then noticed the date. She had come on board right before he was transitioned into the job, and he must have just missed the paperwork . . . and probable hoopla.

He stopped what he was doing and called the personnel officer and asked for her file. He finished sorting through the remainder of the recently closed cases, when the duty officer from the front desk knocked and waved the file in front of him.

Thanks, he said and when Delaney leaned back in his chair the officer realized he was going to keep the file and left his office.

Of the twelve remaining reports, five were incomplete or sloppy and needed to be finished properly. The other seven he worried about and wondered if all that could have been done was done. The reports didn’t make sense and were often disjointed. He wondered if there were lies in the reports or just oversights. It was a common problem with a few officers that had been policing for too long and were close to retirement. Some believed their years of experience made their intuition watertight, and they didn’t have to explain themselves in their reports.

He decided to give the sloppy files to Murphy to handle. It was 1961 and Joe had gained a reputation for demanding first-rate work. The guards didn’t like to see the man coming into the morning roll call. Delaney buzzed his office and Joe knew what he wanted. He opened the door and took the files out of Delaney’s hand and took off for the meeting room without saying a word.

As soon as the sergeant saw him coming, he moved away from the podium. This was the third time in a month, and he could see that Murphy was pissed.

Both the Commissioner and myself realize that you are used to the old order around here. But now things are changing and you must change with us or move on. So here’s how the week’s going to go, he said trying not to raise his voice to match his mood. "Today, I will partner with Johnny Lewis all day. Tomorrow, Peter Reagan, Wednesday, Grady Brown, Thursday, Mike O’Neill, and Friday, Sandy O’Connell. Each of you is on probation. I am handing you each a file that contains the crap you handed in on your cases. Everyone but Lewis is catching a break because you will have some time to sort out the details of your case before our little tour of duty. These have all been photocopied as is. All new work will be completed from scratch, so don’t think dotting a few i’s or crossing a few t’s will cut the mustard my friends."

He finished with the usual morning speech and sent them on their way. As he walked by Delaney’s office he told him what he was doing. Delaney gave him a smile and a half-assed salute and turned his attention back to Moynihan’s personnel file.

She had an excellent school record, an MBA, and was at the top of her class at the police academy. She was from New Jersey, his home State. He picked up the phone and called his old friend Sam.

So you thought our little department could use a feminine touch? he asked as soon as he heard Sam’s voice.

I couldn’t resist sending her over. She’s the best we’ve had here in a long time, but to tell you the truth, I think a mind like hers would be wasted here until I could get her moved up the ladder, and that wouldn’t be easy around here. We have a long list of men with the right experience to promote, so she’d have a long wait. Besides, putting her in a competitive position here made me worry, because she’s too good at everything. She already put most of them to shame at the Academy, and that didn’t go over well. I need to put some transitional training in place.

And you think the men will be different here?

"Like I said, she would be wasted talent here in Newark. The truth is I interviewed all our new recruits and asked about their preferences, and when I asked her what she thought might be ideal, she laughed and blurted out, a job in Ireland. I said Really? And she then said she was just kidding."

She realized that you could have come down hard on her for acting like Newark wasn’t good enough for her.

Right. Still, I was curious and frankly, like I said, I thought her immediate skills might be wasted here so we started talking about it. I told her that I knew you and would make inquiries, and she was ecstatic about the possibility. I made some phone calls and it went well for her. She even kissed me when she got the word.

She seems to be top-notch. I’m going to give her a chance to earn some kudos. I have to admit, I’m surprised, but I thank you for thinking of us.

Let me know how she works out.

Sure thing. He hung up.

He called the front desk and asked to have Miss Moynihan call on him at her convenience. Ten minutes later she was knocking at his office door.

I didn’t realize you were in the building.

I was put on desk duty for this week.

Any special reason?

Not one that I am aware of . . . I was told all the rookies are put on desk duty where there is a need.

I see. How long have you been assigned to desk duty?

For the past three months, every day since I arrived.

Interesting, because that is not the proper protocol or a policy that comes out of this office. How did you get these assignments?

I offered to work overtime without pay. No one objected, and I had plenty to work on.

I will speak with my partner about the assignments. Now I have a few questions for you.

Fine, she said not sure whether to feel defensive.

You’re not in trouble Moynihan.

Good to know, she smiled.

I was wondering why you became a cop.

I wrote an essay . . .

I saw it, he interrupted. But that was written for a job in the States and frankly sounded like a politician’s speech. I want you to tell me more personally why you wanted to be a police officer.

I wanted to be a cop because my father, two of his brothers, and five of mine all became cops and one is right behind me. I grew up in a very competitive family. Sometimes I felt like I had no choice, but most of the time I knew I’d fit right in. I wanted to be the kind of officer my grandfather was. I guess I didn’t mention him in my essay because I felt as if my feelings for him were private. He was my hero. He was a man who was never tempted to cross the line when most of his buddies were on the take. When things were finally cleaned up, he was honored, but he was never promoted. I wanted to do something with my life that might show him that despite all the pain he endured, the honor of being truthful was worth it.

Delaney had put his feet up on the desk and was staring at the wall away from Moynihan as she spoke. Her words were music to his ears. He wondered how he had suddenly gotten so lucky.

OK, so now tell me why you wanted to be a cop here in Dublin.

Well because I had a father, two uncles, five brothers . . .

Right I get it. Achieving your goals would, how should I say it . . . pressure could be avoided if you were a few thousand miles away?

Yes, that’s it exactly. Besides that, my grandfather was from Dublin, so he told me many heroic tales about the city and Ireland. It’s always been a dream of mine to come here.

I’m sure you don’t expect the men in this department to be more understanding than the ones in the U.S."

I have no such expectation.

And why did you get a master’s degree in Business Administration before enrolling in the Academy? Certainly, you must have known that the other candidates at the Academy would be jealous and could cause things to be even more difficult for you.

I don’t know how I can explain it to you. But the truth is I expected trouble and it wouldn’t have made any difference as far as I could see. In the end, I thought it would be better, mostly because if I made it through the process alive, and all other things being equal, I wanted to have a leg up on the less educated when it came to promotions.

I can see that you probably already have a leg up so to speak. Your file says you are a first rate wrestler, and can box your way out of most jams.

Yes, well I had five brothers who were . . . Sorry, I don’t mean to sound insolent.

That’s OK officer Moynihan. A little humor around here can go a long way. I have a question for you.

Shoot.

I have a small stack of cases sitting here that are, in my opinion, lacking the necessary documentation I want or need to close them. I know that sometimes, I must assume that the intuition and personal knowledge of the officer in charge of a case must supersede standard operating procedures when making a call. No one who wasn’t there at the moment can really evaluate what happens during any incident, but I’m just a bit fussy about making sure that what really happens out in the neighborhoods is properly reported. Can you guess why?

If I were in your shoes, I would want to feel sure too.

But why? Maybe you think I’m touchy about the reputation of the force, or public opinion? Or maybe you think I’m interested in demoting a few asses to save some money, or I want to cover my ass, etc.

None of the above. I would think you would want to know as much as you could so you can make sure the officers are sent out to the locations with the most recent troubles, the neighborhoods with the greatest need so to speak, or to an area where the most serious crimes might take place. You might want to make sure the cops with the right skills match the need. To me it would be a question of effectiveness. I would also think it would help with decision-making when something big, like an emergency comes along. That way you would have the needed resources available for a quick reassignment. Following personnel duties when people are off the reservation can be complex. Everyone needs to be assigned according to certain values and expectations. The logistics could be overwhelming.

Exactly. He was satisfied that she wasn’t going to question his decisions because they involved more complexity than he wanted to explain.

Now I have another question. If I gave you a case to clear up---to uncover some of those interesting logistics that may be missing from a report, could you handle it?

I don’t know why not?

Well, one reason might be that if one of the more sensitive officers found you nosing around in his case, you might become a target.

I grew up a target, remember?

OK. Here you are. He handed her the seven files that were questionably reported as closed.

These are not exactly a mess, but I find them incomplete, or maybe just not written up properly. You are off desk duty except for the time you need to sit and rewrite up these reports. The rest of the time you will have free access to any evidence you can find, lab reports, and you may take all the time you need to visit the doers or witnesses.

Without a partner?

Yes. That is, think of me as your partner. When and if you need to deal with any difficult interviews, be sure to drag me along. The rest you should be able to handle alone, right?

So I assume you don’t want me to be obvious?

You assume correctly, but only for your own protection.

May I take my police dog along? He’s a perfectly well-mannered and a good cover for me in tight situations. He also went to the Academy for training.

Wish I had thought of that myself when I had to sit in my car all night---probably good company too. Thank you officer Moynihan. You may go.

Chapter Two

The Interview

Moynihan couldn’t be happier. She planned to make detective by the time she was twenty-seven regardless of the obvious condescension in the force. The family record was twenty-eight---actually it would have been thirty if her older brother had waited two years to get an advanced degree like she had. She was twenty-four now and had been on the force for three months. It would be a record. Other officers would complain and she wouldn’t care. She went to her desk, and put all the cases in her file drawer except the one on top. She decided to tackle them randomly. If she wanted to check them out first and see what was up in the whole stack, she might draw attention to herself and then she might get choosey. She never tackled the easiest task first, and assumed that all of them would be difficult or the big nose in the commissioner’s office wouldn’t have smelled something fishy.

She opened the first file and started reading. A call had come in at ten in the evening reporting a domestic disturbance in a rather upscale middle class neighborhood. The woman who had made the call was an Ester Walling, a seventy-five year old woman who had called and reported similar incidents a few times before this particular one. A notation was made by her name that said, wolf with little tears dripping under the word. She understood what that meant. The officers that had interviewed the lady on several occasions discounted what the witness had reported and Moynihan was going to find out why.

She read the rest of the notes on the other witnesses. First, she noticed that they were not firsthand witnesses as was the account of Mrs. Walling. They had only tangential knowledge of the couple. They only knew that the man was a minister in a local church. They knew him as a supporter of community events, visiting the ill, and coaching the neighborhood’s children in afterschool sports. He was the ideal neighbor---a man who was admired. But none of these neighbors lived close enough to the abused victim to know what her life was like at home. Only Mrs. Walling lived within ear shot. Moynihan carefully plotted out all of the homes of the other parties that were interviewed and written up in the report. Once she scanned her small map, she wondered why these people’s statements were taken. It didn’t make any sense.

She drove her patrol car over to the vicinity, and then carefully checked out the homes of the witnesses named in the testimonies. Once she was sure that none of them could have known what went on in the home in question, she went to the door of each party.

I’m following up on a statement that you gave to one of our guards on a case involving, let’s see . . . she flipped her pad open as if it was so routine as to be so unimportant that the party wouldn’t doubt her or feel intimidated. I see that the police came to you on the 15th, the day after a reported attack in the home of, . . . she paused again, a minister named Adam Carson, and his wife Aubrey. Do you remember what you told the police?

Well, it wasn’t much, the man said. The officer came by to ask if we knew the couple and if we had an opinion about their marriage. I said I knew of them, but had no opinion about their marriage since we had never been acquainted. I said they seemed normal to me, but then I didn’t really know them.

The report said you commented on the lady’s disposition?

Not really. I just said she kept to herself. When her husband wasn’t home she never came out of the house. She only came and went to and from the house when he was with her.

Did you say where they went?

No. I offered no other information. I just assumed they went to the grocers or to church like everyone else around here.

Are you a member of their church?

No. They’re some kind of protestant religion. We’re Catholic. We don’t know anything about their church, but they seemed normal to look at . . . except that the woman appeared to be unfriendly. Well let me see if I can find another word. I don’t really know what to call her. She just never changed the expression on her face. If I waved, she just stared right past me as if I didn’t exist. I assumed she might not be friendly.

Did the Carsons have a schedule that was similar to yours?

Like what?

Like did you go to work at the same time in the morning, or to church at the same hour?

No. Every once in a while I’d see him out in front mowing the lawn when I walked my setter. That was it. At least he was friendly enough to wave.

Sir, could you hear the lawnmower from your house here?

Not a chance. Look. The main road runs right behind us here and there is a lot of traffic. We’re used to it, but it blocks out any other noise.

Did the officer explain why he was interviewing you?

He said he had to find out if the neighborhood had any complaints about Minister Carson. I didn’t have any.

Thank you, sir. I’m sure we won’t need to bother you again.

Moynihan continued to interview the rest of the witnesses, and they all said the same thing. Each intimated that they knew very little about the couple and that the minister seemed to be one of those upstanding guys that coached kids or helped out around the community, but no one had more than a brief conversation with him over the years.

She knocked on Mrs. Walling’s door.

"Good