Unlikely Hero-12

1

Chapter 112

Locating Fred Cummins had been a fairly easy task. Ten minutes before his favorite pub opened from their afternoon break; Fred was standing outside anticipating his first daily pint of Guinness. He was in a fair mood. His pocket weighty with the fifty pounds he'd been awarded by grateful families for the delivered notes from the prison, would allow him to indulge in an evening of carousing. His smile was half friendly as the uniforms approached him. Asked to identify himself, he answered, "Fred Cummins." 3

Shortly his mood changed. The blighters expected him to accompany them before he'd had this evening's first taste of brew. Fred, no stranger to the lockup, normally had several pints to reinforce him before being hauled off. This turn of events pissed him off and he wasn't above letting them know his feelings.4

So when the investigators confronted him, Fred looked scruffier than normal. He was slumped on a metal chair, his legs spread out beneath the metal table. The gray-white tee shirt was speckled with unpleasant stains. His chin rested on his chest, while his nose still dribbled a trickle of gore. Apparently his escorts had administered a few punches in response to those they received, so Fred stunk of vomit. His wrists were still pinioned behind his back.5

"Remove the cuffs," Keenan ordered the guard standing behind Fred. 6

"Fred and me got some history." Andy Stone pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and sat down. "Now don't we, Freddy. Why did ya give the lads such a rough time, we only want to talk to you."7

" 'bout what? I got nothing ta say."8

Keenan motioned the guard out, closed the door and leaned against it. They had already decided that Stone, since he knew Cummins, might get further doing the initial questioning.9

"Where you been all day, Fred? What have you been up to? Nice chunk of cash you had on you."10

"Bloody well earned it. And they'd best not skim any."11

"Earned it, how?"12

"Paintin' a fuckin' 'ouse. That's not a crime now, is it?" Fred came straight up in his chair. He rubbed the back of his hand under his nostrils, and then cleared them with a loud snort. He was lean and nearly six foot. 13

With the rich color of his black hair, his sharp blue eyes, and nicely arranged features, a cleaned up Fred Cummins could have been handsome. Fred turned twenty-seven on his last birthday. Several permanent scars on his face already marred his appearance. The stiffening of his facial muscles as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed his wrists revealed the fact Fred didn't like to be put upon. 14

Andy Stone had been the recipient of Fred's anger on several occasions. If allowed to indulge in a tantrum, Fred would give them nothing, so Andy let his tone soften noticeably as he asked, "You seen the news this mornin'?"15

"Nah. Don't pay it much mind."16

"You know a lass, Nan Fitzgibbon?"17

Fred shrugged. "Suppose so. Nice lady ain't one to stick her nose up at a bloke."18

"You have something going with her?"19

A nasty grin creased the edges of Fred's mouth. "Not about to turn down an offering." Then the grin was suddenly replaced by curiosity and he said. "Only seen her a few times at her church. My sis has been dragging me there, trying ta convince that tight-assed priest that I'm some holy man." He finished with a curt laugh. Then asked, "What's with Nan?"20

"She's dead."21

"That's a shame now, isn't it. How'd she die?"22

"You don't know?"23

"Lord, man, how would I know? Told ya I only saw her a few times. She didn't act sickly to me."24

Keenan had moved up behind Cummins' chair. His hands came down hard on the prisoner's shoulders as he barked, "Where have you been all day?"25

Fred spun his face around to glare up at Keenan. "So, what's it to ya?"26

"The Fitzgibbon lass was murdered."27

"Shit! And you hauling me in? What the fuck for? I told ya, I didn't hardly know her. Passed a few 'Good Day ta ya' with her. Nothing more."28

Keenan came back quickly. "You knew Leona Ahern?"29

"Where ya going with that? Any fool with a pound note knew Leona. I ain't inta buying a toss with a whore twice my age."30

"Leona was only thirty-eight, Fred. And not a bad looker." Keenan said.31

Stone added, "You've beat up on whores before."32

"Just one time. One time when a bitch tried ta steal my stash." Fred's stare became a nervous blinking of the eyes. A bit of sweat showed on his brow. He grunted. "Where ya going with this? I ain't no killer."33

"You had it in for Father Reagan?" Keenan's hands clamped tighter. The prisoner shoved back in the chair and it hit Keenan in his belly causing a grunt but he didn't let go.34

"So, I don’t like him. Don't like priests in general. What's the priest got ta do with this?"35

"We'll ask the questions," Keenan barked. "And you do the answering."36

Stone's voice was a pleasant yawn. "Just tell me where you were this morning Freddy and we can clear this up."37

"Needed my car fixed. Bad clutch. Can't afford the bandits 'round here. Took it out ta my brother-in-law's garage in Belfast. He'll tell ya I was there."38

"What time did you leave Londonderry?"39

"'bout nine or so."40

"And what were you doing last night?"41

"Last night? Maybe ya want ta know 'bout two months, last Thursday." He gave a sharp snort. "I don't recall. Visited a few pubs. Made it 'ome on me own some after dark. Weren't watching no clocks."42

"You still work with your Pa?"43

"When I'm short pocket change. The old man don't keep the place up too good."44

***45

Four hours later, Fred Cummins still stunk of vomit and sweat, though his soiled clothes were replaced by a jumpsuit. He sat alone on a hard bunk in a brightly lit cell and watched the night sky descending through a small-barred window. Loudly he cursed everything on God's good earth and bemoaned the fact he'd never gotten a sip of his first brew of the day. 46

He didn’t allow himself to think about Nan. The fact he might be charged with murdering a priest didn't bother him a whole lot as yet. The solicitor didn't think they'd hold him long. Once they talked with his brother in law--where was that fat-assed bastard anyway. 47

The soldiers? Shit, imagine that, they'd have to clear him. He laughed out loud. He'd given them one pissy time and they'd remember him good. He hadn't told the investigators about chasing the Hailey bitch. Remembering the incident brought a rare smile to his lips. She would remain his personal pleasure.48

***49

Aboard the 747 Garth felt the gentle push on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open. "Time to wake up." His uncle said. "Don't want you to miss this."50

Garth rubbed his eyes as his uncle continued, "We're coming in. You'll be able to see the New York skyline in a minute."51

Garth gave a satisfied grin and then stared at the sight below. The metropolis seemed to instantly rise up out of the ocean. He felt fingers of fear clutch at his belly as he stared down unable to even blink. Building upon building reached into the sky, towers pressed one against another, monstrous bridges like spider webs holding it together. The plane felt as if it was plunging towards all that stone and metal. He bit down on his lower lip and clutched at the armrests. Finally the terrible descent slowed and his air came back in a whoosh. He could soon see the movement from automobiles and trucks advertising the existence of life. 52

"Welcome to America," his uncle said.53

"Sure, but it's a bloody big place. Be hard finding your folks if ya got lost."54

"I won't let you get lost, Garth. You just hang on tight to my hand until you feel secure."55

Garth had dozed off with the electronic game still activated. It lay in his lap. He glanced down at the game. One figure on the miniature screen was darting about. Garth pushed the off button and shoved it in his pocket.56