The Patrick O’Bernstein Detective Agency

Gemma’s Story, Chapters One to Eight 

My name is O’Bernstein Patrick O’Bernstein. But I go by the name Patrick O’Bern because like my brother, I hate telling the whole story over and over again, as to why my name’s O’Bernstein. I’ve got a Licence to Investigate. Yes The Private Security Authority of Ireland gave me a licence. I say the PSA gave it to me this not strictly true, they demanded €220. I’m a professional PI, I find people, I investigate folk and big corporations, I’m the man who does!

I can tell you that my brethren and I were appalled when The Irish Government put us in the same category as Mr. G4S and matey who guards the door at The Grand. We are professional men and I’ve been on a course I know a thing or two, well that’s my daily rant over now it’s back to business. My phone doesn’t ring very often but when it does I always answer it. I need the cash! I remember one evening early this year I was contacted by a Mr. Ronny Kelly about the death of his only daughter, Gemma

I remembered reading about her death on the police reports in the evening paper I remembered also that she was a young girl tragically knocked down one night in Dublin. The police had no witnesses to the accident and she was run over at an exact CCTV blind spot. The local Garda claimed that they had done all that they could to find the driver. There were radio appeals, local television and newspapers all asking for someone who witnessed the accident to come forward but nobody did. So as far as the police were concerned it was an open but in many ways an extremely shut case.
Ronny Kelly phoned me and I could tell from his voice that he was drunk but his voice still croaked a little when he told me why he was calling. His little girl Gemma Louise Anne Kelly had died too soon. Ronny and Sheila Kelly needed closure, they needed to know what happened to their daughter so that they could mourn her loss and let her rest in peace. On the phone Mr. Kelly informed me that Gemma was a popular girl who had many friends. She was loved and cherished by many, he wondered how a girl like Gemma could die alone when, Gemma was never alone.

The next evening I called around to their home I’m between offices at the moment so I make regular house calls. They had a nice house I knocked on the door and a very elegant middle aged woman answered, she gave me a faint smile and asked me to come in. This looked like the kind of place that might have good carpets, none of your Carpetright crap here. I removed my shoes because they were just a little muddy. That night I was wearing clean undamaged socks I still have a few pairs of socks without holes I do put socks and underpants on my Christmas list but my family never buy me any.

My attention was drawn to a big photo of Gemma; it was on their side wall the photo actually covered the entire wall. She was a pretty girl and seeing this larger than life image of Gemma made me feel a little of their pain and loss. Mrs. Kelly showed me into the front room and waved me down to a chair, she then disappeared into the kitchen. A short time after she came back with a tray of coffee, finely cut sandwiches and a selection of small tea cakes. Mrs. Kelly offered me everything on that tray and then sat quietly down on the sofa, a few moments later Mr. Kelly came in to greet me

“Hello you must be Mr. O’Bern I’m Ronny Kelly and I assume you’ve just met my wife Mrs. Sheila Kelly I hope you can help us to find out what happened to our daughter”

The moment Mr. Kelly stopped talking, Sheila Kelly burst into tears she started to sob uncontrollably. Mr. Kelly immediately spoke to his wife almost scolding her

“Now stop that Mrs. K You’re not helping anyone”

Mrs. Kelly get up from the sofa and left the room I assumed to go into the kitchen I could still hear the sound of muffled crying but I couldn’t tell where the sound came from. Mr. Kelly spoke again

“I’m sorry about that Mr. O’Bern I’ve told my wife off before about showing me up in public”

I didn’t answer him there was nothing I really could say I just got out my note book and started asking some questions about Gemma. I asked all the usual questions, like who her friends were and where did she like to go in town when she went out for the night and the final question what did Gemma do for a living. Mr. Kelly answered every question without hesitation, this man knew every little detail of his daughter’s life. I’d never met a parent who knew so much about their child. Gemma had no secrets from her parents or so it would seem. I found the interview so intriguing because it didn’t seem possible to me in this age of social media and private chat rooms that a girl could have absolutely nothing to hide from her parents.

I was use to discovering the dark side of people it’s in many ways how I make my meagre living, always watching and listening. I believed that if I could uncover an unexplained incident that occurred recently in Gemma’s life something that she didn’t want to discuss with mum and dad, perhaps a night, when she burst through the front door and ran up to her room crying. There was nothing unusual at all Mr. and Mrs. Kelly knew everything about their daughter. I asked if I could see her room Mr. Kelly wasn’t very happy about a stranger traipsing through his daughter’s room but I assured him that I wouldn’t disturb anything and he could always accompany me if wanted to. Mr. Kelly declined my offer; he just led me upstairs and pointed to Gemma’s room.

The room was immaculate everything was in its place, the bed was made the curtains were open and there was a black sweater hanging from a chair by her bed that seemed a little out of place, that’s why it caught my attention. There was laptop computer on the shelf by Gemma’s bed I turned it on, there was no password required because Gemma had no secrets. I took a USB from my pocket it’s always handy to have one, just in case and I copied over all her files. When the copying was complete I turned off the computer put it back on the shelf and then I left the room remembering to close the door.
I went down the stairs back into the living room and by this time Mrs. Kelly had composed herself again and was sitting on the sofa drinking a cup of tea. There was now a sweet smell in the room reminiscent of my father’s potcheen. I said my goodbyes and told Mrs. Kelly that I would see my own way out.

The next morning I went down the library to read the USB I walked in and I was greeted by old friend Noel

“Hello Patrick how’s it going? Are you well? I suppose you’ll be wanting to use a computer. I’ll drop down dead the day that Patrick Michael Vincent O’Bernstein borrows a book”

Noel knew my full name partly because we were old friends but also because that’s the name that’s on my library card.

“Yes” I said

It was just after opening time and the old place wasn’t exactly heaving this meant that Noel had very little to do. I turned on a computer put in the USB and then Noel sat down beside me

“Noel” I said

“I mean no offence but this is sensitive private information concerning a client I would really rather you didn’t sit there”

He answered a little taken aback but at the same time smiling

“Patrick this is a public library”

“I know But. “

Noel continued

“Let me finish! You see Patrick being a public resource as we are, all data that goes through our network is copied its called ghosting. Everything you write, look up, download or print out is mirrored and copied onto our internal server. It’s analysed by little robots in the system looking for anything suspicious. If the robot finds something out of the ordinary then it automatically transfers all the files onto a Sub-folder, which is checked by yours truly. If I want to I can circumnavigate the robots progress and read every single file or entry. I can even print out the searches and I can trace them back to the end user by entering their library card number, not that I do. So you see there’s nothing you look at on at a computer at this public library that is totally private. So it doesn’t matter a jot where I sit I just wanted to keep you company”

To be honest I didn’t understand much of what he said, just the last bit about nothing being private at a public library I therefore as Noel continued speaking took the USB out

“If you want privacy then you’ll have to use your own home computer and as long as you don’t share the information on line it’ll stay private. I’ve got a good mate of mine he’ll set you up with a PC and a Smartphone so you can access your files away from your office. I’ll give you his number, tell him you’re a friend of mine and he’ll give you a good price.”

Access my files when I’m away from my office, yes that sounded good. My brother Danny was always going on about the boxes under my bed and in my garage I had a system that worked, all active cases were under my bed and all inactive cases were in the garage. It did take me a little while sometimes to access my records but I always found them, in the end. I had a working system I needed one set of records for the Tax man and another set for The PSA. Noel however did make a good sales pitch for his friend and I knew that if I wanted to continue in this business that I would have to keep up with the times. My problem now was that I needed money I had a Pay As You Go phone because I’d had some disagreements with Irish Telecom. I had no internet at home due to disagreements with that same said company but I was sure that if I could find another internet provider then I would truly be in the 21st century and ready to Rock and Roll.
The first thing I had to do was to tap my brother Danny for a loan I knew that was not going to be easy but at the same time I also knew that he always said yes in the end, after all we are brothers . I left the library and went to the park I found an empty bench sat down and dialled his number and he answered straight away, this was a good sign, this meant that he wasn’t busy. I spoke first and maybe a little too quickly after all I was trying to be cool and relaxed

“Hello Danny It’s your brother Patrick”

“I know! Your name comes up on my phone every time you call, how much do you need?”

“What?”

“Patrick you’re my brother and I think by now I know you in fact I know you too well. You phone when you’re skint, how much do you want? Why? And when do I get it back?
I tried to sound offended

”I’m sad that you have such a low opinion of me I was phoning up to find out how you were I’m well thank you for asking and I spoke to Mary and Bernadette not too long ago and they’re fine”

“Great!”

Replied Danny

“That will save me a phone call, I’m fine too, well if that’s it, I’ll say goodbye and speak to you soon, thanks for ringing”

“No wait! Just a minute, you do this to me every time, you make me lie and you make me squirm. Yes, you are right, I do need a small short term loan because right now I’m not on speaking terms with The Danske Bank”

There was a great deal of triumph in Danny’s voice as he continued

“So why not be honest and come out with it? I know you haven’t spoken to Mary and Bernadette because they keep asking me how you are. If I say yes to a loan, that’s if! I want full payment back as soon as possible. I don’t want to keep on asking I don’t want to be blocked on your telephone I want paying back. In fact this time I’ll even get you to sign a loan agreement. Say yes to this condition, tell me how much and when do you need it and I’ll lend it to you”

I was if truth be told a little shocked and surprised, partly because of Danny’s abrasive speech and partly because he’d never insisted on a loan agreement before. If I had been Danny I would have insisted on a written loan agreement years ago

“Ok I’ll sign an agreement I need one of those clever phones and a PC for my business. Did you know that the library can read everything you do on their computers? I use to print out all my bills and expenses at the library. I’ll not be doing that again”

“Yes I did and you still haven’t told me how much you want”

“Well a grand should do it”

Danny was a little surprised when I told him how much

“A thousand Euros’! You’re having a giraffe! I’m not lending you that kind of money. If you need a Smartphone and a PC then I’ll sell you my old phone and computer for 300 take it or leave it”

I took it. I knew that one of Danny’s old phones would be a goodun and a laptop is a laptop as far as I’m concerned and 300 weren’t bad. We said our goodbyes and I arranged to meet him up on his rounds the next day. This day however was still young and there were still some things I could do even without 21st century technology. I knew where the accident happened, so it seemed like a good place to start my investigation. Gemma’s body was found on the crossroads by The Button Factory in Temple Bar. There’s a perfect intersection between Eustace Street and Essex Street East and a partial blind spot for close circuit television.

No one saw the accident they just found her body. It was clear from the police report in the local papers that Gemma had not been just knocked over but run down there were tyre tracks on her body. It was by some miracle they didn’t run over her face; this meant that her friends and family could view her body without much further distress before the funeral.
I did manage to talk to the Garda who called in the accident I had a reasonable relationship with the Dublin police The PMV (Patrick Michael Vincent) Detective agency had been around for a while and I knew my place. I wasn’t a policeman I was just a member of the public who had a licence and I could sometimes get into the places that the Garda Síochána couldn’t always get into. I met the Garda at the station, the desk Sergeant Noel Turner was an old drinking mate and he allowed me to have five minutes with Garda Shane Dwyer in the police canteen. It was only an informal chat I had no official jurisdiction I just wanted to know a little more about the scene of the accident Garda Shane couldn’t tell me anymore than what I had already read in the papers. Garda Shane was good enough to give me a web file link that showed the scene of crime photos and with the file there was also a copy of the autopsy report. I had a temporary visitor log on code given to me by the inspector a few months back and I was sure it was still active. I could only see what the Garda would allow me to see and one web link to one specific file wasn’t going to compromise the security of Garda Síochána computer network. It wasn’t normal procedure we both knew that but Garda Shane knew me and he was also a parent.

He and I both knew that this file would not compromise procedure and there would be no contamination of evidence. Shane was a policeman and a father cutting a few strips of legal red tape to help out a grieving father. Gemma’s death was now being treated as a tragic accident by The Guards, an accident made all the worst by a driver who drove away and left her dead on the road. The Dublin Police were looking for the driver but not actively, 30 % of the 1.8 million population of Dublin owned a car The Garda knew the make of the car from the faint tyre tracks found on the scene. It was a Hyundai Tucson but there were four and a half thousand new Hyundai Tucson’s sold in Ireland last year and if it was an older model it could have been one of the twenty five thousand Hyundai cars bought in the last five years and driven on Irish roads. No one could tell the age of the car from faint tyre tracks, so Gemma Kelly would soon be on her way to the Unsolved Crime and Open Case pile.

Garda O’Connell did however point me in the direction of Sergeant Jenny O’Rourke and she was sitting alone just a couple of tables down from us. Sergeant Jenny was a new face to me and a pretty one too. Garda O’Connell told me that she had just transferred to Dublin from Limerick after her promotion. Gemma Kelly was her first case up here and she wanted to make a good impression and so did I, with her. I made my excuses to the Garda I brushed back my eyebrows ran my fingers through my hair and then made my way over to Sergeant Jenny O’Rourke’s table. She looked nice and she looked approachable, so I approached. I stood by Sergeant Jenny’s table and said

“Sergeant Jenny O’Rourke?”

She stopped drinking her tea and stood up immediately to attention and said

“Yes Sir! How can I help you sir?”

I could see what was happening here and so could the rest of the canteen, this wasn’t going to be a good start to our collaboration and it probably buggered up any chance of a romance

“Sit down or stand down or whatever you say to each other I don’t work here I’m a private investigator Patrick O’Bern and I’d like to have a couple of words with you, if I may?”

Jenny looked around the room, not everyone in the canteen was smirking but there were a few. She then looked directly at me and said

“Go away Mr O’Bern, go away”

Well that first meeting did not go well, so without another word and seeing her hand reach down to her baton I left. This was just a hurdle; I wasn’t going to give up the case or trying to romance Sergeant Jenny. God Bless inter flora they had come to my rescue before and I was sure they would this time.
So leaving the police station with my web link and no computer I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I had a fair idea where Gemma had been but not who with or where she was going on the night of her untimely death.

The day was still young and I didn’t want to go home yet I wanted to give Mr. and Mrs. Kelly their monies worth. There are a few, very private drinking bars and clubs around the Temple area and I’d been to a few during my investigations trying to find cheap strong liquor late at night. I wasn’t a member of any of these clubs I just knew folk who knew folk and they’d let me in. There was a drinking establishment a few doors down from The Temple bar and it was very close to the corner of Essex Street. I knew that the bar would be open, it nearly always was, so I popped by. I rang the bell and stood in front of the camera and they buzzed me in. I went down a flight of stairs and there was another door it opened automatically and finally I was in. The Barman was a big bastard, you wouldn’t have argued with when he said “time gentlemen please”. He smiled tentatively at me I wasn’t a regular so he didn’t know my face but he was polite as he spoke

“How are yer? What do you want to drink?”

“A Guinness thanks a pint. Can I speak to the proprietor please?”

The big man’s voice or attitude didn’t change; he politely waved me through to a back door beside the bar and told me that he would bring my pint in to me, so I just went in. The room looked like an office. There was a desk and a couple of chairs I sat myself down in front of the desk and waited. I had to wait a few minutes because a good pint of Guinness does take a while to pour. The door finally opened and two even larger well dressed men came in, one holding a tray with what I assumed or rather hoped was my pint of Guinness the other was holding a small tool case. The one without the tray spoke first

“You’re to wait here Mr. Flynn will be joining us shortly”

Then they both stood there in silence still holding my pint of Guinness. It’s amazing how long the head of a pint of Guinness will stay looking good I often wondered how they do that. I didn’t want to think about anything else I was trapped in a room with two very big scary men, one with a tool case and I couldn’t see anything that needed fixing. After what seemed like a very long time, the door opened and a shorter, slighter but very well groomed older man came in I was glad that the two men were still looking after my pint and still holding the tool case, this meant that they didn’t move towards me. They just nodded and said in unison

“Hello Mr. Flynn”

And not another word more, the older man then spoke to me

“I hope the boys are looking after you Mr…. James! Where are your manners? Give the man, his pint. Now then Mr.…..”

I interrupted him

“It’s Mr. O’Bern Patrick O’Bern”

He continued

“Now then Mr. O’Bern you were asking after the proprietor, now I’m not saying I am the proprietor and I’m not saying I’m not but first may I ask you, are you from The Tax? Because if you are, you have to tell me, that’s the law. Well that’s the law here and in this situation. Isn’t that right lads?”
The two men nodded and as they nodded they grew by at least a foot in every direction. Mr. Flynn then carried on talking

“If you’re not from the tax then possibly you represent another proprietor and this might mean that you are here to offer me extra protection for my business. I trust that you can see that I’m in no need of protection. You however have come here on your own I have checked the cameras back and front. Who are you and what do you want?”

When he had finished talking the big man with the tool case moved forward a little and I gave Mr. Flynn a very quick answer

“ No No No No I’m not from the Tax and I don’t know any other proprietors I’m Patrick O’Bern and I’m a private investigator I’m investigating the death of a young girl found dead on the corner very close to this and a few other bars in the area”

“And how can we help your investigations Mr. O’Bern? We’re downstairs with no windows and I know our cameras don’t cover the corner in question I think you should drink your pint and go while the boys are still feeling friendly”

I put my hand in my pocket and as I did so, tool case man moved forward grabbed my arm and pinned me to the desk. The one who had been holding my pint reached into my pocket and pulled out a very harmless photo, they let me up again and handed the photo to Mr. Flynn

“Is this the girl?”

I answered him

“Yes. Do you recognise her?”

Mr. Flynn took the photo went over to his desk and opened the drawer. He took out a laptop computer opened it and then explained.

“I saw her face on the news, it was sad I imagine that her mother and father must be grieving so I’ll check our photo files. We keep photos of all our regular customers, their photos are taken every time they come in. These photos always time and date stamped. This is just in case any of our customers’ need a little corroboration regarding timing and placing of their whereabouts. It has sometimes been the case that time and date stamps have been altered. I can assure you that this is not a confession of guilt it’s just something to keep in mind. If your girl came in her within the last month then she’ll be on our video and photo files. It’s our policy to always let girls in even non members and if she was with a crowd of girls then she would have definitely be let in. All single men who are not members have to be signed in by two members otherwise there’s no admittance”

And sure enough she was there, Mr. Flynn checked the time and date on his computer and he found the video file for the night she died. I asked Mr. Flynn if I could see the film and he agreed however I couldn’t take the film file with me, everything that happened in this club stayed in this club. Mr. Flynn waved the my two guards away and we sat there together watching maybe the last hour of the life of Gemma Kelly
Gemma did come in with a flock of girls and they didn’t have to buy a drink all night. I found it strange that Mr. Kelly hadn’t mentioned Gemma’s friends, he seemed to know everything about her I surmised that possibly Gemma did keep some of her life private. As we watched the film we could see that the girls get very drunk and didn’t seem in any hurry to stop drinking. We saw one of Gemma’s friends take something small from her bag and handed this small object around to her friends. As the object passed from girl to girl they opened it and put something in their mouth and then finally the object was passed back to its owner. A little more than 10 minutes later the girls were dancing, at first with each other and then with every other willing male participant none of the men said no to a dance with a young girl.

I caught sight of Gemma sitting on a man’s lap, she was drunk and by this time I presumed stoned. Gemma was kissing the man and running her hands up and down his body. He grabbed one of her breasts and started to squeeze I could see from the film that this didn’t please her. Gemma wanted to kiss and flirt; she didn’t want to be manhandled. She slapped him and went back to her friends. The man seemingly unperturbed by Gemma’s slap followed her over. Gemma’s friends all surrounded her for protection, the man slapped one of them and the barman threw him out, he then ordered the girls to leave. There was another brief capture of the girls as they left the bar, this was taken by the outside camera and according to the screen this was forty minutes before her body was found. I asked Mr. Flynn if he knew who the man in the film, he knew him alright Mr. Flynn knew all his regular customers but once again

“What happens in the bar stays in the bar”

I knew better than to threaten Mr. Flynn so I tried to appeal to his better nature maybe his sense of justice and then I offered him a bribe, he laughed

“You couldn’t afford me son! But I’ll tell you what Mr. Private Detective I might need a snoop one day, so if you will give me 3 full day’s work when I need you. I’ll give you his name and nothing else. The film stays here, if the Guards come snooping around then I’ll know who sent them, Dublin is a small place and my colleagues can do a lot more than just serve pints. Now do we have a deal Mr. O’Bern?”

I nodded downed my Guinness and thanked Mr. Flynn I then left the bar feeling very happy that I still had all my fingers. The man’s name was Dermot Gallagher he lived in Sandycove only 10 miles from the bar. I thought yes! Mr. Gallagher, you might be worth a visit.

I took the bus home from St Stephen’s Green; my car was still in the shop. I treated myself to a takeaway from The Chinese by the Bus Stop close to where I stayed. I have and will never describe my little concrete cage as a home; it was like most things in my life at the time, temporary. I came in put the food on a plate. I had washed up that day so I had plenty of clean plates to choose from. I just sat myself and my Chinese down in front of the telly. The next day I woke up with the usual, a dry mouth and I could still taste the noodles, my hair was in need of good ironing and my eyes were blood red and sunken. I should not have washed down Chop Suey with Guinness I always do but I know I shouldn’t. The leftovers on the plate looked solid I then thought to myself

“I wonder if all that food is just sitting there solid in my stomach or stuck solid to the walls”

I often woke up pondering the imponderable I think it was my detective instinct that made me so curious about everything. Then another voice in my head said

“Let’s get back to the case in hand”

After a quick shower and a small of breakfast because I’m watching my figure because sadly nobody else is! It was time to make my way over to meet Danny I knew where he would be at this time of day I knew where he was most days. It paid to be methodical in his job. Daniel was a planner, he was a man that would never do anything wrong or unethical and he didn’t know the meaning of the word impetuous. I knew exactly where to meet him and at what time. It was always me who was late and the last one in the Café was obliged to pay for the coffees. I took my old scooter out from the cellar. I had won it playing cards I never for one moment thought that Ace high would win me the pot and Old Harry wasn’t pleased when he saw my hand I was lucky that he died two weeks later otherwise I thought one day he might kill me.

It is great riding a scooter through Dublin, you see so much that you don’t notice when you’re in a car. I had forgotten about the By-election called after the death of Teachta Dála William O’Day, he was a fine man or so they say. I bet he was drunk though when he crashed his car. The inquest said that he wasn’t but they all stick together these blokes. I remember reading about the crash. Coincidently he died the same night as Gemma but he died miles away from where her body was found. However He did drive a Hyundai. I could see that almost every lamppost and hoarding had an election poster on it. I remembered that we as a family always went down and voted together once we turned 18. Before then we just followed Ma and Da to the polling booth and waited outside while they voted. Da told us all

“People died for your right to vote, so it’s your duty to vote”

And we never let him down we vote every time. In this by-election many people and that included me, were worried that The National Socialist Party candidate might get in this time. Dublin was now full of foreigners and they didn’t all own Chinese takeaways or Pizzerias. My journey didn’t take long when you’re on a scooter you can just nip in and out of traffic I parked up outside the café and went in, and there was Daniel sitting there with his paper, he was on time I was 3 minutes late, the coffee and buns were on me again.

“Hello Big bro! How are you?”

Daniel put down his paper and nodded, he was a man of very few words but he did mutter a quiet hello back.

“So where’s my computer and clever phone?”

I enquired Danny was his usual cheerful self as he answered

“The computer and Smartphone are not yours until you sign this contract and they won’t belong to you until I’m paid back in full! Kapish?”

“Yes” I answered

“I understand now hit me with them and the contract. I’m on a job and it’s going to be a big payer”

Danny Boy handed over the phone, the computer and the contract and he supplied me with a pen. I’ve avoided signing many contracts through lack of a pen. I signed over half my yearly earnings so far to Daniel and with the business side finished I ordered a pot of coffee and some buns.

I paid again, after all a deal’s a deal. Next time I’ll be there first even if I have to wait outside for half an hour. Daniel and me chatted for about 30 minutes or so about nothing in particular. I got the feeling that he was holding something back from his little brother but I didn’t want to pry. Danny was family, he wasn’t a client he was just my brother and he never put a foot wrong. I felt sure that if there was something troubling Danny he would tell me when he was ready. We drunk our coffee ate our buns and said our goodbyes Daniel got into his new Hyundai i30 Estate and I mounted my sturdy steed

I got back to my place and then I set up the computer on my kitchen table. The name Daniel O’Bernstein was etched in big letters all over the computer. My brother wasn’t going to make it easy for any thief to sell this baby. It was my baby now and I had a copy of our contract to prove it. I turned it on waited for a few minutes and then put in my USB and all Claire’s files flashed up the screen. She was a meticulous young woman all her files were labeled, dated and each had a brief description this saved me a lot of time. I perused my way through the family albums, Gemma was a sweet looking kid and her mammy wasn’t bad. Mr. Kelly looked good in his uniform from what I could see from the photo he was one of the first Garda Síochána Reserves I imagined that he had some stories to tell. There was a short film of a Garda funeral Mr. Kelly was a coffin bearer so it must have been a friend of his. I wrote down the date of the funeral I wanted to find out who they were burying and why? The next file that I opened waslabelled“The Family Tree” I thought this looked intriguing. It would probably have nothing to do with the case but I’m a nosy old so and so.
The first document was more like a spider’s web than a tree but I followed with my finger over every strand. At the bottom of this web was Gemma Kelly above her was Ronald Kelly and his brother Miles. Their father was called William Kenly he was one of two children born to William and Aideen Kenly. The spider’s web then spread itself out a little to include grandma Aideen’s family. But the name that really stood out for me was William’s father, George Andrew Mac Kenly I could see now from Gemma’s research that the Kelly name had gradually changed over the years somehow from Mac Kenly to Kenly and finally Kelly. George Andrew Mac Kenly was a Scotsman and a Black and Tan; this could be another road to follow down. I read the rest of Gemma’s files but there was nothing more I could use to help me with the case I’m a private detective so it’s a little ironic that but I found myself feeling a little guilty prying into the life of a young dead girl. I decided to close the files and shut down the computer but just before I did I noticed one solitary word document labelled “I Cloud”. I opened the document and there was Gemma’s I Cloud link
I felt compelled to open the link even though I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. I activated the link and all Gemma’s Cloud documents were there before me. The files contained clippings from The Irish Times and The Irish Examiner dated October 1921. The two papers both had carefully worded editorials concerning the acquittal of a Black and Tan soldier Sergeant George Andrew Mac Kenly on the charge of manslaughter. The editorials described the case in question and it questioned the sanity and lucidity of some the elderly British judges serving on British and Irish Court Benches. Both newspapers called for a Royal Enquiry to be set up to examine the suitability of all Judges serving in The United Kingdom to insure that justice was always served

Sergeant Mac Kenly was accused of barricading an entire family in their home in order to extract the whereabouts of an IRA Squadron who had been operating in the area. Mac Kenly positioned a 4.5-inch howitzer in front of the house and ordered his men to fire life rounds at the house and to keep on firing until someone from the street came forward with the information he required. Sergeant Mac Kenly then ordered his men to stop firing for five minutes. He demanded that if no one came forward to volunteer the group’s whereabouts then he would fire one round at the house. No one came forward and a shell was fired. The result was almost total destruction of the house and it was feared that everyone in the house had perished. There was however one survivor, six month old Shawn James O’Reilly. Shawn was found crying underneath his dead mother’s body. He had by some miracle been shielded from the blast by his mother lying on top of him. The baby Shawn James O’Reilly was now being cared for by relatives
The next day Sergeant Mac Kenly was arrested for Manslaughter and was court-martialed. Mac Kenly was subsequently exonerated of all charges and was back out on the streets of Dublin just three months later. A young lawyer from Dublin so angered by the British army’s total disregard for The Law and the lives of innocent slaughtered families swore out a complaint. He took out a private prosecution against Sergeant Mac Kenly who was arrested by The RUC and he was brought back before a Crown Court Judge. On the opening day of the trial Sergeant Mac Kenly’s defence consul put forward a motion to dismiss the case He began his plea to the judge

“The death of this family was not the fault of Sergeant Mac Kenly he who was a soldier just doing his duty in service of The Crown. The real killers of this unfortunate family were The IRA and the O’Reilly’s neighbours who hid the whereabouts of the terrorists. The O’Reilly’s were not killed illegally. They were executed for sedition and treason in accordance with the rules of war. Great Britain is waging a war against terrorism in Ireland. The O’Reilly family was just an example of collateral damage in a war that needs to be won”

This rousing opening statement supporting The British Army engagement policies in Ireland was all the judge needed to hear. He dismissed the case outright and refused to hear the case for the prosecution. In his summation The Judge stated categorically that no member of His Majesty’s Armed forces should be prosecuted for doing their duty in service of The Crown and or The British Empire. He also ordered costs to be paid to Sergeant Mac Kenly for any inconvenience or slur on his good name

I finished reading the piece and shut down the file I wasn’t upset I wasn’t surprised. This was only one case and at school we had heard many scary stories about the British Occupation of Ireland. I then saw another file labelled TD. I opened it I thought that it was maybe an old school project but no! The file was saved correspondence and personal letters to and from the late Teachta Dála William O’Day. I opened the most up to date letter from Mr. O’Day and it was a very tender almost loving message. This file peaked my curiosity, he was a respected middle aged td and she was young Dublin girl with as far as I knew had no political connections and if this was an affair that I was uncovering, how did they meet? I started to read all the correspondence again only this time from the beginning.

The first was a document filled with a series of web links but I thought I’d better get back to those later. I then opened the first letter. It was a letter sent by Mr.O’Days secretary trying to confirm the identity of Gemma Kelly and was she a relative of Sergeant George Andrew Mac Kenly? The letter explained that Teachta Dála William O’Day was trying to trace his roots in order to create a full family tree and that she had also written to Ronald Kelly and was still awaiting a reply. The next letter was from Gemma to the secretary confirming her father’s identity and her own with a short note asking why, td William O’Day would want to know about her family.

Gemma’s curiosity was rewarded by the next message she received. It was a personal letter sent privately from his own e-mail account by William O’Day and he signed it “Great Uncle Bill.” The letter explained that while Sergeant Mac Kenly was stationed in Ireland, he sent for his mother, father and his baby sister Ellen. George Mac Kenly rented a house near the barracks in Dublin for his family. There was no work back in Scotland and no money, and at least here in Ireland his family had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

After the partition in 1922 The Mac Kenly’s stayed in Ireland but moved up to the North. George found work on the docks as did his father George Senior. George Kenly married a local girl and they had two children. In 1941 George’s sister Ellen made the mistake of falling in love with a young student she had met in Dublin. His name was Shane Finbar Ignatius O’Day. They were both studying Modern Languages at Trinity College. Ellen wrote to her family and told them that they wanted to get married. Ex-Sergeant George Andrew Mac Kenly was not going to let a Feinian into his family. He wrote to Ellen and ordered her back home, Ellen refused and she was banished from the family. The following May of that year, George Mac Kenly and his father were killed after a Bombing raid on the Belfast Docks. They had both been contacted by the foreman to work overtime to help clear the docks after the last bombing. The incident report stated that had accidently disturbed an unexploded shell during the cleanup they both died instantly. Ellen was never heard from again and after the war George’s son Liam moved to Dublin, he also fell in love with a Feinian. The prefix Mac was dropped by Liam and one letter changed by Liam’s son Kevin, the name Mac Kenly or Kenly was gone and another branch of The Kelly family appeared in The Dublin Phone Book
Td William O’Day had wanted to get in touch with his extended family not to reunite the Mac Kenly family but to make sure that everyone felt the same way as he did about the name Mac Kenly. William O’Day wanted this name Mac Kenly wiped from the antidotes of his family, Ireland and the history books..

The surname name Mac Kenly was not a name to be proud of. It was a name that would no doubt terminate William O’Day’s rise up through the ranks of Irish politics. Nobody would want to be connected with the likes of the notorious Sergeant George Andrew Mac Kenly. There wasn’t a chance in hell that the voters of Dublin would vote for a man whose Great grandfather was a murdering Black and Tan.
My inquisitiveness had been satisfied I now knew the link between William O’Day and Gemma Kelly but I still had to find out how or why Gemma died. Maybe it was just an accident perhaps Gemma’s death was caused by a cowardly Hit and Run driver. I surmised however that, since two members of the same family died on the same night just a few miles from each other there might feasibly be a connection that the Guards had overlooked. The television shows Top Gear and Xccelerate had recommended the Hyundai as a safe and reliable car but I was starting to think this make of car was actually a quite dangerous form of transport. My next task was to log on to the Police Sever Computer Network. I didn’t like using my temporary code because I knew that the network would eventually ask me to change my password and that would be the end of me as a user. It was like playing online Russian roulette but I was once again given access to the network. Now it was just a simple matter of accessing the link Garda O’Connell had given to me. I was glad there were no pictures I hate seeing dead bodies, this file was just pure text and transcribed into a simple language that police officers and dunces like me could understand

Gemma’s injuries were consistent with those that would be sustained after being run over by a vehicle, nothing strange so far. Gemma’s chest and ribcage were crushed by the impact and death would have most likely have occurred instantaneously or at least very soon after the impact. There were large traces of alcohol and Amphetamines found in Gemma’s blood but the actual cause of death was severe trauma to the body leading to irreparable damage to the victim’s heart and lungs. This preliminary forensics report was indeed written for people like me. The report also stated that given the size of the two intersecting roads and the amount of daily traffic also pedestrians that walk by every day, it would be impossible to isolate single DNA strands from the area. If individual traceable DNA strands were to be discovered on the scene, it would be impossible to give these traces a possible positive dateline.

There was one thing in the forensics report that did interest me though. Gemma’s clothes were soaked in urine. I’ve never died or been realistically close to death so I wondered

“Do you pee yourself before you die?”

My observation didn’t seem to flag up any interest from The Garda so I bowed to their vast experience. I logged out and then switched off my computer I didn’t care what Danny said, it was my computer now.
I was hungry and I contemplated over my best choice regarding my empty stomach. Was it going to be The Chinese or two Tesco’s ready meals? I opted for Tesco’s I could buy some cheap wine there as well. It was going on 9 O’clock and I had just finished my last drop of New Zealand wine when, my phone vibrated

“Hello PMV Detective agency. Patrick O’Bern speaking, how can I help you?”

A gruff voice at the end of the line said

“Mr. Flynn wants to see you”

I cheerily replied

“I’ll just check my diary and we can make an appointment”

“We’ll be there in 5 minutes”

And the conversation was over I had to get ready, find a clean shirt, there was no time to shave. And I thought

“Who does he think he is?

More to the point I wondered how he knew where I lived. It was 5 minutes on the button my phone rang and I was ordered to come outside. I was starting to feel a little worried I hope I hadn’t offended him. He looked like a very capable man, Mr. Flynn and a kind of man that I wouldn’t want to mess with. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in this business it doesn’t pay to be a hero. I went downstairs to the waiting car and I got in the back. The two big fellows were in the front and I wasn’t going to argue with one of them for the front seat. I arrived safely to the bar and was escorted downstairs. The barman remembered me smiled said hello and he asked me if I wanted my usual. I’d only been there once before but I smiled and said yes and he poured me a Guinness. It was the same procedure as last time I was taken behind the bar and led through the back door into Mr. Flynn’s office, minus my Guinness and told to sit down and wait. My Guinness and my two friends arrived back a few moments later, only this time my Guinness was set down on the table in front of me with a polite smile and there was no toolbox. Barely a moment later in came Mr. Flynn holding a snooker cue he nodded to me politely and began to speak.

“Good evening Mr. O’Bernstein, you kept that name quiet. I didn’t know that you were one of God’s chosen people”

“Good evening Mr. Flynn I’m not Jewish, you can have a look if you like! I’m a catholic. I was born and raised. In Dublin 6. I use the names Bernstein or O’Bernstein. In Belfast my name is Bern and in Dublin 2, I’m Patrick O’Bern at your service. Now what can I do for you? and has it got something to do with that snooker cue?”

Mr. Flynn looked down at the cue and smiled

“Oh this! I was just playing snooker with the Assistant Commissioner; he’s had to make a call to grant me a favour I asked of him. I’ll get back to my game as soon as our business is complete Tanya is entertaining Assistant Commissioner at the moment. You’re not going to get a beating from me, tonight! “
His face darkened, just a fraction when he finished that last sentence and then he continued talking

“I’ve got a job for you Mr. O’Bernstein Oh by the way, that’s a great crack you have with the name changing.

I wish I could do that, the only time I’m going to change my name is after plastic surgery and then I might have to call myself Gomez”

He then laughed really loudly and I felt obliged to join in

“You owe me three days graft Mr. O’Bernstein and I’m calling in one day starting from tomorrow night. I own a small piece of a very select Casino in Dublin and one of my employees is earning more money than he’s entitled to. This means I’m not getting all the money that I’m entitled to. I want you to find this man and tell me who it is. I hope you don’t fail me Mr. O’Bernstein because in my business failure isn’t an option”

I didn’t want to contemplate the consequences, of refusing Mr. Flynn’s kind offer of free employment might bring so I agreed and took a sip from my pint

“Yes of course Mr. Flynn I’ll find you man, when I find him, do I inform the Guards?”

Mr. Flynn smiled as he said

“No Mr. O’Bernstein our company has its own disciplinary procedures, just point him out and we’ll do the rest and then you just owe me two days. By the way! On the subject of why you owe me three days work. I did manage to track down Mr. Gallagher and have a word with him. You can rest assured that when I and my associates question someone they always answer truthfully, in the end. Mr. Gallagher left my establishment on the night in question and took the 111 night bus back to Sandycove and he picked up his car the next day, he owns a Ford Focus. This avenue of enquiry is closed to you now. Go back out to the bar and finish your drink Dominic the barman will give you the address of the casino I’ll bid you a good evening Mr. O’Bernstein”

I went back to the bar with my pint and sure enough Dominic gave me the address, tomorrow I’d have to hire a dinner suit and I didn’t imagine that Mr. Flynn was going to let pay me pay for that on expenses. I was out for the night so I thought I might as well down a few. I sat at the bar talking a little to Dominic. He seemed like a nice chap he was a big bugger but he was friendly enough. I started to look around the bar and I noticed that sitting in the corner, there was a well dressed elderly man flanked by a small group of burly younger men. They all spoke to the older men in a reverential manner. When his glass was empty one of them would immediately stand up and get him a drink. I could see that he drunk Guinness but only from a bottle and the bottle must not come from the cooler. He drunk Guinness in the traditional way at room temperature just like my dad and granddad I didn’t care about tradition to me a pint was a pint. It must have been the detective in me but I couldn’t help myself I had to know who this revered old man was

“Who’s that Dominic?”

I asked

“Now you know better than that Mr. O’Bernstein. You don’t ask questions here without permission and if you start to bother anyone, then you’re out! Understood?”

Dominic was a polite man but firm and I wasn’t going to mess with him. So I came up with a plan, the next time one of his lads came up to the bar I’d offer to buy the old fellow a drink, maybe that way I could at least say hello, he could always say no. That man took ages to drink a bottle of Guinness but eventually one of the lads came up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Guinness I took out a note and slammed it down on the bar

“This one’s on me”

The younger man smiled hesitantly and said

“Are you buying Great Grand Da a drink?

“Yes” I said triumphantly

“Well if you buy one of us a drink then you buys all of us a drink”

I could feel the blood running from my face this was going to cost me a fortune. Did I really want to know who so badly he was? Then someone inside me said

“Yes I did”

I found myself saying

“OK drinks for all of you”

Up they came to the bar one by one Eight Double Jameson’s and a bottle of Guinness. Dominic had a grin a mile wide on his face

“Shall I put this on your tab Mr. O’Bernstein?”

I cracked a smile and nodded yes, this was going to cost me another day with Mr. Flynn I took my drink and went over to their table to sit down, one of the men stood up and glared at me

“What are you doing? You weren’t invited over to sit with us, thank you for the drinks and a good evening to you sir”

As I turned around to go back to the bar the old man was helped up to his feet by one of his party I could see now, when he stood before me that he was very old man, he must’ve been at least 90 He spoke to the younger man who had sent me away and then he spoke to me

“Shawn that’s not how we greet strangers in this family and you, young man please come and join us. My name is Shawn James O’Reilly and these are my children grandchildren and great-grandchildren they can introduce themselves”

I could feel the my heart thumping in my chest as I introduced myself

“Good evening Mr. O’Reilly, my name’s Patrick O’Bern”

The rest of the table greeted me tenuously with the words

“Hello how are you?”

Mr. O’Reilly sat down again, he lifted his glass to say thank you for the drink then he spoke to me again

“I don’t recognise you Mr. O’Bern I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Do you have business here in town?”

I hate it when people start a conversation with a question, that’s usually my job. I answered Mr. O’Reilly as best I could I didn’t know that, I was actually among friends every one of them was a BFD ( A Big Fellow from Dublin)

“Yes Mr. O’Reilly I’m doing some business locally and in town”

“What business would that be then, Mr. O’Bern?”

This was a very blunt piece of manipulation and I couldn’t lie to Mr. O’Reilly. If he discovered that I hadn’t been telling the truth I could end up getting a severe kicking and if I told him the truth then there was a chance that I might get dragged outside for a kicking anyway, what a dilemma! I decided to tell him the truth I thought although this was a private bar this was still a public place.

“I’m a Private Investigator Patrick O’Bern of PMV Investigations”

“Oh I see! And what are you privately investigating at the moment”

He enquired

“I’m sorry Mr. O’Reilly that in my business, we have a code of strict confidentiality. All our cases are strictly between us and our clients”

As I uttered or to be more precise spluttered out these words, the entire table turned to face me, the mood of the room had suddenly darkened. There was a brief silence and then one of the larger BFD’s spoke

“I believe my granddad asked you a question Mr. O’Bern and you can answer the question here or outside in the alley”

Young Mr. O’Reilly’s gentle persuasion tactics worked a treat I suddenly felt compelled to answer all Mr. O’Reilly the elder’s questions

“I’m working on several cases at the moment I’m doing a job for the owner here and there’s a wayward husband I’ve been keeping an eye on I’m also investigating a tragic accident that occurred near here, for a grieving father”

Mr. O’Reilly enquired further

“Oh I see and how far have you got with your accident investigation? If it’s that poor young girl who got knocked over you’re looking into, I was informed by some friends that I have in The Garda Síochána that it was just a tragic accident. Perhaps it would be better for all involved to let sleeping dogs lie. Do you not agree Mr. O’Bern?”

I was not going to disagree with this man, life is too short and I wanted to one day be a grumpy old man

“I agree with you Mr. O’Reilly but the poor young girl’s father has paid me a retainer and I owe it to him and his wife to at least ask around, just a little to find out what precisely happened. Poor Gemma’s accident did raise a few questions and the man who ran her down has still not been found.”

“You have your job to do Mr. O’Bern and God Bless you for it. I suppose you’ll be wanting to get along now.

I’ll wish you a good night Young Sir”

I wasn’t thinking of going home just then but I could take a hint especially when it was backed up by eight BFD’s. So I finished my pint said my polite goodbyes left sharpish and got a bus home.
The next morning I was up, out and on my way to Goatstown to hire a Penguin suit I had a feeling that this job might take more than one night and I hoped the Mr. Flynn would understand my thoroughness to get the job done. I owed him three days graft and eight double Jameson’s. Mr. Flynn was a dangerous man but he was also a pragmatist. I felt that the best way to find my man was to visit the Casino for at least two or three evenings so that I could study each member of staff. Just one evening wasn’t going to be enough time to trap my man; he had been getting away with it for quite some time.
I got a good deal from Bond Brothers, it was 60 euro’s a night but I bullied the young man down to 110 for 3 nights. I also had to give him a deposit so no tomato juice for me. He packed the suit up in parcel and off. I went ready to ready for my next assignment and James Bond had nothing on me
I took the bus into town that night and I got off two stops before I needed to because I wanted the doorman to assume that I had parked my car down the road.
People who need to a take bus to a Casino shouldn’t gamble. I got to the main entrance and stood on the white square by the steps as the sign commanded. A screen on the wall suddenly came to life and a voice adjoined the writing on the screen.

“Good evening and welcome to Dublin’s Premier Casino please enter you membership number or touch the screen with your membership card. If you are not a member then please wait and a member of our staff will come out and greet you”

I waited for a few moments the camera at the top of the screen came to life the door opened and an extremely large man descended the steps

“Hello Danny How are you? I didn’t know that you were a gambling man”

This wasn’t the first time this had happened so I answered him

“No it’s not Danny I’m his brother Patrick”

“Oh! I’m sorry sir. How can I help you?”

The answer seemed obvious to me but I answered anyway

“I’d like to come in and give your wheel a spin or maybe play a little cards”

The big man was still polite but he wasn’t ready to let me yet

“This is a very exclusive club Patrick are you sure that you can afford to play here? We don’t encourage customers to play if there’s a risk that they might not be able to settle their account and you’re not a member”

“I can afford to play don’t you worry about that and it’s not my intention to lose I’m here to win”

The Big man persisted

“Do you have a current credit card Mr. O’Bern? If you do then I’d like to borrow it and check that it’s a valid card”

I gave him my credit card and he went back up the steps and closed the door. This was not an action that I or my brother would normally recommend but I wanted to get in. After a few minutes Mr. Big Man opened the front door again and beckoned me to come up the steps and into the casino. I was patted down for any concealed weapons. This was normal procedure in most places and then I was asked to hand over my mobile phone, this was a new one on me but I did as I was asked. Mr. Big Man led me over to the reception desk and a well dressed young woman smiled and asked me for some identification I couldn’t work out why, after all I imagined that she had just validated my credit card. I showed her my driving license and then my credit card was returned to me

“You’re not a member are you Mr. O’Bernstein?”

This had to be a rhetorical question but I answered it anyway

“No I’m not a member”

“Then there will be a fifteen Euro entrance fee, this fee is returnable if you decide to join and are accepted by the Casio Membership Club. This entrance fee will entitle you to one free drink at the bar as well as free tea and coffee from the machines in the Casino. That’ll be fifteen Euros’ please”

I handed her my card I was going to be chasing money before I even started gambling. The young woman then gave me a piece of card and I was allowed in. I looked at every single table, at first to eye up all the croupiers and then to see which game I wanted to play. There was also an entire wall lined up with fruit machines and every machine had a sound proof hood so as not to disturb the real gamblers. I could see that they had a Blackjack table, Poker, Brag and Baccarat. There was a roulette table room with a shut door policy to drown out any unwanted noise and in the same room a dice throwing table, this was a whole new world for me. I had played Blackjack before or 21’s, as we liked to call it at school. I wasn’t going to risk playing Baccarat that looked too complicated but it was important however that I sat in at every table if I was going to find my man. I went up to the bar and ordered my fifteen Euros free drink; sitting at the bar gave me a chance to look at all the tables. I could see the house winning and I could see the house losing. A game of Blackjack or Baccarat didn’t take very long I had to wait a little longer to see an entire game of Poker come to a close but finish it did. Mr. Big Man came in once or twice I could feel it in my bones that he was checking up on me, just sitting here at the bar. I could be counting cards or waiting for some poor devil to run out of money on a fruit machine. There had been so many times down at John Kohoe’s that I lost my last Euro, just to have some wanker wait until I was finished before putting his few cents in to win the lot. I suppose it’s all fair in Love, war and Fruit Machines.

Chapter Seven

I waited until there was a seat free on The Poker Table, all the big riders play poker. I held my own I didn’t bet too high I wasn’t winning but I wasn’t losing I was being a conservative player. After about half an hour there was a tap on my shoulder by my friend Mr. Big Man. There was a member who wanted to take my place at the table. I wasn’t going to argue with him or the rules of the club I vacated my seat and went back to the bar helping myself to a cup of free coffee. As I sat by the bar nurturing my plastic cup I noticed the dealer at the poker table take out a new deck and open it then he then put the new deck down and ask everyone at the table if they were ready to play. As he asked the question he picked up the old deck and put the new deck into a slot by his chair. I knew this card dealer was up to something I couldn’t get any closer because the table was full and I couldn’t stay where I was because Mr. Big Man kept coming in. I had to get off my chair, play and do some gambling I just hoped that the flexible friend I had in my wallet would remain flexible so I could carry on with this job.
I went over to the Blackjack table. There was a very healthy looking woman dealing the cards I couldn’t understand how a dress could reveal so much and still conceal so much. I just kept looking at her face and hands. I noticed that she was losing heavily to just one punter and the rest of us were just ticking over. I’d win 5 Euros and then end up losing 6 the next time around. I wasn’t wagering too much I didn’t want to give the Bank guys in Copenhagen too much to worry about. I was just plodding along a Euro rise here a hold and a couple of busts. The players next to me were real high rollers wads of cash were being given to the runners to buy more chips as they won and lost more money than I’d ever seen.

A new deck landed on the table and she did exactly what the Poker dealer did, no one at the table noticed they were too busy counting their chips or looking at her cleavage. I think we were all hoping that a button might pop off somewhere. Mr. Big Man came in again and I was again politely asked to move off this table because a member wanted my place. I couldn’t play Poker and I couldn’t play Blackjack so I thought I would try Baccarat. I’d seen James Bond play it in Casino Royale I was sure that I could risk a couple of Euros trying my hand. The Baccarat table was a table for Dublin’s elite there were no hired suits sitting here. The table looked like King Arthur’s Round table after some knight with a death wish had cut a square hole in the side. I spotted a free chair and I sat myself down.

I got that feeling of warmth and welcome that you get when you sit next to a posh person on the tram. I felt unloved, undesired, it was almost as if they didn’t want me sitting there. I had paid my fifteen Euros’ and I felt that I had every right to sit at this table. I must confess to being a little surprised when my neighbour took out his mobile phone, as mine had been confiscated at the door. I did wonder why his wasn’t. I saw him type a quick text and then he put his phone back in his pocket and within seconds Mr. Big Man informed me that a member had asked to sit at this table. I wasn’t sure that it was just a coincidence but I got up and made my way to the Brag table.

At the Brag table I was welcome, it was all small bets and some quiet chatter I felt at home here and relaxed. The one problem I faced at the Brag table was there was nothing untoward happening. The new deck of cards was brought in and the old one was thrown away, so I moved on, the good news was I was up I’d won some money. The only place left now was the Roulette Table I grabbed a cup of coffee, a cappuccino this time and I sat myself down at a little table in the corner of the casino
I started to think that if me an amateur, could so easily spot dodgy goings on at the casino then so could their cameras. It occurred to me that Mr. Flynn could have found out who was cheating him, he didn’t need me. I was beginning to wonder what I was doing here. Mr. Flynn didn’t seem like the kind of man that would invent jobs for people; he didn’t seem to be at first glance to be an altruistic man. I was still pondering and finishing my cappuccino when Mr. Big Man came into the room again he came straight over to me and this time he was smiling.

“Mr. O’Bernstein Sir I have your full membership card here and please accept this fifteen Euros in chips with the compliments of the casino. A seat has suddenly become vacant for you at one of our poker tables if you’d like to play a few hands, please follow me”

I couldn’t find the words to describe how I felt at that moment, the word surprised was just not big enough I took the card and the chips and went over to the table I did however still feel obliged to show the dealer my membership card before I sat down. He glanced at it and smiled, a seat had suddenly become vacant. God knows what they are doing to that poor fellow who sat there before me, right now!

I sat at the table and everyone was polite, they all smiled and nodded. There were seven seats for seven players but we were only five at the table. The dealer asked if we were ready to play and he started to deal out the cards. It was such an amazing night I just couldn’t stop winning I was seated with four of the worst Poker players I’d ever seen. They pumped up the pot so many times, just to fold at the last very last moment I won vast amounts of money with just Ace High or a Pair of Sevens. In the end the rest of the players just ran out of money and then there was just me and the dealer left and he wasn’t allowed to play.

I went to the counter to cash in my chips and there was exactly ten thousand Euros. The cashier asked me if I wanted to pay the money into my casino account, did I want cash, a cheque or a money transfer. I couldn’t answer her, my head was spinning I had never won so much money before or since.

What does a winner do? Bank = Taxman, Cash= Danger. People have died for a lot less money than this. There seemed to be only two options were on the table because I wasn’t going to give it back to The Casino. Then it came to me, no banks no tax, no trace I could put the cash in my safety deposit box at the bank the next morning. I had a box at the bank for all my sensitive files, recordings and films. Thanks to the age of the computer it was just a big box with a handful of USB’s and a portable hard drive, there was plenty of room for ten thousand lovely Euros

I opted for the cash. The cashier gave me two hundred, 50 Euro notes the total width was about 9 inches about 23 centimeters in new money. It was a big pile for my little dinner jacket pocket. I asked the girl behind the screen if she had a bag or something that I could put the money in. She produced a little black rucksack deposited the money inside and closed the zip and with a smile handed it over to me. I then went to the reception to retrieve my phone. I booked a taxi myself from a firm that I knew; it arrived a few moments later. I asked Mr. Big Man if he would be so kind as to escort me to the taxi door and he agreed with a big smile.

Mr. Big Man opened the back door of the taxi and I knew that I was safely on my way home. It was a nice new taxi, it had a comfortable back seat, tinted windows, soft music playing and there was a nice smell of lavender. I couldn’t see the driver there was a partition window which frankly I liked the look of, this car had more the feel of a limousine than of an O’Shaughnessy taxi.

I thought to myself that The O’Shaughnessy Cab Company had certainly gone up in the world. I knew that on a good night with no traffic my journey home would take about twenty minutes so I was surprised that this trip was taking so long. I hoped that the driver wasn’t trying to take me on tourist route I’d already seen “The Stiffy” and I just wanted to get home. Before I could say anything to the driver, we were on the motorway going to, who knows where? I banged on the glass but got no reaction, he just drove. A little while later we took a slip road off the motorway, he stopped the car opened the back door and throw in a small black cloth sack, as he did so my phone rang and a voice said

“Good evening Mr. O’Bernstein would you be so kind as to put the sack over your head it’s ok it’s clean so no there’s no chance of catching anything”

He laughed at his own joke and then ended the call I had a notion that this wasn’t a request that I could say no to, so I did as he asked and I put the sack over my head. I can only surmise that the driver checked somehow that I had complied with the request and was now wearing the sack because the car started up again and we continued our journey. I don’t know how long we were driving for. I did start counting up in units of sixty but then I lost count of how many units I’d counted so I think possibly that we drove on for another ten minutes. The car came to a halt and then the driver opened the back door. He put something rectangular in my hand and closed my fingers over it. I know now that it was only a phone and the same voice as before started a one way conversation

“Hello again Mr. O’Bernstein please don’t be too alarmed, my associate will help you out of the taxi and guide you into the building. I must stress that right now the sack you have over your head is bulletproof, while you wear it, no bullets can harm you so I wouldn’t recommend you removing it.”

I was led from the car through what I assumed was a doorway, we walked a little more and then we were outside again. I was carefully guided down some steps I could feel a door open in front of me and then I saw a small shaft of light, creep in under my sack. I was led to a chair and then sat down. I then heard the man’s voice again only this time whispering. I sort of recognised knew who it was, I thought that he maybe was one of The BFD’s I had met in the bar the night before. This almost positive recognition was not something that I would have sworn to in court even under oath or a subpoena. I wasn’t quite sure of the correct code of behaviour for this kind of meeting. Should I speak first or should I wait until they started the conversation? I suppose this was my way dealing with my feelings of confusion and fear. I decided to wait and after what seemed like a long time my host spoke to me

“I hope you’re not too uncomfortable Mr. O’Bernstein I’d offer you a drink but then you’d have to take off the sack and we don’t want that now, do we?”

“No I’m fine here thank you I’ll keep it on I do need to pee though. Sorry! It’s my nerves”

There came a surprisingly sympathetic reply

“Ok Mr. O’Bernstein I’ll get my associate to take you to the toilet. There’s no window, so don’t think about it and besides we know where we are, and you don’t!”

This was a relief in so many ways I was in fact dying for a pee and the way my stomach felt maybe even a sit down. I also surmised that if they were going to shoot me then perhaps they wouldn’t let me go to the toilet first. A big hand took me gently by the arm and led me across the room a door was opened I was led inside and then the door was closed behind me. I tried to take off the sack to find the toilet but a booming Dublin accent said

“No!”

I was then led to the toilet I had no choice I took off my jacket, let it slip to the floor pulled down my trousers, put down my hand to find the seat and sat myself down. I can tell you it’s not the easiest thing in the world to try and do a dump in the dark with a stranger a few feet from you, but I managed. There was no point trying to wipe my arse I couldn’t see a thing and I didn’t venture to ask my friend over there. I just did my business pulled up my trousers and as I did my jacket was given to me. I was then allowed to wash my hands and given a towel I said thank you to my new friend but he didn’t answer I was then led back into the room sat down again and the man began to speak to me again

“I hope you’re feeling more comfortable now I know that it’s hard to concentrate when you’re dying to go to the toilet. Why you here and what have you done? These are two good questions and I’ll start with those. You’re here for a little tête-à-tête, just two men shooting the breeze. I love Westerns don’t you? You haven’t done anything; well, you have done something, but almost everything you’ve done so far was planned in advance by us. We have no plans to shoot you tonight”

My captor then went on to explain how the Kelly’s were given my name by the family liaison officer at the station. This was officer was a man had a big family, a large overdraft and a fear of being intimidated by an even bigger family. Gemma’s death was at first treated as a tragic accident by The Garda Síochána and that the driver was being sought after. This officer told Mr. Kelly that perhaps Gemma’s death warranted further investigation but not by the local Garda, there were some rotten apples in that basket.

The Kelly’s were made aware of a special fund that had been set up by concerned citizens to make sure that justice was served and was seen to be done. This was a special charitable fund set up by The O’Reilly Corporation. Mr. Kelly applied on line and got an almost immediate reply from the Board of Trustees. Dear Mr. Kelly etc and two days later money from the fund was paid into their account. That same day Mr. Kelly phoned me to look into the case.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing I thought I was investigating a case, following leads being a detective. I asked about the Private bar I went to, my conversation with Mr. Flynn and my chance meeting with Mr. O’Reilly and I wondered how they knew where I had been that evening. My captor cheerily answered all my questions

“There are only three private drinking clubs along that stretch and we have an interest in all three. As soon as you walked down the stairs your face was clocked and Mr. Flynn was sent a text message to come and meet you. He’s an old friend of the family”

I was still confused

“What about the film? It showed that Gemma was in the club”

“She was in a club that night, it didn’t matter which one they’re all decorated the same I’ll give you our decorators card if you’re interested”

“No I’m fine thanks my flat’s a renter and I’m between offices. What about Gemma’s computer all the information on it concerning Sergeant Mac Kenly and the O’Reilly family massacre, not to mention her correspondence from Td William O’Day?”

I asked these questions I thought, somewhat triumphantly and he answered with no sense of irony

“Computers are funny things they can do almost anything these days but one little virus can turn a Super computer into a box filled with spare parts”

Chapter Eight 

I still didn’t know what was going I couldn’t work out why Mr. Flynn had given me Dermot Gallagher’s name and I didn’t understand why I had been sent to the Casino or why I was sitting in this chair. So I asked him what was going on and why I was sitting blind folded in a chair he started to explain

“The O’Reilly family has come a long way since The Battle of Clontarf. We are found all over Ireland and in The Americas. We have stakes in many Dublin businesses including drinking clubs and the odd Casino. When your card was checked you came up on our system and we contacted the Casino. We wanted to give you ten thousand untraceable Euros to give you the option on this occasion to be our side”

I innocently insisted

“I won that money playing cards”

My new friend’s reply came quick and resolute

“You won that money in such a way that it could never be traced back to The O’Reilly family. You were given the job by Mr. Flynn as a favour to us. Mr. Flynn knows who’s cheating him; he knows all the tricks and all the cons. He would have gone out of business years ago if he had let people get away stealing his profits and our percentage. There was one dealer who he caught last year and he still works there and he will for the next five years surviving on tips. He thought that he could do a runner but there’s only one way that you can disappear in Ireland without trace and from that way there’s no coming back. In your investigations Mr. O’Bernstein you discovered or were allowed to discover a lot of information about our family. We pieced together almost everything for you, to enable you to help us, in one of our endeavours. We let you enter our circle and now we are offering you a cash incentive to keep our family secrets, secret”

I sat there just listening I didn’t have much choice I wasn’t tied up I could have stood up and walked around but where could I have gone? I didn’t want to bump into anyone or stand on a BFD’s foot trying to make a getaway. This was all new to me, in my job I had hung around in bars watching wayward husbands and wives. I had peeked through windows and taken photos with a long lens. I was just a sleazy private investigator I had never met people like this before. These people seemed to be, for want of, believe me a better word, dangerous. My captor’s mood seemed to soften a little and to my surprise he offered me a drink and a smoke, he said to me

“I think I could find a way to offer you a smoke and dram”

At that moment I thought he had changed his mind about shooting me after all I thought to myself

“Oh God! No! I’m being offered my last cigarette and I need to take this suit back and I still owe Danny money I don’t want to die tonight”

I could hear him walking over to me and I felt something sharp touching my face, it turned out to be a pair of scissors. He cut a hole in the sack put a cigarette in my mouth and lit it and then gave me an ashtray. For all non-smokers out there, I needed that cigarette! I had to wait for the whiskey I only had two hands. As I smoked the cigarette I ventured to ask him again to explain to me why they wanted to give me Ten Thousand Euros. There were other cheaper methods of gaining my cooperation, he answered me thus

“Well Mr. O’Bernstein, as an organisation we’ve learned over the years that there many ways of doing business. We have now perfected a method of negotiation that works for us. Our method gives our customers or competitors three options. The first thing we offer is The Gold Bar and then we offer The Iron Bar and if this fails then we offer them the Gun Barrel. You were offered The Gold Bar I hope and trust that this means that we have an amicable agreement”

I knew that he couldn’t see my eyes or my face but I nodded with all the enthusiasm I could muster and I think he got the message. The ashtray was taken from me and a glass put into my hand Sláinte I downed my whiskey in one and as the last drop touched my throat he began to speak again

“Consider this Mr. O’Bernstein we Catholics believe in two Gods. There’s the Old Testament God of Vengeance and Punishment and there’s The Kind, Loving and Forgiving God of The New testament and these two Gods are worshiped as one. Shawn James O’Reilly met the gentle God in 1921 when his life was spared after a Black and Tan war crime. The entire O’Reilly family perished that day apart from one member, an innocent child. That day Shawn James O’Reilly was touched and saved by the loving merciful God and he is still alive, loved and blessed today. In 1941 a 20 year old orphan vowed to the Vengeful God that he would make the entire Mac Kenly family bare one, to pay for the atrocity that took place that day, an atrocity that left him alone.”

He continued unabated I was in no position to stop him

“In May that year the first blow for vengeance was struck as George Mac Kenly and his father were blown to kingdom come, not be the Germans but by friends with long memories. Since that day in 1941 there have been house fires, car crashes and an accidental drowning and the very last two, but one member of the Mac Kenly family died tragically on the night Rona Kelly died. Now there is only one member of the Mac Kenly family left Mr. Ronny Kelly. Mr. Shawn James O’Reilly can now die in peace knowing that the vow he made to the Vengeful God has been fulfilled”

My captor then explained to me how simple it was to kill two birds with one stone. Td William O’Day wanted to clear all his skeletons out from his cupboard and Gemma Kelly was a young girl curious about her roots. William O’Day was a big man in Irish politics and it followed that an impressionable young girl like Gemma would be thrilled to find out that she and William O’Day were cousins. They arranged to meet that night, there was a late sitting at the Dáil and Gemma was on the town with friends. They agreed to meet outside The Temple Bar because it wasn’t too far from Leinster House. William O’Day had no way of knowing how long the arms of the O’Reilly family stretched, they actually stretched right into his office and inside his computer

The O’Reilly family knew where he was going and who he was going to meet God’s vengeance would finally reign down on the last but one of The Mac Kenly’s. William O’Day gave them no trouble; our boys just opened their jackets and flashed their guns. They have cameras everywhere outside The Temple so they didn’t want to be too obvious. At about the same time only a few streets away Gemma Kelly had just stormed out of Mr. Flynn’s bar and was making her way to Temple Bar where she was also confronted by armed men. Gemma peed herself at the sight of the guns. She didn’t scream she was too scared Gemma Kelly followed the armed men like a lamb to be slaughtered. The boys collected Mr. O’Day’s car and drove it with him to the corner. Gemma was told at gun point to lie down on the road and Mr. O’Day was ordered to drive over her and not being a brave man Mr. O’Day didn’t argue or flinch he just drove straight at the poor girl. He was ordered to stop for a moment to make sure she was dead and she was.

“The rest you know Mr. O’Bernstein it was all in the paper. Td William O’Day died in a car crash staged by us and rubber stamped by the local Garda. The by-election is in two weeks and we have a favoured Candidate. Mr. O’Day’s alcohol test results from his autopsy will be leaked to the press along with a sworn statement from a man who witnessed Mr. O’Day getting into a car drunk that night and driving towards Essex Street, where a poor young girl was killed. We are hopeful that this disclosure might sway some votes away from the late Mr. O’Day’s replacement. There are only two main parties down to win this By-Election and The National Socialist Party candidate has our vote.”

When he had finished talking he filled up my glass again he clinked his glass with mine and said

“Sláinte Mr. O’Bernstein We’re going to take you home now. The O’Reilly family does not consider you to be a threat at the moment I mean to say you’ve met us now, we know each other and we know where you live”

I finished my whiskey there was no point seeing it go to waste and as I downed my drink a strong hand gripped my arm gently guided me up and then up and out into the fresh air. As I left the building my legs just gave way and I fell to the ground my throat welled up and I started to cry uncontrollably. I just couldn’t stop myself from crying I couldn’t pull myself together I think back now, that it was just the sheer relief of still being alive and on my way home. I was picked up off the ground by two pairs of hands and carried into the back of the car. When the door closed I just sat there and waited for the car to move off. A moment or two later the car engine purred into life and we were mobile again. I left the sack over my head I didn’t dare take it off until I was back safely outside my home. The music started again and I could feel the car getting warmer I laid my head back and closed my eyes and the next thing I knew was the sound of someone banging on the window. I could hear the sound of the car door opening and I felt that now I could remove the sack I laid it next to me and got out of the car. I gently closed the door and the car started to move off. The driver then stopped the car again beeped his horn once and then opened the back door again. As the door opened and the light came on I saw my little black rucksack. I reached in retrieved it closed the door and the car moved slowly away. I then let myself into my flat took a beer from the fridge and thanked God that I was still alive. I slept the sleep of the dead that night and when I awoke I thanked God once more for giving me another day.

That next morning I knew there were some things I had to do I went to the bank and deposited my money into the safety deposit box and then I went to the church to confess and ask God and my local priest for guidance. I hadn’t seen the inside of a church for such a long time. I walked in I dipped my fingers in The Holy Water I made the sign of the Cross and there he was, Old Father Brenan I hadn’t seen him in years I knew that he wouldn’t remember me so I went up to him to introduce myself and before I could say a word he said……

“My God Lord as I live and breathe, it’s Patrick Michael Vincent O’Bernstein. How are you my son?”

I don’t know how they do it but Irish Catholic priests never forget a name or a face I was flabbergasted I just said hello and I asked him to hear my confession. He took a quick look at his watch and then he agreed. I told Father Brenan the whole story from start to finish and he just listened unmoved like he’d heard it all before. At the end I asked Father Brenan to explain to me the point of killing all these people in secret. The way I looked at it there was no point to reeking revenge on an entire family and not letting anyone know about it. Father Brenan smiled and gave me that look of exasperation he use to give me during catechism classes before my First Holy Communion He said

“Patrick Michael Vincent O’Bernstein! You know nothing about the ways of Our Lord. He sees everything Shawn James O’Reilly didn’t make a promise before man, he made a promise before God and he made a promise to a God that we no longer worship. The God of the Old Testament was a Vengeful God. He did smite down the ungodly but his son Jesus taught us to love our enemy. It’s true; there are very few people on this earth who will know anything about the revenge killings of all those innocent people. But God knows and I think that you should tell the Garda Síochána and the British Police everything that you know but I’ll leave that to your conscience I am bound by the Seal of Confession. Say five Hail Mary’s, Five Our Fathers, now say The Act of Contrition with me and let me see you back here more often”

Father Brenan blessed me and forgave my sins. H also recommended that I give the Ten Thousand to the Church “God Loves a Trier” That money was not going to the Church I put a fiver in the poor box and I left. I had one more thing to do that day and I couldn’t do it until the evening. I went home and sat there in silence, just thinking about Ronny and Sheila Kelly. I knew what happened to their daughter and why it happened, but would knowing the truth bring them peace? I couldn’t bring myself to tell a mother and father that they had lost their only daughter, because in 1921 a man they didn’t know had killed a family, they didn’t know.

I walked into the city that night and I took the tram to The Kelly’s, it stopped close by their house. I rang the doorbell and Mrs. Kelly opened the door she smiled and let me in. I imagined that she thought I’d have some news to tell them about their only child’s death I had news ok but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Mr. and Mrs. Kelly the whole truth. I could tell them however that I believed that Gemma’s death was caused by a drunk driver and that I had informed the Garda Síochána about my suspicions. I was assured by sources that I had at the local station that the case was going to be re-examined and rigorously investigated I assured The Kelly’s that the man who killed their daughter would be caught because I had faith in the police and the Irish legal system. It was only a matter of time before the Guards would find that man, he couldn’t hide forever.

This wasn’t the truth but then again it wasn’t an untruth. I knew that the late Mr. William O’Day was going to be named as the driver in two weeks time but I couldn’t tell them the whole story. I told Mr. Kelly to keep his fee I didn’t want it. I suggested that he gave the money to charity or took Mrs. K on holiday. He looked a little surprised when I turned down the money but he shook my hand and thanked me. I said no to tea and coffee Mr. Kelly offered me a dram but I said no thanks I had the car outside. After a short farewell to them both I was on my way out the door. It was fortunate for me that Mr. Kelly wasn’t a stand and wave farewell kind of man I was pleased when I heard the sound of the front door close behind me. It was only a short walk to the tram stop and it’s a regular service that stops just outside John Kohoe’s and today was the day that I could pay my Bar Bill

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