Peace Attend Thee

By Joanne McGough

With his new wife expecting, Chief Inspector Desmond Joyce of County Dublin’s Garda Siochana has babies on the brain. Unfortunately, so does the culprit who stole a newborn out of a pram. Desmond oversees the kidnapping case when he returns from his honeymoon. He and his garda almost have him in their grasp, causing the kidnapper to go on the run. After a multi-nation manhunt, the case hits home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laurel Highlands Publishing
• Release date: Jul 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781941087466

Joanne McGough

Joanne McGough was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and now lives in the Ligonier area of Pennsylvania with her collie and cat. She is a retired registered nurse who specialized in hospice nursing. Joanne loves to sing and is active in the music ministry at her local church. She loves flowers, traveling, cooking, her children, grandchildren and values her friends dearly.

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Part One

1

Friday, August 23, 1968

Emma cleared the last of her clothes from the large closet in her bedroom. She packed them in the trunk, closed the lid, and snapped the lock shut.

In a separate closet hung her clothes for tomorrow including a very special dress. It was pale blue, lacy, and feminine. She had a tiny blue hat with a veil and black patent leather shoes. She would wear all these tomorrow morning when she became the wife of Chief Inspector Desmond Joyce, he of the Garda Siochana.

She smiled when she considered the irony of her situation. Ten weeks ago, Desmond Joyce came to Howth from Dublin Castle to investigate the murder of Major Arthur Fitzgerald. What a shock it had been when the murderer turned out to be her own, recently deceased husband, Tommy Quinn.

Emma and Desmond Joyce were immediately attracted to each other. The night after Tommy was buried, they had made love. By the end of July, she thought was pregnant. A visit to Dr. Heron confirmed her suspicion.

The doctor immediately guessed that Inspector Joyce had fathered her child. Emma had neither shame nor embarrassment when she told the doctor how much she and Desmond loved each other. She and the doctor talked about her age and how it would impact her pregnancy, but he assured her that the odds were in her favor. Forty wasn’t that old. She had a really good chance of having a normal pregnancy and delivery, and a perfectly normal baby, next March.

Desmond was delighted to learn of the pregnancy. He proposed to Emma instantly, and the next day he presented her with a one-carat, emerald cut diamond ring. They set the date for August 25, 1968.

Father O’Rourke agreed to marry them and dispensed with the Banns. This would be his last official act as a parish priest. He planned to retire in September, citing his declining health and advancing age. He said, though, that he was pleased to see Emma so happy. He added that he was aware of the feeling shared by her and the inspector. No one had to tell him. Also, he hoped he would be invited to baptize the baby.

Emma looked around her bedroom. This would be the last night for her to sleep in this bed, this room, or this house. Tomorrow, she would marry Desmond and move into the house he bought for them on Carrickbrack Hill Road. It was a lovely house, detached. Made of stucco with a tile roof, it boasted of a front garden and a rear garden. A baby needs a garden to play in, Desmond had said. And a kitten, he’d added.

Her delight was unsurpassed. Every time she thought about how her life had blossomed, she had to tell herself she deserved this, she had earned it. Her friend, Francie Houlihan, was a great support.

I know not ta speak ill o’ the dead, Francie told her, but Tommy was no true husband ta ya. Ya looked like ya were dying’ an early death, worried all time about ‘im ‘n ‘is drinkin’.

Francie added, Look at ya now. Ya glow! ‘N don’t let anyone point a finger at ya cause of this baby. Yer a good woman.

Oddly enough, Emma hadn’t confessed her sin, that of having sex outside of marriage. She didn’t feel guilty, so why should she have to do penance?

Emma checked the time and realized she had less than an hour to ready herself before Desmond arrived. Some of his co-workers and friends were giving him a bachelor party tonight, and he insisted that she attend with him. She’d purchased a new frock for this occasion, too. The dress was black, but the severity of the color was greatly softened by large, pink roses printed all along the border. She would wear pink lipstick and rouge, and Desmond would love seeing her like this. In fact, Desmond paid for this dress, her wedding dress, and her going-away outfit. He’d insisted that he be allowed to dress the mother of his child.

She applied her makeup, then went downstairs to the parlor to watch for him. A thought occurred to her, a frightening thought that made her feel cold inside and caused her breathing to catch for a moment. The thought appeared abruptly, a few times every day. It began, ‘What if.’ What if something happened to him, or something went wrong at the wedding? What if something was wrong with the baby? The thought paralyzed her instantly every time.

Emma’d relied on her faith many times in her life to help her through painful or frightening times. Now, it was her faith she called upon to reassure herself. She’d earned every good thing that came to her.

Desmond pulled his red Jaguar up to the curb right on time. He beeped the horn but got out of the auto anyhow and came to the door of Sea View. He saw that the Bed and Breakfast sign had been taken down. Emma had managed to sell her home, furniture, and business to a charming young couple who would continue the business under their own name and sign.

Des opened the door and walked right in to meet Emma. They embraced, then stood back a bit from each other. The love in their smiles was unmistakable.

You look wonderful, he said warmly. Are you ready? The Jag is right outside.

They left the house and settled themselves into t elegant but small auto. He turned the auto and headed to Dublin on the Dublin-Howth Road.

Are you all settled in our house? she asked.

Settled but lonely, he answered.

I’ll be there tomorrow, she said. Then, she added, I’ve been thinking about something.

He nodded for her to continue.

Well, I know how important this Jaguar is to you. But… in three months or so, I may not be able to get in or out of it.

I’ve thought of that, too, he said. And, with an absolutely straight, sober face, added, I’ll buy you a bicycle.

Her laugh was spontaneous, a sweet, girlish giggle that delighted him. He took her hand and squeezed it a bit. He had never been a jovial, light-hearted man, but lately he sensed a change in himself. He was happy.

He was looking forward to this party in his honor. He would be proud when he introduced Emma as his future wife.

Have you heard from any of your recent guests? he asked.

Yes, she said happily. I received a letter in this morning’s post from Jean Blair. She’s leaving for Australia next week. She was able to locate the man who’d been her first and only love. He emigrated from Ireland to Australia fifteen years ago. He wanted her to go with him at the time, but she wouldn’t leave her mother alone. There was no other family. But now, she’s quit her job and given her cat to Mary MacGregor. You remember her.

I remember her well. She’s a formidable redhead, Des answered with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. What’s become of her and that American couple?

Well, Mary went back to Scotland. The Murphys went back to the USA, but I’m told he will retire in two years and plans to move back to Ireland. His wife says she won’t return with him.

Who told you all that? he asked.

She replied, Jean Blair. In her letter.

His comment was, Mmmmm.

Then he asked, There was another guest, wasn’t there? I seem to remember five guests in June when Major Fitzgerald was killed.

Yes, certainly. There was Mr. Morgan from Wales. I received a letter from him last week. I told you.

You did. I recall. He’s going to write a book about the murder at your B and B.

Emma added, He assured me he’d change the names. No one will recognize the B and B as Sea View. I hope he doesn’t describe the people too well.

Desmond pulled his auto into a parking slot at the restaurant. He refused to let a valet park his car. He turned off the motor, turned to Emma, and asked if she was ready.

Almost, she replied. She asked him if the people gathered knew she was pregnant.

No, he assured her. You can tell me when the time is right to tell people. I don’t think it has to be tonight.

2

Friday, August 23, 1968

At Dublin Castle, headquarters of the Garda Siochana, two sergeants and a commissioner sat deep in discussion. They were waiting for the sergeant from the Clontarf Station, Dublin’s station number three.

The Clontarf garda were investigating the abduction of Sarah O’Neal’s baby yesterday. Apparently, no witnesses had come forth and no clues had been found. A Sergeant Frank Black was coming from Clontarf to meet with them, presumably to ask for extra manpower.

At ten o’clock that morning, Sgt. Black arrived. He was shown to the meeting room where he met Sgt. Greco, Sgt. McCoy, and Commissioner Roach. The latter took charge of the meeting and asked Sgt. Black to update them on the O’Neal case. Black was happy to do so.

Frank Black was a stocky, sturdily-built man in his early forties. He had every intention of rising in the ranks of the garda and thought that this case would assure his promotion. If he solved it, that is.

He began: "On Thursday, August twenty-second, at approximately eleven thirty a.m., Sarah O’Neal took her baby, Samuel, out in his pram. She stopped at the end of her walk before the street. Realizing she’d forgotten her wallet, she left the pram and baby there and ran back to the flat. This took about four minutes. Returning to the pram, she found it empty. It was standing where she left it, but the baby was gone.

"According to Sarah, she became hysterical. Started screaming, she said. Ran up and down her street, screaming. Some neighbors came out and tried to calm her. A Mrs. Murphy came out to see what the ruckus was about. She rang up the garda.

When a few garda and a detective arrived, Sarah was in shock. A gard took her to the Monastery Hospital where she was treated and released three hours later. The gard stayed with her the whole time. He brought her home, still crying but coherent, able to answer a few questions.

Sgt. Greco asked, And the neighbors neither saw nor heard anything?

They were all in their homes when the incident occurred. Not a one was aware of anything happening until they heard Sarah screaming.

Commissioner Roach had been listening attentively. He said to Black, There has to be more. Go on.

So, the Clontarf sergeant resumed his narrative. The detective called for more help, and soon, two more garda arrived. The detective, the garda, and four neighbors searched all the surrounding area, but there was no trace of baby Samuel. Then, a man showed up with a hunting dog, an English retriever. We had the dog smell some of the baby’s clothing, but we got nowhere.

How reliable is the retriever? asked Sgt. Greco.

Well, replied Black, he’s reliable enough finding game, but he just kept tracking back and forth along the walk. He stopped at the road.

Here Sgt. McCoy interrupted. I’ve hunted with an English retriever. They’re good trackers. I think the baby was put into an auto and driven off.

The commissioner spoke again, asking, Did you check for tire tracks?

Sgt. Black admitted they couldn’t distinguish any particular tracks. Neighbors had walked all over the area. Some got in their autos and searched further away. No tracks were clear.

The Commissioner was obviously absorbed in this story. No one spoke, waiting for his direction.

Then, he began, All right men. Here’s what I think. This doesn’t feel like a random event to me. I’m going to send Inspector Carroll to head this investigation.

Mary Carroll? Sgt. McCoy asked.

The very same, Roach answered. She’ll get along with Sarah O’Neal. Yes, she’ll lead this investigation, and she’ll be the liaison between our stations. Mary will know how to talk to Sarah and get the answers we need.

What about Desmond Joyce? Frank Black asked. He didn’t want to be taking orders from a woman, no matter what her rank.

The Commissioner smiled and said, Believe it or not, Des is getting married tomorrow.

The men were incredulous. Who’s he marrying? they demanded.

Commissioner Roach, still smiling, answered, Her name is Emma Quinn. He met her in Howth, the Fitzgerald case. In fact, it was her husband that killed the old major.

And where’s her husband now? asked a puzzled Sgt. McCoy.

Now, the commissioner was laughing. Mr. Quinn died at the end of the case.

McCoy guffawed! Did Desmond kill him? he roared.

After the laughter had abated and the men were quieted, Roach expanded on the situation, saying, Des said that he fell in love with her the first time he saw her. Her husband was in the late stages of alcoholism and died of esophageal hemorrhage and cirrhosis. Des and Emma will marry tomorrow. They’re very much in love.

Well, I’ll be darned, said McCoy.

Black said nothing.

3

Friday, August 23, 1968

Commissioner Ronald Roach met with Inspector Mary Carroll in his private office at Dublin Castle. Roach had always had an eye for pretty girls, and he found Mary Carroll quite pleasant to look at. She wasn’t exactly a girl anymore, but she was a lovely woman.

She was in her late thirties, at least. Tall, willowy, and blonde, Mary looked like a fashion model or a trophy wife. She had a