Chapter 3 - MY MOTHER KNEW THE GALLAGHER NAME
Norah’s mother lived at Saint Catherine Assisted Living on the North Side.
Declan wanted armored cars.
Norah allowed one SUV.
He wanted six guards.
She allowed two.
“I’m beginning to understand why your employees don’t argue with you.”
“They value employment.”
“They’re terrified.”
“Same retention outcome.”
Under any other circumstances, she might have laughed.
Tonight, she couldn’t.
Maeve Bennett was seventy-one and living with the early stages of vascular dementia.
Some days she remembered everything.
Other days she asked when Norah’s father would be home.
Daniel Bennett had been dead seventeen years.
Officially, he died in an accidental warehouse fire at a Gallagher freight terminal.
Until tonight, Norah had never thought much about the company name attached to the building.
Now Declan stood beside her outside her mother’s room.
“You don’t have to come in.”
Norah looked at him.
“I know.”
He remained outside.
Her choice.
Maeve was awake.
“Sweetheart.”
Norah sat beside her.
“Mom, I need to ask you about Dad.”
Maeve’s smile disappeared.
“What about him?”
“The warehouse.”
Her mother’s hand tightened.
Norah’s heart began pounding.
“You remember it.”
Maeve looked toward the door.
Then saw Declan through the glass.
All color left her face.
“Patrick?”
Declan froze.
Norah turned.
“That’s Declan.”
Maeve whispered:
“No. Patrick came after the fire.”
Declan entered slowly.
“My father?”
Maeve stared at him.
“You have his eyes.”
Declan stopped several feet away.
Norah asked:
“What happened after Dad died?”
Her mother began trembling.
“Patrick Gallagher came to the apartment.”
Declan’s father.
“He brought money.”
Norah swallowed.
“How much?”
“I threw it at him.”
Maeve smiled faintly.
“Your father would have been proud.”
Declan said nothing.
“He said Daniel wasn’t supposed to be inside that warehouse.”
Norah felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Maeve’s eyes filled.
“Your father was auditing freight contracts. He found fake companies. Garbage companies. Disposal companies.”
Waste management.
Row Forty-Two.
“He told me somebody was stealing from the Gallaghers.”
Declan’s jaw tightened.
“Who?”
Maeve looked directly at him.
“Your uncle.”
Declan became motionless.
“Seamus?”
Maeve nodded.
Seamus Gallagher.
Declan’s father’s older brother.
Former vice chairman.
Officially retired fifteen years ago.
Still invited to every Gallagher family wedding.
Still seated beside Declan at Christmas.
Maeve continued.
“Daniel copied everything. Patrick promised to protect him.”
“What happened?”
“The warehouse burned the next night.”
Norah’s eyes filled.
“You always told me Dad went back for paperwork.”
“I lied.”
Maeve began crying.
“He went because Patrick Gallagher asked him to meet someone there.”
Declan looked devastated.
“Who?”
Maeve shook her head.
“I never knew.”
Then she grabbed Norah’s wrist.
“But Daniel left something.”
“What?”
“The blue box.”
Norah frowned.
“What blue box?”
Maeve became agitated.
“Your music box. The ballerina. Blue velvet.”
Norah remembered.
A cheap childhood jewelry box she had kept for years.
She had packed it after her mother moved into assisted living.
It was now inside a storage unit in Lincoln Park.
Maeve leaned toward her.
“Your father said if anybody ever asked about the fire, open the bottom.”
Norah stared.
For seventeen years, evidence may have been sitting beneath a plastic ballerina she had refused to throw away.
Then Maeve looked at Declan.
Her expression sharpened with unexpected clarity.
“Your father tried to fix it.”
Declan swallowed.
“How?”
Maeve’s answer changed him.
“He was going to testify against Seamus.”
Norah looked between them.
“What happened?”
Maeve whispered:
“Patrick Gallagher died three weeks later.”
Declan had always been told his father suffered a sudden heart attack.
May you like
Maeve shook her head.
“He didn’t.”
