The Celtic Riddle

I thought she was going to hang up, but in a few seconds McGlynn came on the line. "Ms. McClintoch," he said smoothly, although I could hear a hint of irritation in his voice. Apparently, he didn't like it when his receptionist was bullied by people like me. "How nice to hear from you again. How may I be of assistance this time?"

"I'm making inquiries about Deirdre Flood," I replied. "Margaret Byrne was telling me that you provided a reference for Deirdre and…"

"I do not believe that is the case," he interrupted. "I did not know Deirdre personally." His tone implied that he wouldn't have anything to do with a lowlife like Deirdre. "I do recall that Margaret, Mrs. Byrne, asked us to assist her in finding someone. This is not, you will understand, the kind of thing we would normally do as their solicitors." I got the distinct impression Ryan McGlynn considered this little task very much beneath him. "I would have thought Mrs. Byrne could have dealt with an employment agency," he continued. "But she insisted, for some reason I do not understand. We had just snagged, I mean we had just secured, the Byrne account, and of course, wished to do anything we could to help out."

"Did that include checking references?" I said.

"I'm sure it would have," he replied.

"She was a dry cleaner," I said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She had worked for years in a dry cleaning establishment, you know, throwing clothes into large machines filled with cleaning fluid, then taking them out again and putting them on hangers. What was it about this kind of work that you thought qualified her to be a maid at the home of one of your best clients?"

"Well… I don't really know what you are talking about. What are you implying?" he blustered. "Of course we would have checked references."

"So who gave her a reference?" I asked.

"I would hardly recall five years later, now would I?" he said. "And even if I did, and if what you say about her background is true, which I'm not aware that it is, who is to say she didn't falsify her experience and provide bogus references?"

"I'd have thought you'd make a more thorough check than that, for such a good client," I said. "But perhaps you could check your files?"

"I very much doubt we would have kept such information in our files," he replied. "I am certain, however, that we would have taken the utmost care in selecting someone for the Byrne residence."

"Would you mind checking the file just in case?" I said.

"I do mind," he replied. "The information would be confidential in any event."

"Okay," I replied. "I'll let the police here know. If they really need the answer, they can get a warrant. But you know all that, of course."

"Stay on the line," he said icily.

A few minutes later, Ms. Officious was back on the line. "Mr. McGlynn has asked me to let you know that Deirdre Flood gave as a reference a training school called Domestic Help International. The letter says she passed her courses with distinction."

"Dated when?"

"March 1, 1990," she replied.

"And this is a well-known institution, is it, this Domestic Help International?" It had a rather generic sort of name. Just the same, I knew I'd never heard of it. Apparently she hadn't either.

"Well, I don't know," she replied. "I don't think I've heard of it, but I wouldn't. I graduated from secretarial college, of course."

"Of course," I replied. "Good for you." I was tempted to ask her if they had special classes in imperious demeanor at her college, a subject at which she would no doubt have excelled.

"It must be a reputable place, though," she went on, apparently not noticing my particular tone. "It's located in Merrion Square."

"That's good, is it?" I asked. I actually knew that Merrion Square was a posh part of Dublin, but I wasn't about to say so. I wanted her to tell me all she knew.

"Merrion Square? Of course it is. One of the finest addresses in Dublin. Very close to St. Stephen's Green," she added.

"And does it have a fine phone number too?" I asked.

"There's no phone number on the letter," she replied.

"Thanks for your help," I said as I hung up. "And give my regards to Ryan and Charles, won't you?"

I checked with Dublin information, but the prestigious Domestic Help International didn't appear to have managed to get itself a telephone. Somehow I doubted it had managed a real address for itself either. Bogus references indeed. Deirdre had apparently pulled the wool over McCafferty and McGlynn's eyes completely, a fact that should have caused them considerable embarrassment, but didn't. She was able to do it, I was sure, because they were miffed at having to do such a menial task for the family, but too afraid to say no to their new, rich, and powerful client. They needed the money to restore that lovely Georgian town house of theirs.