bank. OK?'
'Very well,' he said, straightening up in his chair for the task ahead. I almost expected him to add For king and country.
I laid out the pictures, Adrian and Sam first, then Pete, then Eddie Mahoney. He stared at all of them, his eyes flitting from one to the other. He licked his lips. Nervous or hungry, who knew?
'No, I don't think so,' he said.
'Look again, take your time,' I said. 'Give your subconscious a chance.'
'I don't go in for all that Jewish claptrap,' he said, shaking his head. 'Freud, indeed.'
'My father's not Jewish, and he sets a lot of stock in the subconscious,' I said. 'I didn't know the Jews invented it. You learn something new every day.'
I stood and walked around his office, leaving him to study the photos. He had a grand view of the back of another building and a gravel parking lot. Lots of pictures on the walls, most including Mr. McBurney himself, shaking hands with various dignitaries a local fellow might have been impressed with. In one, he was standing with a bunch of other dark suits, all of them wearing bowler hats with red sashes around their chests. It was a parade, and they all carried flags or banners. British flags, black flags with red crosses and a crown, one with a skull and crossbones set beneath a red cross.
'No, I'm certain. I haven't seen any of these men.'
'Andrew Jenkins does his banking here, doesn't he?'
'I don't intend to reveal any details about our customers, Lieutenant.'
'But he is a customer?'
'It would stand to reason. He's a prosperous local businessman, and we are the leading bank in the area.'
'For Protestants.'
'I'm sorry, Lieutenant. Your people don't make the effort to better themselves, so most don't have funds to save. The bank would be happy to take their deposits if they did.'
'My people?'
'Don't take offense; you've obviously done well for yourself in America. Unfortunately, those papists who remained here were the least able to care for themselves and their families. That is the source of many of our troubles.'
I resisted the urge to snap off a quick left hook and break his nose.
'If no offense was intended, then I won't be offended. You're a Royal Black Knight, I see.'
'Yes. It's a local lodge. Like the Freemasons. I believe you have them in America.'
'Yeah, we do, along with the Knights of Columbus, and they all march in the same parades. You must be a head honcho, leading the parade here,' I said, tapping my finger on the framed picture.
'Worshipful District Master is my title. That was taken at our annual Last Saturday in August parade,' he said, huffing himself up.
'Impressive. You must be involved with checking new applicants, to see if they're good Protestants through and through.'
'I don't see what this has to do with anything. I've a mind to call the police.'
'Me too. Let's get District Inspector Hugh Carrick down here. He's a Royal Black Knight too. And some U.S. Army military police, a whole bunch of them. Some of them might be Catholics and Jews, but I'm sure they'll behave themselves. And I heard there was a detachment of Negro MPs due in soon.'
'What is it you want?' I couldn't tell if the Jews or the Negroes had pushed him over the edge, but his voice was strained.
'I want to know why you're lying about Adrian Simms, Worshipful District Master. The constable who was blackballed and kept from joining your lodge. I want to know why you felt you had to lie. You must have recognized him.'
'Not on bank business,' he said, grasping on to that distinction as if it were a life preserver. 'I didn't think it necessary to mention him, since it wasn't bank business. You see?'
'No. My people, we're known to be slow. Explain it to me.'
'I did recognize Mr. Simms, I did. But it hadn't anything to do with the bank so I didn't think it necessary to mention.' He held a fountain pen in his hand, nervously twirling it between his fingers.
'Mr. McBurney,' I said, 'I told you this investigation has to do with enemy agents, and you decide to withhold information. Do you know what British security would think about that?'
'I assure you-'
'Don't assure me,' I said, standing over him with my hands on his desk. 'Tell me the truth, it's so much more helpful.'
'Mr. Simms did apply for membership in the Royal Black Knights, and I recognized him. I can't say I actually know him, as a friend or even an acquaintance.'
'And? What happened?'
'Well, everything seemed to be in order. He's a member of one of the Orange Societies. But membership in the Royal Black Knights is on another level entirely, since it is the most senior of all the lodges and societies. One has to prove one's lineage in the Reformed Faith.'
'There was a problem?'
'Must you know? I don't see why it matters.'
'Mr. McBurney, please let me decide that. I'm certain there are details in the banking business that seem unimportant to the average person but that are critical to you. It's that way in an investigation. Discovering little things often brings you to the larger truth. If it turns out to be a dead end, then it's forgotten, along with who passed on the information.'
'And if it does turn out to be important?' He had stopped fiddling with the fountain pen and folded his hands on his belly.
'Then the person who provided the clue becomes quite important. Perhaps a hero, Mr. McBurney.'
'Very well,' he said, leaning forward and glancing behind me, making sure the door was shut. 'The membership rules are very strict, as I said. The applicant must swear that he was born in wedlock, and neither parent was ever, in any way, connected with the Roman Catholic religion. No exceptions.'
'Did Simms?'
'Yes, he did. But given that he came from Dublin, and no one locally could vouch for the veracity of his statements, we checked with our sources in that city. His mother had married a Catholic.'
'Did that make Adrian Simms a Catholic?' I tried to keep my tone neutral. I wanted the information to keep coming, and I didn't want my distaste for this pasty-faced little man to show.
'No, no, he is not a Catholic,' McBurney said, leaving the God forbid hanging in the air. 'And neither were his parents. His mother's first husband died, and she remarried, this time to a Protestant, who was the young man's father.'
'So the problem was the first husband, who died?'
'Not just that. It could have been overlooked, perhaps, though the rule is very strict. But there was a son from that first marriage, so Mr. Simms has a half brother. A half brother baptized in the Roman Catholic faith! That was that.'
'I understand Mrs. Simms was none too happy with your decision.'
'No, she was not,' he said, one corner of his mouth rising in a sneering smirk. 'Not what she expected, I'd say.'
'Women,' I said. 'Who can figure 'em, right?' I hoped the common bond of men perplexed by the fair sex would trump my being a papist.
'The trick is,' he said, leaning closer across his desk, 'to figure out the one you marry, before you take the vow. That's what I always say.'
'Adrian Simms didn't?'
'I'd say not.' He drew his chair closer to his desk, lowering his head, his eyes darting about as if eavesdroppers were hiding somewhere. 'She wants more than young Simms can give, in terms of social status. She was more upset over his application being denied than he was. Came right in here, and called me a liar. Demanded he be given another chance. It was quite a scene.'
