Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene Plot Summary

Introduction

The morning after O'Connor's final serenade, death arrived in a package. For thirty-five years, investigative reporter Conn O'Connor had obsessed over one case—a young woman found dismembered beneath the Las Piernas pier in 1955, her hands and feet severed to prevent identification. They called her Hannah, this Jane Doe who haunted O'Connor's dreams and filled his annual columns with desperate pleas for information. Now O'Connor was gone, blown to pieces by a bomb meant to silence him forever. His protégé, Irene Kelly, had returned to the Las Piernas Express just in time to inherit his final investigation. What she discovered would unravel decades of buried secrets, connecting Hannah's brutal murder to a web of political corruption and deadly ambition that reached the highest levels of power. The killer had waited thirty-five years, believing the truth was safely buried. But some secrets refuse to stay dead, and Irene Kelly was about to learn that pursuing justice for the forgotten dead could make you one of them.

Chapter 1: A Deadly Package: The Murder of a Mentor

The explosion that killed Conn O'Connor shattered more than windows on Randall Avenue. Mrs. Keene, watering her lawn next door, watched the old newspaperman shuffle out in his bathrobe to collect the morning paper. She saw him stoop for the package left on his doorstep, saw the flash that turned sixty-seven years of stories and stubborn Irish pride into scattered fragments across the suburban morning. Irene Kelly arrived to find fire trucks and the coroner's van. Where O'Connor's modest house had stood, only debris remained. Men with forceps and plastic bags moved methodically through the wreckage, collecting what little remained of her mentor and friend. Detective Frank Harriman, an old acquaintance from her Bakersfield days, guided her away from the scene with gentle authority. The bomb squad would later confirm what everyone suspected: this was no accident. Someone had wanted O'Connor silenced, permanently. But why kill an aging reporter whose greatest sin was refusing to let old mysteries die? Mrs. Keene provided the only clue—she'd seen Kenny O'Connor's red Corvette in the driveway the night before, gone by morning. Either father or son had been the intended target. As Irene stood among the chaos, watching O'Connor's life reduced to evidence bags, she made a silent promise. Whatever story he'd been chasing, whatever truth had cost him his life, she would see it through to the end. The killer had made one critical mistake—they'd left her alive.

Chapter 2: Returning to the Express: Following O'Connor's Trail

Two years of public relations work had softened Irene's investigative instincts, but grief and fury sharpened them quickly. Editor Wrigley, suddenly desperate to salvage O'Connor's unfinished stories, welcomed her back to the Express with unseemly eagerness. She settled into O'Connor's cluttered desk like a detective entering a crime scene, searching for clues among his coded notes and cryptic references. O'Connor's computer files revealed his suspicions about campaign finance irregularities involving District Attorney Andrew Hollingsworth and Mayor Richard Longren. Mysterious initials appeared repeatedly: "AM @ BLP"—Ann Marchenko at the Bank of Las Piernas. References to rubber-chicken circuit fundraisers were marked with O'Connor's signature symbol for corruption: a rat's nose with whiskers radiating outward. But it was the references to "JD55"—Jane Doe 1955, his private code for Hannah—that set Irene's pulse racing. After decades of cold leads, O'Connor had discovered something new. Dr. Carlos Hernandez, the new coroner, had found Hannah's skull in a forgotten evidence box. Unlike his predecessor, Dr. Woolsey, Hernandez had seen what others had missed. The real breakthrough came from Dr. MacPherson at the Los Angeles College of Dentistry. Hannah's teeth told a story of childhood in the fluoride-rich waters of the Southwest. Computer reconstruction of her skull revealed a beautiful young woman with distinctive features. For the first time in thirty-five years, Hannah had a face. O'Connor had been close to learning her identity when the bomb silenced him forever.

Chapter 3: The Handless Jane Doe: Uncovering Hannah's Identity

The journey to Gila Bend, Arizona felt like pilgrimage to a shrine of forgotten grief. Sheriff Enrique Ramos had spent weeks digging through 1955 missing persons files at O'Connor's request. In a town of barely seventeen hundred souls, few disappeared without trace. But one case matched: Jennifer Owens, twenty years old, pregnant, who'd bought a one-way bus ticket to San Diego with her last dollars. Jennifer's mother still lived in a silver trailer off Highway 85, seventy years old and weathered by decades of desert sun and unanswered questions. When Ramos broke the news of her daughter's fate, Mrs. Owens wept for the grandchild she'd never known, for thirty-five years of wondering if her daughter lived or suffered or had simply chosen to forget her family entirely. The computer reconstruction erased any doubt. The woman they'd called Hannah was Jennifer Owens, a feed store clerk from Gila Bend who'd traveled to California carrying another man's child and her own naive hopes for a better future. She'd died two months pregnant, her face destroyed and hands severed to ensure she'd remain forever nameless. But Jennifer's story was incomplete. Her cousin Elaine in Phoenix had been her closest confidante, the one person who might have known the identity of the baby's father. Elaine Owens Tannehill, now a wealthy matron living in her family's Scottsdale mansion, held the key to a secret someone had killed to protect. The same someone who had followed Irene and Detective Pete Baird across state lines to ensure that secret stayed buried.

Chapter 4: Dangerous Pursuit: Targeted by Unseen Forces

Death stalked Irene with the patience of a professional. The first attempt came as she left the Bank of Las Piernas, where she'd sought information about Ann Marchenko, the safe deposit specialist who'd vanished after discovering suspicious activity. A brown Camaro mounted the sidewalk at full speed, turning bank employee Ramona Ralston into a broken doll while Irene dove between parked cars. The near miss felt personal, calculated. Someone was watching her every move, anticipating her investigation. When she arrived home that evening, the back door hung open despite her careful locking. Detective Pete Baird found her cowering in her bathroom, armed with nail files and non-aerosol hairspray, waiting for killers who had already moved on. The blue Lincoln finally cornered them returning from Arizona. Frank Harriman, still recovering from his own injuries, gripped the wheel of his battered Volvo as bullets shattered the rear window. The chase ended in screaming tires and twisted metal when the assassins met a garbage truck head-on. Both killers died instantly, but not before their Desert Eagle had matched the bullets in Irene's living room wall. Bob Cully and Jimmy Blake, small-time explosives experts and hired killers, had carried out their contracts with professional thoroughness. But someone else pulled their strings, someone powerful enough to order murders and clever enough to stay hidden. The real enemy remained faceless, watching from the shadows as investigators followed false leads and died for their curiosity.

Chapter 5: Arizona Connections: The Journey to Gila Bend

The Phoenix Police Department's sprawling headquarters felt like a fortress under siege. Detective Rachel Giocopazzi led them through corridors that hummed with controlled violence, past holding cells and interrogation rooms where truth emerged through patient pressure. She was tall, dark-haired, and utterly unimpressed by Pete Baird's nervous attempts at charm. Elaine Tannehill lived in her family's Georgian mansion like a queen in exile, surrounded by wealth that couldn't protect her from the past. When they arrived at the circular drive, Irene spotted him immediately: the hollow-cheeked man from the airplane, the one she'd dubbed "Hawkeyes." He'd followed them from Las Piernas with professional patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They found Elaine tied to a dining room chair, blood matting her platinum hair. The iron plugged into the wall nearby told its own story of methodical torture. She'd been shot in the back, her lungs filling with blood while her killer searched for information she may or may not have possessed. Whatever secrets Jennifer Owens had shared with her cousin died with Elaine in that elegant room. The maid lay in the basement with her throat cut, an afterthought in someone's desperate search for answers. Hawkeyes had torn through the mansion like a hurricane of violence, leaving death in his wake. But Phoenix police found him days later in a fleabag hotel, his face purple from nicotine poisoning. Someone had spiked his aftershave with the concentrated pesticide, ensuring his silence forever.

Chapter 6: Powerful Enemies: Politics, Money and Murder

Guy St. Germain possessed the lean grace of a former hockey defenseman and the sharp instincts of a banker who'd survived hostile takeovers. At the Bank of Las Piernas, he'd uncovered a money laundering scheme that connected District Attorney Hollingsworth to Mayor Longren through a web of safe deposit boxes and campaign contributions. Ann Marchenko had noticed the pattern first: Robert Markham, Hollingsworth's driver and enforcer, making regular deposits after fundraising events. Three days later, Elizabeth Nickerson, the mayor's administrative assistant, would empty the same box. Cash flowed from the DA's war chest to the mayor's campaigns without leaving paper trails that might interest federal investigators. The scheme was elegant in its simplicity, invisible to everyone except a conscientious bank employee who'd tried to report her suspicions through proper channels. Ramona Ralston, the officious branch supervisor who'd been killed trying to protect Irene, had buried Marchenko's concerns rather than risk the bank's relationship with its wealthiest clients. Now Marchenko had vanished, her phone disconnected and her apartment abandoned. At the Hollingsworth fundraiser, Irene moved through Las Piernas high society like an anthropologist studying a dying tribe. Elinor Sheffield Hollingsworth commanded the room with regal authority, her pale eyes missing nothing. The Ice Queen had married Andrew fresh from Harvard Law, transforming him into the perfect political spouse: handsome, ambitious, and utterly dependent on her family's wealth and connections.

Chapter 7: Final Confrontation: Truth at the Sheffield Estate

The call came on a Sunday evening, Elinor's voice cracking with manufactured fear. "He's done something terrible," she whispered into the phone. "I found something he wrote about a bomb. Please come quickly—I have evidence, but I can't trust anyone in the police department." Irene raced through empty streets to the clifftop estate, her mind spinning with possibilities. Had Andrew Hollingsworth finally snapped under the pressure of his wife's demands? Was the Ice Queen ready to sacrifice her husband to save herself? The isolated mansion stood dark against the ocean, its windows black as empty sockets. But Andrew was waiting in the parking area, sweat-soaked and wild-eyed, lunging for her before she could lock her car door. Irene ran for the woods as he stumbled and cursed behind her, crashing through underbrush like a wounded animal. From her hiding place, she watched Frank arrive in Pete's borrowed car, walking unknowingly into the trap she'd sprung by her own desperation to help. The truth revealed itself in Elinor's kitchen, where the real killer held court with casual elegance. She'd murdered Jennifer Owens thirty-five years ago to protect her engagement to Andrew, beaten the pregnant girl's face to pulp and severed her hands to prevent identification. The wedding had proceeded on schedule, the bride radiant in her designer gown, her bridegroom grateful and permanently indebted to his savior.

Summary

In the end, Elinor Sheffield Hollingsworth died as she had lived—in flames of her own making. The propane Irene had released in the basement found its spark when the Ice Queen flipped a light switch, consuming killer and victim alike in a blast that shattered windows for miles. Andrew Hollingsworth perished beside his wife, finally freed from a marriage built on murder and maintained through decades of blackmail and terror. The explosion that claimed the Hollingsworths also destroyed the last physical evidence of Jennifer Owens' murder, but her story lived on in the pages of the Las Piernas Express. At O'Connor's wake, surrounded by friends and fellow journalists, Irene raised her glass to the stubborn old Irishman who'd refused to let the dead stay silent. Some truths are worth dying for, and some secrets carry too high a price to keep. In the end, justice came not through courts or confessions, but through the simple act of remembering a forgotten girl's name and refusing to let her killers rest easy in their beds.

About Author

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Jan Burke

Burke synthesizes the gritty realities of crime reporting with the nuances of personal relationships, crafting narratives that are both engaging and deeply rooted in the Californian landscape. Her works, notably the Irene Kelly series, delve into themes of justice and resilience, drawing on her own experiences in Southern California to create vivid settings. By blending intricate plots with detailed attention to forensic science and law enforcement, Burke's books resonate with readers who appreciate character-driven mysteries. Her early book, "Goodnight, Irene", exemplifies this approach, setting the stage for her distinguished career.\n\nAs a former researcher and plant manager, Burke leverages her diverse professional background to inform her storytelling, enriching her plots with authenticity and depth. Beyond her writing, she has significantly contributed to the literary community, editing guides for aspiring writers and advocating for forensic science through initiatives like the Crime Lab Project. Her role as the original editor for Sisters in Crime's publication and her involvement with the Mystery Writers of America demonstrate her commitment to nurturing the crime fiction genre.\n\nReaders of Burke's work benefit from her meticulous crafting of suspenseful narratives that not only entertain but also provoke thought on the moral complexities faced by her characters. Her recognition with awards like the Edgar and Agatha underscores the impact of her contributions. This short bio offers a glimpse into the life of an author whose passion for storytelling and dedication to her craft continue to inspire and engage her audience.

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