Laced

45

Brian’s eyes flew open. He immediately sensed something was very wrong. With great dread he turned his head toward the illuminated clock radio on the night table. It was 5:01! They were due at Margaret’s house a minute ago! “Ohhhhhhhh!” he bellowed, flicking on the light.

Sheila stirred in her sleep. The dark eyebrow pencil that she had been too tired to wash off had smeared the pillowcase.

Brian shook her shoulder. “Sheila! Wake up!”

“Huh?”

“We overslept! This was not part of our game plan!”

Sheila’s eyes fluttered open. “I thought you set the alarm.”

“I did!” Brian leaned over and impatiently pushed the buttons on the black plastic clock radio. “Oh my God. I set it for 3:45 P.M!”

Sheila jumped out of bed. “We’ll get out of here in five minutes, but it’s at least a half-hour walk!”

Brian picked up the phone and called the front desk. He hadn’t wanted to order an early wake-up call because he thought it would arouse suspicion. He and Sheila had planned to wander casually past the desk at 4:15 A.M. with a camera and say they weren’t sleepy and thought they’d take pictures of the wonderful grounds of Hennessy Castle as dawn broke. Now he sounded crazed as he asked the clerk how soon he could get a cab.

“Hold on.”

Brian could hear the clerk talking to a cab company in an annoyingly nonurgent manner.

“Mr. O’Shea, that will be forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes!”

“Yes, sir. Should I go ahead and place the order? We can bill it to your room.”

“No! That’s too long! Thank you.” Brian hung up. “Wear your sneakers, Sheila!” he ordered. “We’re going to run all the way to Margaret’s.”

“Call Margaret and tell her we’ll be late,” Sheila suggested as she rushed around the room.

“I’m afraid she might tell us to forget the whole thing.”

They threw on clothes, brushed their teeth, and were out the door in a flash. In his frenzy Brian pulled the door so hard that it sounded as if it had been slammed shut.

Down the hall Regan woke up, startled by the loud noise. She heard a woman’s voice admonishing, “Be careful!”

“I’m sorry!”

Sheila and Brian, she thought. Regan looked at the clock. It was 5:07. What in the world are they up to now?

46

After Keith got the call that Hortense Hager was home, he raced to La Guardia Airport and caught a ten o’clock flight to Rochester. A patrol car picked him up at the airport, and by midnight he was ringing Mrs. Hager’s doorbell.

“I hope she’s still up,” Keith said to the young patrolman.

The patrolman laughed. “You don’t have to worry. Hortense drives her snowmobile at all hours. We get complaints about the noise.”

The door was pulled open by a wild-haired woman in her seventies wearing ratty snow pants and a sweatshirt. But her makeup was perfect.

Love the makeup, Keith thought. Please let this be a case of like mother, like daughter.

“Hello, Phil,” the woman said. “I know I still have my snow pants on, but I put the snowmobile away a couple of hours ago. The neighbors shouldn’t be complaining.”

“No, Mrs. Hager, that’s not what we’re here about. This gentleman needs to speak to you.”

“Was there an accident?” she asked nervously. “I just spoke to my daughter a few hours ago…and my son sent me an e-mail this afternoon.”

“No,” Keith answered. “I’m with the NYPD,” he said and showed her his badge. “I would like to ask you some questions about your daughter.”

“About Anna?”

“Yes. May we come in?”

“I suppose I have to say yes,” she said, her tone now feisty.

She knows this isn’t a social call, Keith thought as they followed her inside to her den where a big-screen television was tuned to a cable news station. The embers of a fire were burning in the fireplace. The furniture was well worn but comfortable. The room had the feeling of a homey ski lodge.

“This is where I spend most of my time,” she said as she pushed the remote button and turned off the television. “Have a seat and tell me what you want to know.”

Keith and Phil sat on the afghan-covered couch. “Could you tell me where your daughter lives now and what she does for a living?”

Hortense sat on an overstuffed chair. “Anna lives all over. She is married and doesn’t have to work.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Sounds nice.”

“I suppose. Her husband is a consultant. His job requires them to be on the go constantly.”

You’re not kidding, Keith thought. “Where is Anna now?” he asked.

Hortense paused. “I don’t know.”

“But didn’t you say you just talked to her?”

“I did. But his job is-I know it sounds silly, but he doesn’t like to disclose where they are. Someone could be tapping my phone, you know.”

“It sounds as if his job could be dangerous,” Keith suggested.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Do you have a cell phone number where we could reach her?”

“No.”

“So if there was an emergency, you couldn’t get in touch with your own daughter?”

“She calls every week. Listen, if something happens to me or her brother, she’ll know soon enough.”

“Do you have an e-mail address for Anna?”

“No, I don’t. If I need to leave her a message, I blog onto Sweetsville’s message boards and make a comment. Anna knows that if I’ve left a message, she should call me. It’s very easy.”

“Could you tell me her husband’s name?

“Bobby.”

“And his last name?”

“Marston.”

“Where did they meet?”

“In New York City. He moved into an apartment across the street from her in Greenwich Village. They bumped into each other in the corner deli, and the rest is history.”

That’s for sure, Keith thought. “So I guess he wasn’t doing any of his top-secret consulting at that time?” he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I mean, he had an apartment then but he doesn’t now?”

“What can I say?” Hortense spat. “They met, fell in love, and got married. He changed jobs. People do.”

“What did he do then?”

“I can’t remember.”

“What about Anna?”

“She was a make-up artist. And a very good one!”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat.

“Mrs. Hager, are you telling me that you can’t get in touch with your daughter at this moment? You have no idea where in the world she is?”

“Listen to me! I’m not happy about it. She could be in the Witness Protection Program for all I know! I hardly get to see her. But she’s still my daughter.”

“What did she say on the phone tonight?” Keith asked.

“We didn’t talk long. She told me that Bobby wasn’t feeling well. The cap on his front tooth fell out-the kind of thing that normal people talk about. Nothing high drama. Then my doorbell rang, and I hung up. It was a policeman asking about my snowmobile. I now realize the visit was nothing but a phony excuse to see if I was here so they could bring you around.”

“Mrs. Hager,” Keith said, “we’re interested in locating Anna, and I’m sure you are, too. If you had a picture of Anna and Bobby, it would help. I understand she called to cancel her visit last Christmas. Didn’t that strike you as odd?”

Hortense Hager’s eyes bore holes in Keith’s. “Are you saying I wasn’t a good mother? That she’s acting this way because I didn’t raise her right?”

“What? Not at all.”

“If Anna’s up to no good, it isn’t my fault. I did my best. Now get out of my house! Get out! Out! I’m not giving you any pictures! If you’re such a great detective, scout them out yourself, you Sherlock Holmes you!”

As Keith and Phil walked back to the patrol car, Keith was frustrated but satisfied. We’ll get them, he thought. It’s only a matter of time.

47

When Brian and Sheila came huffing and puffing on the road toward Margaret’s house, they suddenly saw her car roaring down the driveway at a great rate of speed, kicking up dust and gravel. The car made a left turn and popped and stalled briefly before picking up speed again.

“Margaret!” Brian screamed, waving his arms and racing toward the disappearing jalopy.

“Margaret!” Sheila shrieked. “Margaretttttttttt! Stop!”

Their efforts to capture Margaret’s attention were obviously successful. Her car skidded to a halt. A moment later it started chugging backward.

When the whining vehicle came to a halt next to Brian and Sheila, who were both holding their aching sides, sweating, and gasping for breath, Margaret rolled down her window and smiled. “Top of the morning to ya, lazybones.”

The cap of her front tooth was gone.

Brian tried not to stare at the gaping hole in her mouth.

“You two look as if you modeled for my Fun Run decal, but you don’t look like you’re having much fun.” Margaret started to cackle. “Get in the car before I take off without you again.”

Brian and Sheila were not only amazed by the missing cap, which obviously didn’t bother her, but by this new Margaret. Her lighthearted banter made Brian nervous. Better the devil you know, he thought. “Would you like me to drive?”

“No. You don’t look as if you’re in any shape to operate a vehicle at the moment. Now shake a leg! Punctuality obviously isn’t your strong suit.”

“We didn’t get much sleep last night-” Brian started to explain as he hurried around the car and into the front seat. Sheila climbed in the back.

“You sounded dead to the world when I called you,” Margaret retorted. “How much sleep do you need?”

“Oh, I was in a stupor,” Brian insisted, realizing his gaffe. He wanted Margaret to think that he and Sheila were both unconscious while she was having a ghostly visit from May Reilly. “After your call I was just so worried that we wouldn’t wake up in time.”

“And you didn’t,” Margaret sniped as they tooled down the road. “Wait a minute-where’s your car?”

“It broke down,” Brian said sadly.

“When?”

“Last night in the very early evening.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that on the phone? I could have picked you up near Hennessy Castle.”

“We figured that we’d take a nice early morning walk to your place. Exercise is so good for you,” Brian said and then laughed. “We never knew we’d be getting such a workout, though. We had to run all the way over.”

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive, Sheila thought as she rubbed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She leaned forward. “Margaret, is there anywhere we could stop and get a bottle of water? I think I’m going to pass out.”

Margaret turned her attention from the road briefly and glanced at Sheila. “What is that black smudge around your eyebrows?” she asked. “It’s all over your forehead, too.”

Sheila’s heart almost stopped. “I don’t know,” she answered, thinking it was a good thing Margaret hadn’t laid eyes on her last night in her ghost-of-May-Reilly getup.

Brian laughed, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and lovingly started to wipe his bride’s forehead. “I know what that is. It’s just a little black ink from our portable printer. Last night before we went to bed, Sheila changed the cartridge. That memorabilia business keeps us so busy! The ink must have gotten on her fingers, and then this morning we were in such a rush-”

“No matter how much of a rush you’re in, you should always take the time to wash your hands,” Margaret admonished. “Otherwise you spread your germs to other people.”

Thanks, Brian, Sheila thought. Now Margaret thinks my personal hygiene habits are seriously lacking. “I did wash my hands this morning,” Sheila insisted, “but once you get this ink on your hands, it is so hard to get off.”

“I suppose,” Margaret agreed. “It’s like my paints. This morning I had to use turpentine to clean my hands.”

“You were painting this morning?” Brian asked. “How wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

“Why should you be proud of me?” Margaret asked as she turned down a road that led to a lone farmhouse in the distance. “You don’t even know me.”

“I feel as if I know you,” Brian said solicitously. “Like my aunt Eileen always used to say-”

“Sheila,” Margaret interrupted, “don’t you get sick of hearing about his aunt Eileen?”

“Margaret, you have no idea.”

They all shared a laugh over the fictitious Aunt Eileen.

Margaret stopped and turned off the car in front of the quiet farmhouse. “I’m sure this will be quick,” she said. “Farmer Fitzpatrick isn’t the gabby sort when there’s work to be done.”

“I’m the same way,” Brian said earnestly, “especially when I’m doing volunteer work. I get such satisfaction out of-”

“Brian,” Sheila said, “enough!”

“You’re right, honey. I should let Margaret get her work done. Farmer Fitzpatrick is a friend of yours?”

“Not really, but I try to be nice to him. His wife worked as a housekeeper at Hennessy Castle years ago. She was arrested for stealing cash from one of the guest rooms. They kept it quiet, but she hasn’t left her house since. She’s gone a little batty from the shame she feels. One unforgettable act of greed ruined her life.”

Sheila and Brian mumbled their regrets.

Margaret started to get out of the car and then stopped. She pointed to a hose resting on the soggy ground near the side of the barn. “Help yourself to the water over there.”

48

Shortly after the Does arrived home from their disastrous attempt to steal the Claddagh rings, Anna sat down at the computer and started searching for flights to Los Angeles. Bobby was furious. He insisted it was all her fault that now he didn’t even have Dr. Sharkey’s atrocious cap to cover his itty-bitty fang.

“I look like I belong in a Dracula movie!” he complained. “We should never have tried to break into Magillicuddy’s house. I should never have let you talk me into it. It’s not what we do! And because we wanted to ruin Jack Reilly’s honeymoon, we stayed in Ireland instead of going to the charity event in Glasgow-after all the trouble we went to perfecting our Scottish accents! So what happens? Instead of scoring valuable jewelry, we end up with a tablecloth and a dental disaster. And I almost got killed by an attack dog!”

“But we did ruin Jack Reilly’s honeymoon,” Anna insisted. “He’s running around Ireland looking for us instead of relaxing with his bride. Ten to one he won’t berate us on the national news ever again.”

“I don’t care what he says, he’d better not find us,” Bobby spat, grabbing May Reilly’s tablecloth and tossing it across the room.

“He won’t find us. He won’t,” Anna said as she continued tapping the keys of the computer. “Oh, good!” she finally cried. “Bobby, there are seats available on a flight tonight.”

“Nothing earlier? I want to leave now. I want to get on a plane, close my eyes, and wake up in Los Angeles.”

“All the daytime flights are full. I put us on a waiting list.”

“I wish we could fly first class!” Bobby whined. But they had decided when they embarked on their life of crime that the less attention they received from flight attendants, the better. So they always sat in coach, usually in front of a kid who continually kicked their seats. “I’ll go in and start packing,” he said in a martyred tone.

Anna watched him disappear into the bedroom and then looked over at May Reilly’s tablecloth that was in a heap on the floor. I should get rid of it, she told herself. If anyone came into the cottage while we’re gone, it would be damning evidence against us. But then again, it could bring us so much money in the underground market. I’ll figure it out later.

She turned back to her computer, booked their flight, and logged onto the Sweetsville blog to see if there was a posting from her mother. Usually after her mother was scrappy with her, as she was last night, she posted a message before going to bed.

Anna stared at the screen.

This time she hadn’t.

Shrugging, Anna tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that came over her. I’ll call Mom when we get to Los Angeles, she decided. If I call her now, Bobby will think I’m wasting time when I should be packing and closing up the house.

Anna looked at her watch. I shouldn’t call this late anyway. Stop feeling so anxious, she told herself. There’s enough to worry about-like getting out of Ireland before Jack Reilly finds us. She fought off the urge to pick up the phone.

Across the Atlantic Ocean, Hortense was lying on the couch in her den. She had turned out all the lights after she threw out the cops. I should never have mentioned the Sweetsville blog to them, she realized. Now they’ll be monitoring it for sure. And they’ve probably tapped my phone by now.

Anna, honey, don’t call. Wherever you are, don’t call.

49

Jack’s cell phone rang on the table next to the bed. Although it wasn’t even 6:00 A.M., he and Regan were awake, courtesy of their neighbors, the O’Sheas. “This has got to be good news,” Jack said, reaching for it, “unlike most phone calls at this hour.”

“Hello.”

“Jack, it’s Keith. I think what I’m going to tell you will make you happy.”

“Try me,” Jack said. He lay back down next to Regan, put the phone on loudspeaker, and held it between their heads.

“I’m in upstate New York, near Rochester, in a town called Sweetsville. I just had a chat with a woman named Hortense Hager who has a daughter named Anna. Anna travels with her husband, Bobby Marston, who is a-quote-consultant. Hortense said her daughter can’t tell her where she lives or even where she is at any time because her husband’s work is so top secret.”

“It sure is top secret,” Jack said sarcastically.

“My sentiments exactly. Anna was a makeup artist in New York City.”

“She was?” Regan asked excitedly.

“Hi, Regan,” Keith said. “Yes, she was.”

“This is getting better and better.”

“I know,” Keith answered. “Anna met her husband, Bobby, eight years ago when he rented an apartment across the street from where she lived. Before she realized the reason for my visit, Hortense said she had spoken to Anna yesterday, and the most interesting thing Anna told her was that Bobby is having dental problems. One of his caps fell out. The security guard at the Nanuet Mall proudly told me that he knocked the teeth out of the guy who stole the necklace last December 23rd-which just happened to be the day the Does rented the P.O. box in Suffern and Anna called her mother to say she and Bobby suddenly couldn’t make it for Christmas.”

“You didn’t ask Hortense if her son-in-law had a peculiar laugh, did you?” Jack asked.

Keith chuckled. “No. Hortense is pretty upset with me. She rather rudely threw me out of the house.”

“Poor woman,” Jack said. “She must realize Anna is up to no good.”

“I’m sure she does. I called you this early because I knew you wanted to be updated.”

“I certainly do,” Jack agreed. “Never hesitate to call.”

“I’ll keep you posted, boss.”

Jack snapped the cell phone shut. “Now we know, Mrs. Reilly, that John Doe has a loose cap.”

Regan rested her head on Jack’s shoulder. “And a funny laugh.”

Jack sighed. “We’re getting closer.”

50

Sheila and Brian couldn’t believe how well the morning was going. Four of Margaret’s paintings were carefully piled in the backseat next to Sheila and it was only 8:00 A.M. No one had quizzed Margaret too much about why the paintings had to be returned. She promised her friends she would paint them new ones.

“One more to go then-” Margaret began as she got back in the driver’s seat.

“I thought it was two more,” Brian said, trying to sound graciously confused.

“Let me finish, will you? I was about to say one more in these parts, and then we’ll take a spin down to the gym in Galway. That will make six, plus the one you have from yesterday is seven. Then that’s every painting I owe you. And I’m beginning to think you got yourselves quite a bargain.”

Brian forced himself to laugh. “You’re a card, Margaret, you really are. Hey, I thought the gym owner wouldn’t give you back the paintings until you worked out a few times.”

“I called him early this morning and told him I had to have the painting. I promised him I’d keep working out.”

“Wonderful,” Brian gushed.

“My paintings are good,” Margaret said. “I just didn’t believe in my talent. It’s time I let it shine.”

Just wait until we’re out of town, Brian thought.

While they drove around collecting paintings, he figured out their next move. When they got back to Hennessy Castle, he would set up the paintings in his room for Dermot to admire and then give Dermot a letter from Sister saying how happy she was that Dermot appreciated her work, but she had a few more touch-ups to add before the nuns at her convent would pack the paintings in an extra-special religious box, seal it up, have the box blessed, and send it off to Phoenix.

Brian still had to write the letter. Dermot wouldn’t arrive until until late afternoon. There was plenty of time.

And if Dermot insisted on taking the paintings back on his private plane, then Brian and Sheila would tell Dermot that only they could pick up the paintings at the convent and would, of course, deliver them to his plane. If Dermot has any decency, Brian thought, he’ll give us a lift back to the States.

Whatever happened, the paintings could not stay at Hennessy Castle for the next five days-not with Neil and Margaret floating around the halls.

Margaret pulled up to the farmhouse where Brian and Sheila had had breakfast the day before. It felt like a lifetime ago.

I hope that kid with the camera doesn’t come out, Brian thought nervously. That’s all we need. “Last stop before Galway,” he announced cheerily.

Margaret ignored him and got out of the car.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t stay for breakfast,” Sheila muttered from the backseat.

“I’m worried about the kid.”

“I know.”

They waited anxiously. Ten minutes later Margaret came out with the painting. “I couldn’t pass up a quick cup of Philomena’s tea,” she told them as she speedily backed out the car, her head turned toward the road.

Neither Brian nor Sheila thought it worth mentioning that Philomena’s pajama-clad grandson had come tearing out of the house with his camera and was running after them.

When Margaret made it out to the street, she threw the car into forward and tore off down the road.

We’re almost home free, Brian thought with relief. It had been a great idea to have Sheila dress as a ghost. Margaret was a different person, thanks to her midnight visitation. This morning she wasn’t scared or hesitant. She was actually good company. Conversing with May Reilly’s ghost had done her a world of good. The new Margaret will be painting, working out, and having a good time, Brian told himself. Her whole life will be different thanks to the influence of Sheila and Brian O’Shea.

In his wildest dreams he couldn’t have imagined how different.

51

“Dermot and all you jolly good fellows, this is your captain speaking.”

Dermot opened his eyes slowly, awakening with a heavy heart. He had been dreaming that he was back in his childhood home in Ireland with his parents. His family had been so poor. The realization that he was in his own private plane surrounded by his friends cheered him up slightly, but he missed his mother so much. He’d never found a woman like her.

“We have made unbelievably good time,” the captain continued. “Strong tailwinds were in our favor. We’re really flying, folks. We’ll be touching down in another hour.”

“That’s grand!” Dermot cried as he looked around at his buddies who were yawning, stretching, and rubbing their eyes. “Coffee anyone?”

Mumbles of assent were heard throughout the cabin.

“Yes.”

“Sure.”

“Love some, as long as you’re not making it, Dermot.”

Dermot laughed and clapped his hands. “We’ll have breakfast, get refreshed, and before you know it, we’ll be out on the links.”

“You’re the man,” Dermot’s pal Josh said affectionately, giving Dermot’s shoulder a quick pat as he stood and stretched his long legs.

Dermot looked up at his tall friend, a scratch golfer who had recently retired after a successful career as a stockbroker. “On this trip I’m finally going to beat you at a round of golf. I can feel it in my Irish bones!” Dermot said gleefully, his eyes twinkling.

Josh smiled. “No, you won’t.”

Dermot chuckled. Life was good. He turned and looked out the window. A blanket of clouds surrounded the plane. Back to my homeland, he thought. I should do this more often. I’m already enjoying myself. But the best part of this trip is going to be when I finally feast my eyes on those paintings.

And it won’t be long now. We’re way ahead of schedule.

52

Margaret scurried into the entrance of the Get in Shape gym. “Where’s Coach?” she asked the receptionist, who looked positively bleary-eyed.

Clara, who had been up all night talking to Maebeth about her appearance on Gerard Reilly’s radio show, feebly lifted her index finger and pointed. “That way.”

Margaret barely noticed the grunting and groaning bodies in the workout room as she hurried past them to Rory’s office. The moment he saw her appear in the doorway, he stood to greet her.

“Margaret, it’s good to see you! Do you have time for fifteen minutes on the treadmill? Wait a minute: What happened to your tooth?”

“You sent me to a lousy dentist, that’s what happened. Dr. Sharkey wasn’t kidding when he called the cap he made temporary. He gave a whole new meaning to the word. The cap fell out as soon as I bit into a piece of buttered toast this morning. I can’t worry about it now. I have other things to think about, such as my painting. I need to have it now, please. I promise I’ll paint you a new one right away.”

“I’m sorry, Margaret. Dr. Sharkey seemed like such a nice fella when he ran with his mother in the Fun Run.”

“That doesn’t make him a good dentist. Just because I’m a nice person doesn’t mean I’m a good artist. But I am!”

Rory blinked. This wasn’t the Margaret he knew. “You’re a great painter. I told you that.”

“I know you did. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll take my painting. I’ve got to get to work.”

“Do you want me to call Dr. Sharkey and see if he can squeeze you in right now? Maybe he can do something to hold you over until-”

“Is that whiskey in your teacup?” Margaret barked. “I wouldn’t go back to him if every tooth in my head was about to fall out. Wait a second.” She fished in the pocket of her gray uniform dress and pulled out the cap. “Take a look. Is this the worst-looking thing you’ve ever seen?”

Rory winced. “It’s pretty bad.”

“Thank you.” Margaret put it back in her pocket. “Now I’ll take my painting.” She turned to face the wall where it hung. Shaking her head, she regarded her work of art with great admiration. Her initials in the bottom corner, MR, made Margaret’s heart swell. She had always been secretly pleased that she and May Reilly had the same initials. She felt as though they were kindred spirits. But May Reilly got credit for her beautiful tablecloth. “You know something, Coach?” Margaret finally asked.

“What?”

“No more initials. From now on I’m signing Margaret Raftery to everything I paint, sketch, or scrub! I want to take credit for every bed I make, every table I polish-”

“That’s the spirit!” Rory said encouragingly. “And you’ll have more energy for all your activities if you work out at least three times a week.”

Margaret grabbed the painting and, as though on wings, floated back out to the car.

“Done!” she said to the smiling O’Sheas. “The last of the seven paintings I promised.” She rolled her eyes. “It was grand doing business with you. Next time you won’t get them so cheap.” She turned the key in the ignition and revved up her old jalopy.

“Last stop, Hennessy Castle!” Brian said joyfully.

“Our last stop,” Sheila said from the backseat.

Somehow the words hung in the air.

53

Gerard Reilly arrived at work earlier than usual on Wednesday morning. He wanted to see if there had been any response to the appeal for listeners to call in about the Jane and John Doe case. But there hadn’t been anything worthwhile. One listener, who obviously hadn’t heard the whole show, reported that his neighbor laughed like a hyena. The neighbor was sixteen and lived with his parents.

Someone else called to say that there should be more laughter in the world, no matter what. The sound of laughter, however strange, reverberates through the universe and results in positive vibrations for everyone, she had explained.

Oh, goodness! Gerard thought. Get a grip. He sat at his desk and sighed. Regan and Jack were such a lovely couple. He knew how happy Nora and Luke were that Regan had found such a wonderful man. I would so much like to help them solve this case.

His phone rang. It was Shane Magillicuddy.

“Shane, it was grand having you on the show last night.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it, Gerard. I certainly did. But listen to this. In the middle of the night, someone broke into my house.”

“What?” Gerard said, sitting forward in his chair, his expression intense. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, thanks to my watchdog, Tiger. He’s my guardian angel and my best friend. He ran after the intruder and chased him away.”

“Oh, Shane, I’m so sorry. I hope it wasn’t someone who heard you on the show last night and wanted to find the rings.”

“Who knows? But don’t worry about it. There was so much press about the rings before your show.”

“Did you call the garda?”

“I did this morning when I realized the lock on the back door had been picked. Last night I didn’t get out of bed when Tiger started barking and running around because I didn’t hear anything unusual. And barking is what he likes to do best! I didn’t even know I’d been broken into until I went into the kitchen a little while ago to make a cup of tea. The garda came right away. They just left.”

“Did they find anything that might help them figure out who the intruder might be?”

Shane laughed. “Only one thing.”

“What?”

“An ugly cap.”

“A baseball cap?”

“No! A cap for someone’s tooth. It was on the kitchen floor under the table. There were also a few tiny specks of blood. I couldn’t see anything, but the garda certainly noticed them. What I did see was a cap that was really brutal. It even had a little red smiley face on the inside. Can you believe? I’m telling you, if I were the thief, I’d find myself a new dentist.”

“Where is the cap now?”

“The officers put it in a plastic bag and took it with them. I certainly didn’t want it.”

“Shane, maybe you’d better put the rings in a safe deposit box until the auction. And maybe you shouldn’t sleep at the house by yourself until then.”

“I’m not alone! Tiger is protecting me. He’ll watch over me and the rings. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for having me on the show last night. It was a lot of fun! Say, you don’t think that the thieves Regan and Jack Reilly were talking about could have done this, do you?”

“It’s not the way they usually operate, but you can be sure I’ll tell the Reillys.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the auction, Gerard?”

“Absolutely.” Gerard hung up and immediately dialed Regan and Jack. A jewel thief is a jewel thief, he thought. I’m sure they’ll be interested in hearing this.

54

Regan and Jack were enjoying a room service breakfast. They were shocked when they phoned downstairs to ask for coffee and were told that the chef at Hennessy Castle had one small stove to work with but would be happy to whip them up whatever they liked. A cart with eggs, bacon, juice, coffee, and bread was delivered to them in about twelve minutes.

“I love room service breakfast,” Regan said as she took a bite of scrambled eggs. She and Jack were still in their robes, deciding the course of action they should take that day.

“I love room service with you.”

Regan smiled. “The chef must be really bored. At the moment we’re the only ones around to cook for.” She lowered her voice. “What do you suppose Sheila and Brian are up to? There’s something odd going on with them.”

Jack was amused as he said, “Regan, you don’t have to whisper. They’re not going to hear you.”

Regan laughed. “That’s what my mother does even when she’s talking about someone who’s three thousand miles away. So answer my question. What do you think our neighbors Sheila and Brian are up to?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. But I wish they were our jewel thieves. It would make life easier.”

“It sure would,” Regan said, then frowned. “They were nice when we met them in the middle of the night outside, but then yesterday they bolted from the dining room when they saw us. They were walking around on a dark country road at one in the morning, and then they left again at five A.M. And she never dropped off the catalogue for her memorabilia business that she wanted us to have so we could order Reilly key chains. They’ve been avoiding us ever since we told them we work in law enforcement-”

The ring of Jack’s cell phone interrupted her. He and Regan looked at each other hopefully. Jack picked it up.

“Hello.”

“Jack, it’s Gerard.” He sounded hurried.

“Hi, Gerard. I’ll put you on speakerphone.” Jack pressed the button.

“Hello, Gerard,” Regan said.

“Hello to you both. Listen to this: I just got a call from Shane Magillicuddy. Someone broke into his house last night but was scared off by his watchdog.”

“Is Shane all right?” Regan asked.

“He’s fine. He didn’t realize someone had been there until this morning when he saw that the lock on his door had been picked.”

“I’ll bet the would-be burglars were after the Claddagh rings,” Jack said.

“That’s what I think,” Gerard answered. “Even though it doesn’t sound like the work of the Does, I thought you’d be interested.”

“Of course we are,” Jack said, running his hand through his hair. “Do the garda have any leads?”

Gerard harrumphed. “You’re not going to believe this one.”

“What?”

“An ugly cap from someone’s tooth was found on the kitchen floor.”

Regan and Jack looked at each other in amazement.

“Gerard, my assistant in New York found out that the man we think is John Doe had a loose cap just yesterday!”

“Oh, Lord,” Gerard said. “Well, it’s supposed to look dreadful. Ugly as can be. It even has a red smiley face on the inside.”

“John Doe has the money to go to a decent dentist,” Regan said, “and it’s never been reported that he has terrible dental work. We’ll talk to the bellman here and see if he remembers anything distinctive about the guy’s smile. But how many jewel thieves out there had loose caps yesterday?”

“Hopefully only one,” Jack answered. “Gerard we’ll come down to Galway. I’d like to go to Shane Magillicuddy’s house and take a look around. I suppose the garda have the cap.”

“They do. Call me when you’re on your way, and I’ll give you the directions to Shane’s. I’ll give him a shout and tell him to expect us.”

“Thanks, Gerard.”

Jack hung up. “Regan, can we be out of here in fifteen minutes?”

“Of course we can.”

They showered, dressed, and were heading downstairs as Dermot Finnegan and his cohorts arrived in grand style at Hennessy Castle.

55

“Back to the grind,” Margaret said as she turned down the driveway of Hennessy Castle.

“It’s been so special spending time with you,” Brian said. “And, believe me, your paintings are going to be so appreciated by our friends in America. Who knows? I bet we’ll have people asking us for your number so they can get you to paint something just for them.”

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” Margaret retorted.

“Margaret, you kill me,” Brian said with affection as Margaret parked her car in the employee lot. “If you don’t mind giving us your keys, we’ll come back out and get the paintings in a little while.

“Why don’t you carry them in with you now? Just make sure Mr. Buckley doesn’t see you with his painting.”

“What if it started to rain?” Brian asked reasonably. “Thunderstorms around here come and go so quickly. We want to get a protective box so that not a single raindrop falls on any of your paintings.”

“Whatever,” Margaret answered. They got out of the car, and Margaret handed him the keys. “When you’re finished, leave the keys under the front seat. It’d be better if Mr. Buckley doesn’t know I had any business dealings with you. He might not like it.”

Now she tells me, Brian thought. “I understand,” he said sincerely. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“You two walk in ahead of me. Run along,” Margaret instructed. “But don’t forget to leave my keys.”

Sheila and Brian held hands as they jauntily traversed the little bridge spanning the stream in front of Hennessy Castle. At the hotel’s entrance, eight golf bags were leaning against the wall. Brian’s stomach fell six feet. He held open the door of the castle for Sheila. “After you.”

What transpired next felt to Brian as if it were happening in slow motion.

Dermot Finnegan and his entourage, all clad in blue blazers and khaki pants, were checking in at the reception desk. Sheila and Brian knew most of them. Regan and Jack Reilly were across the room, talking to Neil Buckley and a bellman.

“It’s the O’Sheas,” one of Dermot’s group cried out. “Good to see you!”

Dermot turned around, his face filled with excitement. “Brian O’Shea, you are the devil! I can’t wait to see the seven paintings I ordered! You’re not going to believe it, but I figured out who the nun is that painted them!”

Margaret’s voice cried out from behind the O’Sheas: “I’m not a nun!”

Everyone in the reception area stopped talking and stared.

Sheila and Brian were frozen in place.

“You painted the picture with the lace tablecloth?” Dermot asked Margaret, who walked toward him.

“I did indeed.”

“And you’re not Sister Mary Rose from the cloistered convent in Galway?”

“Since when does a nun wear a housekeeper’s uniform? I’m not Sister Mary Rose, I am Margaret Raftery!” she said proudly.

“And Brian hired you to do the seven paintings?”

“He and his wife paid me one hundred euros for each painting.”

Dermot’s mouth dropped. “One hundred euros? I paid him half a million dollars to commission those paintings! He told me that most of the money was going to the convent.”

“I can explain,” Brian began.

“No, you can’t!” Margaret cried. “You two are shameful! What you put me through. Thanks to running all over creation with you yesterday, gathering up my paintings, I broke my tooth and ended up with-” she reached into her pocket-“this dreadful cap! I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s hideous! And you were cheating me out of so much money. Why you’d steal the sugar out of my tea!”

“I’ll pay for any dentist you want…,” Brian offered.

“Margaret,” Regan interrupted, as she and Jack hurried across the room. “May we see that cap?”

“Regan, why on earth would you want to see it?”

“It sounds crazy, but there’s a chance it could lead us to May Reilly’s tablecloth.”

Margaret handed the cap to her. “Here!”

As everyone watched, Regan and Jack studied the inside of the cap. “There it is!” Regan cried. “It has a little smiley face in red ink. So did the cap found at Shane’s house!”

“It’s got what?” Margaret asked.

“Margaret, who was your dentist?”

“You don’t want to go to him, Regan, believe me.”

“Margaret, who is he?”

“Oh, Regan, I’m sorry. I don’t know. I was bleeding and so upset-”

“Dr. Sharkey in Galway,” Brian offered quickly. “We brought her there yesterday.”

Jack turned to Neil and asked, “Can you get us Dr. Sharkey’s number?”

“Right away!”

A moment later Jack was on the phone, hurriedly explaining to Mother Sharkey the reason for his call.

“My son puts caps on lots of people.”

“May I speak to him?”

“Hold on.”

Jack waited. No one in the reception area was moving a muscle. “Yes, Dr. Sharkey,” Jack said and then identified himself. “We’re looking for someone you might have made a cap for… Yes, we did notice the little smiley face… Uh-huh… Great… Well, we’re trying to find a man who broke into a home last night. He lost his cap before getting away, and it had a little smiley face in it… Yes, it was the home of the man with the Claddagh rings… You heard about the break-in on the news… You make a lot of those caps. Uh-huh. Any recently?…Two so far this week. We’re looking for an American couple. The man has a peculiar laugh… He was there yesterday?” Jack asked excitedly.

A collective gasp went around the reception area.

“But you don’t know his name?” Jack grimaced.

Regan felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.

“Your Dad what?…He writes down your patients’ license plate numbers because someone once left without paying.”

Several people in the room covered their mouths, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, please, ask your dad.”

Neil put a piece of paper in front of Jack and handed him a pen. After several agonizing minutes Jack started writing down a license plate number.

“We’ll check this out immediately,” Jack told Dr. Sharkey. “I can’t thank you enough. We’ll let you know what happens.” Jack hung up and caught his breath. “Now I’ll call the garda and ask them to trace the license plate.” He called the number he had programmed on his cell phone.

A few minutes later Jack repeated what he had just learned. “The car is registered to a couple named Karen and Len Cortsman who live in a small town an hour south of Galway. From the address it appears that their home is in an isolated area.”

“That’s great, Jack,” Regan said. “But it’ll take us a couple of hours to get there.”

“No, it won’t!” Dermot cried. “The eight-seat helicopter I hired to take us to the golf course is on the lawn out back! It’s all yours.”

“I’m coming with you,” Margaret cried. “If those two have May Reilly’s tablecloth, they’re going to answer to me.”

Dermot looked at Margaret with admiration. There was something about her…“Then I’m coming, too!”

“Let’s go!” Jack said.

“Brian and Sheila O’Shea, follow us!” Dermot ordered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I have a stake in this mess!” Neil exclaimed. “Martin, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Jack, Regan, Margaret, Dermot, Neil, and the mortified O’Sheas ran to the back lawn, boarded the luxurious chopper, and lifted into the air.

As they soared over the grounds of Hennessy Castle, Jack called the garda and alerted them. He then called Keith and said simply, “I think we’re about to nail them.”

The whole group was silent for the rest of the twenty-minute trip.

Please, Regan prayed, please let the Cortsmans be there. And let them be the Does.

As the chopper flew over green fields, the pilot gestured toward an isolated cottage. “That’s the place you’re looking for. We’re going to touch down a little farther up the road, where the garda vehicles are waiting.”

“Just a minute!” Jack said, looking down. “They’re coming out of the house.”

A man and woman looked up at the helicopter, hurried to their car, jumped in, and took off.

That must be them, Regan thought. I can’t believe it.

“I think you may want to put this chopper down and block our friends’ escape,” Jack said.

“Gotcha.” The pilot circled the property and touched down at the end of the long narrow driveway.

The couple jumped out of their car and started to flee. Jack and Regan exited the chopper first and ran after them. Jack caught up with the male and tackled him to the ground on the field in front of the cottage. “Smile for me your pretty smile, Mr. Doe,” Jack said tauntingly.

Regan tore after Anna who was unbelievably fast. Like a football player, Regan lunged and managed to grab Anna’s leg and pull her down to the ground.

“Nice play, Regan!” Brian yelled enthusiastically as he caught up to them. “But this is a team effort.”

While Anna kicked and screamed, Brian grabbed her arms, Regan sat on her legs, and together they kept her on the ground as the sirens of the approaching garda vehicles grew louder.

Bobby started to scream. “This is all your fault, Anna. You got us into this mess.”

“I wish I never met you,” Anna shouted back at him. “I should have stuck to makeup!”

“It’s here!” Margaret Raftery rejoiced as she came running out of the cottage holding May Reilly’s tablecloth in the air, like a football player who has just scored the winning touchdown. Tears were streaming down her face. “May Reilly’s tablecloth is safe and sound and on its way back to Hennessy Castle where it belongs.”