Crazed Reckoning, a Nick Spinelli Mystery

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  The customer paid for his plant and headed out the door. The next person stepped up to the counter. He wore a long green smock with green and white striped tights and clunky black boots with gold buckles on the sides. Spinelli fought the urge to roll his eyes.

  The man working the counter smiled, “What can I do for you today, Tim?”

  “I guess my wife ordered a bouquet for her mother.”

  “Oh, okay, let me take a look.”

  The shop worker spun on his heel and looked through the glass cooler doors at dozens of arrangements. Scanning each cooler from top to bottom, the worker located what he needed near the bottom of the second cooler.

  The old man groaned as he sluggishly squatted and grabbed the vase full of green carnations accented with a large green bow.

  The man slowly stood before he limped back to the counter. Setting the floral arrangement on the counter, he punched the buttons on the outdated cash register. He smiled as he handed Tim his change. “Patricia will like these. How’s she doing with her new hip?”

  “She’s actually doing pretty well. We’re so glad she agreed to do her rehab at the Center rather than at home with us. At first, she fought us tooth and nail. No way would she go to the ‘old folk’s home’ for rehab. Thank heavens she did because she wouldn’t be as far along as she is without professional help.”

  The shop worker nodded. “We ran into a similar issue with my wife’s aunt. They think we’ll leave them in the nursing home forever once we get them in there.”

  Spinelli blew out an exaggerated sigh. Would they just shut up already?

  The customer turned, glanced at Spinelli, grabbed his floral arrangement, and walked away. Spinelli’s cheeks heated. In the past, he’d been physically attacked more times than he could count. Knives and guns had been pulled on him, but not one of those instances stressed him out more than this very moment. Knowing Shannon and Anna’s abductors would likely not physically hurt them didn’t help ease his anxiety. He knew the emotional trauma could be life-changing, and the longer it went on the more severe the impact. Adrenaline shot through his veins. Shannon’s emotional health depended on him, just like nearly three months ago when the drug dealer, Loukas the Greek, kidnapped her. Though she survived that incident with little impact, Spinelli couldn’t help but wonder how many more times she could undergo such ordeals without cracking.

  Her strength brought some assurance to him. With her soft delicate features, she didn’t look strong on the outside, but on the inside, she was tough as nails. Her strength was just one of the many things he had grown to love about her. At this very moment, he never felt so powerless, hopeless, and scared in all his life. Shannon would soon be coerced into marrying someone she didn’t love. He should have married her the day he met her. Deep down he knew they were soul mates, and even with their rocky start, she knew it too. If they were married already, this wouldn’t be happening.

  Walker grabbed a shamrock plant off the rack next to the counter. “We’ll take one of these,” he said and he reached for his wallet. He fully exposed his badge as he pulled out some cash to pay for the plant.

  The store clerk’s gaze fixed on the badge.

  Walker cleared his throat. “Is your shop doing any weddings today? The clerk’s slow-moving gaze reached Walker’s.

  “No, none today.”

  “Do you know the McGrath family?”

  Pulling a frown, the clerk shifted his puzzled gaze from Walker to Spinelli and then back to Walker. “Yes, I know some McGrath’s from up north, but not well. They’ve done business here on occasion.”

  Spinelli held the picture of the McGrath they obtained from the resort in front of the clerk’s eyes. “Do you know this man?”

  Pushing his glasses into place, the man leaned forward and eyed the photo for a few seconds before he shook his head. “No, but anyone and everyone who’s Irish, and even those who aren’t, will be downtown today for the Saint Patrick’s Day parade.” The man let out a chuckle. “The Saint Patty’s Day celebration is like Christmas in March to the people in this county.” The man’s smile widened. “Oddly, most of them will be too hung-over tomorrow to enjoy the real Saint Patty’s Day. I guess it’s good we always hold the parade on the Saturday nearest the actual holiday, it gives most people a day to recuperate before returning to work on Monday.”

  “What time does the parade start?” Spinelli asked.

  The clerk glanced at his watch, “In just over an hour and a half at11:00, but people are already filtering into the downtown area. I’m sure the bars are likely packed and serving green beer.”

  Seriously, people are drinking already. It was no secret it would be hard enough to find Shannon and Anna in unfamiliar territory, but now they had to deal with an enormous influx of people. To make matters even worse, add alcohol to the mix. “It looked like the floats were lining up across the bay, at the boat ramp. Is that where they officially start?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is the route?”

  The man pointed out the window toward the bridge over which they’d just driven. “The parade will cross the bridge and then turn down Third Avenue here and go about five blocks.”

  “That’s it? Just five blocks?”

  The clerk smiled. “Well, that pretty much covers the downtown.”

  Spinelli nodded. “I see.”

  Noting the line of customers building behind them, Spinelli thanked the man for his time as Walker grabbed his Shamrock plant off the counter. Marsh still waited at the curb for them. Spinelli glanced down the street before climbing into the car. In the short amount of time they’d been in the florist shop, the number of chairs and people on the curb had at least doubled.

  “Well?” Marsh asked when they climbed into the car.

  “No weddings for this shop. And it appears everyone in the county will be in Sturgeon Bay for the parade today,” Spinelli replied.

  “I guess that’s good news for us. Our delivery man, Mr. McGrath, will be at our fingertips—somewhere in this downtown area.”

  Spinelli pointed out the windshield. Everyone and their brother wore green. Lucky for them, many people wore sweatshirts with their names depicted on the back. That would narrow the search some, providing the guy still wore his ‘McGrath’ hoodie. “We should find a place to park, each take a block or two, and start combing the area for the delivery man.”

  Marsh signaled and pulled into traffic.

  Spinelli saw Marsh eyeing Walker’s Shamrock plant through the rearview mirror. He knew without a doubt what was about to happen. Marsh cleared his throat. Yep, here it comes.

  “I see you have one of those Shamrock plants,” Marsh stated as if Walker didn’t already know.

  Walker sighed before answering, “Yeah.”

  “You know, those make great houseplants. For the most part, they’re low maintenance. You don’t even have to water them weekly. Every 10 to 14 days should do the trick. I’ve heard, though, that every couple of months you have to flush them to remove the salts from the soil. That could be a pain to deal with, I guess.”

  Marsh flipped his blinker on and hung a right. Spinelli pointed at the public parking sign that lay just ahead. Excellent. Now they could park and separate; he wouldn’t have to hear any more of Marsh’s useless information about Shamrock plants. Though Marsh irritated the heck out of him at times, Spinelli found himself equally amazed by how Marsh’s mind worked. It was like he had a photographic memory. Marsh only had to read or see something once and it seemed embedded in his mind forever, in its entirety. Spinelli wondered if Marsh’s brain ever hurt from storing tons of useless information like the care of Shamrock plants and tropical fish or the history and purpose of all the ancient gods.

  Marsh exited the full parking lot.

  Spinelli knew what this meant. He and Walker would have to endure more rambling about the Shamrock plant until they found a place to park. He kept his eyes peeled for a spot.

  Marsh glanced back at Walker who looked
like he already regretted his purchase. “And just so you know, Shamrocks should have purified or distilled water, not tap water.”

  “Okay, I’m on it, no need to worry,” Walker replied, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice.

  “Also, did you know that Shamrocks go into dormancy?”

  “No, can’t say I did.”

  “During that time, you shouldn’t water or fertilize them at all. I guess you are supposed to store them in a dark cool place. When they start developing new shoots, you can put them back into an area with sunshine and resume watering them.”

  “Good to know.”

  Spinelli was sure Walker wanted to chuck the plant out the window by now. In fact, he probably wanted to jump out the window as well.

  Marsh hung a left on Fifth Avenue, and then another immediate left.

  “There’s a spot,” Spinelli said as he pointed up ahead. “Park there and we’ll walk to the downtown area.”

  Spinelli slid out of the car and yanked up the zipper on his jacket. The unseasonably cold air had not warmed at all since the early morning hours. They crossed over Fourth Avenue, then onto Third Avenue. Both directions were crowded with people, dressed in every shade of green imaginable, setting up their lawn chairs along the curb before they disappeared into the shops, restaurants, and bars lining the street.

  Spinelli sent Marsh to the south and he and Walker headed north, on opposite sides of the street, to search for their deliveryman. Spinelli intently eyed every passerby. McGrath had to be in the area; he just had to be.

  Children wore little leprechaun hats, flashing shamrock pins, and numerous other Saint Patty’s Day accessories. Their little faces beamed with excitement. Spinelli passed by some kids standing in line at a face-painting booth. Two teenaged girls shivered while they painted shamrocks and rainbows on the kids’ cheeks.

  Spinelli’s feet carried him quickly as he popped in and out of stores along his path but found mostly women and children meandering about. His chest constricted. He was coming up empty on his search for McGrath. Time was of the essence. He needed to catch a break and would give anything for the slightest bit of information. Even if that meant cutting a deal with the devil himself.

  Music echoed from up the street, growing clearer and louder with each step Spinelli took as he neared the end of the downtown district. He slipped into the bar near the end of the block. With what he’d already seen on this celebratory Saint Patty’s Day weekend, it didn’t surprise him that the bar was already jam-packed full of people drinking green beer and dancing to the DJ’s music. One usually encountered this kind of scene at 10:00 at night, not before 10:00 a.m. Easing his way through the crowd, he closely eyed every man in his path. Though nearly everyone wore something green, no one had apparel with their names printed on the back like he’d seen earlier in the day.

  “Hey, buddy!” the young male bartender yelled from behind the bar, catching Spinelli’s attention.

  “Yeah,” Spinelli replied as he stepped closer to the man.

  “Are you looking for someone?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m looking for McGrath.”

  “Which one?”

  “I’m not sure of his first name but here’s a picture of him,” Spinelli replied as he handed the photo of McGrath to the young man.

  The bartender eyed the picture for a minute, looking as though he debated whether or not to fess up to knowing the man. “Honestly, I know some of the McGrath’s but I’m not sure which one this is. It is likely he’s in town today. I would imagine they’ll all be in the parade.”

  “In the parade?”

  The bartender pulled a frown. “Yep, all the Irish clans in the county will be in the parade. Today is their day,” he said in a tone, matching the expression on his face, which made Spinelli feel stupid for even asking.

  “All the Irish clans?”

  “Yes, all the Irish clans: the O’Hern’s, O’Reilly’s, Clarke’s, Hogan’s, Kennedy’s, McGinnis’ and your McGrath’s will all be represented in the parade today. You’ll be able to distinguish them by the names on their shirts or sweatshirts.”

  Spinelli took the picture of McGrath back from the bartender and thanked him for the information. Knowing he needed to gather up Walker and Marsh and head over to the boat ramp parking lot on the other side of the bay, he worked his way back through the crowd toward the front door. A group of young ladies blocked the exit. Like everyone else, they dressed in green attire. The tall, pretty girl with pitch-black hair stepped toward him. Her cheeks glistened with gold specks dabbled over a painted four-leaf clover. The model-grade woman gave him a once-over and edged closer as her friends stood smiling in the background. She pulled several strands of green beads over her head and slid them over his before she pressed her soft lips to his cheek. Her warm breath brushed by his ear. “You need a little color of the day. Why don’t you stay here and party with us?” she asked before she edged back and batted her large brown eyes lined with long thick lashes. Her warm hands still rested on his chest. He glanced beyond her to find the entire group of ladies watching him curiously. They looked like a friendly bunch about to embark on a fun, party-filled day.

  Pre-Shannon, he would have considered her offer. Now, all he had on his mind was locating his very own Irish sweetheart. “Thanks for the invite but unfortunately I have somewhere else I need to be right now.”

  The model tilted her head to the side and flashed him a wink. “If you change your mind, we’ll be downtown all day.” Dropping her hands to her sides, she stepped back so he could pass through.

  Once outside, Spinelli texted Walker and Marsh to meet him at the car. Spinelli hurried, fighting the throng of Saint Patrick’s Day celebrators along the way. The thickness of the crowd reminded him of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade he’d seen on television but on a small-town scale.

  Quickly rounding the building on the corner of Third and Louisiana Street, Spinelli nearly bumped into a couple of older women. He reached out and grabbed one woman’s shoulders as she rocked back on her heels. The amount of pull told him he would have caused her to fall if he hadn’t grabbed her quickly. He steadied her before he dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  Her glistening green eyes matched her bright green scarf and hat. “Where’s the fire, handsome?” she asked with a giggle.

  He returned her warm smile. “Nowhere, I should have been paying attention to where I was going.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. The near-fall was worth it just to feel the strong hands of a handsome fella for a moment. In fact, why don’t you go back around the corner and we’ll give it another whirl?”

  “June, my word,” the other woman interjected.

  Spinelli didn’t need to turn his head to see the woman’s friend blushed. The air temperature rose five degrees from the heat emitting from her pores.

  “Oh, simmer down Germaine. You’re just jealous his hands weren’t on you,” June replied, her gaze never leaving Spinelli as she ran the length of him. “Nice beads, but you need a bit more color for today,” June said as she reached into her large handbag. She pulled out a green crocheted leprechaun hat with a black band and gold buckle. It even had flaps to go over his ears and long braided strings to tie under his chin. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be caught dead in this hat. Something about her sassy, grandmotherly nature made him lean forward so she could fasten it to his head. Though he must have looked utterly ridiculous, it did warm his head against the cold gusty wind.

  June eyed him proudly. “You know, I have a daughter about your age and she’s meeting us down here in a little while.”

  “For heaven’s sake, June.”

  June’s head spun in Germaine’s direction. “What? I’m just asking this nice handsome young man if he’d like to join us for the parade.” With a shake of her head, June’s gaze returned to Spinelli. “I don’t know how she and I came from the same set of parents. I’ve told her for years she needs to loosen up a
bit.” June stepped closer to him as though she wanted to tell him something privately. He leaned toward her. “I think she’s adopted.” Spinelli chuckled and glanced at Germaine in time to catch her eye-roll.

  If it weren’t for the awful day he was having, and his need to find Shannon and Anna, he’d consider June’s offer to spend some time with her and her sister. They reminded him of Shannon’s cute little old neighbors, the spry little twins, who’d turned ninety this past Valentine’s Day. One was just a little pistol and the other was as practical as the day is long. The two women before him were the next generation’s version of Sally and Sarah.

  His mind revisited the offer from the model-like woman at the bar. If he had his choice and had time today, he’d choose to spend his day with the ladies standing before him now. Did he really just think that? He’d spend his day with two seventy-some-year-old ladies versus the twenty-some-year-old model and her friends. Oh, how times have changed.

  “Ladies, it was a pleasure, and if I didn’t have somewhere else to be I would love to watch the parade with you. Enjoy your day,” Spinelli said as he slipped by them and headed toward the car.

  He’d just about reached Fourth Avenue when he noticed Walker and Marsh already waiting for him.

  As Spinelli slid into the passenger seat, Marsh’s curious gaze fixed on him. “What in the hell are you wearing? Are you supposed to be some sort of six-foot-tall leprechaun?”

  Remembering the hat he wore, Spinelli reached up and pulled it from his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, what about the beads? What did you have to do for those while Walker and I were out looking for the delivery guy, and Shannon and Anna?” Marsh asked in a teasing tone.