Speakeasy, Speak Love

by Sharon G Clark

  “But, Doctor?”

  Edward shook his head. “Take the officer with you,” he said taking his gaze from Lorraine’s long enough to glance at Fred. When Lorraine, Fiona, and Edward were all that remained in the room, Edward released a heavy sigh. “Are you feeling any better, young lady?” he asked Lorraine. She nodded in reply. “Good.”

  “When are you taking her to surgery?” Fiona asked.

  “Finn.” Edward’s tone indicated the answer should be obvious.

  Lorraine squeezed her hand, the pressure weaker than a moment ago. “There’s nothing these people can do, Finn, other than make my last moments comfortable.” The words seemed to sap the rest of Lorraine’s strength. Her breath labored as if each inhale was agonizing.

  Edward removed his right hand and gave another squeeze to her shoulder with his left. “I’ll leave you to it with Finn here, then.” Fiona didn’t have to question what he meant to either of them, his meaning starkly written in his eyes.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Lorraine said simply. Just like that, Fiona realized, painfully, Lorraine accepted her fate.

  To her, Edward said, “Take all the time you need, Finn. No one else will bother you.” His parting gaze was full of meaning for her, telling her he would be here for her, and confirming the gloomy diagnosis. He couldn’t save Lorraine. All he could do was make her comfortable in her last moments. Fiona didn’t need to watch him leave.

  Fiona wanted to sob in denial, demand more effort by these alleged professionals, but her full attention had to be for Lorraine. Alone, Fiona squeezed Lorraine’s hand. “Is there anyone I can get for you? Anyone at all?”

  “No.”

  “Eldon?” she asked reluctantly.

  Lorraine barked a harsh laugh. “No, Finn, just you. You’ve been my only true friend. Sad as that is.”

  “Sad, huh?” Fiona said, giving an indignant sniff, mostly to hide the tears. “Never expected to be caught dead with the street rat?” Fiona initially cringed, then tried desperately to enter just a bit of levity into her tone, no matter how morbid it made the moment.

  “I guess not, but wouldn’t change the fact.” Lorraine held her gaze for a moment, then turned away, tears pouring down her cheeks, the trembling, and quick rise and then fall of her chest the only indication she sobbed in silence.

  Fiona considered pulling Lorraine into her arms, but feared injuring her further. She’s already dying, you dolt. The inner chastisement was all the incentive Fiona needed. Climbing up on the bed and positioning herself behind Lorraine, Fiona pulled the older woman into her arms and flush against her chest, much like an infant or a lover. Lorraine broke down and cried in earnest. Silently, Fiona joined her.

  Fiona didn’t know how much time had passed, but true to Edward’s word, no one disturbed them. As Lorraine’s crying lessened, Fiona realized how labored and shallow her breathing had become. “Thank you, Finn, for staying with me.”

  Caressing the stiff and matted blonde hair, Fiona looked down, her gaze met by an ice blue eye, the other eye swollen shut. Bruising, multiple scratches and cuts, and swollen split lip had replaced the flawless skin and beautiful visage that was Lorraine Mills. “Is there anything I can do for you, before—” Fiona bit back the sob trying to escape.

  “Answer a question and provide a favor.” Lorraine focused her one good eye on Fiona as she waited.

  Something about the way Lorraine said the sentence had Fiona’s stomach clench in suspicion. What if Lorraine asked a question where the answer brought her pain? Did Fiona want Lorraine’s moments to be filled with emotional torment, as well as physical? If the situation reversed, would Fiona want honesty, no matter how distressing? Yes, she would. “Okay.”

  “What is it about you? You’re not like any other boy.” Lorraine squeezed her eye shut. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  Fiona bit her bottom lip. She and Lorraine had started on shaky ground. But, even if not best friends, they shared an understanding. Lorraine deserved honesty. “Because I’m not. A boy that is.”

  Lorraine stared at her for a tense moment. “Does Margaret know?”

  Fiona gave a lopsided grin. “That’s two questions. And, yes, she does.”

  “That explains a lot,” Lorraine said. She shifted and her face contorted in pain. Lorraine closed her good eye, gave a soft whimper, and inhaled deeply through her nose. The small adjustment must have been excruciating. “Kiss me?”

  “What?” Fiona wasn’t certain she heard correctly. She felt her face flush.

  “The favor is a kiss.” The corner of Lorraine’s lips rose slightly in amusement, apparently at Fiona’s surprise.

  Frowning, Fiona stated the obvious. “I’m a girl.”

  “I don’t care.” A stray tear fell from the corner of Lorraine’s good eye. “Please, Finn, I’ve been curious since the first day I saw you. Give me this?”

  Fiona nodded. Gently, trying to avoid the worst of the injuries to Lorraine’s face, Fiona brushed a finger to Lorraine’s cheek, then cupped Lorraine’s chin. Lowering her head, Fiona brought her lips to within a breath of Lorraine’s. Holding the blonde’s gaze, she whispered, “Fiona,” before tenderly pressing a kiss to Lorraine’s battered lips. Not too quickly, but with a feel of slight panic when Lorraine’s breathing became more shallow, Fiona pulled away and broke the connection of their lips.

  Lorraine closed her eyes. “Thank you, Fiona.”

  “You’re—” Fiona realized Lorraine wasn’t breathing. “Lorraine?” She gave the woman a little shake. “Lorraine, talk to me, sweetie.” Nothing. “Lorraine?” Lorraine was dead.

  Deep wracking sobs consumed her.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  MARGARET HADN’T BEEN surprised to find Eldon and Jimmy unavailable when the call from Edward Matthews came in. The information Edward provided had been minimal, but two things stood out starkly—Finn and hospital.

  She arrived to find Edward speaking to two men in the corridor outside a private room in the emergency wing. “Edward,” she said. All three men turn before Edward met her part way. “Finn?”

  “He’s fine,” Edward said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Miss Mills, however, is not.” Edward’s voice dropped as he explained Lorraine’s condition. He shook his head sadly. “She won’t be with us long.”

  Then Margaret heard an agonizing cry come from inside the room. Fiona. She started for the door, but was stopped by the two men barricaded themselves in front of the entrance. “Miss Graham?” the taller, older one spoke. “I’m Ian Donnelly.” She frowned, recognizing the name but not understanding why. “Nana is my mother, and you’ve met my sister Claire. This is my partner, Fred Morton.”

  Recognition dawned. “Yes, of course. They are well?”

  Ian flashed a wry grin. “Yes, thank you for asking,” he replied, continuing the charade of civility. “Cavanaugh will be done soon. We all need to have a chat.”

  Margaret nodded. Her focus concentrated on listening to the changes inside the room. The tormented crying became hiccupping sobs. She wanted—needed—to be there for Fiona, hated these men for stopping her. Just as her nerves became too taut to bear, the door behind Ian opened. Her first glimpse of Fiona had her heart racing in panic and anger simultaneously. Fiona’s clothes were stiff and discolored by a milky-white substance—dried sweat, salt? The short length of her dark brown hair stood at angles atop her head. Margaret’s stomach jolted, ready to heave, when she saw the open gash that extended from above the left eyebrow and up into the hairline, where the reddish coloring of exposed tissue and flesh from within could be seen. Pushing roughly through Ian and Fred, Margaret reached Fiona’s side. The misery of Fiona’s eyes nearly stopped her from pulling Fiona into an embrace. Nearly. Would she ever be able to wipe this pain from Fiona?

  “Lorraine’s dead,” Fiona said into her ear.

  “I know.” As a few more tears escaped Fiona’s eyes, falling to dampen the side of Margaret’s cheek where it pressed to Fiona’s, Margaret stead
ied her own myriad emotions and focused on just one. Anger. Maintaining her hold on Fiona, she turned to Edward. “Can we get someone to tend to Finn’s wound, please?”

  “It’s okay,” Fiona said, straightening, gouging at her eyes with the butt of her palm to erase the tears.

  “No, it’s not okay, Finn. My God, what’s going on?” she demanded of Ian.

  “Let’s all calm down a little, and take this to my office upstairs,” Edward said. “Margaret, I’ll take care of Finn while we discuss recent events.” Ian and Fred hesitated, waiting for Margaret and Fiona to follow Edward before following her.

  Once inside Edward’s office, Margaret led Fiona to a chair pushed against a wall. There was a desk littered with papers, folders, a stethoscope tossed on top. A small table stood in the corner with a pitcher, tall glass, and pile of hand towels. Ian and Fred flanked the door. Opening a white and glass cabinet filled with medical vials and tools beside his desk, Edward pulled out items, placed them atop the desk, and picked up a small, wheeled stool and placed it in front of Fiona. “This will hurt like the dickens.”

  Fiona nodded. “Just do what you need to.”

  Margaret couldn’t watch, but she clasped one of Fiona’s hands in both of hers, and decided to distract herself. Glaring at the men at the door, she asked, “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  Fred shrugged. When Ian spoke, he kept his voice low so no one outside the room could hear. “We know about as much as you, so far, Miss Graham. Fred was here on another matter, luckily, and took control of the matter from the hospital security. The doc here called you when Fred called me in. One thing we know is Miss Mills was hurt badly when Fiona found her. She…ah…appropriated a nearby vehicle and drove them here to the hospital.”

  So, Ian and his partner were aware of Fiona’s disguise. She hadn’t expected that, but suspected it stemmed from their childhood friendship. The knowledge was a plus. Margaret stared Ian directly in the eyes. “Before we get into too many details, Ian, I need to know what kind of trouble Fiona’s in.”

  Leaning his back against the door, hands shoved into his pockets, Ian smiled at her. “Miss Graham.”

  “Margaret.”

  “Very well, Margaret it is.” He winced just as Fiona squeezed her hand painfully. She refused to let go, but couldn’t look down to see what Edward was doing, either. Knowing Fiona was hurting was a tad easier than witnessing her pain. “No trouble with us, but we need to establish what happened so we can help her, should trouble arise.”

  “The car she drove belongs to Owen Aleman. Can’t tell how he’ll react to his missing vehicle,” Fred said.

  This time, Margaret did look down at Fiona, only to have her stomach lurch at the sight of the needle piercing flesh as Edward methodically stitched the gash closed. “Just a couple more,” Edward said. “Then she’ll be able to answer all your questions.” He dipped his head conspiratorially toward Fiona. “I have some whiskey, strictly for medicinal purposes of course.”

  When he finished and scooted his stool back, Fiona said, “Thank you, sir.” Her body slumped in the chair. Margaret could see the strain in her posture and her features.

  Edward leaned forward and patted Fiona’s knee. “You’re always welcomed.”

  Fiona gave a tired smile. “’Bout that whiskey?”

  Barking a laugh, Edward stood, shaking his head. “Sorry, Fiona, but I can’t give you alcohol with a head wound. Best I can do is wash the stitches with it, but I’m not that generous with my spirits.” He opened the cabinet again, shook out a couple pills from a bottle, and poured water from the pitcher into the glass. He brought them to Fiona. “These will help a little.”

  As Fiona swallowed the pills and then water, Margaret, still holding her hand, shifted so her hip was flush to Fiona’s shoulder. Fiona subtly leaned into Margaret, who released one of her hands from Fiona’s and wrapped it across Fiona’s shoulder. Margaret wished she could give more of herself to Fiona, but any other physical or emotional support needed to wait until she got her home. She looked down at an exhausted Fiona. “Can you tell us what happened last night?”

  Faintly, Fiona nodded. She told the events from leaving with Jimmy to pick up a shipment coming by boat, to arriving at the hospital with Lorraine. Margaret was horrified, especially concerning Lorraine, but not surprised by Jimmy’s perfidy or that Owen Aleman was also involved.

  Lorraine’s implication of doctored account books had surprised her. Eldon had believed someone was stealing funds from the restaurants, but said he’d fired Terry Whitehouse for the crime. Were Owen and Jimmy the true culprits? Occasionally during the recounting, Margaret glanced to Ian, trying to gauge just how he reacted to Fiona’s participation in obvious illegal activities. During one of those shared glances, Ian winked at her.

  When Fiona finished and fell silent, Margaret turned to Ian. “What now? It won’t be safe for her to return to the house, not with Jimmy around.”

  Pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, Edward said, “I believe I can assist. After all, Finn here has a head wound, probably a concussion. Those tend to cause amnesia. The kind of amnesia lasting a little while, or a long time.”

  “Enough time to get my things, Sunny, and plan to leave?” Fiona asked in a whisper. She glanced at Margaret. “You’re coming too, right?”

  The desperation in Fiona’s eyes was nearly Margaret’s undoing. She squeezed Fiona’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about that later, honey.” Carmel eyes darkened in her withdrawal, and she felt Fiona stiffen and pull away from her. There were things they needed to discuss, and this room wasn’t the place for it. She didn’t know how to make Fiona understand with just a gesture.

  As if sensing their tension, Ian moved away from the door. “Okay, so young Finn has amnesia. He doesn’t know how he and Lorraine ended up in the hospital. Whatever happened at the beach last night isn’t even a glimmer of a memory.” He put a hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “We should get Finn home to rest. I’ll come with you, and explain about Lorraine’s death. Also to make sure that the welcome isn’t a violent one for our Finn, if Jimmy Bennett is there.”

  “Do you think those hidden books would prove Jimmy,” he paused with a reluctant gaze at Margaret, “and Eldon, are in collusion with Dwyer and his attempts to expand?” Fred asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ian said simply.

  Margaret didn’t want to see her brother in trouble, and couldn’t be part of gathering evidence against him. Yes, she knew about the speakeasies he’d installed in the restaurants, but who were those truly hurting? They had even suited her needs when she was out with friends, keeping Fiona close by, finding reasons to be her driver. “You’re welcomed to the books, but I won’t be a party to getting them for you. Honestly, I care about two things. One is getting Fiona home, maybe fed, and certainly resting. Two is making arrangements for Lorraine’s burial.”

  Fiona stood, her balance a little uncertain as she steadied herself by tightening the hand held in Margaret’s. “The Galloway’s can help. Talk to Frank or, better yet, his sister Siobhan, since she’s the mortician.” Fiona tugged her hand from Margaret, who knew she’d upset Fiona. She had faith they’d get beyond this once Fiona had some sleep.

  “Well, then, let’s break the news to Eldon Graham.” Ian focused his attention on Fiona. “Are you up to this, Fiona? I can take you to Nana and Claire.”

  “I’ll be okay at the Graham’s. Sunny can look after me until I decide what we’re gonna do.”

  Margaret frowned as the pain of rejection filled her. Did Fiona believe she didn’t intend to leave with them ever? She did, just not so soon, not now. Surely, she could make Fiona understand. Couldn’t she?

  FIONA DRAGGED HER feet, reluctantly following Ian and Margaret into Eldon’s home office. As expected, Jimmy was there already, and didn’t look at all pleased to see her. His heated glare confirmed the observation, as did the steady clenching and unclenching of his fists. She stopped behind Margaret.


  “What’s going on?” Eldon demanded of Margaret as he stood from his chair.

  Ian glanced between Eldon and Jimmy. “Be nice if you could tell me,” he said, his tone friendly. “We found this kid in the early hours and, lucky for him, Doctor Matthews recognized him. Miss Graham was the only one we could get hold of to confirm that, and we’re bringing Finn here, where I understand he lives. And works as your driver?”

  “Yes, he does. Is he in trouble?” Eldon asked, flashing a confused glance at Jimmy. Fiona wondered what Jimmy had told Eldon about last night. Did he know she’d found Lorraine?

  Margaret spoke up. “Someone shot him. Again. I told Officer Donnelly Finn sometimes makes deliveries for the restaurant in the early hours.”

  “What does the runt say?” Jimmy asked.

  “Who are you?” Ian asked. He didn’t even try to hide his dislike of Jimmy.

  Jimmy straightened. “Jimmy Bennett. I work with Eldon, here.”

  “The head wound has affected Finn’s memory, Eldon. He recognized me when I got to the hospital, but couldn’t remember my name or why he knew me. Edward believes his memory may come back, but can’t say for certain, or when that could be if it were to.” Margaret turned to look at Fiona, and gave a wry smile. “He needs to rest.”

  Although the alleged amnesia was to make the situation, and Margaret’s part in it easier, Fiona didn’t know if she’d be able to playact this lie. She’d never be able to forget so much of this night. Margaret wasn’t entirely fabricating the matter. Fiona was tired, and her head pounded like the devil struck it with a hammer while laying on an anvil, even after Edward had given her the medicine.