Laced

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “Yes. Hello, Gerard. Hello, Jack. Hello, Regan.”

  They all exchanged greetings.

  “Can you laugh the laugh for us?”

  “Certainly. Henh, henh. Henh, henh. Henh, henh, henh.”

  “She’s got you down,” Anna said.

  “My laugh doesn’t sound anything like that!” Bobby protested.

  “Yes, it does.”

  Gerard thanked the girl and asked if she’d do the laugh a few more times.

  “Henh, henh, henh, henh. Henh, henh, henh. Henh, henh, henh.”

  “Thanks again, dear,” Gerard said. “We really appreciate your help.”

  Regan and Jack added their thanks.

  “Gerard,” Regan said, “we want to be clear that the person who laughed like that is not definitively John Doe. But if any of your listeners heard a man laugh like that who possibly fits the description of John Doe, please call the garda. We’re in communication with them.”

  “They can call this radio station as well,” Gerard said, reciting the special phone number they had set up for calls. “As I said, we want to do everything we can to help find these two thieves and let you two get back to enjoying your honeymoon trip to Ireland. Regan and Jack, please stay with us while I bring on my next guest, Shane Magillicuddy….”

  “Who was that girl?” Anna shrieked. “Where would she have heard you laughing like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Bobby said. “It’s hard to make me laugh in the first place. I don’t find many things funny.”

  “You were laughing like a hyena in the dentist’s chair today. If Dr. Sharkey is listening, we’re in trouble.”

  “That’s why they call nitrous oxide laughing gas. Maybe we should get out of here. Let’s leave tomorrow for Los Angeles,” Bobby said. “We can forget the Claddagh rings. There will be other jobs.”

  “Not like this!” Anna protested. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There will always be diamonds and sapphires and rubies and emeralds to steal, but we’ll never find jewelry as special as the Claddagh rings. Never again. You can’t measure the sentimental appeal of those rings, and they’re old. I’m telling you, those rings will bring us tons of money.”

  “What about the dentist? You just said he could be trouble.”

  “We didn’t give him our names. It’ll be all right. We’ll do this job and then leave for Los Angeles.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now, let’s listen to what this guy Magillicuddy has to say.”

  In the living room of the Sharkey household, the radio was also tuned to the Gerard Reilly show. Seamus was in his favorite chair, his feet propped up on an ottoman. Danny was stretched out on the couch.

  They were both snoring.

  37

  Jack’s office, under Keith’s direction, was doing everything possible to dig up information about Anna Hager. Keith had called Rocco, Linda Thompson’s hairdresser, who told him he had met Anna when they were both hired by a private client. The client wanted to look her best when she faced her husband, who had dumped her for a younger woman, in divorce court.

  “We all know that looking fabulous is the best revenge!” Rocco had told Keith. “And Anna was so talented. She could make someone as close to fabulous as humanly possible. How she could transform people with her makeup! She’d work with the face God gave them and bring out their best. I’m not saying she turned all her clients into Ava Gardner, but whew! She was even good futzing with her client’s hair if it needed it. Anna had a certain touch. With those hands she performed magic.” He laughed. “I guess she still does if she’s a jewel thief.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty,” Keith reminded him.

  “Sure, whatever. I joked with her that she’d better not start doing hair, or she’d put me out of business.”

  “Did you spend much time with her?” Keith had asked.

  “Not really. We worked together from time to time—fashion shows, weddings, that kind of thing. But we always sent business each other’s way, so we talked on the phone quite frequently.”

  “Was she single?”

  “Yes. She’d mentioned a few different boyfriends over the years, but I don’t think she was involved with anyone the last time I talked to her.”

  “Do you know where she grew up?”

  “Somewhere in upstate New York. I remember because she talked about her father having to stop at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown every summer when they drove to her grandparents’ house down south. The whole family was athletic and enjoyed sports, but one trip to that place is enough!”

  “They didn’t live in Cooperstown?”

  “No.”

  “Were her parents still living in the same town when you knew Anna?”

  “Her father had died, but her mother was still in the family home. Anna mentioned a few times that she was going up to her mother’s for a visit.”

  “What about brothers and sisters?”

  “Her brother lived out west. I can’t remember his name, but I remember Anna saying that he loved to ski. He was a real daredevil, I gather.”

  It must run in the family, Keith thought. “Was there anything different about Anna’s state of mind the last time you two talked?”

  “I know she wasn’t happy about turning forty. Who is? I mean, please! I thought maybe she went off to find herself by studying with a guru on a mountaintop somewhere and would eventually come to her senses and return to New York. But I never heard from her again. No change of address card, nothing. I must say I was really ticked off.”

  When Keith hung up, he told the staff to start looking for phone listings of families named Hager in New York State, starting in the area around Cooperstown.

  Two hours and many phone calls later, none of the Hagers they’d contacted had been related to Anna. Keith left the office at four o’clock and drove to the Nanuet Mall. He found a parking space near the entrance of Bam’s and hurried inside. A security guard escorted him to Denny Corra’s office.

  Denny, a big, burly man who looked as if he had been hired by Central Casting, rose from his chair. “Keith, I’m pleased to meet you. We’ll take this to the conference room next door. The security guard who chased those two bozos to their car and the saleswoman who waited on them are already in there. They’re both so anxious to talk to you—they’re chomping at the bit! We can look at the tapes in there as well. How about some coffee?”

  “I’d love a cup,” Keith said.

  “How do you take it?”

  “Black is fine.”

  Denny grabbed an Imus mug from a table behind his desk, poured coffee from the machine that was in constant use in his office, and handed it to Keith. “I don’t know what I’d do without coffee.”

  Keith laughed. “Me, too.”

  When they stepped into the dingy conference room, the man and woman both stood to greet them. Though they were nothing alike in appearance, they were both quite formidable.

  The security guard, a thickly built man who was probably in his early thirties, sported a buzz cut and several tattoos of skulls and crossbones on his muscled arms. The sixtyish woman was tall and commanding, with perfectly coiffed short hair, tasteful gold jewelry, and a stylish business suit. Neither one of them looked like someone you’d want to mess with.

  Denny made the introductions, adding, “And Norma and Sonny are two of Bam’s best.”

  Sonny punched his left palm with his right fist. “I should never have let those two get away.”

  Norma pounded the desk. “I should never have let them walk off with my jewelry!”

  These two are chomping at the bit, Keith thought.

  Together they viewed the grainy security tapes of the couple who had stolen the necklace. It was hard to make out their faces, but on a broad scale they fit the “average” description of Jane and John Doe.

  “She had on one of my necklaces,” Norma said sternly, “when another customer accidentally knocked a tray of earrings on the floor, scatte
ring jewelry all around my feet. I leaned down to collect the earrings, and when I stood up, those two beasts were gone. It was a nightmare!”

  “I ran after them as soon as Norma started shouting,” Johnny said with a grimace. “I should have stopped them. I shouldn’t have slipped on the ice. I should have gotten their license plate number. But at least I knocked his teeth out”—Sonny held up his hand proudly—“and I have the scars to prove it!”

  “You knocked his teeth out?” Keith asked.

  Sonny smiled. “At least two of them!”

  Keith nodded, turned toward Norma, and asked, “Did they talk about anything in particular?”

  “I wrote down everything I could remember after it happened,” Norma said. “I don’t need my notes anymore because I’ve gone over them so many times. The man and woman were buying a necklace for her mother. The man joked that he had to buy his mother-in-law something nice because they hadn’t visited her enough.”

  “Did he laugh?” Keith asked.

  “No, and I didn’t, either. I told him he should always buy his mother-in-law something nice and suggested that they buy one of my gorgeous estate necklaces.”

  “Did they talk about anything else?”

  Norma looked embarrassed. “They did say one thing that I wouldn’t even mention, but I will because I really want to help you catch them. And then I want a few minutes with them to give them a piece of my mind.”

  “Me first!” Sonny said, punching his palm.

  “What is it you wanted to say?” Keith asked Norma.

  “When they first came up to the counter, the woman told me how beautiful my makeup was. She said I applied it like a pro.”

  38

  Regan and Jack stayed on Gerard’s program for the first segment of Shane Magillicuddy’s interview. Shane was a charming, bearded, quite elderly man whose eyes shone with excitement when he talked about his discovery of the Claddagh rings.

  “I plan to keep this one,” he told Regan and Jack during a commercial break, pointing to the original Claddagh ring on his finger. “I feel like one of those people who win a huge lottery jackpot in the twilight of their life. I should have cleaned out my basement a long time ago! I could have dined on this story for years! But what the heck, I’m enjoying myself now.”

  “The ring is simply beautiful,” Regan said. “I’m sure your auction will be a big success.”

  “I hope you’ll come as my guests. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

  “Maybe we will,” Regan said. “Right now we’re taking things one day at a time.”

  “Catch those two, will you?”

  “We’re certainly trying,” Jack said with a smile as he and Regan stood. “We’ll listen to the rest of the interview in the car. It’s been a long day, and we still have an hour’s drive to Hennessy Castle.”

  It was eleven-thirty when Regan and Jack got in the car. Jack turned his cell phone back on. There was a message from Keith. “Let’s hope this is something good,” he said as he pressed in Keith’s number.

  Keith answered immediately, and he sounded excited.

  “Keith, what’s up?” Jack asked quickly.

  “There’s a good chance the jewel thieves from the Nanuet Mall are Jane and John Doe.”

  Jack listened as Keith relayed the story, emphasizing that the female thief had complimented the saleswoman on her makeup.

  Jack’s hand tightened around the phone. “She mentioned the saleswoman’s makeup?”

  “Yes. And the hairdresser I spoke with said Anna Hager’s mother was living in upstate New York the last he knew. The couple who stole the necklace told the saleswoman they were buying the necklace for her mother. We’re checking out every Hager in upstate New York. If we could just find Anna’s mother and talk to her, it would help immensely. If Anna is a jewel thief, I bet her mother doesn’t know it and will unwittingly supply us with information.”

  “That’s great, Keith. We were just on Regan’s cousin’s radio show in Galway. We told people to be on the lookout for a guy with a strange laugh.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get a few interesting calls.”

  “I hope we get one that does us some good.” Jack hung up, turned to Regan, and repeated the information Keith had given him. “If Anna Hager is Jane Doe…can you imagine? If we could just get another break in the case, it might be enough.”

  “I know,” Regan said quietly, thinking how much she wanted Jack to be the one to reel in the Does. She gazed out the window as they drove out of Galway. I hope they’re still here, she thought. My Irish intuition tells me they are.

  But where?

  Down in the bathroom of the Does’ remote cottage, Bobby was brushing his teeth. Dr. Sharkey’s temporary cap fell out and landed in the sink.

  “Anna!” Bobby screamed. “I don’t care what you do! I’m going back to Los Angeles tomorrow!”

  39

  Sheila and Brian had been driving north from Galway for nearly an hour. It didn’t seem possible, but the dark, winding road turned lonelier and darker with each passing minute. They were finally nearing Margaret’s cottage.

  “Now remember,” Brian said. “You’ve got to scare Margaret and make it very clear that May Reilly won’t be happy unless Margaret takes back those paintings from her friends and, most important, gives them to us.”

  “Should I mention our names?” Sheila asked as she pulled on the black wig and tied the white bonnet around her head.

  “I wouldn’t be quite that specific. Sound ghostly, but get your message across.”

  Brian slowed the car and pulled behind a stretch of overgrown bushes lining the side of the road. He shut off the lights. “This is good. No one can see the car from the road.”

  “It’s pitch black,” Sheila exclaimed. “I’m not going to bother with this gooey white makeup.” She opened her lighted compact and applied the dark eyebrow pencil. “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Perfectly terrible,” Brian answered. “Now go.”

  “What do you mean go? You expect me to walk down to her cottage by myself?”

  “It’s not far at all. You’re dressed like a ghost. They’re used to ghosts around here, but if someone sees me wandering around, they’ll call the cops.”

  Sheila got out of the car, threw the cape over her shoulders, and hurried off into the night.

  A groggy but anxious Margaret was huddled under a blanket in her darkened cottage. Outside, the night was still and quiet. Inside, Margaret had tossed and turned for hours. The afternoon nap she had taken had agitated her with nightmares about May Reilly, but it had rested her enough that she couldn’t fall into a deep sleep when she finally went to bed.

  Margaret had dreamt that May Reilly’s ghost had wandered into the greenhouse studio and threw all her paintbrushes on the floor. Waking up in a sweat, Margaret swore to herself that she’d never paint again.

  Now Margaret lay awake in the dark. Her mouth was sore. She wondered whether she should take the aspirin she’d left out on her nightstand. Why not? She leaned over, turned on the light, and reached for the two white tablets. Then she thought better of it and turned out the light. I don’t really need medicine, she decided. She hated taking pills of any kind. A minute later she flicked the light back on, popped the aspirin in her mouth, took a gulp of water, turned off the light, and lay back down.

  A loud rapping at her window almost sent her through the roof.

  “Margarettttttttttt,” a ghostly woman’s voice called from outside.

  Margaret clutched her covers, too terrified to answer.

  “Margaretttttttt…. I…know…you’re…there.”

  “What do you want?” Margaret shouted fearfully. “Who…who are you?”

  “You…don’t…know? It’s…May.”

  “May Reilly?”

  “Of…course. May…Reilly.”

  “You don’t sound Irish.”

  “What? Maybe…it’s…because…I’m…dead!” the voice said angrily but with a more pronounced Iris
h brogue.

  “You sound Irish now!” Margaret cried out. “Are you mad at me about my paintings?”

  “No…I…love…your…paintings…. But…get them back from your friends…right away.”

  “You love my paintings?” Margaret asked, sitting up.

  “Yes…. I…want the world…to see my lace design on them…. Give the paintings to that American couple.”

  “Those two? They get on my nerves.”

  “Margaretttttttt,” May admonished her, “do…as…I say! You made a deal with them…You must keep it…Not like what the Hennessys did to me.”

  “You’re right, May. I’m dreadfully sorry about your tablecloth.”

  “The…people…who…stole it…will…have—”

  Margaret cowered as May started to bang angrily at the window.

  “—very bad luck.”

  Margaret jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and yanked the handle of the flimsy shade with such force that it came off the runner and fell to the floor. “May!” Margaret cried as she peered out the window.

  But all Margaret could see was the darkness of the night.

  Margaret turned and went running toward her front door. She pulled the door open and yelled, “May Reilly! May, where are you?” Not caring that she was barefoot and clad only in her flannel nightie, she ran around the side of the house to her bedroom window where the ghost’s voice had come from. “May?” she called but there was no one there. “May! I wish I could see you!”

  Her heart beating fast, Margaret ran back inside the house to the kitchen. Brian O’Shea’s cell phone number was written on a pad next to the phone. She dialed it quickly.

  Sitting in his car down the road, Brian answered the phone. “Hello,” he said, making his voice sound sleepy.