Laced

by Carol Higgins Clark

  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 tal
k 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.”